Full Throttle & Wrong Bride, Right Groom Read online

  “The National Solar Observatory at Sunspot, just a little over a hundred miles from here, has been monitoring a buildup of energy in the sun’s magnetic fields. This increase in energy could lead to a solar flare, such as the one shown on this slide. This particular flare is in what we call the precursor stage, where the release of magnetic energy has been triggered.”

  Kate hit the remote again and brought up another slide. In this one, the dark swirls all but obscured the red ball.

  “In the second or impulsive stage, protons and electrons accelerate to high energy and are emitted as radio waves, hard X rays and gamma rays.”

  The next slide depicted a glowing red ball with only a few black swirls.

  “In the final stage, we can measure the gradual buildup and decay of soft X rays. Each of these stages can last as little as a few seconds or as long as an hour.”

  She had their attention, Kate saw. Dave had received much of this information during their visit to the observatory. It was new stuff for the others.

  “Solar flares are the most intense explosions in the solar system,” she continued, bringing up the next slide. “The energy released may reach as high as ten-to-the-thirty-second-power ergs. That’s ten million times greater than the energy released in a volcano, and we all know the devastation that resulted when Mount St. Helens erupted.

  “The problem is when the intense radiation from a solar flare enters the earth’s atmosphere. It can disrupt satellite transmissions, increase the drag on an orbiting vehicle and generally wreak havoc with anything electronic.”

  “Oh, great!”

  The muttered exclamation came from Jill Bradshaw, but Kate saw the same concern reflected in every face at the table. A click of the remote brought up a bar graph charting the sun’s magnetic-field activity for the past two decades.

  “Solar flares generally occur in cycles,” she informed her audience. “As you can see, 2000 and 2001 were peak years. This was predicted and planned for.”

  “Planned for how?” Russ McIver wanted to know.

  “A 1998 flare knocked out the Galaxy 4 satellite and disrupted some eighty percent of commercial cell phone and pager use in the United States. As a result, military and civilian communications agencies took a hard look at systems dependent on satellite signals and built in more redundancy. For example, radio, television, bank transactions, newspapers, credit card systems and the like are now spread across a wider spectrum of low- to mid-altitude satellites. Some might get knocked out, but the others would be at different points in their orbit and be protected from the solar blast by the curvature of the earth.”

  Caroline Dunn sat forward in her chair. Her brown eyes grave, she studied the bar graph. “Looks like flare activity has been minimal since 2001. Are you saying there’s a chance that could change in a hurry?”

  “I’m saying there’s a possibility,” Kate replied carefully. She had to walk a fine line between predicting something that might not happen and minimizing the potential, only to have it blow up in her face. “Some of you may have noticed a green glow in the sky, similar to the northern lights only much less intense. It’s caused by higher than normal ionization levels in the upper atmosphere.”

  “High enough to disrupt communications or interfere with the instrumentation on Pegasus?”

  Kate answered Dave’s question as truthfully as she could. “Not at present.”

  “But you’re concerned another burst of ergs will come zinging my way?”

  “Yes.”

  They were speaking one-to-one now. The others were still there, within their field of vision, but relegated to the background.

  “Pegasus comes equipped with a lot of that redundancy you mentioned,” Dave reminded her. “Backup communications, laser-guided navigational systems, fly-by-wire manual controls in the event of hydraulic failure.”

  “I know.”

  “There’s also the fact I’m a test pilot. I’ve logged over a thousand hours in both fixed-wing and rotary-wing aircraft.” His lips tipped into a grin. “I also survived almost every natural and unnatural disaster you threw at me during those hours in the simulator.”

  “It’s the ‘almost’ part that worries me.”

  “That part worries us all,” Captain Westfall interjected dryly. “I need your best professional guesstimate, Commander Hargrave. On the basis of the data available to you at this point, do you recommend we press on with the mission or scrub it?”

  Kate fingered the remote. She knew the situation in Caribe had added to pressure on the captain. On them all. She also knew how little room there was for a slip in the schedule even without the Pentagon’s latest worries.

  She had to accept the possibility that one of the swirling sunspots could generate enough energy to fry every circuit aboard Pegasus. There was also the chance Dave and his craft could wing across a clear blue sky.

  She didn’t look at Dave. This was her time in the box. Captain Westfall would ask for his input in a few minutes.

  “Based on all data currently available, sir, I recommend we continue the mission. I’ll monitor the situation continuously. If I receive any indication of increased solar activity, we can terminate immediately.”

  The naval officer accepted her judgment with a nod and turned to Dave.

  “Captain Scott, you’re in command on this mission. You’ve heard the risk assessment. You’re also fully aware that you’re taking up a craft that’s still in the test stage. The call is yours.”

  “I understand, sir. Taking educated, calculated risks is an inherent part of the test business. I agree with Commander Hargrave. As far as I’m concerned, the mission is a go.”

  A small silence gripped the room. Although Westfall had deferred to Dave, none of the officers present thought for a moment the captain couldn’t—or wouldn’t—pull rank and overrule the pilot if he so desired. Kate held her breath, half hoping he’d exercise that authority.

  But when he stood and moved back to the podium, Westfall gave the green light. “Look sharp, people. We’ve got a mission to fly.”

  They finished the prebrief just before eleven. Pegasus was scheduled to fly at noon. Dave skipped lunch to conduct a final walk-around of his craft.

  Kate found him in the hangar. He and the crew chief assigned to the craft were inspecting the tail section yet again. The engineers hadn’t been able to determine the source of the vibration Dave had experienced on the first flight and Kate knew it worried him.

  She stood beside a rack of equipment, waiting for them to finish. Her recommendation to proceed with the mission hung like a rock around her neck. It was the right recommendation given the available data, but if anything happened to Dave…

  Her stomach lurched. A tight ball of fear lodged in the middle of her chest. The stark, unremitting fear forced her to admit what she’d tried so hard to deny these past weeks.

  She’d fallen for the guy. Big-time. Despite her doubts. Despite Denise and Alma. Despite the need to focus strictly on the mission. Sometime between the moment she’d spotted the long rooster tail of dust churned up by his pickup the very first morning he arrived on-site and their soiree out under the stars last night, she’d tumbled smack into love.

  And now Kate was about to send him up into a sky that could go supercharged with as little as eight minutes’ warning.

  Swallowing the acid taste of fear, Kate waited until he and the crew chief had finished with the tail section and had worked their way up to the nose. They had their heads buried in a tech manual when she stepped forward.

  “Got a minute?”

  His smile was quick and for her alone. “Sure.”

  She couldn’t say what she wanted to in front of the mechanic or the rest of the hangar crew.

  “I need to talk to you.” Snagging the sleeve of his flight suit, she tugged him across the gleaming, white-painted floor. “In here.”

  “Here” was the men’s room, the closest private spot in the huge hangar. Lifting an eyebrow, Dave followed K
ate inside. Luckily, no one was at the circular urinal.

  The latrine was as spotless as the rest of the hangar, but if Kate had had time, she would have chosen a better spot than a rest room smelling strongly of Lysol to let him know how she felt. The fact that time was fast ticking away made the place and the scent irrelevant.

  “What’s up?” Dave asked.

  The smile was still in his eyes, but Kate sensed the edge behind the question. No doubt he thought she’d come to tell him the sun was still acting up and the mission had been scrubbed.

  If only!

  “I’ve been thinking about last night,” she said slowly.

  “That’s funny. So have I.” Reaching out, he snagged her waist and pulled her closer. “Finishing what we started out there under the stars tops my to-do list for after this mission. Unless…”

  He skimmed a glance over his shoulder.

  “We’re in luck,” he said with a hopeful waggle of his eyebrows. “The door locks.”

  “Cool your jets, cowboy. I didn’t drag you in here to make mad, passionate love to you.”

  “Well, damn! And here I thought I was going to lift off with a smile on my face. Okay, I’ll bite. Why did you drag me in here?”

  “I wanted to tell you… That is…”

  Even now it was hard for her to say the words. She was still confused by the feelings this man generated in her, still unsure of where they’d go from here. But she couldn’t let him take off without letting him know she’d had a change of heart. She wasn’t just back in the race. She wanted very much to win this one.

  “Come on, Kate,” he prompted, as curious now as he was amused by her temporary loss for words. It didn’t happen often. “Spit it out.”

  “All right, here goes. I think… No, I’m pretty sure I love you.”

  Surprise flickered in his blue eyes for a moment, followed in short order by laughter and delight.

  “Well, well! That makes two of us who are pretty sure. What do you propose we do now?”

  “This, for starters.”

  Wrapping her fists around the collar of his flight suit, she yanked him down for a kiss.

  It took him all of a second to get into the act. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he dragged her up against him. They were hard at it, lost in each other’s taste and touch, when Kate registered the thud of a palm hitting the rest-room door.

  “Oh! ’Scuse me, folks.”

  “Use the latrine across the hangar,” Dave growled without lifting his head. “This one’s busy.”

  “Right.”

  There was a hurried retreat, the sound of the door swishing shut. Kate closed her mind to the small sounds, the astringent tang of Lysol, to everything but Dave.

  Finally, she had to let him go. He still needed to run through his preflight checklists and she had to pull herself together enough to face the rest of the crew. She couldn’t believe how difficult it was to ease out of his arms.

  “I’d better get back to Test Operations. I want to have a front-row seat when you take off.”

  “Aren’t you going up in the chase plane?”

  “Not this time. I want to make sure I have a land link to the solar observatory.”

  In case the satellite links took a hit.

  She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t have to. With a crooked grin, he reached up and tucked a stray tendril behind her ear.

  “Don’t worry, Commander Hargrave. You’ll be right there with me, in my head.”

  And in his heart, Dave thought with a funny little jolt.

  So this is what it felt like. As if he’d stepped into a zero-gravity chamber a half second before the floor dropped out from under him. For the first time in his admittedly varied experience, he found himself floundering, not quite sure how to propel himself forward.

  He’d figure that out after his flight, he decided. When he had Kate alone, in the dark, in some place that didn’t stink of industrial-strength disinfectant.

  Chapter 11

  Kate left Dave at the hangar and returned to the dun-colored modular building housing Test Operations. Inside was the small room lined with digitized display boards that functioned as the site’s command-and-control center during tests.

  Using her laptop, Test Ops’ high-speed computers and a battery of communications devices, she set up a series of redundant links to various weather sources. A voice link to Stu Petrie confirmed her real-time access to data being fed back through the solar observatory’s array of equipment.

  “We’ve reoriented the Dunn Telescope,” the scientist informed her. “We’re recording every burp and bubble of energy emitted by the magnetic fields. So far, the propulsive activity has remained relatively stable.”

  So far.

  The caveat didn’t reassure Kate. As Stu himself had pointed out to Dave, intense bursts of energy from the sun didn’t take long to reach the earth.

  “I appreciate you allowing me to tap into your data system, Stu.”

  “There wasn’t much ‘allowing’ involved,” the scientist responded with a chuckle. “The order came straight down from the top.”

  Kate could hear the curiosity behind the comment. The observatory had been read in on the need for real-time information, but not the reason behind it. Neither Dr. Petrie nor his boss had been briefed on the specifics of the Pegasus project.

  “I want to keep that data line open for the next few hours,” Kate told him. “I’ve also got landlines and radio communications available as backup.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get the data to you if I have to bicycle it down the mountain myself.”

  Kate bit back the reply that bicycling would get the information here too late for it to do any good.

  “Thanks, Stu. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Her glance went to the digital time display on the wall of Test Operations. Eleven-twenty. Dave would be airborne in less than an hour and back on the ground by 4:00 p.m. if nothing went wrong.

  Her mouth set, Kate grabbed her mug and filled it to the brim with black coffee. The coffee wouldn’t help the acid already churning away inside her stomach, but she needed something to take her mind off the clock.

  Cari joined her and grimaced at the residue left in the bottom of the carafe. “I’d better brew a fresh pot. This looks to be a long afternoon.”

  “No kidding.”

  “He knows what he’s doing, Kate.”

  That was the best the brunette could offer. She didn’t try to minimize the risks. She couldn’t. If Pegasus proved his capabilities in the air, Cari would be the next one in the hot seat. Responsibility for the sea trials rested squarely on her slender shoulders.

  With the brisk efficiency that characterized her, she filled the pot, poured the water into the well and added a prepack of coffee. When the water had started to gurgle, she turned to Kate.

  “Remember what Dave said. He’s a test pilot. He’s been trained to think fast and respond instantly.”

  Kate nodded.

  “We’ll bring him home.” Cari gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “We have to. I’ll be darned if I’m going to miss my ride.”

  By three-fifteen Kate was almost beginning to believe they’d make it. Her eyes ached from staring at the computer screens nonstop, her neck had a knot in it that wouldn’t go away, and her stomach was pumping acid by the gallon. With one ear she listened to every beep and blip of the computers. With another, she monitored Dave’s voice as it came over the loudspeakers.

  “Chase One, this is Pegasus One.”

  “Go ahead, Pegasus.”

  “I’m climbing to thirty thousand feet.”

  “Roger, Pegasus. We’re right with you.”

  Kate’s glance flew to the computerized tracking board. The last test objective yet to be met was to ascertain the vehicle’s performance with a full load at, or close to, its maximum ceiling. To accomplish that, Dave was now taking his craft in a wide, ascending circle high above the same resort the two of them had golfed in.<
br />
  And made love in.

  They’d have to go back to the Inn of the Mountain Gods, Kate thought, once this mission was over and she could breathe again. Dragging her gaze from the tracking board, she scanned the screen in front of her.

  Suddenly, she froze. Her heart stopped dead, kicked in again with a painful jolt. Her horrified gaze ripped across the numbers painting across the screen once, twice. Then she was shouting for Captain Westfall.

  “Sir! I’m declaring a weather emergency. We’ve got to get those planes down!”

  His steely-gray gaze shot toward her. She didn’t have time to explain.

  “Now, sir!”

  He nodded once and keyed his mike. “Pegasus One, Chase One, this is Test Control. Terminate your mission and return to base immediately. Immediately. Do you copy?”

  “This is Chase One. We copy.”

  Kate’s pulse thundered in her ears until Dave responded.

  “This is Pegasus One. I copy, too, Control. How long have we got?”

  Westfall looked to her. Hitting the switch on her mike, Kate delivered the dire news.

  “Seven to eight minutes. If you’re lucky. Get that baby on the ground!”

  “Roger that.”

  After an instant of frozen silence, the entire test cadre shifted instantly into emergency mode. The engineers sent their fingers flying over keyboards to back up every bit of flight data. Captain Westfall ordered the crash recovery team to stand by. Doc Richardson alerted his medical personnel. Jill Bradshaw instructed Rattlesnake Ops to yank every off-duty military cop from his or her bunk and prepare them to secure a possible crash site.

  Kate heard their voices, felt their tension jump through the air like some evil demon, but she focused every atom of her being on the computer screen in front of her.

  The numbers were off the charts now. The energy burst was coming and it was coming fast. All indications were it would hit right above them.

  She forced herself to think, to clamp down on the terror icing her veins and think! The whole upper ionosphere was about to go supercharged. Dave couldn’t get above it. He couldn’t get around it. His one chance, his only chance, was to find a protective shield.