FIRE ON HIGH
“Fire On High” is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters and settings © Tigermark 2003-2004 unless otherwise noted. Request permission before using them, please.
The character Anatol Altaisokova is my name for a character © Max Blackrabbit, and appears in this story with his permission. The characters of Brandy, Maxwell, and Tonya are also © Max Blackrabbit and appear here with his permission.
Matt Barstock and Intermountain Charter © Silver Coyote. See their story HERE.
Chapter 11
DECISION POINT
“Hello Dad,” Alex said as he sat at the small desk in his quarters. He still had about forty five minutes before he had to be at work. It was late the previous night in the States, and Alex had been surprised that his father had answered the phone on the second ring. He’d been too tired and upset to call when he’d arrived home, and had spent a restless night mulling over his choices. He had finally decided to call and ask his father’s advice before making a final decision.
“Hello Son, what’s up?” Anton replied, his voice sounding a bit tinny over the long distance connection.
“Dad, something has come up, and I need some good advice.” Alex then proceeded to tell his father about the previous day’s events.
“Well,” Anton said when Alex had finished, “I’m glad you reserved your temper for the tree. So, now you either retire, or this Mastifon cur will make you wish you had.”
“Yes, that’s about the size of it,” Alex said evenly.
Anton thought for a moment, and then said, “Son, you do what you feel is best. For my part, I’d love to have you around here more, now that your brother is gone. You’ve worked hard on your career, and I know you had your heart set on going to NASA, but sometimes the Lord closes doors one way and opens them another. Maybe it’s time you settled down a bit. I know you feel you let your brother down by not being there for him, but we both know that’s nonsense. If you decide to retire, I’ll look forward to seeing you more often. If you fight, good luck and God’s strength to you for that fight. Either way, you are my son, and I’ll support your decision.”
“And no, I won’t think you’re running from a fight,” Anton added, guessing at Alex’s thoughts. He decided now was not a good time to tell Alex about his cancer, either.
“Especially one that appears unwinable, as you’ve always said,” Alex said pensively. He was silent a moment, reflecting on how closely his father’s words matched the dream or whatever it was he’d had the night before. “Hmpf,” he thought to himself, “That was no dream.”
He sighed slightly, thinking, “Okay, I can take a hint.” Finally he said, “Thanks Dad, that helps. It’s always good to talk over things with you.”
“You’re welcome. Glad I could help. How does this affect your arrival date back in the States?”
“Scatcat said it would be the same except I’d be going to Langley instead of Edwards. Look Dad, I hate to run, but I’ve got to get to work. Talk to you soon,” Alex replied as he stood up and prepared to end the call.
“Soon, Son. I love you,” Anton said, now sounding a bit tired.
“I love you too, Dad. Get some sleep,” Alex said, warmed by his father’s words.
Anton placed the pawset back in its cradle and bowed his head to pray for his son before going to bed.
Alex hung up the phone and grabbed his hat and jacket. He headed out to work, settled now on his course of action.
# # #
Bart Higgins looked up at the sound of a knock on his door. He’d just sat down after arriving for the day. Other than Mrs. Stiener, who always seemed to be there when he came in, no matter how early, no one else was in the building that he knew of.
“Come,” he said after a moment.
Alex O’Whitt opened the door and stepped in. He marched up to Bart’s desk, came to attention, and saluted.
“Lt. Colonel O’Whitt reporting. May I speak with the Colonel?”
Bart arched an eyebrow. Alex was seldom so formal, especially when no one else was present.
“At ease and permission to speak granted. I take it you’ve reached a decision on what we discussed yesterday?” Bart said as he returned the salute.
“Yes sir,” Alex replied, coming to Parade Rest with his paws clasped behind his back, “I wish to accept the command position you mentioned . . . and also submit my retirement paperwork.”
Bart sighed. He knew this was the best choice, but he didn’t like it any better than Alex did. He realized Alex was using the formal tone to get himself through carrying out his decision.
“Very well, Lt. Colonel O’Whitt. Report to Mrs. Stiener in Admin to initiate the retirement paperwork. I’ll call Personnel and get your orders cut for command of the 412th FIS until your retirement. Dismissed,” Bart said, snapping a salute and then returning his gaze to his desk.
Alex saluted and turned to walk out. Just before he got to the door, Col. Higgins spoke.
“Ice, I don’t like this at all. It sucks jet fumes big time, but I’m very proud of you for thinking it through. I look forward to serving with you at Langley. The 412th is called the Tigerkaht Squadron, call sign Stripes.”
Alex stopped. He turned slowly and nodded over his shoulder as a grin split his muzzle.
“Sure thing, Scatcat,” he said, and walked out of the office.
# # #
Billy had just finished looking over Alex’s written reply to Duncan Jetter’s bulk fuel purchasing proposal. He was about to call the leopard and give him the go-ahead when the intercom buzzed. He toggled the speaker on and replied.
“Yes Loni, what is it?”
Ahlanna “Loni” Lyntica, Kentiger Executive Air’s new head of Administration/ Receptionist, said in her smooth, professional voice, “You have a call on line three from Colonel O’Whitt.”
“Thank you, Loni,” Billy said as he grabbed the pawset and pushed the button to answer the call.
“Hello Alex, what’s up?” Billy said by way of greeting.
“Hello yourself! I take it that female voice who answered is our new Office Administrator?” Alex replied, a grin in his voice.
“Yep, she started about a week ago. Very professional and efficient, but there is a slight problem.”
“Oh? What’s that?” Alex said with a note of concern. He wanted things at Kentiger to run smoothly as much as Billy did.
“She’s a drop-dead gorgeous Spanish Lynx, and I keep having to shoo some of the pilots out of the office,” Billy said. When Duncan had recommended her, he hadn’t mentioned the thirty year old blonde could turn heads a block away.
Alex gave a snort and then said, “Well, keep on them. We don’t need a sexual harassment lawsuit on our paws.”
“I don’t think it’ll be a problem. So far, she’s wilted every would-be Romeo on the spot with a professional attitude and a quick wit,” Billy replied, smiling.
“Mmm hmm, and what does Penny think of her?” Alex said, teasing his old friend.
“They met two days ago when Penny stopped by to drop off the keys as we switched vehicles for the day. They hit it off well, though Penny teased me a bit that evening.”
“Well, if Penny approves, I like her already,” Alex said.
“Oh really?” Billy said a bit too eagerly.
“Down, matchmaker! I didn’t mean it that way. I haven’t even met her yet.” Alex replied.
“Well,” Billy said, preparing to tell Alex all about their new employee, “She’s 5’6”, very eye-catching, face and figure both. Divorced, one dependent, a son, I think, and—.”
“Whoa, Billy! I read the ap and resume’ you faxed me when we hired her, remember? Besides, a girlfriend I’d be working with soon is not what I’m looking for right now,” Alex said, laughing at his friend’s enthusiastic attempt to get him interested in the lady.
“Oh well then — Hey! Waitaminite! What do you mean, soon?” Billy said as he caught Alex’s statement.
“I’ll be full time at Kentiger within six months. I’m retiring, Billy.” Alex then proceeded to tell Billy about the circumstances.
Billy growled low and said, “All right, that’s it! You can’t do anything, but I can. Where is that, that cur! Still at Shaw, right? Oh, wait’ll I get down there! He’ll—.”
“William Panelli, you will do no such thing! When the hurts go this deep, forgiveness is the only way. Anything else just ends up being self-destructive,” Alex said calmly.
After a moments pause. Billy sighed and said, “Yeah, I know you’re right. It’s a lousy deal, though.”
“As my CO said, it sucks jet fumes,” Alex said evenly, “but the more I think about it, the more possibilities come to mind. I’ll go into the reserves to keep my paw in on the military flying, but with both of us doing sales; we should have Kentiger booming in a year or two. Uh, not that you’re not doing that now, I just meant that with two of us . . .”
Billy grinned to himself and said, “Yeah, some young blood in the sales force to help out the ol’ decrepit tiger. You’re right, though. We might even have to add some pilots and aircraft to keep up with the workload. That’s a pleasant thought anytime.”
“Yep, well, we’d both better get back to work. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days,” Alex said.
“Sure thing. Talk to you then. Bye,” Billy said.
“Bye, and thanks for not going after Mastifson. I’d hate to come see your ol’ decrepit self in the hospital,” Alex said, and quickly hung up.
“Why you —.” Billy said, and then grinned to himself.
“One day, I’ll remember to get you for that one, you ol’ cat,” Billy said to himself as he laughed.
Punching the intercom, Billy said, “Loni, I need you to start making calls. All-employee meeting, except those out on flights of course, at 1630 this afternoon.”
“No problem, I’m on it, Mr. Panelli,” the lynx replied.
Billy put the pawset down and smiled. He’d told her to call him Billy, like everyone else did, but she insisted on calling him Mr. Panelli. More professional, she had said, so Billy had accepted that he was, finally, a mister.
With Alex coming in full time, and a new admin fur to help with the paperwork, Billy now looked forward to some more time with Penny. Whatever happened, it was going to be an interesting time.
# # #
Anton sat on the side of “the couch,” the adjustable reclined seat he had occupied for the past three hours. The nurse had just unhooked the IV from the port Dr. Gailton had put in for the course of chemotherapy.
“How do you feel?” Talia asked.
“Not bad,” he replied as he stretched to get the kinks out from sitting so long. Another of the three nurses working the chemo room, an otter in her mid-thirties with the look of someone who’d seen too much tragedy, spoke as she walked past.
“It’ll catch up with you in about an hour.”
Anton and Talia looked at her as she went about her job, and then looked at each other.
“Let’s get out of here,” Anton said sourly.
Talia stood up and prepared to leave. The nurse who’d removed Anton’s IV gave him his paperwork and cleared him to go.
“Now Mr. O’Whitt,” she said teasingly, “you be sure to keep that appointment. I don’t get to see many handsome tigers in here.”
Anton eyed her for a few seconds. A fox squirrel, she was the youngest of the three nurses on duty, and didn’t seem nearly as care worn as the other two.
“Why certainly, my dear, I’ll chase you a few rounds of the room next time,” he teased back, emphasizing it with a wink.
She giggled and smiled before heading off to the next patient.
As they walked out, Talia said, “My, aren’t we frisky. She’s less than half your age.”
Anton looked sharply at his sister. “What are you talking about?” he said.
“That little exchange with the nurse. Not becoming of a fur your age, Brother.” The disapproval was apparent on Talia’s face and in her voice, as well. Her tail lashed agitatedly.
“Talia, we were both teasing each other and you know it. It’s a coping mechanism to ease tension in a place that sees more than its share of bad news,” Anton said evenly.
“Hmmmpf,” was all Talia said in reply.
They walked into the parking lot and got in Talia’s car. She had driven in case Anton was too sick to drive home. He did have to admit that the saline IV used to flush the port after each drug had made him feel very light headed. As Talia started the car and left the Oncology Clinic’s parking lot, Anton started to feel weak. To keep his mind off of it, he started a new conversation with his sister.
“Uncle Anni’s health isn’t too good. He’s had to stop driving. Sold his truck, too.”
“Really? What’s wrong?” Talia said, concentrating on the afternoon traffic as she headed for the I-79 onramp.
“Heart problems, he said. His arthritis has gotten bad, too. His paws were swelled up and shook most of our visit.”
“That’s too bad. He was always such a wonderful woodworker. Did he say how his daughter was doing?” Talia asked.
“Bout the same. That husband of hers is more rat than skunk, if you ask me. Grandkids are doing fine. He said Brandy is doing well at her work, and Maxwell is doing fine at Medical school. Just finished his first year. Tonya—,” Anton said as Talia interrupted him.
“I don’t want to hear about Tonya! You know how I feel about her and what she does,” she said tersely.
Anton gave a resigned sigh. They’d been over how Talia felt about her cousin many times, despite what the femme had been through.
“Yes, all right,” he said, “Anyway Anatol says their all fine.”
Anton fell silent and remained that way for the rest of the twenty minute trip home. He was beginning to feel very sick and weak as the chemo drugs began to work through his body. He was glad to get home and set down in his recliner. Talia, who’d let him off at the door and then drove to her house three houses down, came back in.
“Can I get you anything, Brother?” she asked.
He shook his head no, saying, “No, I’d probably just throw it back up again. The nausea is really starting to kick in.”
Talia looked concerned and asked, “Can you take anything for it?”
“It’ll be fine as long as I stay still,” Anton replied.
She sat down on the sofa and said, “I’ll keep you company for a while. Did you say you’d heard from Alex?”
“Ah, yes, I did. He’s going to retire. Going to Langley, Virginia, near Norfolk, I think, first, but then we’ll be seeing a lot more of him.”
“What happened to being an astronaut?” She asked directly.
Anton looked at his sister closely. She could be very caustic at times, and he didn’t feel like giving her a long explanation to comment on.
“He changed his mind,” he said after a moment.
“When you told him about the cancer? I always thought he was a very noble fur,” An odd undertone in her voice told Anton to be careful.
“No, I didn’t tell him about that yet. I’ll tell him about it,” Anton said as Talia looked crossly at him, “when I can tell him face to face. With him retiring, I’ll have that chance soon.”
This seemed to satisfy the older tigress, and she was silent for a while. Soon Anton picked up the remote and turned on the television. They both became engrossed in the old movie that was on, and they passed the afternoon into early evening in companionable silence. Anton was too sick to eat, so Talia left and he went to bed early.
# # #
“You timed this well, Mr. Panelli. We only have three crews out on runs right now,” Loni Lyntica said from her seat beside Billy. She had been quietly counting heads as the group of Kentiger employees milled about finding seats in the folding chairs set out in Kentiger’s hangar.
“Yep. Let’s see, Joe Eps and Ron Danner, along with Janet Satterly, are gone on a run to Oregon in the Gulfstream. Ken Dole and Quenton Darby are in Pittsburg on a cargo run in the old King Air with no seats, and let’s see who else?” Billy said with a puzzled look. “Oh yeah, Ben Ellington and Charlie Brewster in Charlotte. Otherwise I think everyone is here. Aww, isn’t that cute?”
“What?” Loni asked, looking to where Billy was nodding. Roger Delaney and Rebecca DeLeon were sitting together holding paws.
“How long have they been dating?” Billy said, smiling.
Loni arched an eyebrow and said, “I don’t know. Do you think it’s appropriate for them to be doing that at an employee meeting?”
“Psah! Holding paws is all right, as long as they don’t start pawing and slobbering over each other,” Billy replied with a gleam in his eye. He always liked to see couples pair off and make a life together. Loni didn’t say anything in return, but Billy’s quick glance at her told him she wasn’t as disapproving as she sounded. The corners of her mouth were tilted up in a half-smile as she looked at the pair of lions.
Billy smiled to himself and turned his attention to the gathered furs. It seemed to him everyone was there, but he wanted to be sure. He stood up and cleared his throat, which came out as a low growling sound. Every head turned his way.
“Please be seated, everyone. I’m going to ask Ms. Lyntica to call the roll and make sure everyone is here before we start.”
Billy sat back down and Loni stood up. She, Duncan Jetter and Billy’s seats were behind a folding table, facing the group.
“Duncan Jetter?” “Here,” said the leopard from the seat on Billy’s opposite side.
“Joe Eps and Ron Danner are out,” Loni said of the badger and Great Dane.
“Dan Rivers.” “Here,” a lynx in the third row said.
“Roger Delaney.” “Here,” replied the lion holding paws with the lioness.
“Patrick Jones.” “Right here,” an Irish setter in the front row answered.
“Bruce Rufus.” “Here,” the red fox beside the setter said.
“George Killieter.” “Here,” from a German shepherd also in the front row.
“Jack Russell.” “Yo!” a terrier in the second row said.
“Dieter Katz.” “Here,” said a Manx in the second row in a slight German accent.
“Sarah Dunn.” “Here,” a calico feline in the third row responded.
“Allen Badger.” “Here,” replied the badger at the end of the second row.
“Glenn Mustid.” “Here,” answered a skunk in the third row.
“Ben Ellington and Charles Brewster are out,” Loni said of the Maine Coon feline and brown bear.
“Patricia Celine.” “Here,” replied the ocelot.
“Jackie Leeds.” “Here,” replied the bobcat with a yawn. She’d just arrived back from a charter to Birmingham.
“Harry Blish.” “Here,” said the marten from the second row.
“Isabel Frish.” “Here,” replied the skunkette in the third row.
“Ken Dole and Quenton Darby are out,” Loni said. The raccoon and boxer finished out the pilot’s list.
“Janet Satterly is out,” she continued with the blue artic fox who did flight attendant duties for them on some of the Gulfstream IV flights.
“Rebecca DeLeon.” “Here,” said the lioness holding Roger Delaney’s paw. She did part-time flight attendant, part-time administrative duties.
“Rich Farraday.” “Here,” called the bespectacled black-footed ferret who did all of Kentiger’s computer maintenance and programming work for the business.
“Jackie Tortelli.” “Here,” said the tortoise-shell feline who acted as dispatcher/scheduler.,” Hurry up, though. My kids are waiting for pickup from school and daycare.”
Loni turned to Billy and said, “All present or accounted for, Mr. Panelli.”
Billy stood up and said, “Thank you, Loni. You all will notice our contract maintenance chief is here, too. Thank you for coming, Allastor.”
Allastor McRory, the bulldog who looked after Kentiger’s maintenance needs as chief mechanic at Bluegrass Aviation, nodded to the rest of the assembly from the chair he’d pulled up to the side of the group.
“I called this meeting to pass on information about some changes that will be happening over the next few months,” Billy said without preamble. A quiet murmur went through the group as a few speculated what Billy’s statement meant.
“First of all, we’re going to be changing our fueling procedures. Duncan has proposed that we start using bulk allotments for our home base fueling, and Alex and I have double checked his numbers and we agree. Duncan will institute this change starting at the beginning of the month. Procedures for refueling at destination and en route will also change a bit, too. We’ll have a written SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) on this by early next week”
Duncan had sat up and now smiled, pleased that his idea had been approved. Billy noticed Loni smiling at Duncan in more than a casual way. He briefly speculated what that meant, but then went on.
“Second, a little while ago I circulated a memo saying that Alex O’Whitt, the other owner of Kentiger, would be coming by more often after his assignment back to the
Duncan kept a neutral expression as another low murmur went through the group. Billy paused a few seconds for the sound to stop, and then went on.
“Alex will still be coming stateside, but he will not be going to California. He will go to Langley AFB in Norfolk, Virginia for a few months, and then he will be retiring from the Air Force. This means he will be at Kentiger full time starting then. He and I will be doing management and sales duties, as well as strategic planning. Alex will also be assisting Duncan on crew training and evaluations.”
The murmur was quite loud this time, and Duncan was straining to keep a neutral expression on his face.
“I’ll open for questions now, as I’m sure there are many,” Billy said above the noise. Several paws went up.
“Yes Henry,” Billy said, calling on the marten.
“Is it Mr. O’Whitt’s intention to replace Mr. Jetter?” Harry Blish asked.
“No,” Billy replied, “Alex’s help will increase sales, which will increase operations and probably mean we’ll need more aircraft and pilots. Duncan has his job for as long as he wants it. Alex will augment him as needed as the workload increases. Patricia?”
“Lt. Col. O’Whitt is a fighter pilot. How are his qualifications on our aircraft?” Patricia Celine, the ocelot from Quebec, asked in her slight French accent.
“Alex is a qualified CFII (Certified Flight Instructor Instructor) in both the King Air and Citation. He holds an ATP (Airline Transport Pilot) and is type rated in the Gulfstream. He will be fully certified on it after a company check ride with Duncan. He has been preparing for the time when he would come in full time, so rest assured, Alex knows what he’s doing. Roger?”
“How will this affect upgrade training? I’m almost ready to get some right seat time in the Gulfstream,” Roger Delaney, the lion holding paws with Rebecca DeLeon, asked. He was one of several Kentiger pilots without military flying experience, and as a copilot in the Citation crews, was working toward a possible airline job.
“It should actually give you a shot at more airtime there. Alex, after he’s rated, along with Duncan and me, will cover any runs for the Gulfstream that come up while Joe and Ron are on crew rest. That’ll leave a copilot seat open when we do, as Alex and I won’t take off together on a charter. We will, however, be gone at the same time during airshow season, as we’re going to do a routine to promote the business.”
Duncan and several others smiled at that. Everyone at Kentiger had seen the sketches and pictures of the two T-38’s Billy and Alex were having rebuilt. The group was silent a few moments, and then Alastor McRory stood up.
“I’ll get w’ya later on how this’ll change the maintenance needs. Be good t’have th’ Colonel around.” he said.
Billy smiled at the bulldog. Alastor was second generation Scottish American, and a retired Marine Corps aircraft maintenance chief. Gruff, but good natured, he didn’t mince words.
“All right, Alastor. If there are no other questions, that’s all I have. Keep up the great work you have all been doing, and fly safely,” Billy concluded. The assembled furs all stood up and began to disperse. Billy thought the general tone had sounded positive. Loni smiled and nodded to him as she and Duncan headed for the door back toward the offices. All in all, it had gone smoothly, and Billy was thankful for the umpteenth time for having such a great crew working for him.
# # #
“All clear, I’ll see him from here if he comes down the hall,” Lieutenant Jenkins said. The pilots of the 78th FS had gathered for a briefing from their CO. It was the first time they’d all been together since the findings presentation, and they were wondering if there would be an announcement from Lt. Col. Mastifson.
“Okay. Well, as we know, Col. Mastifson was named as negligent in Stalker’s crash,” Capt. Ralston said. “What we don’t know for sure is if he’s leaving. His punishment from the new Wing Commander was almost non-existent.”
There was a chorus of grumbles, and then Capt. Beck spoke.
“I think we’d best be prepared for him to stay. If he does, watch your tails if you fly with him.”
The rest of the pilots nodded in agreement. The group was subdued as they contemplated how best to finish their time under their current CO and move on.
“Here he comes!” said Lt. Jenkins as he moved away from the door.
Major Dennis Frakes, the squadron XO, came in first, calling the room to attention. Lt. Col. Mastifson followed him in, looking smug. The rotweiller was pleased with how things were going. His new commander Col. Benkins, a fellow Academy graduate, had put the charges of negligence leveled by General Boyd in their proper perspective, and had seen fit to all but dismiss the matter. It had still caused Mastifson to bristle, but the actions he had taken in his uncle’s name against Alex O’Whitt had been successful. He felt his honor had been satisfied. He had just received word that the Siberian tiger had put in for retirement. So Mastifson dismissed him as a mild irritant, now brushed aside.
“Time to get on with my career,” he thought as he walked to the front of the room, leaving the 78th’s officers standing at attention.
Turning to face the group, Lt. Col. Mastifson said in full Bostonian accent, “Seats, please. First of all, let me assure you all that I am still firmly in command of the squadron. Rumors of my leaving before next year when I’m due for a new assignment are untrue.”
Several furs glanced at Capt. Beck, who kept his eyes ahead.
“Now, as to the reason for this meeting. In two weeks, we will return to the ranges of Nellis AFB for a low-level ingress, high speed egress attack exercise. I am quite looking forward to it, as my uncle Lieutenant General Lance Mastifson, will be observing the attack. Captain Beck, you shall be my wingfur.”
The 78th’s pilots sat, stone-faced, as the rotweiller began to lay out the details of the exercise. Soon, Mastifson concluded the briefing, and the group stood to attention. After Lt. Col. Mastifson walked out, Major Frakes addressed the pilots.
“I know how you all feel. I don’t trust him, either. This mission has a lot of potential for a screw up. Double check every detail. Dismissed.”
“Like I said,” Capt. Beck added quietly as the pilots prepared to leave, “watch your tails.”
Major Frakes looked at the lab and said, “And you really watch yours, Dash.”
Capt. Beck merely nodded as he turned to leave.
END OF CHAPTER 11