“No problem, buddy: I’ll make a few circuits at high altitude and see if there’s anything sneaking about while Phoenix-Two and –Three come in. If anything’s around, I’ll find it!”
The only break in the dark sky above was a pair of glowing exhausts as the aircraft Trumbull assumed must have been Phoenix-One roared past overhead a second or so later, the thunder of its engines making the tower shudder. Judging by the sound alone, it left an impression of being far more powerful than the F-35E.
“Your friends…?” He inquired with a little nervousness.
“Our friends…” Thorne assured, nodding and grinning smugly.
“Oh good…!” The squadron leader remarked with faint sarcasm and mock geniality, unaware of how accurate that statement would indeed become. He returned his attention to the approaching lights in the sky, which were now much closer. At first, he thought there must be a number of planes out there flying in close formation, navigation lights blinking asymmetrically — red and green. It wasn’t long before he realised, incredulous, that all the lights he could see belonged instead to just two aircraft.
“My God…!” He breathed in surprise.
“Lockheed and Boeing, actually,” Thorne replied glibly, enjoying the moment immensely.
The first of the giants was upon them in another moment, the landing gear beneath the craft’s massive bulk searching for the far end of the runway. Without GPS or an ILS, the pilot was forced to actually carry out the whole landing manually, something that was unusual and took some concentration. It dropped toward the concrete with three massive clusters of rubber-tyred wheels in an unusual, tricycle arrangement Trumbull had rarely seen, its airspeed still seemingly far too high for a landing in his opinion, and he saw it clearly for the first time as it passed the first of the runway markers at the far end and into the field lighting beyond.
With a wingspan of 68 metres, a length of almost 76 and a basic operating weight of more than 150 tonnes, the Lockheed Galaxy C-5M, erstwhile of the United States Air Force Logistic Command, was far and away the largest flying thing Alec Trumbull had ever laid eyes on. Tyres bit into the concrete as it touched down, releasing chirps of protest and puffs of bluish smoke, and as the nose wheels also touched down, the roar of its General Electric engines changed pitch and increased in intensity as reverse thrust kicked in. Its speed of approach began to slow dramatically as it thundered on down the runway, and Trumbull could only stare on in stunned silence. The McDonnell KC-10A Extender tanker aircraft that landed with it a few moments later, although smaller, was no less impressive.
Thirteen thousand metres above them, Captain Jack Davies of the United States Air Force completed three wide aerial circuits right around the Orkneys, his powerful radar systems telling him there were no threatening aircraft within detectable range. As it happened, the Luftwaffe aircraft Sentry had been forced to retire to its base at Wuppertal just thirty minutes earlier with minor engine problems and as such there was no equipment present that could detect the emissions of his AN/APG-77 radar. That was unfortunate in a way, as the interest the discovery of the F-35E Lightning II had created would’ve paled mightily into insignificance in comparison to knowledge of the appearance of an F-22A Raptor stealth air superiority fighter.
4. Food for Thought
Wehrmacht Western Theatre Forward HQ
Amiens, Northern France
Saturday
June 29, 1940
It was well after midnight before there was any sleep to be had at Amiens for Reichsmarschall Reuters or Albert Schiller. Late into the night they were both still in the briefing room of the mansion, joined now by another — a smallish man in his late fifties wearing a long civilian overcoat, waistcoat and trousers. Joachim Müller, once a physicist at a leading German university, was Reuters’ head technician and scientific advisor and was immensely capable in both roles. The three had been discussing the situation they were now presented with — the arrival of the F-35.
A late communiqué from Berlin had also informed them, rather to Reuters’ dismay, that the Führer would be making a surprise visit the following afternoon on the way through to a ‘morale-booster’ tour of the forward army groups throughout France and Belgium. Reuters might well be the Oberbefehlshaber der Wehrmacht but a visit from Adolf Hitler was something anyone had to take seriously. He also knew questions would be asked regarding the unexpected and unpleasant arrival of the Lightning, and although there mightn’t be any immediate danger in a strategic sense, its arrival was still something that needed to be considered.
“So we know what happened to at least one of our aircraft that failed the ‘jump’…” Schiller observed softly, following a long period of pregnant silence.
“Under the circumstances, let’s assume NATO and the CIS captured or destroyed both C-123s.” Reuters countered from his comfortable chair as the three men sat about the map table, mostly hiding the sourness behind the remark.
“…And delayed our turbine, tank armament and nuclear programs by years!” Müller observed with more obvious displeasure from the opposite side of the table. “Thank Christ we kept the exact time destination classified and preset the TDUs! At least we took the precaution of programming them to reset their data immediately after discharge or in case of power failure.” He caught Schiller’s quizzical stare and almost rolled his eyes. “You two still don’t grasp the ramifications of this, do you?”
“How much real trouble can this cause?” Schiller shot back in a friendly tone, sceptical and deciding to play Devil’s Advocate. “So we have one enemy jet turn up… just one… even if it is a bloody Joint Strike Fighter. The ‘Temporal Wave’ thingy or whatever you call it takes around 24 hours of Realtime to take effect, right? So they had a day — or part of one — to lash some kind of response together… so what?”
“Assume for just a moment, dear Joachim, that both of us poor mortals here are the complete simpletons you’ve always suspected us to be,” Reuters added with a wry smile, cutting Müller off before he could give the reply that was about to accompany the exasperated expression Schiller’s remarks had elicited. He had no doubt that there was more to it than Schiller’s flippant dismissal, and knew his 2IC probably recognised that also. “Enlighten us with your thoughts on the matter, if you would.”
“Well, to begin with: who says they’ve only had one day or part thereof?” Müller returned immediately. “Markowicz mightn’t have been the lead scientist on the project, but he was Lowenstein’s partner for ten years, and that sneaky bloody Yid would’ve known enough to give the UN a fair estimate of what their project was capable of. We grabbed Lowenstein the moment they’d gotten far enough to make it worthwhile, and that was a full twelve months before we jumped…” He fixed Schiller with a quite wilting gaze to match his sarcastic tone. “What do you suspect they imagined we were doing with their lead temporal research scientist during that time… playing hopscotch?”