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Deja Vu AscendancyChapter 368: Northrop Grumman Integrated Has A Bad Day free porn video
Friday, June 8, 2007
It was 12:40am and I had a long way to go: south past Florida; west across the Gulf of Mexico, across Mexico itself and a hundred miles out into the Pacific; then north to LA. It was about 3,800 miles by my reckoning. Sunrise off LA was 5:30am, giving me five hours. That was an average of 760 mph - exactly Mach 1, which I was NOT going to attempt. I changed my intended route to cut across Florida and estimated that reduced the journey to 3,400 miles, giving 700 mph as the required speed. I could JUST get there in time, so I headed south.
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I initially had to fly considerably slower than 700 mph so I could duck underwater quickly when a plane came streaking low over the water. There was nothing ominous about that, as there'd been planes flying around at low altitudes since the Freedom Plaza bombshell.
It only took me about fifteen minutes to work my way sufficiently south that I could start speeding up. Either the air traffic was reducing with increased distance from DC, or my email was having an effect. Probably just the former this early, I guessed.
Another fifteen minutes had me up to 700 mph a dozen feet above the water. It'd take me about six seconds at 6 g's to slow down enough to get underwater without making a too-large splash, by which time a fast moving plane could cover a lot of ground (water, in this case). So I not only had to concentrate hard on not letting any of the bumps get me into an unstable tumbling, but I had to concentrate on searching the sky too. Fortunately I'm very good at concentrating on many different things at the same time, although having more sight blobs would've been very helpful.
You might be amused to know that I flew feet-first, as rapid decelerations are more comfortable that way. My eyes were closed so it didn't matter which way my body was facing. It had taken me a while to get over the psychological weirdness of flying backward when I'd first started doing so several flights ago, but it was second nature to me now. Rather than mentally imagining that I was flying, my mental imagery was now that the sled was doing the flying and I was a passenger free to move around in it, so the position of my body on the sled was irrelevant.
Another recently acquired help was the discovery of how to adjust the friction of my NP-plates. Making the exterior surface of my flying sled frictionless reduced the drag and turbulence considerably. The turbulence wasn't totally eliminated, but a 95% reduction was wonderful, especially when flying 700 mph a dozen feet above very hard water.
I cut across Florida between Gainesville and Ocala, slowing down considerably because the land isn't as flat as the water and it'd hurt to fly into something. I paused at one place to do some quick research on Northrop Grumman's El Segundo facility. Google Earth showed me that it was bigger and more impressive than I'd imagined. Good.
I crossed Mexico about two hundred miles south of the US-Mexico border to avoid the surveillance in the border area. The US Border Patrol could VERY easily be using radars capable of detecting people! It would be bad if they detected one flying at 500 mph, that being my average low-flying, cross-country speed, when I'm not slowing down to steal a bottle of drinking water.
I'd originally intended to fly a hundred miles out into the Pacific before turning north, but I turned north only fifty miles out to sea because I had a timing problem: I'd picked up a little bit of extra speed during the trip. Partly from getting better with practice so able to put another fingertip or two into pushing, and partly from making small changes to the design of my sled - necessarily only small changes, because I REALLY didn't want to have a failed experiment 12 feet ASL at 710 mph! But despite the improvements, there'd been too much time lost to delays so I was running behind my optimistic schedule.
I wasn't going to get to LA early enough to fly over the Northrop Grumman facility in the dark, so it was going to have to be a daytime, land-based attack. That would normally mean angling into the land and borrowing another motorcycle so I could keep my helmet on. My target was three hundred miles directly north of me (although I was out to sea, LA was directly north because the American coastline conveniently bulges out to the west, which was geometrically obliging of it), but even being able to head straight to my target wouldn't get me there before daybreak. I'd be lucky to get another two hundred miles under my belt before dawn broke. If I angled toward the coast to reach it about two hundred miles from now, I'd be pushing my luck to get across the border by daybreak. People-detecting radars have a short range, but flying so close to the area where any border surveillance had to be the strongest would be inviting detection.
Having no choice, from dawn onward, today would have to be a day of submarine travel. It being so much slower, I had only flown fifty miles out from Mexico's coast. I kept flying north, which would be roughly parallel to the Mexican coast. There were several radar transmitters sending beams out here, but they weren't in a band that worried me because unlike my high-flying radio blob, my body was well below their horizon, thanks to the curvature of the Earth. The amount of signal reaching my body was far below the detection level. I wouldn't get any closer to land until I was well past the border, so the only thing I had to worry about was patrol boats, which my very large radio blob would see coming long before they could possibly see me or get me on radar if they had the necessary type.
The sun drove me underwater even earlier than I'd expected, probably because I was too used to the Cascade Range throwing a large shadow at dawn, which was something the Pacific Ocean didn't do much of. I submerged when I was about fifteen miles east of the southern tip of San Clemente Islands, which was about 75 miles from my target.
Since I was several hours of underwater travel away from my destination, I decided it was a good time to do the laundry. Seeing the cops at the roadblock out of DC use some sort of Geiger counter on people had been a reminder of the trace radiation issue. The undergraduate Physics courses I'd read - which was all of them that OSU had online - had included very little material about nuclear physics. Without wanting to be rude, a BS in Physics is useless for anything except doing an MS in Physics, as all the BS does is build a foundation. After doing all the BS reading, my physics knowledge is about as good as the state of the physics world 80 years ago, at best. That has no use, except as a base to add more knowledge to. I wouldn't be surprised if, after completing an MS in Physics I'd only be 25 years behind the times, because physics gets REALLY complicated! Anyway, I digress. My point is that I knew fuck all about "trace" or any other type of nuclear radiation.
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