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 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, and Tonya 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.Matt Barstock and Intermountain Charter © Silver Coyote. See their story HERE. Captain Jonathan "Icestar" Foertsch © his player. Some of the names in upcoming chapters may be hard to pronounce. I'll include a pronounciation for them in paretheses after theit first appearance.
CHAPTER 15
CLIMBOUT
“That’s the last time I let Billy Panelli talk me into anything,” Alex groused under his breath, although he doubted if that was true. His friend had called him early that morning before he left home, and convinced him to rent a car and drive the three hours to Elkview from Winchester instead of flying.
“Ya, it’ll be great!” he had said. “You can see the countryside and then Sunday you can ride back with Jenna and the cubs in one of our Citations. They’re stopping by to get them on the way back from a run.” Alex had agreed, eager to begin re-acclimating himself to being stateside.
Now as he sat at almost a standstill, awaiting the traffic to clear the third construction zone he’d encountered, Alex was beginning to regret that decision. This one had held him up almost fifteen minutes, making a grand total of just past forty minutes added to the trip.
“Ah well, at least I’m in West Virginia now,” he thought as he looked out at the hills covered in the bright green of early summer. He was just east of Huntington, and the hills had taken on a more gentle slope as I-64 ran along the wide Kanawha River valley. Alex sighed. Jason had always loved their home state, and had traveled and vacationed there often. Looking at the view, even from the middle of a construction zone, he could see why.
“Now that I’m back, I’ll get to enjoy it more often, too,” he thought. He and the rest of the cars in his particular knot of traffic cleared the orange-coned obstruction, and Alex smoothly accelerated back to highway speed.
In a little less than an hour, he was approaching the Charleston area. As much as he could without losing concentration on his driving, he looked for changes in his old running grounds. The city, spread along the banks of the Kanawha and Elk Rivers which intersected there, had grown a lot in the years he’d been away. As I-64 merged into I-79 and I-77, Alex turned north and followed I-79 as it ran along paralleling the Elk River. Up ahead of him, he could see the control tower of Yeager Airport where it sat atop several shaved-off mountaintops across the river from the interstate.
“Well, with preflight and renting a plane and then a car here and such, I probably didn’t lose much time by driving,” he thought.
Alex continued to follow I-79 north for about fifteen miles to the exit for Elkview. He turned right from the off-ramp and followed the two-lane access road out to US-119. There he turned left and drove past the middle school a short distance. Turning right, he drove down the residential street and pulled up in front of his father’s house.
He got out and walked through the gate in the chain-link fence that surrounded the yard. He walked up the steps toward the front porch, and had almost reached the top one when the front door flew open and a flash of stripes and fur came flying out.
“UNCLE ALEX!” Tia exclaimed as she nearly knocked Alex off his feet. He just grinned as he wrapped his niece up in a tight embrace.
“Hello Tia, to what do I owe the enthusiastic greeting?” Alex eased off the embrace and Tia smiled up at him.
“I’m glad you’re home from
“Whoa, slow down. I’m glad you’ve gotten some flying time. That’s really great. You can tell me all about it after I say hello to everyone,” Alex said, grinning at her rushed excitement.
“Ah, okay. Sorry,” she replied sheepishly.
“Don’t worry about it. I was that excited about flying at your age, too.”
Alex stepped the rest of the way onto the porch in time for a second striped blur to appear in the door. This one stopped short of grabbing him, and instead stopped with paw extended.
“Hi, Uncle Alex! Didja have a good trip in? I just got high score on Strike Force on my Game Fox. Wanna see?” Andrew said with the same enthusiasm as Tia had shown about flying.
Alex shook the cub’s paw, still grinning, and said, “Okay, okay. Love to, but can I please get through the door first?”
Now it was Andrew’s turn to look sheepish. He and his sister led the way and Alex finally made it into the house. Jenna was standing just inside, and she warmly greeted him and planted a kiss on the side of his muzzle. Alex turned to return the favor, but suddenly stopped in mid-motion. He had caught sight of his father standing back, waiting for the others to finish greeting his son. The older tiger was so thin! He had a gaunt, unhealthy pallor under his eyes. The eyes themselves were as clear and bright as ever, but Alex was shocked to see how the normally strong, robust tiger looked.
Releasing Jenna from their embrace, Alex walked up to Anton. The two stood silently, eye to eye for several seconds.
“Tia, Andrew, let’s let Alex and Grandpa talk now,” Jenna said softly as she ushered her cubs into the kitchen to give the two males some privacy.
“Son,” Anton finally said.
“Dad, what’s wrong? Don’t say nothing, I can see quite well.”
Anton turned toward the living room. “Have a seat, and I’ll tell you.”
They sat down facing each other across the coffee table, Anton in his recliner, Alex on the sofa. Alex sat, ears up and tail slowly moving back and forth. He didn’t know what was wrong with his father, but he dared not speculate, and he was upset that he hadn’t been told yet.
“Alex,” Anton began, “While I was in Lexington with Jenna and the cubs, she convinced me to go see why I was always having an upset stomach. The doctor there diagnosed it as Stage III stomach cancer. The oncologist here in Charleston, Dr. Gailton, confirmed the diagnosis and started me on chemotherapy. I’ve been through three treatments, and they’re taking a lot out of me. A lot more than I thought they would.”
Alex sat, stunned. Being pushed into retirement was bad. Losing TPS and NASA was bad. This was almost as bad as losing Jason.
“Wha, what’s the outlook?” he finally managed to say.
“Twenty percent survival rate, but I’m fighting it. Last report was that it had slowed down, but not stopped. Don’t count me out yet, Son. I’m a tough ol’ cat,” Anton said. He looked Alex in the eyes with what he hoped was a reassuring look. Alex looked back, a bit more calmly now. If his father was that determined that he could fight it, Alex would not think otherwise.
“Well, now I know what Billy didn’t want to say,” Alex said, finally shrugging his shoulders. A half-grin split his muzzle now, too.
“Humpf,” Anton said in mock consternation, “might know that bigmouthed tiger couldn’t keep a secret.”
Alex blinked, and then both he and Anton burst out laughing. From the kitchen, Jenna heard the laughter and smiled. It hadn’t taken long for the two male’s sense of humor to smooth out a very tense, sad moment.
“Okay you two,” she said to Tia and Andrew, “now you can go talk Alex’s ears off.”
With big grins, both cubs set out to spend time with their uncle and grandfather.
# # #
Jefferson Mastifson sat in the terminal of McCarran International Airport, awaiting a commercial flight back from Las Vegas to South Carolina. He was surrounded by a montage of furs; some happy winners, some sad losers, some joyous newlyweds, some joyously newly divorced. Their conversation provided a steady buzz in the background to the one he was having with himself.
“How could this be? How could my career end so abruptly? Perhaps Uncle Lance will get over this angry spell and reconsider,” he thought, but without any real conviction. His unit, the 78th FS Bushmasters, had resumed their exercise this morning while his CO, Col. Benkins, had sent him back to Shaw on a commercial flight. His jaw worked silently as he thought of how his old Academy friend and classmate had turned his back and sided with his uncle.
“And I’m returning to what?” he thought. His lover had been rapidly transferred when their affair was discovered. Rebecca Rollins was a doberman with a cruel bent and a dominating personality. She had been a worthy challenge, the latest in a line of lovers he’d taken to ease his boredom at home. His wife, a timid rabbit named Claire, was the daughter of a four-star friend of his uncle’s. She’s been docile and unchallenging, and he hadn’t thought her capable of the ire she’d displayed. He’d always been careful to keep his affairs private from her.
“Didn’t want to hurt the femme’s feelings, after all. She was a dutiful wife,” He muttered low to himself. All pretense of his fake accent was gone. This exercise was supposed to have smoothed things over with his uncle, and then he was going to go bring his wife back home. Neither was going to happen now. The exercise had gone sour for him and he’d been served with divorce papers the day before he’d left Shaw.
His eyes narrowed as his anger rose. “This is all O’Whitt’s fault, one way or another!” he thought as a very low growl escaped him. “I still have a few contacts of my own, that I have enough on to get them to do what I want without my uncle’s influence. I’ll not be forced to retire, and let him renege on his retirement. I’ll make sure he goes too, if he tries to stop it. Uncle wouldn’t let me take any direct action against him, but I can manage that if he tries to stay.”
Just then, the loudspeakers announced his flight, and he sullenly gathered his carryon and stood to walk to the gate.
“One day, O’Whitt. One day, we’ll cross paths again. And when we do, I’ll ruin you.”
# # #
Anatol moved slowly about his workshop, putting things up and shutting off lights. He’d done a repair job on a kitchen chair for one of his friends, and had thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon. As he stepped out of the door, a sudden pain shot through his upper left chest. He stopped; paw on the doorframe, and after a short time the pain receded.
“Ach, darn inconvenient thing,” he muttered to himself. He made his way into the house, made himself a light dinner, and retired to his recliner to watch the news.
As he sat, he could still feel an occasional pain in his chest. It was twinges like this that had led him to the doctor to begin with. They had been coming more frequently, and the old tiger felt he didn’t have much longer to wait.
“Too much previous damage, too many blockages to risk operating or scooping,” the doctor had said, “too much risk of a clot breaking loose and going to the brain.”
“Ah,” Anatol mused to himself, “at least my daughter and grandchildren will live a lot longer.” It had been shown in studies during the 80’s that hybrids tended to live longer, healthier lives than purebreds. Genetic deficiencies tended to get buried in hybrids, while they were magnified in purebred lines.
“Who’d have thought,” Anatol mused, “after all the fuss in the 50’s and 60’s, when interspecies tensions were so high, and hybrids were looked down upon.”
Anatol thought of his daughter, and the events that led to her current dismal circumstances. She had been a bright, inquisitive child, a skunk in form and coloration, from her mother Melinda’s side, except for the black and white tiger stripes on her forearms and lower legs, inherited from Anatol. These obvious signs of her mixed heritage caused her problems from the time she started school. The other children teased and ridiculed her, slowly sapping her confidence and self-esteem. Then, when she was about fourteen, a group of older adolescent males, emulating some of the purist hate groups of the time, grabbed her as she walked home from school. They had taken her into the woods and tied her to a tree. They had taunted and threatened her all night.
“Ach, we were beside ourselves, Lindi and I,” Anatol muttered at the memory. The police had quickly located her early the next morning, sending the young furs scattering. The event gave the young skunk nightmares for years, and she never really recovered from the mental scars. One of the youths was the son of a local official, and the incident was quickly swept under the rug. Anatol’s daughter had become more timid and frightened as the years went by.
Anatol then thought of how she had met her husband. The memory caused his chest to hurt again. She had been only seventeen, and Anatol was preparing to move his family to a new location, following his trade as a cabinet-maker. They were moving north to near Findlay, where he and Lindi hoped the smaller town and friendlier furs would help the scars his daughter dealt with heal. It was then that The Skunk, as Anatol had come to call him, wormed his way into his daughter’s good graces. He talked of grand plans, and treated her well, but Anatol had been uneasy. Something in The Skunks eyes had seemed ingenuine. His daughter had been smitten, and seemed to actually start overcoming her memories, so he and Lindi had relented and the pair had married just after their daughter’s eighteenth birthday. A couple of weeks later, Anatol and Melinda moved to Findlay.
The Skunk’s grand plans never worked out, and he couldn’t seem to hold down a job. Anatol and Lindi sent money whenever their daughter asked, but after a couple of “episodes” from The Skunk’s wounded pride, she stopped asking. Anatol and Lindi both called and begged her to come home, but she insisted everything was fine, and that The Skunk’s next grand scheme would pay off and their money troubles would be over. Anatol would send as large a check as he could manage on special days like birthdays, but the times his daughter got to come and visit were few.
Several months into the marriage, their daughter had become pregnant. The Skunk boasted about the handsome skunk son he would soon have, and for a while the couple visited frequently. The Skunk seemed to revel in the idea that he would have a son and the child would be a skunk, taking any chance to push the idea in Anatol and Melinda’s face. Both Anatol and Melinda noted the hollow, haunted look in their daughter’s eyes, but she had always insisted everything was wonderful with her husband.
Then the child was born, and not only was it a femme, the baby bore the markings of her mother’s family. The visits became few and far between. The Skunk was ashamed of his child, after all his boasting, and he made sure to avoid any reminder of her appearance. Anatol, though, remembered times spent with his granddaughter as some of the best he’d had. She was intelligent, inquisitive, and absolutely beautiful, even if her father didn’t think so. When the second child born to his daughter was a male with perfect skunk markings, Anatol had figured they’d see a lot more of the family. Instead, they saw even less. Only two brief visits occurred after the third child, another femme but with standard skunk markings, was born. Then Anatol and his wife heard nothing from the family for a number of years.
“Heh, and when we finally did, Hooo Boy!” Anatol laughed to himself as the pain in his chest eased away. Tonya, the oldest child, had left home as a teenager and managed to make a name for herself in the entertainment business, as well as a lot of money. She sued her parents for incompetence, seizing her brother Maxwell and sister Brandy away. She brought them to live with he and Lindi, and then had gone back to her work. Privately, she’d told Anatol darker, more serious things about her father. The Skunk had then fled, fearing retribution from the Altaisokova clan, and their daughter had gone with him. It had nearly happened, too. Anton and his sons were prepared to hunt The Skunk down, but Anatol had said no. As long as the children were now safe, and his daughter refused to leave, he didn’t want them getting themselves in trouble over him.
Many happy memories of the years that followed now came to mind. Brandy and Max had grown up with he and Lindi. Brandy had always been a joy, but Maxwell was always a bit stubborn, questioning his older sister’s actions whenever the subject came up. He and Anatol had butted heads over that and some other issues over the years, but the young skunk had been a good fur, and a good student. Both Anatol and Melinda were proud of him, but she passed away suddenly just as he was entering medical school.
“Now,” Anatol thought, “my Lindi is gone. My brother Alexi and his wife Tiana are gone. Many of my friends are gone. Soon, it will be my turn. Ah, I have lived well, and long. I have no regrets.”
The old tiger got up, his chest free of pain for now, and went to bed.
# # #
“Oh Duncan, did I tell you that Col. O’Whitt came by the office Friday while I was waiting for you?” Loni said as she brought a pair of after-dinner drinks for her and Duncan. Her son, Dylan, was at his father’s for the weekend, so the pair was spending a quiet Saturday evening at home together. No one at Kentiger knew for sure that they were even seeing each other, much less living together. She and Duncan had been together for about two years, quietly building a relationship.
She had been office manager for a manufacturing company in Lexington, but had lost her job when it moved overseas. Duncan had taken the opportunity to convince Billy to hire her, and her to take the job. He hoped that by not revealing their relationship until after Loni had proven herself, they could avoid any accusations of favoritism. The lynx really was good at her job, and Duncan felt, above and beyond his personal feelings, that Kentiger was fortunate to have her.
Duncan took the glass she offered and relaxed back onto the sofa, his tail curled around his feet. Loni sat down and snuggled into his side, drink in paw.
“No, you hadn’t mentioned it. What did you think of him?” Duncan asked as he draped his free arm around her.
“Hmmm, all right, I suppose. Friendly enough, though he almost startled the fur off my tail when he spoke. He’d walked in, and I hadn’t heard him enter. He cleared his throat, I think, but it nearly sounded like a growl. He immediately apologized, though. He’s not as cocky as I’ve been led to believe fighter pilots are. He has very clear light blue eyes. Those could take some getting used to. I wasn’t sure if he was looking at me, through me, or just looking me over.”
“Billy has said Colonel O’Whitt is a great pilot, but I’ll reserve judgment on that until after I fly with him,” Duncan said thoughtfully.
“Duncan, do you really think there might be a chance he’ll try to take your place?”
“I won’t say it’s impossible,” Duncan replied, “but I doubt it. Billy Panelli is as honest as the day is long. I don’t think he’d lie. He says Lt. Col. O’Whitt is a full partner and has input into all the decisions, but I think he’s probably like the rest of the play-male career fighter jocks I’ve seen. He’ll drop by and play at helping, stroking his ego since he’s not flying the fighters anymore, but I doubt he’ll be as much help as Billy seems to think. Anyway, he won’t retire for several months yet, so we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Loni looked away for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“He’s a handsome fur, that’s for sure,” she finally said. “Tall, strong, striking blue eyes, and a really fluffy tail. He looks like he must be part snow leopard,” she said absently.
A low growl brought her back to where she was. She looked sharply at Duncan, but saw by his half-grin that he was teasing with her.
“Oh ho! That’s the way it is, is it? Well, he’d better keep his paws off you, or he’ll have to deal with me!”
“Oh really?” she teased back, “And what if I want his paws on me? You have no claim.”
Duncan’s face dropped, and he quickly looked away. Commitment and marriage were touchy subjects with them, and they usually avoided discussing them. Both had ended bad marriages, and didn’t think the risk of going down that road again was worth the effort.
“I’m sorry, Duncan,” Loni said quietly. “I was just teasing. You’re probably right; I only met Col. O’Whitt briefly. I bet he’s just another flyfur Casanova with an overblown ego. I’ll deflate him, if I have to; just the way I have the other would-be Romeos at Kentiger.”
Duncan nodded, a slight smile returning to his muzzle, and said, “Except for Glenn Mustid. Billy must’ve shoo’d him out of the office half a dozen times last week.”
Loni now smiled a rueful smile, saying, “Ah yes, face of a skunk, skull of solid iron. Won’t take a hint at all. Still, he’s kept his paws to himself, so I can handle him.”
Duncan nodded, unconsciously pulling his lover a bit closer. Loni snuggled down into his embrace, and they spent the evening enjoying each other’s company.
# # #
Alex sat looking absently out the window in the lounge area of Executive Air Service, the FBO on the private/corporate side of Yeager Airport. It was midday Sunday, and Jenna, her cubs, his father and he had returned from church services just in time for them to get her and the cubs loaded up to come catch the flight back to Lexington. Alex had driven them up to the airport and then turned in his rental car. Now they sat waiting for the Cessna Citation V corporate jet that would fly them back home, courtesy of Billy Panelli’s scheduling.
It had been a nice weekend, with everyone sharing news and laughter. He’d recovered from the shock of his father’s news about his health, and had enjoyed his time with the old tiger. Alex had been impressed at how quickly his niece Tia was maturing, both emotionally and physically.
“She’ll make a heck of an officer and pilot someday,” he mused to himself.
“Did you say something?” Jenna asked from the seat next to him.
“Just thinking about the weekend,” Alex replied, glancing at her as he broke from his reverie.
“Jenna, is Dad leveling with me? I know he talks a good game, but he looks so thin.”
The tigress looked over at her brother-in-law, thinking his question over.
“I think he’s telling you how he feels, and what he intends to happen. Whether or not that’s what *will* happen, I don’t know. The survival rate for this type of cancer, this far along, isn’t very good.”
Alex nodded, his tail idly twitching beside him. Jenna sighed. The O’Whitt males didn’t talk at length about things. They seemed to transfer volumes of information in just a few words. Not wanting him to get too somber, Jenna opened a new conversation.
“Y’know, I’ve been thinking about getting a part-time job.”
Alex looked over at her, a questioning expression on his face, saying, “Oh? Why? Is there a money issue? I’ll be glad to—.”
“No, the finances are fine,” Jenna interjected. “I just think it’s time I get back into the world. Get out and be among adults again.”
Alex blinked. “Of course,” he thought, “good to see her starting to get on with life.”
He now smiled at her and said, “Well, that’s a great idea! Be good for you not to sit around the house and feel isolated. Do you know where yet?”
“No, not for sure. Penny Panelli mentioned they might have something open where she works, but she wasn’t sure when.”
Just then, Tia called out excitedly, “There it is!” She had sat by the window, watching the ramp and the private aircraft arriving and departing, since they’d arrived and sat down.
Alex and Jenna got up and walked over to look. A white and blue Citation V with the letters KEA in blue on the vertical stabilizer was taxiing towards the line of parked aircraft, being led by a follow-me truck. The jet was directed to a spot almost directly in front of them as Tia took in every move. Alex too looked on with a critical eye, sizing up the flight crew by how they handled the aircraft on the ground.
The Citation stopped where the ramp fur indicated, and the second fur from the truck quickly chocked the wheels. After a few seconds, the engines began to spool down and the door on the aircraft’s port side opened. A canid in a blue pilot’s shirt and dark dress pants stepped out and quickly double checked that the wheels were properly chocked. When he turned around Alex could see he was a Jack Russell Terrier.
“Get your things, and let’s walk out to the aircraft,” Alex said as he grabbed Jenna’s suitcase. His own overnight bag he slung over his shoulder. Tia and Andrew grabbed their bags and followed the two adults out.
As Alex walked up, the terrier greeted them.
“Col. O’Whitt, Mrs. O’Whitt, how do you do? I’m Jack Russell, I’ll be your copilot today.”
Jenna looked askance, while Alex stifled a laugh. He knew the name from the personnel files, so it didn’t surprise him, but it was still funny.
“Hello, Jack. I’m Alex, please. This is Jenna. The excited young tigress behind me who’s going to talk your ears off about flying is Tia, and Andrew rounds out the foursome.”
The terrier nodded hello to everyone, giving all a friendly smile as he said, “Goerge Killieter is your pilot today. We’ll get things started as soon as we get your luggage stowed.”
Alex nodded in approval. To maintain the correct weight and balance for the aircraft, a member of the flight crew should always supervise the loading. Jack checked the baggage and showed each of them where to put it, and then strapped it in place in the cargo compartment so it wouldn’t shift as they flew. He then led everyone into the aircraft and got them seated. He left the right seat directly behind the cockpit for Alex.
“Thanks, Jack, but Tia would benefit from watching you more than I would. No need to have the boss sitting on your shoulder,” Alex said as he sat down in the one behind. His eyesight was sharp enough to observe the cockpit crew in action a bit more discretely from there. Tia beamed and sat down while Andrew and Jenna were seated in the rear-facing seats behind Alex.
“Mr. Russell,” Andrew asked politely, “is it all right if I play my Game Fox once we’re up?”
Jack looked the pawheld game over and said, “Should be all right, but let me clear it with George.”
He turned and nearly ran into George Killieter. The German shepherd had stepped out of the cockpit to greet his passengers.
“Whoa, easy there Jack. Col. O’Whitt won’t bite. You can ease off a hair. Yes, son, you can play your game after we’ve taken off.”
Alex smiled. He’d known the 38 year old canid for several years, ever since George had started with Kentiger.
“Hello George, how’s the family?” Alex said amiably.
“All fine, Colonel. M’youngest pup, Shelly, will start fifth grade in the fall.”
“That’s great! Wow, time has flown by. I remember hearing about when she was born,” Alex replied.
“Yeah, she’s growing up faster than I can keep up with,” the canid said, getting a faraway look for a second.
“Glad to see you’re doing well,” Alex said warmly. He liked seeing that the employees at Kentiger were doing so well. It spoke volumes about the health of the business, and he just plain liked seeing folks he knew be successful.
“Well, excuse us, “George said, getting back to the business at paw, “we’ll go get things ready to take off.”
He and the terrier returned to the cockpit and began their preflight checklist. Tia leaned forward in her seat, watching carefully. Alex could see her silently naming off the checklist items as the crew performed them. Jenna had said they had flown in one of Kentiger’s King Air 350’s on the trip down to North Carolina for vacation, and in Billy’s Aerostar for the trip from there to Charleston. He’d ask her later what differences she had noticed between turboprop, piston, and jet checklists.
The pair of canids went down the litany of challenge and response as each item was checked off. Shortly, the engines began to spin back up. Alex saw the ramp fur pull the chocks, and in a few seconds, they began to move. He watched out the window, aware that with his father’s cancer, he’d be seeing a lot of Yeager in the near future.
They taxied out and held short of Runway Two Three. Alex looked out toward the approach and saw why. A dark green, four-propellered shape was easing down the glide slope for a landing. He could hear the roar of its four Allison turboprops over the Citation’s idling engines as the West Virginia Air National Guard C-130 passed over the threshold. He leaned over to look out the opposite window so he could watch the big Hercules touch down. Her props reversed pitch, and she rapidly slowed and turned off at the first taxiway, heading for the Guard ramp. Alex smiled. He always enjoyed seeing professionals at work.
It was now their turn and Alex sat back up as the Citation eased onto the runway. He felt the brakes being applied as they lined up on the centerline. The engines quickly whined up to full power, and they were pushed into their seats as the brakes released. The aircraft accelerated rapidly, and lifted off about a third of the way down Yeager’s 6500-foot main runway. The airport could be a tight fit on a hot day, so Alex approved of the stop and spool up launch. The gear and flaps came up, and before long they were cruising southwest toward Kentucky.
Tia was engrossed with operations in the cockpit, moving from her seat to behind and between the pilots as soon as George had said it was okay. Alex glanced back over his seat at Jenna and Andrew. The young tiger was already muzzle-down into his game. Jenna was carefully writing what looked to be a resume’.
Alex relaxed back into his seat, enjoying the sensation of flying without having the responsibility of piloting for once. He closed his eyes, opening them occasionally to watch the cockpit. George and Jack worked well together, coordinating their efforts and staying well ahead of the aircraft.
His thoughts turned ahead. Soon he would be leaving for Virginia and his last assignment. The Tigerkahts were near legendary, and he looked forward to the challenge of leading them. The squadron was, unofficially, all feline. There would occasionally be other species in the squadron, and no qualified pilot would be denied a slot there, but there were so many qualified felines who specifically chose an assignment with the squadron, that openings were highly competitive. Alex had flown with the Tigerkahts as a young lieutenant just out of fighter school, but they had been the 12th Fighter Interceptor Squadron then. He looked to his time there as the training ground for his success in the Gulf War several years later. Now he was coming home, in a way. Stopping by for a visit on his way out.
“Ah well, at least I should get some good flying in. Maybe Scatcat can pull a reserve assignment with them out of the bag,” he mused.
Alex looked out the window at the puffy early summer cumulus below them. In a short time, he saw George pull back the throttles and set the flaps as Tia sat back down in her seat and buckled in.
“We are beginning our decent for approach into Bluegrass Field. Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened and all items are secured for landing,” Jack Russell announced over the intercom.
As Jenna put her partially completed resume’ away, and Andrew shut down his Game Fox, Tia continued to watch the flight crew’s every move. Alex sighed contentedly, pleased with the crew’s performance, his soon-to-be command, and, save for his father’s health problems, life in general at the moment.
# # #
Major Franklin Thomas walked into the crew lounge of the headquarters building of the 412th Fighter Squadron.
“Room, Ten-Hut!” called 1Lt. Jim Wilson, who happened to be facing the door. The several furs there all jumped to attention.
“As you were, gentlefurs. I just came in to take a break. I’ll be glad when the new CO gets here.” The panther said wearily. He still found it a bit disconcerting to have everyone jump to attention when he walked into a room.
“You look tired, Blackie,” Lt. Wilson said as the others sat back down. The mood in the room was somber, as they had all just been remembering their commander’s funeral a few weeks earlier.
“Yeah, it’s a lot of work, picking up the pieces after someone’s so abruptly gone,” Blackie sighed.
The rest of the furs there; 1Lt. James “Pouncer” Wilson, a cougar who was the rookie of the squadron, 1Lt. Donald “Zapper” Roue (Roo), a white Persian, Capt. Jonathan “Icestar” Foertsch (Furch), a leopard/domestic mix, and Capt. Alan “Smitty” Smithfield, a Bengal tiger, all nodded.
“Yeah,
“Not stupid,” Blackie replied, “he died making sure no one else did. The final report just came out. It says when that car pulled out in front of him, he could’ve either hit a school bus head-on, or do what he did, take the guardrail and hope it holds. They partially blame the company that did the guardrails there. They were supposed to hold a car traveling at forty miles per hour, not give way and let it plunge down a three hundred foot embankment.”
The rest nodded, and then Icestar asked, “Blackie, what’s the word on the new CO?”
Before the panther could answer, Zapper spoke up.
“I hear he was a real hot shot, supposed to be going to NASA or some such. Then he got accused of unsafe flying and fraternizing with an enlisted gal. Got his orders cancelled, but he was some pet of the new Wing Commander, so he’s coming here until he retires. How did that happen? This is supposed to be the cream of the crop! How’d such a screw-up get to be CO?”
Blackie looked sternly at the lieutenant, a frown on his face, but again, before he could speak, Icestar piped in.
“I doubt that’s the case. You’ve been listening to the rumor mill again. I heard all those things, too, but I also heard it was some conflict with some general’s son or nephew that caused the ruckus. Why don’t we; A) listen to what Blackie has to say from the official word, and B) wait until we meet the fur before we judge him.”
“Thanks, Icestar, always the voice of reason,” Blackie said before anyone else could start in. “Here’s the scoop, officially. Lt. Col. Alex O’Whitt did have orders to test Pilot school, but those were cancelled. Col. O’Whitt then decided to put in for retirement. The accusations Zapper mentioned were investigated and found false. Lt. Gen. Lance Mastifson sent out a message clearing the Colonel several days ago. As far as him being a screw-up, the fur has seven kills to his credit, from
Zapper looked a bit sour at being proved wrong, but said nothing more. The rest all nodded silently.
“We’ll find out for sure in a few days,” Blackie continued, “Col. Higgins called to say that Lt. Col. O’Whitt will be coming in this Friday. I know that’s a few days earlier than we thought, but it appears the Colonel is eager to get started. He’s cutting his leave a little short.”
“Sounds like a real go-getter,” Icestar said. Zapper made a face at him behind his back.
Blackie narrowed his eyes at the Persian, who simply grinned back.
“Could be,” Blackie said, turning his attention back to Icestar, “but Col. Higgins said he’s really very calm, most of the time. Goes with his call sign. By the way, Icestar, yours will probably get changed once he gets here. Too much chance of confusion on the radio, and after all, Rank Hath Its Privileges.”
“Why?” asked Icestar, slightly taken aback.
“His call sign is Ice,” Blackie said with finality.
END OF CHAPTER 15