FIRE ON HIGH

    “Fire On High” is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters and settings © Tigermark 2003-2018 unless otherwise noted. Request permission before using them, please.

The characters of Anatol Altaisokova and Melinda Altaisokova are my names for characters © Max Blackrabbit. They appear in this story with his permission. The characters of Brandy, Maxwell, Tonya and Zig Zag are also © Max Blackrabbit and appear here with his permission. Events and information relating to Tonya, Anatol, and their family are presented here, but are not to be considered canon to those characters or any other story but this one. ZZ Studios, and all characters associated with ZZ Studios, James Sheppard, and Marvin Badger © James Bruner and appear here with his permission.  Although characters from and events referring to Zig Zag the Story appear here, this story is not canon to that one, and the author will disavow any knowledge of this story. Wanda Vixen © Chris Yost and appears here with his permission. Sabrina Mustidalae © Eric W. Schwartz and appears here with his permission. This story is not canon to Sabrina Online the comic, or Sabrina Online the Story, either. Matt Barstock, Angie Rockwell, Intermountain Charter, The Bitch, and her crew, and Jerry Kitt © Silver Coyote. See their story HERE.  Gail Rutherford © me and is not canon to any other story involving ZZ Studios. Gabrielle Ryder and Jean LeBrun © Aslaug, from her Transitions stories. See them at her site, The Axe Shed, available from the links page. Aramis Dagaz is© his player and appears here with his permission.

Author’s Note: Lewiston, Maine’s airport, identifier KLEW, is actually uncontrolled. That is, it has no control tower. Poetic license was used for this story, so Alex and company talk with a control tower whilst aviating there.

Chapter 89

Aftermath

The next morning saw Duncan and Loni arriving at work together. After the previous day’s adventure, both Billy and Alex had said they’d be in later in the day. As they walked in the door, they were still talking about the events of yesterday.

“So, we look over, and where the lioness had been, there was the weirdest sight I’ve ever seen. Her hair was on the floor, and her dress was completely wide open, but she wasn’t naked. Fur and no details, and her paws were in her belly like a kangaroo pouch! She pulls out one of those big manila envelopes for documents and gives it to the chihuahua. He leaves and then her voice changed. She had been a little higher pitched, with a soft Southern accent before, but now she went neutral Midwestern with a medium Alto tone. She said something to Alex and I thought he was going to fall over! Seems she was actually a tigress wearing a lioness suit as a disguise! Alex knew her from Germany. She’d fooled everybody!”

Duncan had said that almost as one breath. Loni commented before Duncan started up again.

“That’s quite a story. You and Billy had Penny and I worried sick! I am so glad it all worked out.”

She gave Duncan a final hug and kiss before they began their work day.

“Yes indeed, me too. Alex is a good boss and a great pilot. As I understand it, he took out two MiG-21s with the long-range fuel tanks he carries under the wings of Stripes One when he goes cross-country,” Duncan continued, still sounding amazed.

“Uh-huh. Those things are expensive. I should get started on the insurance claim paperwork,” Loni replied as she sat down at her desk.

“Nope. That CIA tigress assured Alex that the government will be paying to repair and replace everything. Even the fuel. Allaistor is supposed to go down to Keesler today to make sure it all gets done right. By tomorrow, they’re supposed to fax us a list of everything being repaired,” Duncan avowed as he prepared to get to work.

Loni looked a bit dubious of the idea, but then shrugged. “Better use of our tax money than most.”

#   #   #

Alex was on his way in to Kentiger when Allaistor McCrory met him in the parking lot. He could tell the bulldog was not happy.

“Morning Allaistor, you heading for Keesler today?”

O’Whitt,” the bulldog growled. “I told ya before ya left to bring her back in one piece. That was yer one job! Instead you not only got her shot up, but ya left her with who knows what kind of a collection of wrench jockeys. You—”

“As you were, Gunny,” Alex suddenly growled. The bulldog snapped to attention out of long habit. The tiger stepped in close, nose to nose with the retired Marine.

“I flew that aircraft with the utmost care and skill. Next time the Cubans want to play, I’ll let you fly out to meet them! Now, thanks to the care and diligence of you and your crew, we made it to Keesler on a wing and a prayer. That radar detection system saved our hides. As far as who I left her with, there’s an opossum crew chief down there who knows you as Gunny Roardog. Care to explain that, Marine?”

The bulldog’s eyes went wide. He then grinned in spite of himself.

“That has to be Staff Sergeant Blancovitch, the Palest Possum in Poughkeepsie. Okay sir, I take it all back. Ya left her in capable paws. Least ways, it won’t be a total disaster when I get there. Jetter is flying me down in the cargo Kingair in thirty minutes or so. Please though, that Roardog thing is a private joke.”

Alex grinned. “Sure thing, Gunny.”

The bulldog squinted one eye at him. “You really take out two MiGs with th’ drop tanks?”

Alex gave a chuff. “Sort of, I guess. They were following too close.”

Allaistor clapped him on the shoulder and gave a huge laugh.

“Ha ha! Sir, permission to git mah hide to the aircraft, sir!”

Alex grinned again. “Permission granted, Gunny. Make sure they treat her right!”

Allaistor did a credible about-face and headed for the ramp while Alex went inside, both still grinning.

#   #   #

General Bart Higgins was working his way through the morning’s classified emails. Most were the usual threat analysis briefings, but then one left him with his mouth open. After the usual formal classified heading, it read:

Brigadier General Bart Higgins,

Notice of Accreditation of one Hostile Foreign Aircraft downed in Aerial Combat, and one Hostile Foreign Aircraft damaged in Aerial Combat, in the course of a classified mission, to one Lt.Col. Alex O’Whitt, USAFR. Details to be sent by courier for inclusion in his record. Also, a Commendation to be placed in Lt. Col. O’Whitt’s record in thanks for his assistance to one of our agents.

Jon Livingston

Section Chief

Central Intelligence Agency

Langley, Virginia.

The lion nearly fell out of his chair. What had that crazy tiger gotten himself into now? He buzzed the intercom for his secretary.

“Yes General?” the young Airedale Staff Sergeant answered.

“Jackie, can you find out the next time Ice O’Whitt is due for his Reserve weekend?”

“Yes sir, let me call the Tigerkaht’s orderly room.”

“Thank you,” Bart replied as he clicked off the intercom. He sat, thinking about what the message could be. Could it be just now getting here from an old mission? If not, what was Alex doing engaging in combat, and flying what? Presently the intercom buzzed. He toggled it on and answered.

“Yes Jackie?”

“Sir, Lt. Col. O’Whitt was just here last weekend. He didn’t fly any, just did paperwork. He’s not scheduled again for six weeks,” the canid advised.

“Okay, thank you,” Bart responded.

The lion clicked off the intercom and debated calling the tiger. He thought the better of it, as he couldn’t discuss classified missions on an unsecure phone line. He’d have to wait out the time until he could ask about it face to face. With a snort, he went back to what he’d been doing.

#   #   #

It was just past lunch, and Alex had just sat down at his desk. Everyone had wanted to know what happened, and he’d told them what he could. Tasha had said her boss had just grinned and said, “You can’t tell why you were there, but you can tell what happened. It’s already in the news that Cuba is saying they lost an aircraft and had one damaged from a midair collision. They just didn’t say what they collided with.”

Alex didn’t want to make a big deal of it, and if a reporter stuck a microphone in his face and asked him for the story he might just throw them out of wherever he was. It wasn’t a big deal to him, it was survival.

Just then, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at the number, and then grinned.

“Hello cousin, what’s up?”

Zig Zag sounded exuberant. “Hi Alex! Hey, we have a scene coming up next week that’d be perfect for you and Corrie to see me direct. Is she down here yet?”

Alex laughed to himself, recalling the agreement he had with his cousin.

“Not yet. In fact, I’m going to fly up next week and we’re going to road trip down in her Jeep. We might be able to make it, depending on schedule.”

There was a moment’s silence, and then the tiger-striped skunk replied, “Okay, tell you what. After you get down there, give me a call and we’ll see what schedule we can work out. Have fun on the road trip! Gotta run, bye!”

“Bye Cousin, love you!” he managed to get in. The tiger then shook his head. It had been good to talk to someone who didn’t care about MiGs and heroics. Cell phone still firmly in paw, he decided to try Corrie again. It had been too late yesterday to call, and this morning’s attempt had gone to voice mail. He punched the number and waited. On the second ring, she answered.

“Alex! Hi Jet Jockey!”

“Hi yourself Chopper Gal, how are you?” he inquired, smiling broadly. It was wonderful to hear her voice.

Goin’ flat out like a lizard drinking, until this morning. Ouah ol’ hangar queen Huey broke a generator shaft, so she’s down until we get the replacement part in and on. You caught me waiting for anothah ride,” she replied, equally glad to hear from him.

“So, Ben’s keeping you from getting bored. How are the Sheilas doing?” Alex asked, mostly just to keep the conversation going.

“Patti and Joanne are leaving Saturday for Kentucky. They’re all set once they get there. Terri is making plans to come see us in a couple of months. Say Alex, ah, was something going on yesterday afternoon? I…I had this urge to pray for you, several times.”

Corrie’s voice had grown tentative. Alex smiled. No secrets allowed between them, he supposed.

“Love, before I begin, let me reassure you I’m fine. That said, I came within a second of dying yesterday.”

“…W-what?” Corrie managed, rather weakly.

“Hey. I’m fine,” he again reassured her. “Here’s the story. One of our pilots got a broken leg while on the ground with a charter in Kingston, Jamaica. I flew a relief pilot down there in Stripes One. Getting ready to fly back, I encountered a lady in distress. There were males in dark suites after her, so I offered her a ride to New Orleans.”

Corrie sounded upset and unsure as she interjected. “Alex! Who was she? Was she a criminal? A drug trafficker? How th’ bloody hell could you just pick up a stranger like that?”

“Love, I asked her all that,” he replied. “She’d already been through Customs and Immigration. Her passport was stamped, so she was clear to leave. She claimed she was there on a tour and that she didn’t know why those males were after her. In that part of the world, kitnapping a tourist is not unheard of. There’s also the slave trade to consider.”

“Okay, so you helped a damsel in distress. Who was she and how’d that nearly get you killed?” Corrie did not sound happy with the explanation so far.

“She said her name was Belinda Styles. Tall, kinda chunky blonde lioness. Anyway, the long and short of it is she’s a government agent. Remember me mentioning a tigress that I dated in Germany, and that we ended up as friends instead?” Alex wasn’t sure how Corrie would react, but he wasn’t going to keep secrets from her.

“Yeah, Tasha or something, why?” Corrie asked, unsure how that pertained to lionesses and Jamaica.

“Turned out to be the same lady. She was wearing a full body disguise. I don’t know what she was doing for sure, it’s classified, but the males after her ended up being Cuban agents. They sent three MiGs after us. They caught up with us about half way to New Orleans. I managed to convince two of them to leave us alone, but the last one was a second away from blowing us out of the air when F-16s showed up and he left. Stripes One is damaged and under repair. I’d say your prayers worked.”

Corrie was completely taken aback. She knew Alex didn’t lie, but his story was incredible.

“Okay… that’s quite a story. How’d you manage to convince two to leave, and not the last one? And what about this lady? What’s her story?”

Alex sighed and took a breath. “I, ah, managed to release my drop tanks and tag them both. One was damaged and turned for home. The other came apart after the tank took off his vertical stabilizer. That one ejected, so I hope he made it. Tasha’s story is that she works for the government. CIA, actually. She’s a good friend, but that’s all. She’s dating one of the pilots I fly with at Langley.”

Corrie trusted Alex. As incredible as the story was, he had no reason to make it up. She took a breath and went on.

“Okay, I want the full, whole thing, without the colorful metaphors, when I see you. I trust you and thank God you’re okay. Anything else going on? Save the world from alien invasion?”

Alex laughed. “Ha ha! No, that’s for another time, but I did get a call from Zig Zag just now. She wants us to come up and watch her direct a scene after you get settled down here. She says she has the perfect one.”

“Oh great,” Corrie laughed in return. “Well, anyway I’m looking forward to you getting here. Hey, if Stripes One is down, are you going to fly your Skymaster up or hitch a ride on one of Kentiger’s aircraft?”

“Probably hitch a ride. That way I don’t have to catch a ride or fly commercial back up to get it after.” Alex smiled, anticipating the time driving South they’d get to spend together.

“Sounds good. Hey, gotta run. Looks like the other Huey just landed, so I’ll be hot-seating it on a run. Talk to you soon! Love you Jet Jockey!” Corrie was now in a hurry to be on her way with her flight.

“Love you too, Chopper Gal, bye!”

The connection ended, and Alex sat back, very glad to still be alive. For her part, as Corrie prepped for her flight, she found herself saying thank you to God. The fact that she’d come close to losing Alex was not lost on her.

#   #   #

Jefferson Mastifson had been up early, checking all the news he could find before going to work. The story he’d been searching for apparently hadn’t broke yet, so he got ready and headed out to his office. His mood was upbeat, and it became even moreso when he saw the G-IV that had been to Jamaica sitting on the Kentiger ramp. There was no sign of the black and white menace, which usually sat just outside Bluegrass Aviation the day after a long flight.

The Rottweiler settled in to work, quite energetic and enthusiastic. At mid-morning, he checked the news again. The only thing he found was a blurb about Cuba admitting two of their aircraft had collided over the Gulf of Mexico, causing damage to one and the loss of the other.

A chill went down Mastifson’s spine. Could it be? He went quickly to the window. Still no black and white T-38. O’Whitt’s truck was in its parking spot. It had been there when he left yesterday. Had it been there when he’d come in this morning? Mastifson wasn’t sure.

“Get hold of yourself, Jefferson,” he chided himself. There was simply a delay in the news while a search was going on. By this evening, it should be quite clear. The Cuba story was a coincidence, or a cover for the fact that they’d come out and shot O’Whitt out of the sky.

Reassuring himself, the Rottweiler went back to work. Not as upbeat as before, but still becoming engrossed in his daily workload.

It was better than sitting there contemplating the alternative.

#   #   #

Diane Forsham was at her desk when the computer chime went off announcing an incoming email. It usually happened about a dozen times a day, and most were just interoffice memos. Just coming off a short break, she decided now would be a good time to clear them. She opened the email inbox folder and looked over the five unopened ones. Four were just what she’d expected, but the sender on the last one made her sit up straight, ears forward in interest. She opened it and began to read.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Rotten Rotty

Diane, Mastifson was involved in an incident where Cuban MiGs fired on Lt. Col. O’Whitt’s aircraft. Lt. Col. O’Whitt is fine, although his aircraft was damaged. CIA is involved, so it’s being kept out of the press. Our legal team has looked it over and decided the chance of a conviction is not worth revealing the classified means used to capture Mastifson’s involvement. We have stepped up our surveillance. Suggest you do also if possible. CIA can’t officially do anything since he’s a U.S. Citizen in country. He’s on a downward spiral and becoming more dangerous. Maybe even moreso when he realizes Lt. Col. O’Whitt is alive and well. Keeping you in the loop.

Agent Andy Denver

AFOSI

The desert cat read it through twice. Cuban MiGs? Shooting at a U.S. registered aircraft? She gave a sigh. One of her mentors at the Bureau had always told her to stay away from anything involving the Company, it was always bad news. She had already sent out a memo asking for any intel or info on Mastifson found by the Bureau be routed to her. Other than that, there wasn’t much more she could do. She sent a standard thank you email to Agent Denver and moved on with her day’s work. She was unsettled about the case, but there was nothing more she could do at the moment but wait.

#   #   #

“Wow!” Loni exclaimed as she looked at the fax sheet that had just come in. She double-checked it and yes, Allaistor McCrory had also signed off on it. She picked up the phone and chimed Alex on the intercom. After a couple of seconds, he answered.

“Yes Loni?”

“Alex, you’ve got to come see this. The fax sheet just came in for the repairs that Allaistor and whoever that other guy is are doing. I think they’re practically rebuilding Stripes One from the wheels up!”

Loni was still looking sidelong at the sheet. Alex replied after a second.

“I’ll be right out.”

A moment later, both Alex and Billy had come out to Loni’s desk. Duncan had just walked in as well. Loni presented the fax sheet to Alex, and he looked it over, his eyes going wide as he went. He gave the sheet to Billy, who shared it with Duncan. After a moment, the older tiger whistled.

“Wow, they are literally replacing everything including the seat cushions! Two brand new zero time engines, and they found them a lot faster than we could’ve. New hydraulics and electrical systems. Upgrades to the radar detection system. Two brand new wings from the spares we had built, and new landing gear systems. Even two new drop tanks!”

Just then, the phone rang. Loni picked it up and answered as usual.

Kentiger Executive Air, may I help you?”

She listened a moment, and then pushed the button to put the call on speaker.

“Alex, it’s Natasha Shannon.”

Alex smiled and answered, “Hello Tasha! You’re on speaker. Billy and Duncan are here, and that lovely voice who answered is Loni, our admin specialist and also Duncan’s wife.”

“Nice to speak with you Loni,” Tasha said amiably. “Did you get the fax on repairs and parts for Alex’s plane?”

“Yes, we did. You guys are quite thorough,” Loni replied.

“We try. Alex, the Company wants you to fly out to California to look over everything as they palletize it. We’ll arrange transport for it and you down to Keesler and then back up to Lexington. I’m sure your guy Allaistor McCrory will let you know when they’re done so you can go down and fly, ah, Stripes back.”

Alex arched an eyebrow. “Okay, how soon?”

“Tickets are on their way by courier. You’re scheduled out on the eight-a.m. Delta commuter tomorrow. I’ll meet you out there as Company rep. Oops, gotta run. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye everyone!”

The line clicked, and Alex looked around as Loni put the phone back in normal mode. The others looked at him expectantly.

Scuse me, seems I have to go pack.”

 

End of Chapter 89

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