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 13
“UNTIL THE NEXT TIME”
“So there I was, inverted at forty thousand, doing point nine of Mach, canopy to canopy with the Mirages. They were making all kinds of rude gestures, so Ice calls out on the radio to them ‘Bon Voyage′, Mon ami′’ and we do a roll around and get on their six. We locked them up, and they left in a hurry.”
Rings Jorgenson was regaling the group with the story of a confrontation that had taken place over the Mediterranean the year before. When the two French fighters had made a couple of harassing passes at the pair, Alex and Brent had sidled up on them to inquire why.
Phillip “Tags” Bollinger laughed heartily, saying, “I can’t believe you two! How many times did you see ‘Top Gun’ again?”
The pilots of the 312th Eagles were saying goodbye to Alex and Bart Higgins, and hello to Major George Forrest and Colonel Frank Veltrous, the unit’s new German shepherd CO. They had enjoyed a good meal at the Rhine-Mien Officer’s Club, and feted the new arrivals. War stories were now the order of business as those who chose to were working on the next day’s hangover.
Alex grinned in reply. “Top Gun? Never heard of it.” The rest of the group all laughed, and calls went out for “speech, speech.”
Alex and Bart looked at each other. The speech by the departing was the last thing to do before everyone called it an evening.
“You first,” Bart said.
Alex arched his eyebrow at his friend. “R.H.I.P, huh?”
“Yep,” the lion grinned.
“All right,” Alex said as he stood up.
“Okay, you bunch of jet jockeys,” Alex boomed out, “here’s my speech. Fly hard. Fight to win, and be safe. As the old tradition says, this is not goodbye, but only until the next post.”
Alex sat back down, crossed his arms and gave Bart a “your turn” smirk. The lion stood up and spoke to the group, his strong voice carrying easily.
“Well, I want you to know it has been a real pleasure serving with all of you. You’re all outstanding officers and pilots. I am confident that you will go far with your careers. Now, if everyone will stand and join me, I’d like to dismiss with a toast.”
Everyone stood and held their glasses aloft.
“To the 312th! EAGLES UP!” Bart said loudly.
“EAGLES UP!” chorused the rest of the group as they downed whatever drink they had.
As the pilots began to disburse, Bart said, “Alex, I’ll leave you to get an early start on your final out-processing. When are you planning on leaving for the states?”
“Friday afternoon. That should put me in Lexington by Sunday,” Alex replied as he picked up his jacket.
“Well, I’m going to be busy with my own out-processing, so if I don’t see you before you leave, I’ll see you at Langley in a couple of weeks.”
At that point, George Forrest walked up to them, saying, “Excuse the interruption. Alex, are you ready for your last ride in the Gray Ghost?”
“Yep, I’m ready. Bart, I’ll see you at Langley, if not before. Say hello to Chloe’ for me,” Alex said as he shook paws with the lion.
“Sure thing. Major, you take good care of the Ghost. Good legends are hard to come by. Hmmm, hey, is your fur getting darker, or are my eyes getting dim? I didn’t drink that much.”
“It’s getting darker, Colonel. I’m an artic fox. I’m just finishing shedding my winter coat. If you were here in November, you’d see where my call sign comes from. I’m stark white by then.” The fox replied.
“Heh, I’d forgotten about that. Well, drive safely.”
“I will, sir,” the fox said as he turned to go. “It’ll be great having the Ghost when my wife and kits get here next week.”
Bart smiled and the three furs headed for the door.
“I’ll really miss this squadron,” Alex thought as he walked out the door. “Ah, well, on to new challenges.”
# # #
Jenna stretched languorously in the lounge chair. The view of the ocean was wonderful from the condo’s balcony, and she would miss it. Their things were packed and in the car, and Tia and Andrew were having one last splash in the waves before they went to the airport to meet Billy. She could see both cubs as they frolicked in the breakers.
Tia had begun to fill out quite nicely, and her unusual tail and the spots on her stomach had gotten a lot of attention from the young males. She had dismissed them all without a thought, except for one determined young ermine who she’d finally walked and talked a bit with.
Jenna sighed. She, too had gotten quite a few looks and a couple of invitations. She considered it way too soon, and had declined each one. She was never one for vacation romances, even before she’d met Jason in college. Still, it made her think that it was time she got out in public a bit more. She had decided to get a part-time job when they got back. Between investments, Jason’s pension, and having no rent to pay, money was not a problem. She just wanted somewhere away from the house and cubs to go act like an adult for a while. She was missing the social contact of being an officer’s wife. She missed her work with the chapel, too.
“That’s it,” she muttered, “time to find a church to worship and serve at, too.” She looked at her watch, and even though she hated to, stood and called out to her cubs.
“TIA! ANDREW! C’mon, time to go!”
She had timed it so that both cubs were near the beach, and it was between waves. Two striped faces turned her way, and Tia waved as they began to make their way onto the sand.
After a quick shower to wash the sand and salt out of their fur, Jenna herded the two young tigers into their rental sedan and drove to the condo rental office to drop off the keys. Now they were driving west along the Cape Fear River. As they drove toward the airport, they could see the old battleship USS North Carolina in her place as a floating museum. The vacation had been full of side trips to interesting sights around Wilmington and eastern North Carolina.
Jenna thought it would be nice to be home, though. They still had a couple of days of traveling left, as they were going to see Anton in West Virginia before going home to Winchester.
“Home,” Jenna thought, “I guess it is, now.”
“Mom,” Tia said, interrupting Jenna’s thoughts. “Can I sit up front with Mr. Panelli while we fly?”
Jenna smiled. “Certainly,” she replied. “As long as it’s okay with Billy.”
Andrew, as usual, was engrossed in a new game he’d picked up for his Game Fox on their shopping excursion into Wilmington. Jenna could hear the click of the control keys, even though he had the sound turned off. She would have been worried about the amount of time he spent on computers and games, if his grades hadn’t been so good, and the new circle of friends he’d made so quickly showed his social skills weren’t lacking, either.
The late morning traffic was fairly light as they drove north of Wilmington proper toward the airport. Before long Jenna pulled into the rent-a-car lot, and went to turn in the keys while Tia and Andrew unloaded their things. The salesfur for the rental company came out and checked the car over, and then asked if they needed to be taken anywhere. Billy had said he would come get them, so they declined.
Andrew had just started to fidget around about ten minutes later when a sedan with a sign saying Aero Service pulled up. Billy Panelli got out and grinned at the trio.
“Hey lady, need a lift?” he joked as he stepped over to help them with their luggage.
“Hmmm, I’m not sure. Are your intentions honorable?” Jenna replied with a wink.
Billy almost continued the banter with a resounding “never,” but thought the better of it, not wanting to be a bad influence on either O’Whitt cub.
He settled for and enthusiastic, “Of course! An officer and a gentlefur at all times,” accompanied by a courtly bow.
Jenna giggled, Andrew rolled his eyes, and Tia arched an eyebrow at the grand display. Billy looked from one striped face to another, and finally gave a sheepish shrug.
“Dang, they didn’t buy it,” he said as he picked up a suitcase to put in the trunk of the car.
Jenna just smiled. Andrew followed Billy’s lead and placed his bags in the car. Tia stepped up, suitcase in paw and a travel bag on her shoulder. As Billy reached to take her suitcase to put it in the trunk, she stepped up next to him and laid it in by herself. She looked up at him and spoke in a voice full of hope.
“Mr. Panelli, would it be all right if I, ah, flew right seat with you today? Mom said it was okay, as long as you agreed.”
“Sure Tia, glad to have an extra paw. The weather might get a little bumpy as we cross the mountains, and the traffic always seems heavier on Fridays,” Billy replied. Tia gave him a broad smile as she turned to go get in the car.
Once everyone was seated with belts fastened, Billy pulled out of the rental lot and turned onto the access road to the general aviation ramp. Jenna and the cubs kept up a steady barrage of details about their vacation, and in a few minutes Billy pulled the car into the parking lot behind a hangar with Aero Service North on the top of the building. The process of retrieving luggage was repeated, and the three O’Whitts waited while Billy returned the keys. He’d completed all the fueling and paperwork before coming to pick up his passengers.
Returning, he picked up Jenna’s bags and led the way out to the ramp. Tia immediately spotted Billy’s red, white, and blue Aerostar. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the sleek lines, narrow fuselage, and powerful engines.
“Beautiful isn’t she?” Billy asked as he leaned in close to Tia.
“Absolutely,” Tia breathed, a touch of awe in her voice.
They walked up to the aircraft and Billy opened the door and the cargo nacelles behind the engines. He carefully stowed everyone’s baggage, explaining the aircraft’s weight and balance to Tia as he went. With everything in place, he closed the hatches, and then stood in front of them to address his passengers.
“Jenna, you and Andrew go ahead and get seated. I’ll take Tia on the preflight with me.”
Jenna nodded and with Andrew, game in paw, in tow, got in and made her way to the seats just behind the pilot’s seats.
Billy walked to the front of the aircraft and began his preflight, explaining to Tia what he was looking at as he went. Tia was helpful, and knew pretty well what to look for, having been asked to go along on several preflights lately. They made their way around the port wing, checking the oil in the port engine, looking at the landing gear and fuel caps, and making sure there was no damage to be seen. They checked the aileron and flap and their respective hardware, and then down the fuselage to the horizontal stabilizer.
They checked the elevator and rudder, and then repeated the process in reverse order on the starboard side, ending at the nose gear.
Billy then said, “Wait here while I make sure the brakes are set, and then you can pull the chocks and put them in that spot behind the seats marked “chocks,” then join me in the cockpit.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Panelli.” She replied.
“Okay, stop right there. If you’re going to fly right seat with me, “Mr. Panelli” takes too long. Call me Billy, and that’s an order. I’ll handle your Mom if she objects,” Billy said with a mischievous grin.
“Uh, ah, yes sir, Billy,” Tia replied uncertainly. Billy made his way into the aircraft and sat down in the pilot’s seat. He double checked the parking brake and opened a small window set in the larger window beside him. He then called out to Tia.
“Brakes set, pull chocks.”
“Pulling chocks,” she repeated as she scrambled to remove the chocks from the landing gear. She climbed aboard and quickly placed the chocks where Billy had told her. She then made her way to the front right seat beside Billy and settled in, wrapping her tail around behind the seat. Billy made sure everyone had their seatbelts on and began to show Tia the cockpit preflight checks. He turned the main power on with the master switch, and then went down the checklist with Tia, initiating her into the challenge/response litany that was part and parcel of flying. Soon, they were ready for engine start.
“You two have your earplugs in?” He called back to Jenna and Andrew. Two affirmative nods let him know they did.
“Okay, Tia, put your headset on and get it adjusted.” Billy said, turning his attention back forward. Tia placed the earphones on her ears and adjusted the microphone near her lips.
“Okay, ah, Billy, ready” she said. Her voice now sounded a bit tinny from the speakers in Billy’s headset.
“Great. Now, there are a lot of furs moving around on an airport parking ramp, so you always warn them when you are about to start your engines, like this,” Billy leaned over to the small window in his side window and yelled.
“CLEAR PROP!”
He waited two beats and then switched the starter on. The port engine whirred and, on the second revolution of its propeller, roared to life. He repeated the procedure for the starboard engine, having Tia call out “clear prop” on that side.
Billy made sure his radios were set up correctly for their departure, showing Tia each frequency and explaining what each one went to, and then letting her read them back to him from the radios. He then called Wilmington Ground and requested permission to taxi to the runway. While they waited, Billy went over all the navigational equipment with Tia and explained each setting to her. Wilmington Ground called back with their taxi clearance, and Billy prepared to move the aircraft to the runway.
“Okay Tia,” Billy said, “put your right paw on the yoke, your left paw on the throttles here, and your feet on the rudder pedals. Follow what I do on the controls.”
“Yes sir,” was her quick reply. Billy stole a quick sideways glance at her. The young tigress was looking down the runway, ears up and forward with a rapt look of anticipation on her face. He couldn’t help but grin.
“Yep, she has it bad, all right,” he thought to himself. They reached the runway and held for clearance.
“Wilmington Tower, November Five Nine Six Nine Charlie requesting clearance for takeoff on Runway Three Five,” Billy called on the radio.
“Six Nine Charlie, Wilmington Tower, the pattern is empty, you are clear for takeoff, contact Departure Control at One Three Five Point Seven Five, good day.”
Billy clicked the mic twice to acknowledge as he nudged the throttles forward and lined the Aerostar up with the centerline of the runway. He applied the brakes and held there for just a second, pushing the throttles full forward.
“Six Nine Charlie, rolling,” Billy announced as he released the brakes. He heard an audible gasp from Jenna and Tia as the Aerostar leaped down the runway. He pointed to the airspeed indicator and told Tia to watch for them to reach the speed needed for flight.
“Okay, that’s Vee One,” Billy said as the speed for takeoff with both engines was reached. He held the nose down for a bit longer. “Vee Two,” he announced and raised the nose. The aircraft roared skyward as he explained to Tia, “Vee Two is the speed where we could still complete the takeoff even on one engine.”
Tia continued looking out and forward as she replied nonchalantly, “I know. Patricia Celine told me about that when we flew with her.”
Billy arched and eyebrow, and concentrated on flying the aircraft to keep from laughing. The young tigress was learning at an astonishing rate. Billy would have to approach Jenna with the idea of flying lessons as soon as Tia was old enough.
They passed the suburb of Wrightsboro and Billy soon contacted Washington Center. The pines and sand hills slid by below as they turned a bit more to the west. Before long they were merged in with the northbound traffic and they approached the foothills of the Appalachians. The day was a warm one, with visibility only about four miles in haze, and even at eight thousand feet, the aircraft experienced some light thermal turbulence. It got even bouncier as they crossed the central Appalachians in western Virginia, so Billy got clearance and eased them up to ten thousand. The turbulence there was less, and Tia watched and followed his every move eagerly.
It would be a few minutes before they had to make any turns, so Billy said, “Tia, keep it straight and level, on this heading.” With that, he took his feet and paws off the controls. Tia’s eyes went wide, and the aircraft bobbled slightly as she gripped the controls.
“Easy, easy, keep the touch light. You don’t need a death-grip,” Billy said as he coached her through handling the speedy twin. She nodded and eased up, and the aircraft smoothed out.
Near Bluefield, WV, Billy took the controls again and turned them more northerly. Soon, he began preparing for his approach into Yeager airport in Charleston. He would drop Jenna, Tia, and Andrew off so they could visit with Anton, and then one of Kentiger’s Cessna Citations would stop to pick them up Sunday afternoon on its way back from a charter in Philadelphia.
Billy smiled as he began to pick up Yeager’s outer marker. He enjoyed helping Jenna out, and Tia was proving to be an excellent student, with the promise of being an excellent pilot. He could tell Tia had been down this approach before, as she was anticipating each point along the approach as they closed on the airport. As they settled onto the runway, Billy found himself saying a brief prayer that their visit went well.
# # #
“Yas watch ya tail t’day, Cap’n Beck,” Sgt. Gustafson said as he helped the Labrador do his preflight, “da Turd’s been in quite a mood th’ past week.”
Dash smirked slightly at the nickname their CO had garnered as he replied, “Thanks Gus, but you’ll be the one in trouble if he hears you call him that.”
“Ah, I’m careful ‘round him. He don’t pay much attention to enlisted furs anyway, ‘less they’re femmes with spiked collars.”
Dash now grinned in earnest. The news of his CO’s affair, and ensuing mess as his wife left him, had spread like wildfire around the base. The enlisted fur Lt. Col. Mastifson had been seeing was quickly given orders assigning her to another base. She had practically disappeared overnight.
“Well,” Dash said after a moment, “I’d still be careful. He seemes to be ready to go off on anyone about anything these days.”
“No problem, sir. Here he comes now. Good luck!” The NCO then turned and went to busy himself with the power cart. The heat on the ramp at Nellis wasn’t too bad yet, in the early-morning light, but it would soon be at full power as summer had begun in earnest.
Dash saluted as the rotweiller approached him. Usually arrogant and snooty, he had become just plain obnoxious after the recent events.
“Morning, Captain Beck. Are you quite ready for this?” Uber said almost absently.
“Yes sir. Everything looks good on my aircraft, the route has been reviewed and comm. set. Ordinance is loaded, so we can go whenever you’re ready,” Dash replied.
“Acceptable, Captain. Now stay close, minimal radio chatter, and be ready for the target. By the way, what was your call sign again?” Uber said, managing to look both smug and puzzled at the same time.
“Dash, sir,” Capt. Beck answered.
“Ah, yes, that’s right. Well Dash, stick with me and we’ll show my uncle some real flying. Now mount up, I don’t have all day.” With that, Uber strode to his aircraft and began his preflight.
Sgt. Gustafson walked back over and assisted Dash up and into the cockpit, and then helped him strap in. In short order, the Labrador had checked all he could check and awaited engine start clearance. As he waited, he looked at his map of the Nellis range. They would be in the Mormon Mesa area of the range, and he reviewed each check point and geographic feature. Their ingress would be low-level at high speed, dodging through the buttes and canyons. They would fly at twenty thousand until they reached the nav marker designated Papa Four. They would then break up into elements and assume a northwesterly run up a canyon, exiting it into a wide valley where their target was situated. They would only have the one pass to hit it, and then egress out a canyon opposite where they came in. Mastifson had briefed the mission well enough, but John Beck couldn’t help noticing he seemed a bit distracted. He hoped the rest of the squadron, who would be following a different canyon route for each pair, got their timing right. The exercise called for each pair to hit the target at ten second intervals.
“Bushmaster One, cleared for engine start on all Bushmaster aircraft,” Dash heard over the radio, followed by Mastifson’s “Engine start now.” He went through the startup, and then though the flight control checks with his crew chief. The wermerainer positioned himself at the port front of the aircraft and awaited the order to pull chocks. After a few moments, Mastifson’s fake accent sounded on the radio.
“Bushmaster One to all Bushmasters, pull chocks, follow my lead.”
All the aircraft, including the rookie spaniel who’d come in as Jason’s replacement, acknowledged in turn. Sgt. Gustafson pulled the chocks on Dash’s Viper and then ran to the port side and waited, salute raised. As Mastifson’s F-16 began to move, Dash returned the salute, advanced his throttle, and taxied out behind his leader.
Soon, all 12 Vipers were at the runway, and upon receiving takeoff clearance, Uber and Dash advanced throttles and went into afterburner. They released brakes and quickly accelerated down the runway, leading the squadron into the air. Due to the higher temps and bomb load, it took a little longer than usual for them to lift off. As they climbed toward twenty thousand feet, they circled around to an easterly heading and awaited the rest of the squadron. Once all twelve aircraft had formed up, Uber led them due east for about fifteen minutes. It was only about a fifteen minute flight from Nellis to Papa Four, but the route they were taking, east, then north, then west, would more closely simulate the flight time they would have in a real combat run. Most stayed silent, as Uber didn’t want any unneeded radio chatter. They acknowledged his instructions, but otherwise said nothing. Dash and probably all the rest kept tabs on Uber,s communications with Nellis Control so they’d know what the situation was without having to rely on Mastifson to tell them.
The flight turned north, and Dash took the chance to loosen up slightly off his lead and review the topography for their attack run. He and Uber’s run started on the fourth canyon after they broke at Papa Four. He noted the third and fourth canyons started side by side. The fourth twisted and turned and then opened onto a large flat where the target, a collection of old vehicles arranged to resemble a nuclear facility, lay. He started to trace the third, just in case, but before he could Uber initiated their westward turn.
After their turn, Dash went over all the data in the targeting system one last time, and then made sure his seat straps were pulled tight. They would be doing some pretty heavy maneuvering as they made their way through the canyon.
Dash heard Uber request and receive permission from Nellis Control to proceed, and, slightly early it seemed to Dash, called “Break, Go” over the ship-to-ship channel. This was their cue to peel off into their individual flights, the mission was a go.
Dash felt his pulse rate increase as each flight broke off and headed out on their specific route. This mission had originally been planned for electronic scoring of the bomb hits, but Mastifson had changed it to live ordinance. Each Viper carried two 500lb Mk82 bombs, and they would drop them on their target four at a time at ten second intervals. They would have to execute just right in order to insure no one got caught in the previous flight’s bomb blast. Done correctly, it would be an awesome display of flying skill and firepower. Done incorrectly, it would be a recipe’ for disaster.
Dash left those thoughts behind as he followed Uber down towards the deck. As they neared the desert floor and began to level out, he began to count canyons.
# # #
Alex heaved a sigh as the MD-80 touched down at Bluegrass Field. He’d completed his outprocessing in record time so he could catch a C-141 to the
As the engines spooled down and the Captain gave his goodbye message, Alex grabbed his carryon bag and stood up to leave. Dressed in the casual polo shirt and dockers he’d changed into after reaching New Jersey, he felt he blended in with the rest of the passengers filing off the aircraft. The Flight Attendant, a perky young opossum, gave him a wide smile as he stepped out the door.
At baggage claim, he retrieved his suit bag and dufflebag. They contained all the uniforms and gear, along with a few civilian clothes; he would need until his “household goods” shipment arrived at Langley. He’d learned in his career to travel very light, so the items in his two bags would suffice for him for at least two weeks.
“Hmm, guess I’ll have to go buy something to drive now. The old pickup is fine for here to home, but not for an extended highway drive,” Alex thought to himself as he walked out to wait for the shuttle bus that ran from the airport to Lexington. It went up and made its turn right by Kentiger’s parking lot. He could have carried his duffle like a backpack and walked the distance, but he was tired from his long day, and still a slight bit sore from his extreme run a few weeks ago.
A group of furs were also waiting for the bus, and Alex boarded the bus with them a few minutes later. It ran every half –hour, and would drop most of them off at hotels in town. Alex paid a quarter and stood near the front of the bus with his bags. The driver, a basset hound around retirement age, looked at him curiously, but didn’t comment. It took about five minutes for the bus to reach its turnaround, and Alex got off when it stopped at the edge of Kentiger’s parking area. He walked up to the old white pickup in the corner of the lot and put his bags in the back. He fished his keys out and opened the door, letting some of the day’s heat escape. He pulled the latch on the hood and walked to the front of the truck and opened it. He had disconnected the battery cable the last time he’d used the truck, about six months ago. Billy usually would come out and fire it up every week or so, just to keep it lubricated and the battery charged up, so he wasn’t afraid to drive it.
Satisfied that all was in order with the truck, Alex connected the battery cable and shut the hood. He then strolled over and checked the door into Kentiger’s hangar. Finding it open, he walked into the empty hangar and over toward the hall to the office. As he stepped around the corner, he saw who could only be Loni Lyntica. The gorgeous blonde lynx was seated, working at a computer behind a short counter.
Alex cleared his throat to get her attention, but it came out as more of a low growl. The lynx started and looked around at him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Alex said quickly. Loni had recovered from her surprise, and now looked at Alex in a way that spoke of confidence and curiosity.
“That’s all right, I didn’t hear you come in. May I help you?”
Loni had started to get up, but Alex waved her back to her seat..
“Don’t get up on my account, please. Did Billy get back yet?”
The lynx’s face took on a suspicious expression as she replied, “I don’t give out information on Mr. Panelli without knowing who’s asking.”
Alex grinned. He wouldn’t have been very pleased if she had volunteered the information too readily. Billy was right, she was a very competent, professional lady.
“I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself first. I’m Lt. Col. Alex O’Whitt.” Alex mentally frowned. He’d soon have to get used to Mister.
Loni’s eyes went wide for a second, but she quickly recovered.
“Please pardon me, Colonel O’Whitt. I should have known. How many tall white tigers are likely to show up here? Mr. Panelli came in about two hours ago. He went home, but he did say you might be in Monday. Did you just arrive?”
Alex had walked around the counter so he could speak more directly to Loni. He extended his paw, and she briefly shook it.
“Yes, I got here a few minutes ago. I wanted to check in with Billy, and see who was around. I also wanted to tell him I have the old truck, so he wouldn’t think someone stole it. Why are you here so late? Is Billy that much of a slave-driver?”
“Oh, no, he’s a great boss. I was just getting some work done while waiting for . . . one of our planes to get back.” Loni said, looking like she’d almost misspoken.
Alex could read more than just dedication to her job in Loni’s answer, but he didn’t pursue it. If she was waiting on one of the pilots, that was her business. He smiled at her in a friendly way, sensing her tense up at almost saying more than she intended.
“Well, I hope your wait is a short one. I’ll give Billy a call when I get home. It was nice to meet you, Ms. Lyntica. I look forward to working with you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Col. O’Whitt,” She replied politely, “drive carefully, they get a little crazy in the evening rush hour.”
“Sure thing,” Alex replied as he turned and walked back out to the hangar. Loni watched him go. She was speculating about what kind of boss he was going to be. He seemed all right at first look, but she’d had other employers who started out nice, too. Billy had turned out great, but he was happily married. Col. O’Whitt was single, and she’d had bosses before who thought that since they and she were single, a date just went with the work. She’d expected the tiger to be a bit more cocky than he’d come across, but time would tell. She shrugged to herself and turned back to her work. Duncan was on a check ride with the Gulfstream crew, and they were due back in about thirty minutes. They kept their relationship low-key in public, but he had promised her dinner when he got back, and she intended to hold him to it. She set to work, the clack of computer keys accompanying her slight smile of anticipation.
Alex walked out to the old truck, got in, and started it up. It coughed a little, but then smoothed out. He pulled out of the lot and drove down the access road past the passenger terminal. He made his way out to the stoplight at Versailles Road. He was right by the end of the runway, built up around twenty feet higher than the road, and as he waited for the light, he noticed a set of landing lights come on far out on the approach. The light changed before the aircraft got much closer, so he didn’t see if it was the Gulfstream or not. Traffic was heavy on the road toward Lexington, as the races at Keenland Park, just across from the airport, had just let out. Alex was soon involved with the tasks of driving. He would normally have turned onto New Circle Road and went around to the north to intercept I-75 down to I-64, and then eastward to Winchester. Instead, he continued eastward toward Lexington proper.
He turned right a few blocks later, and then continued on a couple of more blocks. He pulled up in front of a nondescript building with a freshly painted sign over the door that said “Quai’s Martial Arts Academy.” Alex parked the truck and got out. He stepped to the bed of the truck and surreptitiously pulled an old, stained tarp he kept there over his luggage. As he turned to go inside, he quickly scanned the street. The area he was in had been a middle class neighborhood when Mr. Quai had purchased the building fifteen years ago, but it had since deteriorated into a lower income area with the beginnings of a drug and gang problem. Alex checked the street again as he walked up to the door, but saw no one about.
Opening the door and going inside, Alex breathed in the familiar scents of hardwood floors, wax, and a touch of incense. There were mats and pads along the walls, and a circular sparring area off to one side. A heavy bag hung in one corner, and a large wooden post, scarred with claw marks, stood in another. A gray-muzzled older snow leopard in a robe and karate uniform was quietly sweeping the floor not far from the sparring circle.
Alex approached the old leopard from behind, stopping about five feet away. He bent into a low bow, keeping his eyes on the other feline.
“Sensei Quai-san, your humble student has returned,” Alex rumbled in a deep, serious voice.
The leopard didn’t miss a beat of sweeping as he replied, “Since when do you go in for that idiotic chop-saki routine, Alex?”
Alex grinned, maintaining his bow, and said, “Since my old teacher has probably gone senile and would expect it.”
The broom didn’t change rhythm in the least, but suddenly its bristles were whistling toward Alex’s head. He snapped into a fighting crouch and intercepted it several inches from his face, claws out.
“Ten millimeters,” he called out as his claws sank into the broomstraws. Quai let go of the broom handle and Alex stood up and held it out in front of him. The leopard looked critically at it and then reached out to part the straws. He then tsk’d once
“You haven’t been practicing, my journeyfur friend. Nine point two. How do you expect to ever become a master at Panjitsu unless you practice?”
Alex retracted his claws and handed the broom back to Quai, who then put it straws-down and leaned on it. The old leopard had been Alex’s martial arts teacher for many years, coaching him to his 3rd degree Black Belt in Tae Kwan Do, and introducing him to the feline martial art of Panjitsu while he was still in college.
“I’ll have more time to practice soon. How are you, Izzy?”
Isidis Quai smiled, saying, “Well, for someone so old and senile, but I have three instructors working for me now, so I mostly just supervise. I am also starting a basic self-defense and confidence course for the YFCA one evening a week.”
Alex smiled, saying, “That’s you, Izzy, always looking to help the young furs who otherwise wouldn’t have a chance.”
“It worked for you, my temper-prone young tiger,” Izzy replied with a slight grin. Alex had possessed a world-class temper when he’d first started with Izzy Quai back at West Virginia University.
“True, true. Hey the class sounds interesting. Perhaps I can help you with it once I retire.” Alex noted the shift in expression on his teacher’s face.
“Something has changed since you last wrote then. Trouble with the service?” Quai had always been quick to figure out a situation. Alex related the reasons for his change in plans, and the old leopard nodded, ending with a slight smile.
“You have done well at controlling yourself. Welcome home, my friend.”
Alex smiled in reply. He was beginning to really look forward to retiring and helping out his friends and family, and beginning new challenges.
“Home,” he said, “yes, it’s good to be home.”
# # #
As the Bushmaster Vipers broke formation and dropped down on their various routes, the dust from the UH-60 Blackhawk’s rotors was just settling on the mesa overlooking the target area. Lieutenant General Lance Mastifson, clad in a flight suit and accompanied by Colonel Randall Benkins, walked purposefully from the chopper to the temporary Forward Air Control post set up to monitor the target area. This consisted of a mobile radar platform, a communications van, a FAC team, and a generator trailer to power it all. The radar, FAC, and comm. vehicles were all backed up to an open-sided tent, and the whole conglomeration was covered by camouflage netting, raised and open toward the wide, flat valley below. The target vehicles, arranged and piled up to look like a nuclear facility, were clearly in view. All the canyons and valleys that opened onto the target could also be seen.
As the General and the Colonel reached the edge of the camo netting, they were met by the Major in charge of the FAC team.
“Area, Ten-Hut!” the squirrel called out as he lifted the netting for the pair of rotweillers to come in. Several enlisted furs stood to attention, but the technicians kept their seats and continued working.
“At ease. Go on about your duties and don’t let us get in your way,” General Mastifson said in an almost fatherly way. Col. Benkins was struck by the contrast between this rotweiller and his nephew. The Major, who wore the name Ross on his desert BDU’s, showed the two canids around the various work areas.
“The radar will track the aircraft’s trajectories and bomb releases for the after action review. The comm. guys were getting bits and pieces of chatter from the flights as they set up to break formation, but they all went to radio silence when they dropped down into the canyons.,” the squirrel stated. Nellis’s MOA (Military Operations Area) was set up to electronically monitor aircraft operating within its boundaries, and the info would be used for the after action review, which consisted of a replay of the mission on the electronic monitors of the debriefing center.
They stopped close to the back of the communications van, which had its back door open to allow quick communications with the other sections. The enlisted fur operating the closest panel, a young beagle Airfur First Class, started to stand, but General Mastifson waved him back to his seat.
“Please, carry on, Airfur. Don’t let us interfere with your work,” he said.
Major Ross leaned in close to the General and said, “We’ll move over there near the edge of the mesa in about ten minutes, sir. The first pair of aircraft should come out of that draw down to the left. That’ll be your nephew and his wingfur.”
Just as the General nodded, the radio speaker in the van let go with a burst of static, followed by sporadic voices:
“Uber,——— canyon.”
“——tain radio silence.”
“But this is the third———“
“I said m—— rad———lence”
A steady hiss of static followed as the A1C frantically turned knobs and flipped switches to try to maintain the reception. Shortly he looked out and shrugged.
“Sorry, sir. They stopped transmitting.”
Gen. Mastifson turned to Major Ross for his comment. The squirrel’s tail was twitching nervously and he had a worried expression on his face.
“Major, report. What’s got you concerned?” Gen. Mastifson asked. He had noted that Col. Benkins usually had little to say unless he was parroting what you’d said back to you.
“How did such a yes-fur get to the rank of Colonel?” he thought briefly to himself.
“General,” the squirrel said in a nervous tone, “If I got the gist of that radio transmission right, Uber, your nephew, might have taken the wrong canyon. His route was to start down the fourth canyon on the right from their last Nav point.”
The General looked sour. “Could Jeff really be as incompetent as some had said?” he thought to himself.
“Well, we’ll wait and see where he comes out,” he said, trying to give his namesake the benefit of the doubt.
“But that’s just it, sir. If they took the wrong canyon, it parallels the other canyon, and they make a final turn hard starboard. Canyon Four opens onto the broad, flat area where the target is. Canyon Three ends in a short box canyon, with this mesa as its endwall.”
The three officers turned and looked out in the direction of that canyon. From the distance, the echo of jet engines could be heard.
END OF CHAPTER 13