My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible Chapter 511 Technical Specifications Document (2)

Reyes sat behind his desk as the specifications document came in.

He launched the file, scanned the classification header, and dialed Mendez right before hitting the physical dimensions part.

She showed up in his office just four minutes later. Hahn strolled in two minutes afterward, clutching his coffee, calm until Reyes's face caught his eye.

"Read it," Reyes instructed.

Both of them dove into it.

Mendez wrapped up first. She placed the document aside and stared at the ceiling briefly. Then her gaze shifted to Reyes. "Below sixty decibels at five hundred meters."

"Yeah."

"A vehicle weighing two hundred and ten thousand kilograms unloaded makes less racket at five hundred meters than a library."

"I saw it."

Hahn kept poring over it. He progressed deliberately through the propulsion details, the approach profile, then halted at the electromagnetic and radar portion. He went over it twice. "They're admitting they've flown this beast invisibly and they're volunteering to drop the invisibility as a favor."

"For the duration of airport operations," Mendez noted. "At their discretion."

"At their discretion," Hahn echoed. He continued scanning.

Reyes had already pored over it three times. He'd spent eleven minutes with it prior to summoning Mendez, taking those moments to sort his responses methodically so he could contribute effectively once the team gathered.

The initial shock hit from the dimensions. Thirty-eight meters in length, twenty-two wide, fourteen tall. For comparison, a typical Boeing 737 measures just shy of forty meters. The shuttle matched a passenger jet in size. Loaded at two hundred and sixty thousand kilograms, it outmassed a packed 747. This was no small craft. It wasn't beyond grasp, yet its scale hammered home the reality.

Next came the approach profile reaction. Straight vertical drop from overhead. No runway required. No slanted entry path. The craft would materialize over the landing spot and plunge directly downward.

JFK was built for long horizontal glides through controlled skies. This machine would slice through the airspace unnoticed, descending steadily, and touch down.

The hazard profile struck third. He'd revisited that part four times. Fire risk: None. Blast concerns: None. Toxic output: None. Radiation: None. Every hazard his safety crew would agonize over for weeks got preemptively neutralized.

The fourth jolt, the one lingering, was the stealth clause.

Hahn completed the read and laid it down. "The stealth systems clause flips the entire discussion."

"In what way?" Mendez inquired.

"All those jurisdiction hurdles we've held — FAA type certification, airworthiness, radar integration — they presume we can see and monitor the vehicle, evaluate it, enforce rules. The stealth bit reveals that presumption hinges on Nova Technologies' willingness. They've operated this thing, likely for ages, totally off our radar. They're not seeking certification. They're graciously offering visibility."

Reyes nodded, having reached that conclusion himself.

"Which means," Hahn pressed on, "the FAA's demand for type certification prior to landing clearance holds up in theory but crumbles in practice. They could deny it. The shuttle lands regardless if Nova Technologies chooses. The real issue is whether JFK joins the operation or watches from the sidelines."

Mendez had retrieved the document and was rereading the landing infrastructure. "Standard commercial tarmac works fine," she observed. "No special setups. No refueling. No upkeep. No tech support. Just a level spot, a lounge, and boarding area." She dropped it again. "We're basically a pricey parking spot for this show."

"We're the coordination hub," Reyes countered. "Convenient location. Passengers travel from their spots to a takeoff point. We're that point for this area."

"What if we refused?"

"They'd pick another flat patch in the US Northeast."

Silence filled the room briefly.

Hahn eyed the gravity line he'd highlighted. "Earth-level gravity all the way. No zero-g. No wild g-shifts. Passengers won't sense leaving Earth until peering out a window." He hesitated. "Assuming windows exist."

"The volunteers get to snap photos and videos of the trip," Mendez replied. "Per the logistics notice. So windows are likely there."

Reyes fetched his version and located the approach vectors section. Nova Technologies would supply vectors to air traffic control at least six hours ahead of the window. Set paths. No real-time tweaks needed during ops.

He checked the ATC compatibility. Total match with standard frequencies and protocols. Transponder on. Secondary radar ready.

They'd crafted the shuttle to chat with airports it didn't require nods from.

"I need Obi on the line," he declared.

"She's rung twice already," Mendez informed. "While you read."

***

Theresa Obi devoured the document from her car in the FAA Eastern Region lot.

Seventeen years in aviation regs under her belt. She'd vetted cert apps for regional jets, probed airworthiness for test planes, even joined a group dissecting a new drone engine over fourteen months.

The Nova Technologies shuttle specs took her eleven minutes.

Then she phoned the FAA Administrator's office straight up, skipping her regional boss, knowing this needed higher firepower.

"You've read it," the Administrator said upon answering.

"Just did."

"Your take?"

Theresa gazed out her windshield at the lot. A service truck crept across the distant tarmac.

"The craft meshes with our setup practically everywhere," she stated. "ATC bands, transponder, radar during ops — built to sync with our gear. Approach is odd but doable. Vertical drop to marked zone, vectors six hours early, steering clear of commercial lanes. We can slot it in."

"Certification issue?"

"No cert path exists for this," Theresa replied. "Our framework suits planes in known physics. Thrust: 'sufficient.' Switchable stealth. Propulsion with zero burn, no heat sig, library-quiet. No fitting category. No paperwork. No procedure."

Pause. "Then we invent one."

"Crafting a proper framework would take years. Launch is November fourteenth."

Longer pause.

"Recommendation?"

Theresa had mulled this since the specs dropped. Truth be told, since the coord notice. Even earlier, back to the livestream.

"Issue a Special Flight Authorization," she proposed. "One-off op, set date, exact craft, precise path. Falls under Administrator power. Avoids cert precedent since it's not that. Gives us official cover without faking a fit."

"Stealth systems?"

"They pledge to shut them off during airport ops. We log it and tie to auth terms." She paused. "Auth is mostly symbolic anyway. They don't require it. But granting it keeps us involved, not sidelined."

The Administrator pondered. "Draft it. I'll check this afternoon."

Theresa hung up and lingered in the lot another minute before heading in.

The truck had vanished around the terminal's far side. Early November's pale grey sky over the runway looked utterly normal, betraying nothing of the descent due in three weeks.

***

The specs hit the West Wing before FAA wrapped initial review.

Patricia Yuen had it up at 8:14 AM. By 8:30, forwarded to Calloway: Your analysis ASAP, one line.

Calloway replied in forty minutes. Lengthier than usual, dashed off quick but precise, structure screamed it.

She read once, then carried it to the Oval herself.

President Marsh wrapped a briefing as Yuen entered. She hung back till clear, then placed specs and analysis on the desk.

"The specifications are here," Yuen announced.

Marsh grabbed Calloway's first. Silent read.

Analysis kicked off with stealth clause, flagged primary strategic point.

The craft ran stealth active. Lunar sat gaps bugging archives weren't holes — intentional blinds.

Nova Technologies ran ships in Earth skies, maybe farther, unseen for who-knows-how-long.

Disabling stealth for airport ops was teamwork. Also proof teamwork was optional.

Propulsion section next. Calloway cross-checked noise/exhaust vs all public/classified tech. No hits. That mass, sub-60dB at 500m, zero combustion — not evolution, new physics breed.

Third part, brief: one para.

We've shadowed Nova public moves months, guessed ops from clues. Specs prove our guess incomplete. Described craft tops known Earth air fleet. More unseen likely. Stealth line: they enter our skies on whim. Nov 14th coop? Their call, not ours.

Marsh dropped it. "FAA's plan?"

"Special Flight Auth. One shot. Obi pitched, Admin reviews draft today. Keeps us engaged."

"Calloway's bit — 'cooperation is a choice.'"

"Yes."

"They know we grasp that."

"Knew we'd spot it in the stealth clause. Put it there on purpose." Yuen paused. "Like the patient framework in the notice."

Marsh eyed the desk doc. Then up. "What now?"

"Same as always. Stay involved. Grant auth. Staff lounge at landing. Gather intel. No public fuss over private gaps."

Marsh nodded deliberate. "Situation Room today. Calloway, Joint Chiefs too."

Yuen gathered papers. Door pause. "One more: noise sig. Sub-sixty decibels, five hundred meters."

"I saw."

"Loaded 747 hits ~140 on takeoff. Noise rules, paths, zoning built around that. This? Quieter than chat." Pause. "Commercialize propulsion solo, aviation's current setup dies in ~5 years."

Marsh eyed her. "In Calloway's?"

"The unwritten line," Yuen said. "But obvious."

She exited.

Marsh lingered solo with specs before next brief.

Below sixty decibels at five hundred meters.

She reread it. Closed file, geared for next meet — vital stuff, yet shrunken vs yesterday.