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 2003-2018 unless otherwise noted. Request permission before using them, please.
The characters of Anatol Altaisokova and Melinda Altaisokova are my names for characters © Max Blackrabbit. They appear in this story with his permission. The characters of Brandy, Maxwell, Tonya and Zig Zag are also © Max Blackrabbit and appear here with his permission. Events and information relating to Tonya, Anatol, and their family are presented here, but are not to be considered canon to those characters or any other story but this one. ZZ Studios, and all characters associated with ZZ Studios, James Sheppard, and Marvin Badger © James Bruner and appear here with his permission. Although characters from and events referring to Zig Zag the Story appear here, this story is not canon to that one, and the author will disavow any knowledge of this story. Wanda Vixen © Chris Yost and appears here with his permission. Sabrina Mustidalae © Eric W. Schwartz and appears here with his permission. This story is not canon to Sabrina Online the comic, or Sabrina Online the Story, either. Matt Barstock, Angie Rockwell, Intermountain Charter, The Bitch, and her crew, and Jerry Kitt © Silver Coyote. See their story HERE. Gail Rutherford © me and is not canon to any other story involving ZZ Studios. Gabrielle Ryder and Jean LeBrun © Aslaug, from her Transitions stories. See them at her site, The Axe Shed, available from the links page. Aramis Dagaz is© his player and appears here with his permission.
Author’s Note:
Chapter 76
Showtime, Pt. 1
Jefferson Mastifson sat in the living room of his apartment, staring at the slip of paper in his paw. One of his contacts had given him this number, and now all he had to do was call it. Some discreet inquiries had gotten him the info on O’Whitt’s Skymaster. Namely what its registration number was and where it was kept.
Again, the thought came to him to quit before he crossed the line into this territory. To stop and forget about O’Whitt. And also, again, anger and frustration goaded him onward. With a snarl, he picked up his cell phone and dialed the number.
After ringing three times, the call was answered by a cold, deep voice.
“Diablo.”
That was the name Mastifson had been given to go with the number. He didn’t bother with his fake accent.
“Yes, this is-.”
“Stop right there,” the voice on the other end interjected. “No names. I can see yours on the caller ID. Diablo will suffice for me. What do you want?”
Mastifson swallowed, feeling very intimidated for once. He took a deep breath and went on.
“I have a certain problem that I’m told you can deal with.”
“You want this problem gone or just rendered incapable of being a problem for a while?”
Diablo’s voice never changed from its cold, steady tone. A chill went down Mastifson’s spine. Was this a contract killer he was talking to? He managed to get a grip on himself and answer.
“Not that extreme. No physical violence. I’d just like a certain item valuable to my problem put out of commission for a while.”
There was a slight pause, and then Diablo continued. “What item, and where is it?”
Mastifson gave the details, including what he wanted done. After another short pause, Diablo replied.
“Ten thousand. Deposit it to the account I’ll give you by noon tomorrow, or this conversation never took place. Cross me, and you are next on my list. Understand?”
“Uh, yes, completely,” Mastifson managed in reply.
“Good. Here’s the account.” Diablo read off an account number for an online bank. After having Mastifson read it back, the line went dead.
The Rottweiler swallowed hard again, and then clicked his cell phone off. He then grinned to himself. Let O’Whitt stop that!
# # #
“Stripes One and Two, cleared for takeoff, Runway Two Two. Contact Departure Control on one two zero point seven five, good luck and good day.”
The tower controller had expedited their departure ahead of an incoming airliner. Alex in Stripes One answered for both of them.
“Stripes One and Two copy cleared, Rolling.”
He switched to their ship-to-ship frequency and called out, “Billy, afterburner in three ..two ..one.”
He and Billy pushed the throttles of their respective T-38’s past the detent into full afterburner at the same time. With a thudding whomp, the four T85 engines went to full power and the two aircraft began to accelerate down the runway. At 180 knots, Alex lifted the nose a bit, Billy right with him. As they established a slight climb, Alex called, “Gear Up!”
The two jets tucked their landing gear up simultaneously. At the end of the runway, Alex called, “Nose UP!”
They both pulled up into an aggressive climb attitude. After a few seconds, Alex called, “’Burners off in three ..two ..one.”
As the pair established a more moderate climb, Alex called Departure Control and they were on their way to General Mitchell International Airport in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Their ground crew, including Allaistor McCrory, and related equipment had left on one regular Kingair, and the one with no passenger seats they used for utility flights, two hours earlier. Ben Ellington and Randall McTibbs were crewing the passenger Kingair, and Quenton Darby and Bailey Jackson the cargo aircraft.
The radio chatter was such that Alex and Billy couldn’t really talk ship-to-ship. Alex’s thoughts in the back of his mind were about Billy and his possible health issue. There were many things it could be, but without more than just Billy’s unease to go on, it was fruitless to just keep dwelling on it. Alex shifted mental gears to Corrie. Two of her friends had also stated their intention to move south with her. He hoped they wouldn’t be too disappointed at how little free time she’d have once the business startup kicked into high gear. He wished she could be there for their first performance, but she was very busy flying for Ben right now.
“Stripes One and Two, Support One,” suddenly brought the company frequency to the fore. Alex answered for the pair.
“Support One, Stripes.”
“Stripes, wanted to let you know the family just landed. They’re all here waiting with us.” The steady voice of Ben Ellington came across loud and clear. Jack had flown Penny, Jenna, Tia, and Andrew up to see them perform, and the Maine Coon felid had called to let them know the Panelli/O’Whitt/Lazarus crew had arrived safely.
“Stripes copies,” Alex replied. “Stripes Two, we’ll see if we can give them a good look as we land”
“Copy One,” Billy replied as he grinned in his mask.
The flight continued routinely, but the radio chatter became even busier as they passed by Chicago at twenty thousand feet and began their descent for approach into General Mitchell International airport. Their flight plan had identified them as an airshow participant, so they were routed out over Lake Michigan east of Milwaukee proper. The actual airshow would take place over the water. There was a marina on the shore, and airshow center was just northeast of it, marked by a coast guard ship. Billy and Alex had familiarized themselves with the area via pictures from the airshow’s internet page, and so far, no surprises had cropped up.
Mitchell Approach contacted them to hand them off for their final approach. “Stripes Flight, come left to two seven zero, descend and maintain two five hundred. Contact Mitchell Tower on one two four point five seven five, good day.”
“Stripes One, copy left to two seven zero, descend and maintain two five hundred, and contact tower,” Alex replied, and then switched to the tower frequency.
“Mitchell Tower, November Four Niner Niner Sierra Tango and Eight Sierra Tango are a pair of civilian Tee Thirty Eights, call sign Stripes One and Two, inbound for Runway One Niner Right, eight North of the field at two five hundred.”
The reply was swift. “Stripes One and Two, radar contact. Follow standard approach, hold at five hundred for a tactical pitchout over the numbers to a left short final. Welcome to Milwaukee Stripes.”
Alex grinned. Such was the accommodation for airshows. A tactical pitchout allowed he and Billy to come in together, and then go around in a short left turn to a short final and landing one behind the other. It was a maneuver every fighter pilot knew well, and it made for a safe but dramatic arrival.
“Stripes One copies, hold at five hundred for a left pitchout over the numbers to final. Thank you tower.”
Billy piped in, “Stripes Two copies.”
The twin T-38’s eased down the approach, turning to line up on the runway. Billy moved back a bit, loosening the formation. They also slowed down to around 200 knots, preparing to put down flaps and gear after their pitchout.
“Mitchell Tower, Stripes Flight lined up for pitchout to final,” Alex called after a few seconds.
“Stripes Flight, cleared to pitchout and land, Runway One Niner Right. Winds one two zero at eight, gusting fifteen. Altimeter two niner niner seven…Stripes Flight, unidentified radar contact two miles off your two o’clock, altitude unknown. TOGA TOGA TOGA!”
There was no time to look for the aircraft. Alex and Billy’s long experience kicked in as they went into afterburner and pulled up sharply, clawing for airspeed and altitude.
Then things got interesting.
# # #
There was a lot of general excitement on the North Ramp of General Mitchell International Airport. Several of the smaller airshow acts were basing out of there, with the Blue Angels basing out of the Wisconsin Air National Guard facility across the field.
Allaistor McCrory and the support crew were hustling around, preparing for the arrival of Alex and Billy. Jack, Jenna, Penny, Tia, and Andrew were waiting with Benn Ellington, Randy McTibbs, Quenton Darby and Bailey Jackson.
“I radioed them you had arrived,” Ben advised as they stood in the shade of the Signature Flight Support hangar. “I’ll dial in Approach Control on my paw-held and we should be able to hear when they get close.”
Tia, who’d been all but bouncing on her heels with excitement at all the aircraft and activity, commented in a rush, “Oh I can’t wait to see them together in the air. They looked so cool parked side by side when we left.”
“Well, don’t expect too much but them landing, Tia,” Penny cautioned. “This is a commercial airport. They have to save the show until Saturday.”
Tia nodded and went back to using a pair of binoculars to look over the Blue Angel’s F-18’s as they sat parked among the Wisconsin ANG’s C-130’s and KC-135’s. Everyone listened closely as they heard Alex call in for he and Billy’s initial contact with Approach Control. Tia looked out with her binoculars and called out excitedly, “There they are! Wow they look cool in formation!”
Jenna reminded her not to hog the binoculars, so she a bit reluctantly passed them off. Everyone got a look as the two sleek jets, one white, the other tiger orange, maneuvered out to do their approach. When they switched over to the Tower frequency, Ben turned the tuning knob on the radio and they picked up the call for a tactical pitchout. Even Bailey Jackson smiled at that.
“Tia, you might get your show before the show,” she quipped. Tia just smiled as the binoculars came back to her.
Everything seemed to be going normally until the frantic call from the tower. It only took a second for everyone to recover. They’d made their way around to where they had a direct view of the runway and approach. They saw the pair of jets go into afterburner and pull up sharply. Just then, a Cessna 172 came into sight from the left. If not for the frantic call, the two T-38’s would have been right where the small aircraft crossed the approach path. Several comments flew about how close a call it was and questioning the Cessna pilot’s sanity. Tia had been awed by the quick reactions of the two T-38 pilots, but now both her ire and her curiosity made her quickly focus on the Cessna.
She noticed several things. The small aircraft was in a slight climb. Wings level, but the prop didn’t seem to be spinning at climb rpm. She knew this from the hours she’d been getting in the 172 trainer during her lessons at Bluegrass. The two jets were too loud for her to hear what the Cessna’s engine sounded like. She noted the registration number, and then she saw it. It was a sight she thought she’d remember for the rest of her life. The fur sitting in the right seat was a canid femme. Tia would put her at past middle age. She was also looking at the jets, now well above her. She then looked back down. Tia felt she looked right at her, although at that speed and angle it was doubtful she could actually see her. The femme’s face had tears streaming down it. Her eyes held both terror and sadness. Then the aircraft flew on past, heading east.
Tia, looking stricken, gave the binoculars to her mom and then turned her back, wrapping her arms and tail around herself. Everyone else was still watching Alex and Billy maneuver around to line back up to land. Jenna noted her daughter’s actions and put an arm around her shoulder.
“Tia, what is it? What did you see?”
Tia took a breath, fighting tears. “Mom, I . . . I don’t think that plane is okay. Something’s wrong. The lady in the right seat looked scared to death! It’s not flying right.”
“Oh my!” was all Jenna could say. The radio caught everyone’s attention as they listened to the drama play out.
# # #
Alex and Billy had stabilized their aircraft. It was a good thing they hadn’t lowered gear or flaps yet, as it let them accelerate and climb quickly. They contacted Departure Control to establish a quick go-around. There was no close traffic except the wayward Cessna Alex and Billy had seen. Alex was now back in contact with Mitchell Approach.
“Mitchell Approach, Stripes One. The aircraft that encroached on the approach was a Cessna One Seven Two. It was wings-level in a slight climb at about eight hundred as we climbed out. If it stays on that course, it’ll be over the lake and in the way of the approach to Two Five Right.”
“Stripes One, Mitchell Approach, we copy. No traffic for Two Five Right at this time. Can you, ah, can you locate that aircraft right now?”
Concern carried through in the controller’s voice. Alex and Billy, now about a quarter mile apart, scanned to their left for the small aircraft. Billy caught sight of it first.
“Approach, Stripes Two. The aircraft is about a mile east of the threshold of One Niner Right. Still in a slight climb, looks to be up around a thousand feet, still heading East.”
“Copy that Stripes, I’m going to hand you back to the tower. They have the aircraft in visual, but I think they want you to check on the pilot. Contact Tower on Guard, one twenty one point five.”
Alex arched an eyebrow. Using the Guard, or emergency frequency meant they wanted it off the normal channels.
“Stripes Flight,” he acknowledged and changed frequencies.
“Mitchell Tower, Stripes One and Two, with you on Guard.”
“Stripes, Tower has you and the Cessna in sight. Can you get us a registration number and check on the pilot? We can’t raise them on any frequency.”
Alex glanced at his readouts. “Can do, Tower. Be advised we have thirty minutes flight until bingo fuel.”
“Copy that Stripes. We have Eff-Sixteens on the way just in case, but it’ll take them about fifteen minutes to get here. See if you can tell if the pilot is okay.” The controller sounded nervous. Alex simply replied.
“Stripes One.”
He then called Billy. “Stripes Two, can you go down the starboard side? I’ll go along the port. Gear and flaps, let’s get as slow as we can.”
They knew they could never slow down enough to stay beside the Cessna. It was barely going above 100 knots, where their stall speed was around 135 knots. They could get a look, but not offer much help.
Their aircraft now rigged with gear down and full flaps and slats out, the two carefully approached the errant Cessna. They were over the suburban houses that lay between the airport and coast of Lake Michigan. The smoke stacks of a power plant lay just left of their current heading of 100 degrees. The Cessna was still slowly climbing, now reaching eleven hundred feet. As they passed alongside, about fifty yards to either side, Alex called in the registration number.
“Tower, Stripes. Aircraft is a Cessna One Seven Two, registration number November Victor Three Seven Delta. Pilot is . . . not up at the controls. Seems to be slumped over onto the right seat passenger. What did you get, Stripes Two?”
Billy replied after a moment. “Stripes Two, right seater appears to be a canid femme in her fifties. Looks very panicked, cradling the pilot’s head to her. Appears pilot is unconscious. Aircraft must be on autopilot.”
As Billy and Alex put on power to go around for another pass, the tower responded. “Copy that Stripes. Records indicate that aircraft left Waukesha County airport about fifteen minutes ago. Tower there said goodbye to him, but he never contacted departure control. Lost him on radar about five minutes after takeoff.”
Alex and Billy knew what all that pointed to. The pilot had become incapacitated shortly after takeoff. The autopilot had been set to keep the wings level and hold course, but the altitude hold hadn’t been set or became disconnected. Grimly, Billy called in their plan.
“Tower, Stripes Two, she looked my way as we passed. I’ll see if I can get her to come up on the radio, but we don’t have enough time beside her to do much. Appears the aircraft is on autopilot, but not altitude hold. Their speed is gradually slowing. I’m afraid they’ll stall out before long.”
“Stripes Two, Tower, do your best. I doubt the Sixteens will have any better chance.”
Alex and Billy knew quite well from their Thunderbird’s days that an F-16 stopped flying at about 140 knots, but they might not get the chance to try. The Cessna was just passing the shoreline, but its speed had slowed considerably. As they approached from behind again, Alex noted their altitude was up to twelve hundred. As they passed by, dancing on the controls to stay just above a stall, Billy managed to signal the femme looking at him to try the radio, flashing one two one point five with his gloved fingers. The femme, who he could now see was a collie, looked at him sadly, shook her head no, and then buried her head into the unconscious pilot’s neck.
The two T-38’s pulled on past, now adding power to go around again. Billy called the result of the pass in.
“Stripes Two, Tower. Paw-signaled the femme to try the radio on Guard. She shook her head no and turned her head away. We’ll try to get back around again, but they’re losing speed faster now.”
“Tower copies. We have you over the lake now. Sixteens are about five mikes out. Make one more pass and then clear out and climb to twenty five hundred for approach.”
“Stripes,” was all Billy said in return. Quickly back up to two hundred knots, they circled around and then dropped speed as they came up behind the Cessna. Just then they saw a gust of wind pitch the aircraft’s nose sharply upward. It hung there for just a second, then fell off to the left side and began to spin. The sudden movement must have disconnected the autopilot altogether, because no recovery was attempted. It spun down and impacted the surface of the lake, causing a spray of water and aircraft pieces. Alex grimly made note of the GPS coordinates, and then he and Billy accelerated and began to set up for their approach. Billy trailed back to about a quarter mile behind as Alex reported the crash.
“Stripes Flight, they . . . the Cessna just stalled and spun in. They impacted the water about a half-mile off shore. The aircraft broke up on impact. Here’s the coordinates.”
He read them off. It took the tower several seconds to respond.
“Stripes, Tower. Go back to the regular tower frequency. Thank you for trying.”
Alex and Billy switched back to the regular frequency and were cleared to land after they told the tower they had the runway in sight. The mood in each cockpit was somber as first Alex and then Billy set wheels on the pavement.
End of Chapter 76
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