“I’m sure of that,” Mavrichev agreed.

Studying the other man’s bland expression, Petrov sourly wondered how many other unwelcome surprises the general had up his sleeve. With an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders aimed at Bunin, he led the way under the stealth bomber’s broad, blended wing to its open belly hatch.

One after another, the three Russian officers climbed up the short ladder and made their way into the cockpit. While Petrov and Bunin strapped into their regular places, Mavrichev took the right-hand rear seat. If there had been a full operational crew of four aboard, that spot would have been filled by the bomber’s weapons officer.

The older man shook his head in bemusement. Instead of the crowded banks of conventional switches, toggles, and dials he was familiar with from his days as a Tu-95 and Tu-160 bomber pilot, the console in front of him had only two large multifunction displays, which were currently blank, with a few gray buttons aligned below each screen. “Mater’ Bozh’ya!” he muttered to himself. “Mother of God! This thing looks more like a flying video game machine than a serious combat aircraft.”

Petrov noticed Bunin shoot him an amused, sidelong glance and shook his head slightly in warning. Mavrichev’s apparent unfamiliarity with modern flight instrumentation wasn’t all that surprising. He had been flying a desk for years now. And even Russia’s upgraded Tu-160M2 bombers were mostly built around technology that was sometimes more than three decades old, a far cry from the high-tech systems built into their PAK-DA prototype.

Ignoring their unwanted guest for the moment, they quickly powered up their own displays and initiated a series of automated preflight and mission readiness checklists. The next few minutes passed in a blur of activity as they double-checked the aircraft’s computers at every step.

“Our fuel tank readouts show seventy-five thousand kilograms loaded,” Bunin reported, scanning his MFDs. “And we’ve got solid data links to all weapons in the bays. Everything’s in the green.”

Petrov nodded. “Very good.” They were fully fueled, and all of their cruise missiles and air-to-air weapons were properly stowed and ready to receive targeting information from their attack computers. He checked his own display. “Our Ku-band targeting radar is on standby. All electronic countermeasures and other defensive systems are ready. Our secure satellite communications system is operational. I show available connections to Rodnik and Meridian-M satellites.”

“Both engines look solid,” Bunin told him. “There are no compressor, fan, or turbine problems.”

“Copy that,” Petrov acknowledged. He looked left outside the cockpit window and saw their crew chief give him the high sign. “All ground personnel are at a safe distance.” He glanced back at Bunin. “We are go for engine start.”

“I confirm, go for engine start,” his copilot echoed.

Petrov pulled up a new menu on his display and tapped an icon. Two indicators flashed red and then turned green. “Ignition on both engines.” He adjusted his throttles forward a notch, bringing the two big turbofans to idle. Slowly at first and then faster, the two jet engines spooled up, their noise deepening from a shrill whine to a low, rumbling roar. Through the canopy, they could see the armored hangar doors rolling all the way open. Directly off to the west, the sun hung low on the horizon.