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. The character Aramis Dagaz is © Daniel Hoffman and appears here with his permission.
Matt Barstock and Intermountain Charter © Silver Coyote. See their story HERE.
CHAPTER 12
BREAK
“SSgt. Rollins,” the raccoon with first lieutenant’s bars said as he stuck his head into the cubicle where the Doberman was working.
“Yes, Lt. Pierce,” she replied; only barely looking up from her computer screen.
“Need to see you in Conference Room 3,” the lieutenant said, and was gone before she could reply. She sighed. Mostly, she had little regard for officers under the rank of Major, but she knew Lt. Pierce would be back around if she didn’t show up. She set the computer’s security measures and shut the machine down. She then stood up and stretched a second before walking out of her “office.” She made her way between the rows of cubicles and out of the room. She walked down the hall and upon reaching Conference Room 3, knocked on the door.
“Come,” said a muffled voice she didn’t recognize. Arching an eyebrow, she opened the door and went in. Standing behind the large meeting table was a feline male with unusual markings around one eye. He was wearing a suit with no visible sign of rank or emblem, and he was looking her over carefully.
“Excuse me,” SSgt. Rollins said, “I must have the wrong room.” She turned to go, but the feline spoke.
“Staff Sergeant Rebecca Rollins,” he said, as a statement rather than a question.
She turned back to him, looking more carefully at him now. He was young, but carried himself with an air of quiet authority. She felt a bit intimidated, which was unusual for her.
“Yes,” she said tentatively.
The feline retrieved an ID wallet from inside his coat and flipped it open toward the doberman.
“Agent Dagaz, Air Force Office of Special Investigations. Sit down, please; I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“I know my rights! I’ll not answer any questions without counsel,” SSgt. Rollins said in a stubborn tone, although she had unconsciously taken a step toward the chair the agent had indicated.
The expression of cool neutrality never left Agent Dagaz’s face as he said, “You are not under arrest, nor are you directly under investigation at this time. However, we do have reason to believe that you are involved in something that could lead to your Top Secret clearance being pulled until we can sort it out. If you cooperate, we’ll treat it as though you came forward with the information you provide, which will preserve your clearance and position.”
SSgt. Rollins looked around the room, noting the tape recorder on the table, and that no other fur was present. She decided to see what the feline was after. She put on a demure expression and went to the chair and sat down.
“What can I do for you, Agent Dagaz?”
Agent Dagaz stepped over and turned on the recorder, and then turned to stand directly in front of the Doberman.
“Tell me about Lieutenant Colonel Jefferson Mastifson . . .”
Two hours later, Agent Dagaz watched the doberman femme NCO walked stiffly out of the conference room. She had resisted answering, even rather aggressively trying seduction. In the end, though, her affair with Mastifson came to light. She was also most illuminating about Mastifson’s interest in one Lt. Col. Alex O’Whitt. From the file he’d received for this assignment, he had seen that Mastifson had made some calls. From what the doberman had just told him, Mastifson had made false, exaggerated statements and used his uncle’s three-star name and influence to force O’Whitt’s retirement in retaliation. Mastifson had been named as negligent in O’Whitt’s brother’s death, and the rotweiller blamed him for it.
The agent shook his head. He didn’t like getting into these types of personal things, but such was the way of the world. More furs had been blackmailed into giving away classified information to cover up an affair than he could count.
Just then a side door to the room opened slightly and a raccoon 1Lt. poked his head in the room, saying, “I thought I was gonna have to throw you a rope, Aramis. She really came on strong there for a bit.”
“Thanks for monitoring for me, John. I appreciate it. Yeah, I had to work hard to keep from blushing.”
“Yeah, I was surprised, you were always a real blusher in college. Well, need anything else? I need to get back to work,” Lt. Pierce said.
“No, I just need to double check the tape, and then I’ll be on my way. Good seeing you again, John.”
“You, too, Aramis. Stop by sometime when you’re not on duty. Later!” the raccoon said as he turned and disappeared through the door.
Aramis sighed as he rewound the tape. He didn’t wear or give out his rank, but he was only a First Lieutenant. He hadn’t been in the service all that long, but he’d thought that furs such as Mastifson, who made their career by influence, politics, and trickery, belonged to the past. They would tend to get weeded out by their own incompetence in the lean, professional force of today. Hopefully, Mastifson was more of an anachronism than anything typical.
Whichever he was, the rotweiller had made a powerful enemy somewhere. The request for the investigation had come from somewhere far up the chain of command, and possibly from outside the Air Force altogether. Aramis had been told that anything he found would be sent to the inquiring party. The feline’s CO had pulled him aside and told him the info might also make its way to both Mastifson’s uncle and wife. She’d said that Lt. Col. O’Whitt had also been investigated for fraternization by the OSI and the charges had been unfounded. Aramis had hit paydirt in his inquiry, and he hoped his CO would be pleased. She’d said the inquiring party wasn’t sure how much Mastifson’s uncle knew about the use of his name and influence in his nephew’s activities, and whomever it was intended that those activities be exposed.
Aramis wondered to himself as he put the tape from the recorder in his pocket, if the AFOSI should be involved in this sort of personal business. Then again, Mastifson’s actions had caused the retirement of Lt. Col. O’Whitt. His actions had also left him and SSgt. Rollins vulnerable to blackmail and jeopardized their Top Secret clearances.
“It won’t do to get emotionally involved in the case,” Aramis muttered to himself as he walked out of the building. He would write up his findings and send them and the tape on to his CO, and let those concerned deal with it as they would. He had performed his assigned duty, the rest wasn’t his concern.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling hopeful that somehow this would help to right the wrongs that Mastifson had done.
# # #
“Andrew! Hurry up! Mom’s ready to go!” Tia yelled impatiently down the hallway to his room.
“Almost ready!” he called back, covering the microphone on his headset.
“Sal, Danny, I’ve got to go. Mom really breaks red if we have to rush at the airport.”
“Sure thing, Andrew,” Daniel typed in reply. His computer wasn’t voice chat ready yet, so a quick “TTYL” was his sign-off.
“Okay Andrew have a good time I’ll see you when you get back *click*” was Sal’s sign-off.
Andrew shut down his computer and put his headset on the desk, and then grabbed his carryon and headed out. Jenna and Tia were waiting for him by the front door. Jenna smiled at her son, knowing he had been saying goodbye to his friends as well as grabbing any last-minute items he decided he needed.
“Bout time,” Tia said, but her smile said she was teasing.
School had been out only a couple of days, and Jenna was taking her cubs on the vacation they’d talked about. They’d settled on the beaches near Wilmington, North Carolina as the best blend of kid’s fun and relaxation. Less crowded than the other, more well-known beaches, there were still plenty of things for the cubs to do. Billy had offered to personally fly them there, but it had worked out that one of Kentiger’s King Airs had to dead head to Wilmington to pick up a charter, so they would have to meet that aircraft’s schedule. Billy was coming to Wilmington Friday on a sales call, so he was going to pick them up and fly them to Charleston so they could visit with Anton.
Jenna went down the list of items she would need one last time as Tia and Andrew shifted impatiently by the door.
“Let’s see, keys, purse and wallet with credit cards, traveler’s checks, and cash, condo rental confirmation and directions, rental car confirmation. Everyone’s luggage,” She looked up to confirm that everyone had their bags. Seeing that they did, she looked back at her list, and then looked around with a perplexed expression.
“Now, hmmm, where are my sunglasses?” Jenna was looking in the pocket of her purse. Then she began to pat her blouse pockets and around her neck. Tia and Andrew both began to giggle uncontrollably. She looked at them a second with one eyebrow arched. Then realization dawned on her.
“Let me guess, they’re on top of my head.”
Both cubs nodded, still laughing. Jenna smiled ruefully and reached up to pull the errant eyewear down onto her muzzle. Then she began to laugh too. She ushered her cubs out to the minivan and, after loading the luggage and getting everyone settled and belted, started the engine and pulled out onto the gravel driveway that lead to the paved road about a half mile away. All three chatted happily as they made their way down the rural, two-lane road and then onto the interstate. They headed west toward Lexington in the light, mid-morning traffic.
“Mom, what kind of plane did Mr. Panelli say we’re going in?” Tia asked.
“Ah, a King Air, or something like that,” Jenna answered, “Why?”
“I want to look it up in the aircraft book you bought me,” Tia said as she opened the volume of Jane’s All The World’s Aircraft in her lap. Jenna just smiled over at her. Tia’s interest in flying had turned into a voracious appetite for information on all things aviation. The book, huge in size, purported to contain facts on every aircraft in the world.
“It should,” Jenna thought, “for the price I paid for it.”
“Mom, will Uncle Alex be back when we get home?” Andrew asked from the back seat. Jenna glanced in her rear view mirror, just seeing the tips of Andrew’s ears.
“Yes, I think he’s supposed to be in around then,” she replied.
“I wish he was still going to be an astronaut. That’d be really cool,” Andrew said as he returned his attention to the pawheld video game he was playing.
“Me, too,” Jenna said quietly. She felt a twinge of guilt that Alex had, in essence, given up that dream in order to see to it that her husband hadn’t died in vain. She shook her head slightly as she watched the traffic around her. He was so calm about it! She would have probably gone after Mastifson. Shed’ been ready to, anyway, when she found out he’d been responsible for Jason’s death, but Alex stayed so calm. When she talked to him about it by phone later, he’d reminded her about forgiveness.
She sighed to herself as she took the offramp toward the airport. With Alex’s standards to meet, and Jason’s as well, any male that she might find interesting had better be up to muster.
Jenna blinked. Had she just thought of being with someone other than Jason?
“Too soon,” she thought, “too, soon.”
She let the thought skip away as they neared Bluegrass airport. Turning off the main road at the light, Jenna guided the minivan around the airport access road toward the business aircraft area. Soon, they pulled into the parking lot beside the large hangar with Kentiger Executive Air Service in blue letters across the top. As Jenna parked the van, Billy Panelli stepped out of the door in the side of the hangar and walked up to the van.
“Hey crew! Ready for a ride to the beach?” he asked as they got out. He helped them gather their things, escorted them inside, and led them up to the counter. A blonde lynx waited there to add them to the passenger manifest for the flight. They weighed their luggage on a scale beside the counter, and noted each weight on the manifest. She handed Billy the sheet and he led the way out to the aircraft. The King Air was a twin turboprop with a T-tail and wingtip winglets to increase efficiency. Kentiger’s King Air 350’s were all painted white with a Kentucky blue stripe from the nose to the tail and up the vertical stabilizer. Up the front of the vertical stabilizer were the letters KEA in blue.
Tia was wide-eyed at the aircraft, which could carry ten in airline passenger-style seating. It would lift their small family without even noticing the load. Billy showed them aboard and got them settled into seats near the front.
The flight crew, who had been walking around the far side of the aircraft when Billy ushered the family aboard, came in the boarding door in the aircraft’s left rear side. Tia was intrigued to see that both pilots were female. Billy smiled broadly and introduced them.
“Jenna, Tia, Andrew, this is Patricia Celine. She’ll be your pilot today,” he said, indicating the ocelot in the blue captain’s shirt and dark slacks.
“And this is my co-pilot, Jackie Leeds,” the ocelot said in a slight French accent. The bobcat co-pilot nodded and smiled as she headed for the cockpit.
“Tia is interested in flying, so you can let her ride your shoulder a bit once you’re airborne,” Billy stated, with a wink at Tia.
“That will be fine, Billy,” Patricia said. “Now, excuse me, all of you. I have to go finish my preflight.” She started to go forward, but then turned her head back and, tail curling slightly, said, “Ah, Tia, was it? Would you like to see how we get this bird ready to fly?”
“Would I? You bet!” Tia responded, and then looked hopefully at her mother.
“Go,” Jenna said, “but don’t be in the way.”
“All Right! Thanks, Mom.” Tia stood and followed the ocelot up to the cockpit.
Jenna turned back to find Andrew already engrossed in a computer magazine, as Billy had told him he couldn’t play his paw-held game in the aircraft until the pilot said so. Billy was looking at her with a broad smile.
“She’s got it bad, you know?” he said, hitching a thumb in the direction of the cockpit. They could see Tia’s tail waving with curiosity between the pilot’s seats.
Jenna smiled also, a little sadly, it seemed to Billy. “Yes, just like her father did. He used to be that excited about flying.”
Billy just smiled and changed the subject before Jenna could get melancholy.
“Did they adjust to the new schools all right?”
“Andrew had a group of friends his first day at school. Tia had a rough start. She thought some girls were making fun of her, but one of them finally called her just before the end of school. They were in awe of how cool she was. I think maybe her uncle is rubbing off on her.”
Billy laughed, and then said, “I’ll be sure to tease, uh, I mean tell him that when he gets here. Well, I’d better get out of the way and let my folks do their job. I’ll see you Friday.”
“Bye Billy, thanks for everything,” Jenna said as Billy left the aircraft.
With Tia engrossed in the flight crew’s every move, and Andrew muzzle down in his magazine, Jenna was left alone with her thoughts. It had been a rough, busy two and a half months since Jason’s death. This would be the first time she would have a chance just to relax.
She took a deep breath in through her nose, and let it slowly out. Right now, sitting on the balcony of the condo, sipping lemonade, watching the cubs play in the waves, feeling the cool sea breeze in her fur, sounded almost perfect.
# # #
“Ready, Ice,” the voice in his earphones said as Alex completed his engine start checklist.
“Copy, Whitey, just awaiting taxi clearance,” Alex replied to the arctic fox in the F-15. He and Major Forrest were going on a routine patrol mission over Kosovo, and they sat now with engines running, waiting for Rhine-Mien Tower to clear them to the runway. Just then the radio crackled to life.
“Eagle Two Two, cleared to taxi. Hold short of the active,” the tower controller called out.
“Copy hold short of the active, tower. Eagle Two Two,” Alex replied, and then switched to intercom. “Okay Carl, pull chocks.”
The raccoon NCO pulled the wheel chocks, disconnected the intercom headset, and quickly ran over to stand about twenty feet off Alex’s port wingtip. He now stood at attention and raised a paw in salute. Alex snapped a salute of his own up and held it for several seconds. This would be his last mission in
The two F-15s taxied out to Rhine-Mein’s main runway, and held short. A Danish Air Force C-130 was deftly sliding down the approach. It went past and touched down, reversing props and turning off at the first taxiway.
“Eagle Two Two, Rhine Tower, you are cleared for takeoff,” the controller’s voice said in Alex’s ear. He led the way as the pair took the runway.
“Brakes on, full afterburner, wait for my mark to release, Whitey,” Alex called.
“Copy, Ice, waiting your mark,” the arctic fox replied.
Alex felt the deep rumble of the twin ‘burners trying to push him forward. He held only a second and then said, “Mark.”
They released brakes and practically leaped off the runway, rapidly climbing at a steep angle. They soon reached their patrol altitude of thirty thousand feet and turned southeast toward Kosovo.
As they settled in for the cruise to their patrol area, Alex called on the ship-to-ship frequency.
“Whitey, I know Intel said the SAM (Surface to Air Missile) threat was minimal now, but stay sharp. They told O’Grady the same thing.”
“Copy Ice,” came the reply from Major Forrest.
There were scattered to broken clouds below them most of the way, but as they neared their patrol area, the clouds thinned out. As they flew over the Kosovo/Serbian border area, Alex pointed out the places where there had been SAM threats before, as well as the locations of airfields and major roads.
His thoughts drifted for a moment as the routine continued. It had been in this piece of sky that he’d scored his last kill. It had been on the first day of the NATO bombing campaign against the Serbians. He’d been flight lead on a four ship mission to provide air cover for a group of F-16s bombing artillery sites. Two Serbian MiG-29’s had tried to slip past to disrupt the attack force. Alex had downed one with a Sparrow from five miles away. The second had turned toward them, and the second element lead, a wolf named Shower, had downed it with a missile, as well.
These days, the skies over Kosovo were fairly calm. Today’s mission was to prove routine, as well. As they neared the end of their two-hour patrol block, Alex keyed the mic and talked to his wingfur and replacement.
“Whitey, this is a very good squadron to work in. I leave the XO duties in your capable paws.”
“Copy that, Ice. Thank you. You’ve helped make it an excellent squadron, and made my transition pretty easy. You’re leaving me quite large boots to fill.”
They made a final turn northwest and headed back for Rhine-Mien. All too soon, in some ways, Alex felt his main gear chirp onto the runway, and his last mission with the 312th was over. Tomorrow night was the hail and farewell for him and Scatcat and their replacements, and then his final outprocessing. With any luck, he’d be in the states by Sunday.
# # #
Anton lay on the couch, a wastebasket beside him on the floor. He was quite sick and weak from the round of chemo he’d gone through earlier in the day. Talia had been fussing over him, so he’d sent her home about an hour ago. It was just he and Blake and the TV set, now. If it was like the last time, he still had about twelve hours of nausea and another several days of feeling weak as a cub.
As he watched the movie he’d found among the early evening sitcoms and dramas, his thoughts drifted. Some part of him thought that the treatment was worse than the disease. He’d still had very little pain, but Dr. Gailton had told him that, while the cancer appeared to be slowing with the chemotherapy, it had not stopped. A slight doubt began to whisper at the back of his mind. Would he really be able to beat this?
“Well,” he said to himself, “I’m not giving up. I’ll beat this if at all possible.”
“And if not,” Anton shrugged slightly, causing the nausea to worsen for a few seconds. When it passed, he finished, “I’ll go home to be with the Lord, and see my Su-Lin again.”
Blake picked that moment to jump up on the couch and settle into the crook of Anton’s arm. He placed a paw on Anton’s chest and laid his head down on it, looking contentedly into Anton’s eyes. The old tiger gently petted the kaht, and soon he was purring with his eyes closed.
“Yes,” Anton said again to himself, “it will be well, whichever way it goes.”
His thoughts turned to Alex, who was due stateside in a few days. That would be good. He missed his son, especially after losing Jason. He’d have to tell Alex about the cancer, but not until he was settled at Langley, Anton decided. It was a shame about how he reached the decision to retire, but Anton looked at the situation as Devine intervention. It would allow him and Alex some time together after all those years he’d been away.
There were many things he needed to tell Alex. About the family, and the past. The thought occurred to him that he might end up being too sick to deliver Anatol’s package to the older tiger’s granddaughter.
“Maybe I’ll get Alex to do that. It’d be good for him and his cousin to get together. Heh, with where she works, he might even find a date,” Anton chuckled to himself.
Jenna and the cubs would be stopping by on their way back from vacation, as well. Anton would have to be sure to tell her how proud he was of her and how well she was handling things. He found himself hoping that she would find a nice guy and be able to love again.
“Ah, Old Tiger, you never took that advice,” he said to himself. After his wife, Su-Lin, had died in a car crash, he’d never found anyone else. He’d “dated” a few times, but they just weren’t his Su-Lin. The only other one he might have been interested in had died several years before his wife, he’d found out when he’d tried looking her up. So, he settled for a peaceful life alone. He’d only had Blake for about a year, and the kaht’s presence had eased his lonely existence a bit.
The movie was going off, so Anton pointed the remote at the set and changed to the news channel. He felt the nausea was easing off, but still felt tired and weak. With Blake still purring on his chest, he soon drifted off to a peaceful sleep.
# # #
Lt. Col. Jefferson Matifson the Third had just shut down his computer, and was preparing to go home when his intercom chimed.
“Yas, Sgt. Delaroy?” he answered as he pressed the switch on the speaker phone.
“Your uncle for you on line one,” the enlisted fur stated.
Mastifson picked up the pawset as he pushed the button for line one.
“Uncle!” he said, dropping his accent. “What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”
“You can damn well can the chatter and listen, that’s what you can do, Jeff,” the General said. Known for a gruff, no-nonsense manner, Lance Mastifson had been an ace in the Vietnam War, and gone on to command the Tactical Air Command. He now worked on developing tactics and policy at the Pentagon. He held considerable clout with the Air Force in general, and within the Pentagon’s high-powered halls in particular. Right now, he sounded none too happy with his nephew. Jefferson was silent, wondering what had raised his uncle’s ire.
“Good,” the General continued, “Now listen up. I believed you when you said this Lt. Col. O’Whitt was out to get you, and that he was an unsafe pilot who was fraternizing with an enlisted fur. After looking a bit closer at his record and actions, including a discreet OSI investigation, though, I think you used my name and position to force a fine officer and outstanding pilot into retirement. That’s bad enough, and there is nothing I can do about it now since he voluntarily submitted the paperwork, and it would damage my standing here to not back up my name.”
“Now, just a little while ago, a package arrived at my office. Jeff, I thought you knew better! How could you let yourself become involved in an affair with an enlisted fur? And then go and accuse an innocent officer of the same!”
The General was growling his words out, and Jefferson involuntarily cringed. So that was why Rebecca had refused to talk to him or see him. He’d thought she was just playing a game, but now he knew that they’d been compromised.
“Uncle—,” he began, but was cut off by his uncle’s still-angry voice.
“Don’t even try, Jeff. I don’t want to hear it right now. I’ll be out to observe your squadron on their exercise next week. I’ll speak to you more on this matter there. Until I do, you are not to see this girl, or use my name, office or position in any way, shape, or form. Is that clear, Colonel?”
“Uh, yes sir,” Jefferson managed to say.
“Good bye, Jeff. Go home. I don’t think Claire will be there. Apparently word got back to her about the affair, and she’s not quite as timid as you seem to think. She called here just before I called you to say she’s going to her sister’s and won’t be back until she’s sorted this out for herself. Don’t try to blame this on O’Whitt. She said someone calling herself Rebecca called and told her. I’ll see you next week.” The General closed the connection without further comment.
Mastifson sat in disbelief. His uncle no longer trusted him. His mistress had turned on him and, in a final, cruel act, had disclosed their affair to his wife. The rabbit he’d married, and long considered too timid to ever leave or challenge him, had walked out. He realized he still held the pawset for the phone up to his ear, so he dialed his home number on impulse. On the fourth ring, the answering machine kicked on.
“You have reached Lt. Col. Jefferson Mastifson the Third’s home,” the voice of his wife, sounding hoarse on the recording, said. “This is his wife. If you’d like to reach me, I’m at my sister’s in Pennsylvania. If you’d like to reach Jefferson, He’s probably out with his girlfriend!”
She’d spat the last line into the recorder with a vehemence that quite surprised Mastifson. He’d never thought her capable of it.
“Leave your message at the beep,” she concluded after a few seconds. Mastifson hung up the phone.
“O’Whitt,” he said to himself as he prepared to go home to an empty house, “I know Uncle Lance said this wasn’t your doing, but I blame you just the same. Somehow, someday, I’ll settle the score. Count on it.”
END OF CHAPTER 12
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