Dragonfly vs Monarch
Book One
by
Charley Brindley
www.charleybrindley.com
Edited by
Karen Boston
Website https://bit.ly/2rJDq3f
Front cover art by
Niki Vukadinova
Back cover art by
Charley Brindley
© 2019 by Charley Brindley all rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition May 24, 2019
This book is dedicated to
Vern Franklin Brindley
Other books by Charley Brindley
1. Oxana’s Pit
2. The Last Mission of the Seventh Cavalry
3. Raji Book One: Octavia Pompeii
4. Raji Book Two: The Academy
5. Raji Book Three: Dire Kawa
6. Raji Book Four: The House of the West Wind
7. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl, Book One
8. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl, Book Two
9. Cian
10. Ariion XXIII
11. The Last Seat on the Hindenburg
12. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book One
13. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book One: Exploration
14. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book Two: Invasion
15. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book Three
16. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book Four
17. The Rod of God, Book One: Tthe Edge of Disaster
18. Sea of Sorrows, Book Two of The Rod of God
19. Do Not Resuscitate
20. Henry IX
21. Qubit’s Incubator
Coming Soon
22. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book Three
23. The Journey to Valdacia
24. Still Waters Run Deep
25. Ms Machiavelli
26. Ariion XXIX
27. The Last Mission of the Seventh Cavalry Book 2
28. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl, Book Three
See the end of the book for details about the others
In the air over Rio
Current day
Autumn Willow watched the ground below as the old B-17 bomber banked smoothly into the Rio de Janeiro landing pattern. She sat in the right seat of the cockpit and scanned the horizon as they leveled out.
“There’s Pantanal 413.” She pointed half-left toward the Brazilian Boeing 737 airliner, eight miles to the northwest and five thousand feet above them.
Her grandfather nodded and turned his attention back to the Aerovias cargo jet ahead of them in the landing pattern. He reached to the trim control knob while keeping his eyes on the cargo jet, adjusting the trim by two notches.
“Rio tower,” Autumn said into the microphone of her headset. “B-17 388. We’ve turned downwind behind Aerovias 856.”
“B-17 388. Rio tower. We are having you in our sight. Pantanal 413 and American Airlines 221 will circulate once on ten thousand over our heads to serve you time.”
“Rio Tower. B-17 388. Relay our thanks to 413 and 221. Sorry we can’t match their speed.”
“Rio Tower. They think they do not mind idling for one time longer, more or less.”
Autumn pressed her radio button twice.
“Pantanal 413 to B-17 388. We just sit on here to enjoy the sight of you aeroplane.”
“American Airlines 221 to B-17. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in the air.”
“Thanks, 221 and 413,” Autumn said, then glanced up toward American Airlines 221, ten thousand feet above. “Hope to meet up with you guys on the ground.”
“413. We be on there pretty quick afterward you do.”
“221. Bet on it. Are you the one flying that graceful old war bird?”
Autumn looked at her grandfather and saw him give her a wink. The old man then took his hands from the wheel and gave her a Your turn gesture.
She shoved the microphone up away from her lips. “You kiddin’ me?” She grabbed the wheel and lifted her feet to the pedals. “Are you kidding me?”
“I never kid anyone, Clicker. I’m just going to enjoy the ride on this landing.”
The twenty-two-year-old grad student swallowed and reached for the four throttles with her left hand. “You work the flaps and carburetor heat for me.”
“Tell me when, and how much.”
Autumn positioned the microphone back to her lips and pressed her microphone button on the wheel. “Roger that, 221.”
“B-17, looks like you got quite a crowd down on the tarmac. Show ‘em what real flying’s all about.”
Autumn pressed her microphone button twice, then called the controller at the airport. “Rio tower. B-17,” she said. “Wind check.”
She’d seen the airport’s tetrahedron pointing into the wind and knew she would have to touch down at a slight angle to the runway, but her grandfather’s words came back to her.
Never believe anything you hear, and only half of what you see. Flying is as much art and instinct as it is a science.
“B-17,” the tower answered. “Crosswind quartering, left by right. Fifteen knots, approx.”
“Roger, tower.”
Autumn scanned her instruments and added a little power. The deep throb of the four propellers increased as the engines revved up a tick. She then banked the B-17 into a sweeping right turn.
When you’re in the air, there is no wind, because your aircraft becomes part of it. Her grandfather’s words from her first flying lesson. But on landing, you have to deal with the wind aggressively. Otherwise, it’ll wreak havoc on the most powerful of aircraft.
Aerovias 856 cargo was well ahead of the B-17 and already turning cross wind.
Rio de Janeiro’s Galeao International Airport, on Governor’s Island, has one of the most difficult pilot approaches in the world. With notorious crosswinds and the waters of Guanabara Bay off each end of the runway, there’s no margin for error.
Autumn pressed her intercom button. “Buckle up, guys. Guess who’s taking the Shenandoah into Rio?”
