"Should anything happen, you will radio Flight Control immediately, and we will use the plane's artificial intelligence system, the AI module, to bring it back and land it."
"Hai." They nodded again.
"You will not be expected to take the controls," he went on. "The computer can override all commands from the cockpit. You will merely ensure the prescribed flight sequence is adhered to."
He paused, intending to collect his thoughts, but an oddity on the newly installed cockpit monitor caught his notice. He cursed himself for not having kept an eye on it. He'd been too busy briefing the pilots and now . . .
Something about the picture was strange. The perspective had changed. He reached over and, with the push of a button, transferred the image to the large liquid crystal screen on the side wall. Yes, it was definitely wrong. He couldn't quite tell . . . Had someone jostled the camera? There was still a full half hour before . . .
Something had happened in the cockpit.
The prep crews were scheduled to be finished by now—he glanced at a screen and confirmed that the checklists had already been punched—so no one had permission to be inside the plane. From this point on, only the pilots were authorized to be there.
Androv. Where was he? He was supposed to be in the Soviet Flight-Prep Sector now, across the hangar.
He turned to Taro Ikeda, who was monitoring a line of video screens. "Check with Flight Prep. Has the Soviet pilot completed his preflight physical? Has it been signed off?"
"Let me see." He moved immediately to comply. After he tapped a keyboard, a number matrix appeared on his computer screen, showing the status of all the preflight sequences. Quickly he called up the pilot sequence.