Our First Phoenix
The aircraft wasn’t complete. It sat unused, some parts covered in tan colored tarps. The disc above its fuselage was awkward and one of its two engines were missing. As the groups eyes adjusted to the interior darkness of the hangar from the high sun outside one man stepped out ahead and began explaining the dilapidated plane. He was a US Army colonel.
“DARPA’s disc rotor concept was beat out by the Valor as an eventual replacement for the Blackhawk. This is the only one ever built. It hasn’t flown in almost four years. The project went way over budget and got overly complicated in its design. The war of 2020 sealed the projects demise with the success and resilience of the Valor in active combat.”
The colonel stopped a few feet from the nose of the plane. The group congregated around him. Among them were more members of the Army, US government officials, DARPA personnel, and several UN officials wearing clothing the lead colonel had never seen before.
“Tell me,” said the colonel, “what does the United Nations want with such a craft. It's a piece of junk.”
“We need it for UNIRO,” stated one of the UN officials.
“UNIRO?” scoffed the colonel, looking at some of the other Army men. “Such an idealistic organization is pipedream. I doubt it will ever get off the ground. This aircraft certainly never will. Why not appoint something like the Valor. It’s much more capable and proven.”
One of the UN officials broke from the group and started walking around the plane, his hands held together behind his back. “The Valor is to small, doesn’t have enough range, and isn’t compatible with a hydrogen fuel system. Trust me, our engineers have run the numbers,” he said.
“Excuse me,” laughed the colonel. “With all due respect you can’t be serious about this aircraft being put into service; with a hydrogen based fuel system might I add. It’s impossible. And… your engineers, sir? Some of the brightest minds in the country couldn’t perfect this plane, some of which are in this hangar right now. Who are your engineers?” asked the colonel, sounding annoyed.
Stopping behind the open rear cargo bay door of the plane the man from the UN reached out with one of his hands and gently brushed his fingers along the dusty fuselage. He cracked a smile.
“My engineers,” he said, “do not have the luxury of telling me something is impossible. My engineers are in a race against time, a race that must be won. My engineers, like myself, are members of UNIRO, that idealistic pipedream that just ordered ninety of these aircraft from your government. The disc rotor program has been reinstituted.”
"It will never work!" shouted the colonel.
"They said the same thing about flight itself," softly grinned the lone UNIRO man as he walked inside the gutted airframe up the cargo bay ramp, nodding in approval. What future missions could this aircraft travel on? What places would it go? Who would it save and how many?
He slowly sat down in the pilots seat, looking out the windowless cockpit. Below he could hear the group squabbling amongst itself, the colonel sounding especially bothered. Each of the cockpits many screens were dark. Knobs were stuck. Buttons jammed in place. He looked back over his shoulder down the length of the plane, taking great peace in the possibilities this one machine could bring to the world.
“This will be our first Phoenix,” he whispered to himself.