Gavilan
Description, Rating, & Disclaimers
TITLE: Gavilan
AUTHOR: Elysium
SPOILERS: Serpent's Grasp, Shades of Grey
SEQUEL/SEASON INFO: Season 3
RATING: PG/PG-13 (occasional cuss word)
SUMMARY: A test pilot, Teal'c, and a death glider. Need I say more?
CATEGORY: Action/Adventure.
AUTHORS NOTES: Gavilan is a Latino/a surname which I am told means 'hawk'.
DISCLAIMER:
All Stargate SG-1 characters are the property of Stargate SG-1 Productions (II) Inc., MGM Worldwide Television Productions Inc., Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp and Showtime Networks Inc. No infringement of those rights is intended. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. This disclaimer was shamelessly copied from the 'Heliopolis' site.
The air was still cool, but Major Gavilan could already feel the radiance of the sun over paradise. Not everyone would describe Groom Lake in that way, but Gavilan lived to fly, and there was no place else on earth he could fly the awesome creations he got to test here. He had become a connoisseur of this desert; he loved every mood. Especially on those mornings he'd be in the air.
Ravens on the horizon began to circle on the first frail thermals of the day. Be joining you in a few, he thought.
Today was to be a break in routine. Colonel Slatt told him he'd have a passenger on this test-flight--an expert known only as "Teal'c", which Mike guessed was a code-designation. Teal'c was a civilian; he normally reported to a Colonel O'Neill, but for this flight would be under Mike's command. Mike really didn't know that much about him.
Secrecy was okay with the Major. What was unusual was having a civilian on board at all, this early in testing.
He'd met Colonel O'Neill that morning. Apparently the Colonel wanted to watch the tests, not that there'd be much to see from the ground. O'Neill brought a Major Carter with him--beautiful woman, warm and professional. Colonel Slatt said the two of them had received the Air Medal for something they couldn't discuss; Gavilan guessed it was they who had captured the XDG in the first place.
O'Neill caught up with Gavilan as he approached the hangar. Mike was surprised to see that the Colonel was alone.
"So. Where is this civvy expert of yours?"
"Oh. He ah, went on into the hangar to check out the bird."
"Scientist?"
"Uh, advanced weapons specialist."
"What does that mean?"
"Weapons, aircraft..."
Damn. I hate it when the brass gets evasive. "Has he been up in a high-performance aircraft before?"
"Oh yeah."
Well at least there's that. Better not have to scrape his breakfast off the canopy.
The hangar seemed dark after the desert's glare. Mike could see a shadow moving under the XDG, partly obscured behind it, while several others moved crisply to their business in the periphery of the space.
"Hey, Teal'c," called the Colonel.
The shadow stepped from behind the XDG and became a very tall, imposingly-built black man in a flight-suit, with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.
"How does she look?" O'Neill continued as they approached.
The man looked at Gavilan, "Your people have repaired this craft well." There was a crispness to his speech, and a trace of an odd rhythm, that made Mike think the guy might have spent time in the Caribbean. But his words lacked the melodic playfulness of that region.
"Teal'c, this is Major Gavilan. Major Gavilan, Teal'c."
Still just Teal'c, huh?
They shook hands; for an instant Mike somehow felt like a boy shaking the hand of his father. But the scientist--or whatever he was--looked to be no more than a handful of years older than himself, if at all. Mike decided it was man's sheer mass rather than age that gave the impression; he was built like a professional wrestler.
"I am told that you have flown this glider several times," said Teal'c.
"Six times over the past two weeks. Routine tests, basic safety, landing systems. I tell you she's the most advanced thing I've ever seen, and for once the technology is solid as a rock." He slapped his hand against the plane's wing, as though it were a horse.
He caught a glimpse of the Colonel raising an eyebrow to the 'specialist'. But Teal'c was as solid as the XDG and didn't respond.
"But the brass thought it would be a good idea if you came along when we tested some of its more advanced features. So here we are," he said amicably.
I really wish I didn't have to take you along--nothing personal--but that's my orders. Not your fault, I'd guess.
"Where're you from?" he added.
"Area 52," Teal'c said dryly.
"Uh, Major?" the Colonel looked at his shoes, and rocked on his feet.
Gavilan pursed his lips. Ok. Don't go there...
He started his walk-around of the aircraft.
"You might get a better idea how she flies from the chase plane, at least for the first flight out..."
"I will observe from within the secondary cockpit," said Teal'c.
"Uh, yeah. Well the instrumentation there is still the original. It's in that funny code..."
"Of this I am aware."
"We'll be pulling some g's..."
"I understand."
Not easily dissuaded, are you?
"It's also possible--not likely, mind you, but possible--that something unexpected will crop up during the flight. It is a test-flight, after all. She's been retrofitted with ejection seats--whoever built her either must have been crazy or they didn't care how many pilots they killed.
The Major took a breath. "Anyway if something goes wrong I don't need to worry about what you are doing on top of everything else. You listen for my order. If I say eject, eject. Otherwise, don't panic."
"I am not prone to panic," said Teal'c. The man might as well have been a talking boulder.
No, I'd guess you aren't.
"The cockpits are pretty roomy so I don't think it will be a tight fit, even for you."
"I will be fine."
Gavilan wasn't quite sure if he caught a transient smirk on the man's face. He was very difficult to read.
Who is this guy?
A technician approached.
"Uh, sir?" she said to Mike, "Our window begins in thirty minutes."
"Window?" asked O'Neill, as the technician retreated.
"Satellite blind spot. The cold war may be over but that doesn't mean the old powers aren't watching. Flights are scheduled when there's nobody over head."
The Colonel nodded.
"Well, Teal'c, looks like you two don't need me," said the Colonel. "I'll be watching with the ground crew. You kids go knock yourselves out."
Now Gavilan was sure about that smirk.
O'Neill clapped Mike on the shoulder as he passed, and leaned close, "Don't worry, he grows on you," he murmured, and walked out onto the blinding tarmac.
"Let's finish our walk around, huh?" Mike said.
Teal'c recognized the Death Glider as the one which had saved the life of Tekmahteh Bra'tac and Colonel O'Neill. The requisite parts to repair it had been scavenged primarily from the glider which he and Major Carter had flown. After the initial analysis, Area 51 had provided the SGC with a wish-list for parts that could not be scavenged; over the years most had been acquired legitimately from off world allies.
But one important element had been destroyed on both ships, and had not been legitimately received from off world. This was the first thing which the Jaffa checked on arriving at the spacecraft; he was relieved to discover the humans had engineered a part performing the same function, but with little resemblance to the original. Neither the part nor its construction showed any taint of Colonel Mayborne's improprieties.
He had actually completed his walk-around inspection of the craft when O'Neill's voice called his name.
"Hey, Teal'c."
The Colonel was flanked by a young man of perhaps Daniel Jackson's age, fit and alert and wiry, who walked with a slight swagger of bravado. Teal'c had seen the look; a young warrior with no defeat in his past and nothing but optimism for his future.
Colonel O'Neill had not seen many more years than the pilot, but the contrast as they approached was that between adult and child.
Teal'c was amused. Earth was such a formidable world, and at the same time, so innocent--like this young pilot.
"Where're you from?" the Major's words ran together.
Chulak, he thought. "Area 52," he said.
O'Neill stepped in; the pilot made it clear he did not want this mysterious guest on his craft. Teal'c guessed the young man would probably test his bravery with a few reckless maneuvers once they were airborne. It would be interesting to see how close to the edge this man was willing to go.
But of course Teal'c would allow Gavilan to hurt neither himself nor the craft.
"Now you kids go knock yourselves out."
O'Neill was tickling him with another of his odd human clichés. Were they alone, Teal'c might have countered with a Jaffa saying from the studies Daniel Jackson had been "inflicting" on their commander. But for now Teal'c would not "take the bait".
As for "kids"--Teal'c was older than the grandfathers of some at the SGC. It was sad the humans of Earth withered at so young an age.
Little things Mike noticed built his confidence in his passenger. One was the way Teal'c looked at the XDG. His gaze was one of appraisal and familiarity, not the wide-eyed wonder that was still shared by most of the hangar crew. At times he seemed more attentive to Mike than to the aircraft.
By his familiarity, Mike guessed that Teal'c had been among those working on the beauty while it was hidden away at Nellis; he might even know which country the craft had come from. The XDG was obviously designed for humans to fly--despite rumblings about extra-terrestrials from the hangar-crew. Mike figured it was an ex-soviet design. But such information was on a need-to-know basis. Gavilan's job was to fly it. And at the moment, to fly this 'specialist', or whatever he was, along with it.
When he settled into the cockpit, Mike took a few seconds to stow the approved camera and adjust his mask and restraint. By the time he turned his head to check on Teal'c, the big man was already helmeted, hooked in and activating the strangely-encoded systems.
Guess you don't need my help.
He turned back to his own pre-flights.
"All systems are functioning," Teal'c's voice rumbled softly from the intercom.
"Thank you. A few more minutes up here," Mike replied.
He chatted a bit with the tower, finally was cleared for their window of secrecy between satellites overhead. They were towed out of the hangar.
"How ya doin' there Teal'c?" came Colonel O'Neill's voice from the ground crew channel.
"All is well," rumbled the reply.
Ok big guy, hold onto your breakfast. Here we go.
Teal'c was pleased that the man followed the test protocol with precision. He did not deviate in order to show his prowess; he did not attempt to impress Teal'c. The Tau'Ri control systems seemed to be functioning as well as the originals, based on the readouts at his own station, and this human was as exacting a pilot as any Jaffa.
For the moment they were experimenting with low-altitude maneuverability.
"You know one thing I've noticed about this doll, she's great at really low speeds, but mid-range, where you'd dog-fight, she's not that maneuverable. Any idea why she's built that way?"
"This craft was designed to bring terror and destruction to settlements on the ground," Teal'c replied. "Its air-to-air capabilities are limited." In any design, there had to be trade-offs; the death-gliders were outstanding fighters in vacuum, but in atmospheres had to out-run what they could not out-maneuver.
"You're kidding."
"I am not 'kidding'."
"Why would anyone want to do that?"
"To control a population through fear."
"Jeez. Why not just use a bomber if you're going to do that?"
"The goal is to terrify. There must be numerous survivors."
"So this is a psychological weapon."
"Yes."
"Shee-it," muttered the pilot. "That's twisted."
Major Gavilan perfectly executed the schooling strafes. Teal'c allowed his attention to wander to the mid-range sensors, into which the Tau'Ri had not yet tapped. There were a variety of signals indicated within the atmosphere--most were craft of similar size, material, and route--commercial vessels. A few scattered pinpricks at low speed indicated private craft--the thought of which elated the Jaffa; individuals on this world were free to own the means of flight.
But one trace was not like the others.
"O'Neill," he said to the ground, lapsing quickly into his native tongue, "something approaches at high altitude and speed."
The pattern which Mike had been asked to fly was unusually slow and tight. On the ground, reviewing the flight plans, he had expected this segment of the tests to be boring. He preferred speed, which the XDG had in abundance. But he found the intricate exercises more fun than he expected--like flying acrobatics in a biplane, but without the wind in his hair.
For safety's sake they were flying at a reasonable altitude; if anything went wrong they'd have time to try to fix it before they had to eject. But the pattern was meant to be performed with a nadir of only six feet. Apparently the craft's designers were not the only ones who were twisted. Mike tried to imagine the inverted maneuvers at that level, with sagebrush passing just outside the canopy at a hundred miles an hour.
He could see why villagers would be scared--if "Teal'c" wasn't pulling his leg with that story.
"O'Neill," his passenger's voice rumbled on the comm, "hirre jewudje khet..."
Great. I bet he's about to lose breakfast...
"Uh, sir, is there a problem? I don't think we understood that last..." came the ground's reply.
Colonel O'Neill's voice interrupted, "Teal'c, we copy."
"Na sa'ayenef kheper pen."
"Asgard?"
"Na peterrnef..."
What is this, the U. N.?
"You guys gonna let the rest of us in on your little chit-chat?"
"Uh, Teal'c's just shy about confirming a bogey. Teal'c, you got its position?"
Well hell, tell the pilot!
"1000 kilometers two degrees north of west" Teal'c replied, in English, "Altitude 30 kilometers, speed 3000 kilometers per hour, bearing directly to this area. Do your instruments confirm this?"
A wanna-be SR-71. Not a lot we can do about it but cut our tests short before they see us.
"Emrys here," came a voice from the chase plane, "We don't read him." The F-16 had been circling the Death Glider's tight pattern like a frustrated wasp at a picnic, unable to match its slow speeds.
There were a few seconds of silence.
"We don't see him down here either," Colonel Slatt's voice broke the gap.
Must be a sensor glitch.
"Teal'c are you sure that is not a malfunction?" he transmitted on the intercom.
"I am accurately detecting both our escort and distant commercial craft."
Colonel O'Neill's voice returned to the comm, "Teal'c, how do you feel about that glider?"
Uh, who is in command here?
"I believe it is worthy."
"Worthy enough to sneak up on that aircraft?"
Sneak up!? Gavilan cut the external com.
"Teal'c," he said, trying to keep the anger out his voice, "I was told the maximum speed on this bird is mach two. So what is it, really?"
"We should have little difficulty overtaking the intruder"
Damn. So when were they going to tell me? But he answered his own question. Probably when we were ready for the next phase of tests.
"Ok, so we're fast--what's our ceiling?"
"This will not be a problem."
"What do you mean 'this will not be a problem'?"
The answer was silence.
What the HELL are we flying!? And why wasn't I told?
"May I resume communication with Colonel O'Neill?"
"Yeah. Go ahead," Mike re-enabled the comm.
"The glider is fully functional," his passenger rumbled coolly, "However the weapons have not been charged."
"Colonel Slatt, am I to anticipate a change in my orders, sir?" It was all very nice for Teal'c to banter with his usual commander, but Colonel Slatt was in command of this mission.
"One moment," Slatt said.
There was a pause.
"Major, that's affirmative. You are clear to interrupt testing and investigate the bogey. I'd like to remind you to shut down your tracking beacon.
"And Mike, Colonel O'Neill seems to think you should allow Teal'c to pilot under your command."
Why did I see that coming? Who is in charge, here, Colonel? He's a civilian, damn it!
"Sir?"
"That is advice, Major, not an order."
"I see sir."
"Your objective is to identify the incoming aircraft and if possible its country-of-origin. You are not to engage, and you are not to be seen. Those are your orders, Major."
"Understood, sir. Breaking pattern now," Gavilan said. He cut the comm back to internal, and shut down the tracking beacon.
"All right, Teal'c, I don't have your displays, where are we going?"
"Two degrees north of west. Does it seem likely these intruders would not expect an approach from above?"
"That's a pretty safe guess." Damn obvious if you ask me.
"Then may I suggest the following course? If these systems are properly communicating it should appear now on your monitor."
Suggest the following course, Gavilan growled inwardly. He glanced at his screen; assuming their target did not change its heading, they would spiral to upward to a course parallel and slightly above that of their quarry. A portion of the trajectory was ballistic; another sustained a six-gee acceleration. The flight parameters looked suspiciously similar to those already demonstrated by the intruder.
"How many G's can you stand?"
"I am confident I can tolerate whatever forces are required."
"Good."
Fine. I'll fly it your way. Gavilan picked up Teal'c's bearing and accelerated.
A short time later he heard a transmission from the chase plane. "Ground control, this is Captain Emrys. The XDG is out of visual range. And I might add, I am impressed."
O'Neill, Carter, and Slatt huddled around the coffee maker, trying not to look concerned in front of the technicians.
"You think our bird's owners have come back to claim it?" Slatt asked softly.
"With respect, sir, if that were the case, they wouldn't be so subtle about it," muttered Sam.
"Oh. That's reassuring, Major," Slatt stirred sugar into his drink. Jack noticed the man was up to his fourth packet.
"I'm not worried," quipped Jack. "Teal'c, a death glider, single opponent..."
"And no ammunition," Sam murmured.
"Good thing, or it'd be raining jets in California about now."
Sam chuckled.
"You two have a lot of confidence in this guy." Slatt tasted his coffee and winced.
"Absolute confidence, Colonel," Jack clapped Slatt on the back. "You have nothing to worry about.
"Carter," he continued, "I'm going to check in with Hammond. Be back in a few minutes."
"I understand, Colonel," she nodded to Jack, and smiled to the other Colonel. She'd be there to help Slatt if the situation turned. Meanwhile, Jack would make sure there wasn't any news from off world they should know of.
They had been pulling close to six gees for about a minute, looping their course to parallel the bogey; Gavilan was seeing spots.
Colonel O'Neill thinks....well he can stuff that idea....
Teal'c's voice interrupted his internal fury, "Major Gavilan."
Ha. Too tough for you?
"What, Teal'c?"
"Ten seconds until you must cut thrust."
"Oh." What the hell was I thinking about? "Give me your mark."
Mike completed his turn; with luck they should be seeing their prey within a few minutes.
"Five, four, three, two, one, mark."
Gavilan cut the thrust. The sudden shift from six gees to none made his head pound.
Teal'c's flight plan had them inverted; with so little ambient air at this altitude, the sky was twilight below and the stars peeked through. The ground seemed impossibly far above, and Gavilan could see the earth's curve. Without thrust or maneuvers in progress, they were weightless. They were still within the atmosphere, but Mike felt as though he were in space.
"Thank you, Teal'c." He had to admit, the man was a pretty good navigator. Good enough to knock some sense back into Mike's thick head when he was letting his emotions run away with him. "This is pretty cool," he added.
"I concur."
Mike chuckled. "You don't have to be so formal."
"For this mission you are my commander," Teal'c replied.
Gavilan realized the man had struck the heart of what was distracting him. His role as flight commander had been challenged; Slatt and O'Neill lacked confidence in him, and he now felt he had to retain control in order to prove himself.
Teal'c needed no proof. Teal'c apparently saw through both what had troubled the Colonels, and what was troubling Gavilan. Though the Colonel's had suggested Teal'c pilot, Gavilan realized the man himself would not pursue that issue. He who was actually in the aircraft, and sharing the risks, was not concerned about whether Gavilan could fly it.
He also showed a rare respect for the chain of command.
"How long were you in the military?" Mike asked. There was no way in hell this guy was just a civilian.
The other man hesitated. "I began formal training when I was in my teens."
"May I ask why you left?"
"I defected to this country."
"From where?"
"This has been classified. I am told it is for my safety."
"Are you allowed to tell me what your rank was?"
"Similar to one of your," he corrected himself, "our Generals, but with more field responsibility."
"You don't look old enough to be a General."
"Thank you. In truth I am older than Colonel O'Neill." Teal'c paused, "I have sent a plan of closer approach to your screen. If you choose to adopt it, we will need to correct our course in 8 seconds. Five, four, three, two, one, mark."
If you choose to adopt it. There was no question in Mike's mind; he took the mark. The feeling of weightlessness disappeared as the craft slowly turned.
"If we get this close they will see us."
"I think they will not, for they have not yet altered their trajectory in response to us. If we follow this plan, we will approach them along the line of their shockwave, from above and behind, until we are close enough to identify their origin. They believe themselves to be invisible. But it is they who will not see us."
"That's what we believe."
"In our case it is the truth."
Mike chuckled; in Teal'c's voice he heard a well-disguised note of child-like glee.
To be on the safe side he checked his displays along the same vector above the XDG. The area looked clear.
"Twelve o'clock," rumbled his passenger.
Mike looked up--which was actually down; about 30 degrees ahead of them was a small dark point, growing larger while otherwise maintaining its relative position.
Damn good navigator!
Mike allowed the craft to descend, unpowered, for a few more seconds, then eased some thrust into the maneuver to slow their rate of descent. He understood, now, why Teal'c had casually referred to the craft as a 'glider'. Gradually he felt himself press into his restraints, until his weight returned to normal. They were in level, inverted flight about sixty meters from their prey, which so far seemed completely unaware of their presence.
Their target was black, shaped like a smoothed 'V', with angled stabilizers at the wing tips. Mike could see a small splash of red on the stabilizers, but he was as yet too far away to verify the pattern. The Major had seen a similarly shaped craft in some satellite images published in Aviation Week; the Russians' explanation was that it was a prototype for a re-usable orbital re-entry vehicle, similar to the U. S. space shuttle.
Obviously that was a cover story for yet another spy plane design.
"Do you recognize this configuration?" Teal'c's voice murmured.
"Yeah, I think I do," answered Gavilan. He got the impression that this news was a great relief to his passenger. "Teal'c, do you think you could hold us in our relative position, I'd like to take some photographs."
Sure, I'll let him pilot, O'Neill, he smirked inwardly. "Five, four, three, two, one, mark."
"I have control," Teal'c confirmed.
Gavilan brought out his camera. He took an overall shot of the intruder, then used the modest built-in telephoto to capture the red star on the stabilizer.
"Major, do you wish a closer approach?"
Closer!?
"Uh, are you sure you are up to that?"
"I am quite certain."
"Ok..." Slatt and O'Neill believe in him. Please, God, don't let him kill us.
The Russian craft drifted slowly closer, till the distance between the two was halved.
Gavilan started to get nervous.
"Uh, Teal'c, how close do you plan to go?"
"Ten meters."
Jesus!
"If we were to approach more closely our own shockwave could affect the stability of their craft, allowing them to detect us."
"Ten meters will be close enough," Mike answered dryly.
Gavilan felt a slight shift in his weight; their prey began a slow, arcing turn which, over a distance of a few hundred miles, would bring it on course to return west--the nearest edge of US airspace. Gavilan guessed once it reached the Pacific it would re-fuel and head north--the shortest route home. Teal'c had matched its changing course perfectly, maintaining their slow, cautious drift toward the intruder.
Gavilan scrambled to change film, then resumed shooting.
He got a really nice image of the cockpit instrumentation. A couple more with the names of the pilots showing on their helmets.
Then he noticed something creeping into the bottom of his frame.
"Teal'c. Shadow!" he said, as their curving path brought their own umbra to the posterior edge of the enemy cockpit.
His restraints jerked against his shoulders; the intruder fell abruptly away as the XDG peeled upward, then shook like a four-wheeler skittering through a ditch. Then he was weightless again.
"Teal'c?"
"Major. We were struck by their sonic shockwave."
"Oh."
That he was weightless meant they were falling; somehow at this altitude he wasn't at all concerned. His instruments did not suggest any damage. Other than a modest spin, their trajectory was benign.
"I will take her back in five, four, three, two, one, mark," said Gavilan.
Mike smoothed their flight back into control, his weight against the restraints a comforting sign that all was again well.
"Teal'c, you wanna..." But the flight plan for their return popped up on his monitor. "Thanks," he said.
Markoff felt the hair stand on the back of his neck; the aircraft bumped suddenly, like a truck running over a rabbit. He checked his instruments. All was well. The hair on his neck laid flat. He'd have the technicians go over the machine thoroughly on his return; at this altitude there shouldn't have been anything in the air which could make the craft shudder. He was glad they were already on the way home, and fuel was close by, awaiting them over the Pacific.
Whatever it was the Americans were flying that day, he hadn't seen it. But there were always next week's tests to observe--just another excuse to be in the air.
"Sir!" the duty officer's voice revealed his excitement, "They've turned on their beacon. We have tracking."
"Where?" Slatt hurried to look at the technician's display
"They're back in the test area, sir. If I didn't know better I'd think their beacon malfunctioned and just came back up."
"Good. If anyone else was tracking lets hope that's what they think too."
"Colonel," came Gavilan's voice over the com, "Piece of cake. We're coming back in."
The Colonel's Slatt and O'Neill met them in the hangar, Major Carter in tow. Technicians scurried to surround the XDG, like ants investigating a raisin that fell out of the sky.
Gavilan held his camera up in one hand and two canisters of film in the other.
"A gift for you, Colonel."
"Nice work, Major," Colonel Slatt took the canisters and handed them to a technician. "I want these developed ASAP. Who was it, Mike?"
"Russians, sir. They never knew we were there."
"Nice flight, Teal'c?" Gavilan overheard O'Neill greet the ex-General behind him.
"Major Gavilan is a capable pilot," Teal'c said.
Somehow those modest words meant a lot to him.
"This way, we'll debrief," said Slatt.
Mike bumped into O'Neill as they exited the hangar.
"You were right about Teal'c."
"He makes friends wherever he goes," the Colonel smirked. Gavilan felt there was a joke in there that he was missing.
It was dark, and the desert air was still warm from the day. But Gavilan could feel the distant chill that prophesied a cold morning. A collared lizard skittered across his path, taking advantage of the heat still stored in the ground.
The hangar was lit. His wings sat sedately awaiting his morning return.
After today's flight, he just had to tuck her in.
He followed the lines of the XDG with his eye. They were smooth, exact; the panels of the shroud ornate in a way he'd not seen in a prototype before. They were designed to fool radar, he was told, a baffle to dull any reflection. But there was more; they were art--to the eye, a design resembling a hawk, when viewed from below. There was nothing awkward, no defect in the pattern except those flaws introduced by the aircraft's repair. There had been nary a glitch in their flight of that day.
This was no prototype. This technology was mature.
Even in their most advanced craft, the Russians hadn't seen the XDG, couldn't detect it. Which meant they'd never seen its like before.
And it certainly wasn't Chinese.
Which left...who?
4/9/00
