Revolution by Dale Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

helmet.
    â€œI’m just about to nod off,” he replied.
    â€œI’ll bet. We’re counting down from five. Here we go. Five, four…three…”
    Zen flexed his arms. He was sitting on a high-tech aluminum step ladder—it looked more elaborate than the models you’d find in a hardware store, but that was essentially what it was. Besides the MESSKIT, he was wearing a harness attached by very thick rubber straps and nylon safety ties to anchors on the “gym” ceiling, walls, and floor. Thick cushion pads covered nearly every surface in the hangarlike room; the only spaces left unprotected were small clear plastic panels for video cameras and various sensors, and the window of the control room, protected by a webbed net that hung across the open space.
    Zen took a last look across at the control room—it was at about eye level, ten feet off the ground—and thought to himself that it would be just his luck to be propelled into the netting like a school of mackerel if the experiment went haywire.
    â€œLadder away,” said Annie, continuing the countdown.
    The metal seat that had been supporting him slid back. Zen didn’t move—his weight was now entirely supported by the safety harnesses, which were quickly checked by the computer monitoring the test.
    â€œGreen light on ladder retrieve,” said one of the techies in the control room.
    Behind him, the ladder’s “closet” opened and the ladder began folding itself away. But Zen was too focused on the MESSKIT to pay any attention. The device seemed to barely weigh anything.
    â€œWe’re ready any time you are, Zen,” said Annie.
    â€œOpening the umbrella,” he said, extending his arms before pushing the button on the control in his left hand.
    The wings unfolded with a loud thump, the sort of sound a book makes falling off a desk. Zen was tugged upward gently. He pushed his arms back, spreading his wings—the skeleton and its small bat wings moved easily.
    Zen worked left and right, just getting used to the feel, while Annie and the others in the control room monitored the device. After a few minutes, the tension on the suspension straps holding him off the floor was eased. Zen settled about six inches, then another six; he flapped his arms playfully, not trying to fly, but testing the safety equipment to make sure everything was still in order.
    â€œAll right, the safety harnesses are working,” said Annie. “We’re going to give you some breeze. If you’re ready.”
    â€œLet ’er rip,” Zen said, and leaned forward, anticipating the next set of tests as some of the giant cushions on the wall slid upward to reveal small louvered slots.
    â€œTwo knots, then five,” said Annie.
    Even at two knots, the effect of the wind on the wings was immediately noticeable. Zen pushed his hands down as the wind hit his face; the microsensors in the MESSKIT’s skeleton transferred his movements to the small motors that controlled the wing’s surface, and suddenly he was pitched downward. The guide ropes and harness kept him from going too far forward, but the shift was still an abrupt enough to catch him by surprise.
    â€œWow,” he said. “I’m flying.”
    â€œNot yet, Major,” said Annie dryly. “Maybe by the end of the day.”
    Dreamland
1345
    T HE ENGINEERS WHO TRANSFORMED THE B-1B INTO Dreamland B-1B/L Testbed 2 had left the throttle controls to the left of each pilot’s position, but otherwise there was little similarity between the aircraft’s cockpit and that of its “stock” brethren. A sleek glass panel replaced the 1970s-era gauges, dials, and switches that had once faced the pilots. The panel layout was infinitely configurable and could bechanged by voice command to different presets adapted to a specific mission or pilot. The electronics behind the panel were even more radically different. Dreamland