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 91
Old Friends for the First Time
It was mid-morning the next day, a Friday as it turned out, when Alex met the representative of Thorton Aircraft Company at a hangar on the side of the Van Nuys, California airport. Here, in this facility they developed, tested, and refurbished aircraft and engines old and new. Thorton’s was a rebuilder and supplier of everything from bolts to custom-modded engines.
The rep, a smiling pine marten named Ron Barton, went down the whole list with him. Alex looked at each part, insuring not only that the tags and paperwork matched correctly, but also to his trained eye they looked correct. He then initialed his acceptance. They had just finished when Natasha Shannon walked up.
“Hello Alex, and you must be Mr. Barton. Natasha Shannon for Americana Aviation. I see you’ve been over everything already.”
“Hi Tasha, yes we have,” Alex responded, opting for a pawshake instead of a hug, maintaining a proper business decorum. He was astute enough to pick up on her subtle hint that this was to look like a routine business transaction.
“Hello Ms. Shannon, you can call me Ron. Yep, we went over it all. Now I’ll go over it with you, so you can initial that all the items paid for are indeed all there. Then you can both sign and we’ll wrap the pallets.”
Alex waited as Tasha and Ron worked their way through the several sheets and both large pallets. The two new engines in shipping crates, along with associated gear and supplies, made up one. The two new wings were between the new drop tanks on the other, along with associated gear and supplies, fuel line, fittings, a new port landing gear sensor, and new wiring harnesses. Once Tasha was satisfied that everything listed was there, and that it matched the purchase order she’d been given, she and Alex then signed for receipt to ship.
The two tigers stepped aside to watch as a machine was rolled in and deftly shrink-wrapped each pallet. Then a fork truck came in to move them. The hangar door was opened to allow the pallets to be moved out. The SoCal heat spilled inside as the lift deftly moved both pallets out and beside the front of the hangar near a small waiting room. That done, Ron bid the pair goodbye.
“Thank you both for your business. Alex, we’ll be in touch about making another spare pair of wings. Have a safe trip home!”
“Bye Ron, thank you,” Alex replied with a slight wave.
“Goodbye Ron, thank you for everything,” Tasha added.
The two sat down in the small waiting area just inside from where the pallets sat.
“So, Tiger-o-mine, I told Jedi my secret. He reacted about like you, wondering if he’d been a cover or assignment. He wants to hear the whole story about the flight from Jamaica when he sees you. I, ah, told him to take it easy on you. I haven’t thanked you for saving my life, a couple times over.”
Alex lowered his gaze a moment, forming his response. “I did what I had to do. You convinced me that you were in trouble not of your own making. You know me, Tash. I’m a sucker for a lady in distress. I believe you when you say you didn’t think they’d go that far. Must be some set of documents if they wanted them that badly. After that, well, I did what I could to try to get us home.”
Tasha smiled. “There it is, that O’Whitt humility. Your gal, Corrie? I hope she realizes how lucky she is to have you. I think you’d move Mt. Everest with a shovel and shrug it off like you were weeding the garden.”
Alex gave a laugh. “Would you believe part of what got us together was my, ah, big ego? Corrie was my instructor when I went after my helicopter license a while back. I was struggling a bit, trying to trade my fixed-wing habits for rotorcraft skills. She thought because of my ego, I was expecting to be perfect. We exchanged words over it, and she ended up kissing me and telling me to lighten up. We realized we were both attracted to each other. After that was out in the open, things went great! Now she and my partner Billy are starting a helicopter business there at Bluegrass. I…I haven’t decided on the right time, but I’ll most likely ask her to marry me when the time is right.”
Tasha broke into a broad smile. “Don’t you dare forget to invite me. I’ll make sure Jon is there to properly heckle you.”
Alex looked askance but saw the merriment in Tasha’s eyes.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied.
Tasha shook her head slightly. “Good. I’ve missed you my friend. Now excuse me a few minutes, I need to make sure the tank is empty before the transport to Keesler gets here.”
Alex nodded, standing himself. As Tasha stepped away, instead of heading for the restroom, he headed outside to the pallets. On the way, he snagged a Dr. P from the vending machine. He looked at his watch and knew their ride would soon be there. He wanted to get a look at whatever the CIA would contract to move their stuff before he trusted himself to fly with them.
# # #
Jefferson Mastifson was enjoying a cup of coffee at his desk. It was almost lunchtime, but he was actually about three days ahead in his work schedule. He found that without the distraction of pondering ways to get O’Whitt, he was quite efficient and effective at his job. He’d even seen a couple of smiles on fur’s faces as he worked through whatever problem they were having.
The Rottweiler was contemplating where to go for lunch today when his cell phone rang. He wasn’t expecting a call, so he took his time checking it. Recognizing the number, he slipped into his old Boston accent as he answered.
“Yas Denver, this is Jefferson Mastifson, how are you?”
The Basset Hound was taken aback by the rather cordial greeting.
“Uh, hello sir. I’m well, but I got a call yesterday I’m kinda concerned about.”
“Oh?” Mastifson replied, a touch of concern in his voice. He actually rather liked the Basset Hound who’d been his crew chief for a while, and if someone or something was bothering him, he’d do what he could to help.
“Yes sir. I got a call from an AFOSI agent named, of all things, Denver. He was asking all kinds of questions about, well, you. How I knew you, when I’d last talked to you, stuff like that. Then he insinuated it would be a good idea not to have any more contact with you. Sir, I don’t have any idea what’s going on, but I thought you should know.”
Mastifson was silent for a long moment as first shock, and then rage built in his mind. He finally gained control to reply.
“Denver, you said this agent’s name was Denver?”
“Yes sir,” the Basset Hound responded. “Agent Andy Denver.”
Mastifson jotted down a note of the name, then went on.
“Did he say anything else? I’m going to have some other friends I know check into this. He’s probably some rogue agent on a fishing expedition.”
Denver answered without hesitation.
“Well, he asked if we’d spoken about a Lt. Col. Alex O’Whitt. I didn’t tell him anything, sir. Just said you and I are old friends and that we talked sometimes. I played real dumb about that last question. He sounded kinda concerned about this guy. Sir, did something happen to the fur?”
“I don’t know, Denver. I…haven’t heard anything about him for a while now.” The half-truth slipped easily from the Rottweiler.
“Well sir, I’m standing behind you. Call anytime you want. The AFOSI can go hang for all I care,” Denver replied earnestly.
“Yas, you always were a good friend. Thank you, Denver, I’ll talk to you later,” Mastifson said in preparation of ending the call.
“Thank you, sir. Bye.”
Mastifson clicked off the call, now allowing his anger to rise. Some rogue AFOSI agent must have seen his name on a file somewhere and was now fishing for more info. First, he’d make some calls to a few active duty contacts and put a stop to this nonsense. Then he’d see about trashing the agent’s career. Not all those in power had abandoned him when his uncle had. He pulled out his black book and began to dial the first number he’d thought of, a one-star at the Pentagon. All thoughts of Lunch and work now long gone.
# # #
Alex stood by the pallets, sipping his Dr. P. He watched as a van pulled up and a crew of six furs in white coveralls got out. The apparent leader, a burly squirrel near the tiger’s own height, walked up.
“Colonel O’Whitt? The Company hired us to work with the Loadmaster and wrangle your cargo. The lift’l be here in a minute so we can get wheels under the pallets.”
Since the fur hadn’t offered a name, Alex didn’t ask for one.
“They’re ready for you,” was all he said.
The squirrel turned and nodded. The rest began to run wide nylon straps with ratchet tensioners across the pallets, being careful not to strap across anything delicate like a wing edge. Once those were set in place, they pulled out six sets of omni-directional rollers and prepared to place them under the pallets.
Presently, a large fork lift came trundling around the corner of the hangar. The squirrel motioned the driver to line up with the first pallet. After a slight bit of jockeying around, the pallet was lifted and sets of rollers put under the four corners and under the center. Each was attached to the straps to keep them in place, and then the pallet was lowered. The process was repeated for the second pallet. The six-fur crew was now able to the two pallets by pushing them where they wanted. The fork lift rumbled back the way it had come. Curious, Alex walked to the corner to see where it went.
When he turned the corner, he saw a large gate open in the perimeter fence. The fork lift was being driven up onto a flatbed trailer. Once it stopped, the driver and another fur began securing it. Alex turned and walked back to the pallets, musing that the CIA seemed on the ball.
The crew had moved the pallets out to the taxiway center in front of the hangar. A small tug like the ones Alex was used to seeing move aircraft had approached. He noted it had a low, thick bumper that would line up with the pallets. As it lined up and they began to move the first pallet along the taxiway, Tasha rejoined him.
“Enjoying the show?”
Alex gave her a speculative look. “That depends on what they’re going to load these on.”
She gave him a smirk. “You’ll see, but here’s a hint. It won’t fit between the hangars. They’ll be rolling them out to the ramp beyond this hangar.”
She indicated the hangar between where they stood and the runway.
“We’ll walk over there once our ride lands. They’re coming from Denver, so they’ll likely want a short break while these are loaded.”
The first pallet disappeared around the corner. After a few minutes, the tug and the crew returned and began to move the second pallet. Alex excused himself and took his turn to use the restroom. The air was dry, and he found himself getting thirsty again, so this time as he passed the vending machine, he got two waters and two Dr. P’s. He had just stepped up to Tasha, who was staying in the hangar’s shadow out of the sun, when he heard a familiar sound from the runway. A C-130 had just landed. He’d heard the sound of those turboprops reversing many times on many bases.
“Sounds like our ride’s here,” Tasha commented as she noted Alex had returned.
“If you say so. For all I know y’all contracted a Piper J-3 to take it all one piece at a time. Brought you something to drink. The air here will dry you out faster than you realize.”
The tigress did a double-take and laughed at how smoothly Alex had gone from the one-liner right back into regular conversation.
“I’ve missed those one-liners. I can’t wait to see you and Jon together. He does a good job on those, too.”
“Glad to hear my pun-padawan is keeping in practice,” Alex quipped.
“Uh-huh,” Tasha replied in a chiding tone. “Shall we go meet our ride before my eyes roll so hard they take off down the ramp?”
“Wouldn’t want that, let’s go,” Alex replied.
The pair walked around the hangar that lay between Thorton’s and the runway. The pallets were waiting along a narrow, paved area that led from the ramp to Taxiway A4 between the hangar and the fuel station. The taxiway ran right in front of Thorton’s, but as Tasha had said, the space between the hangars was limited.
Alex didn’t have to look far for the Herc that had landed. It had barely used up half the runway, and even now turned onto Taxiway Kilo right in front of them. Alex looked closely, feeling he’d seen this one before. He wasn’t very sure though, as the grey paint looked even and fairly new. The two inboard engines had been feathered and were winding down. As it crossed Taxiway Alpha, Alex heard one engine go up in pitch as the other reversed. The transport basically swung on its axis and the rear cargo ramp opened partially. There was a tall fur in a flight suit wearing sunglasses and a headset standing in the center. The Herc reversed the other engine as well and began to slowly back up. The fur in the cargo area moved to his right, going to peer out the small bubble window to make sure the wing stayed clear of the small building on that side. The fur unconsciously raised his right paw as they saw him call stop. The aircraft abruptly came to a halt and rocked slightly on its gear for a second before the ramp came down the rest of the way to the surface. The engines shut down and the props began to slowly spin down.
Alex and Tasha had moved over behind the pallets to stay out of the prop wash. Now the loading crew began to go into high gear, chocking the wheels of the big transport as the team heard the fur on the cargo ramp yell.
“Let’s go! Move! We gotta be clear of the taxiway in fifteen minutes!”
The tug began to push the first pallet out onto the taxiway, as the crew of six helped keep it moving correctly. Alex and Tasha walked toward the aircraft, at the moment unsure whether to go to the ramp or the front crew door. Suddenly, that door swung open, and a reddish-brown and O.D. green blur exploded outward
The fur flashed by Alex and Tasha, casting a “Hello, ‘scuse me!” as it went past. The two turned to see where the blur was going, and Alex noted that a) it was a femme, and b) it was a rather shapely femme, with the motion of the run accentuating her shape and the motion of her tail. He turned back and was confronted with Tasha giving him a smirk.
“What? I wondered where she was going in such a hurry,” the tiger managed with a shrug.
“Yeah, sure,” Tasha replied, indicating she didn’t buy a word of it. “I’d say the bathroom. Probably a long ride from Denver.”
Another of the crew had walked up at a more sedate pace.
“Yep, and she knows better than to drink a whole bottle of water before leaving. She flew Hercs in the Air Force.”
Alex and Tasha turned to meet the new fur. Almost as tall as Alex, the fur was a coyote-shepherd hybrid by his coloration. Steady blue eyes spoke of many skies seen and many stories to tell. He introduced himself and offered a paw.
“Joe Latrans, Intermountain Charter. I’ll be Pilot-In-Command for the flight.”
Tasha shook paws and introduced herself. “Natasha Shannon, company is Americana Aviation, nice to meet you.”
Alex had held back, allowing Tasha to go first, but now shook the offered paw. “Let me guess, Intermountain Four Four.”
Joe looked askance, held in mid-pawshake. “Er, yes…waitaminute. Stripes?”
Alex grinned, “I also go by Ice, Alex O’Whitt of Kentiger Executive Air, and hey you. Nice to put a face with a very good pilot.”
Joe grinned. “Right Backatcha.”
“I take it you two know each other?” Tasha interjected, looking from one to the other.
“Indirectly,” Joe replied. “The Bitch here had a nose gear problem a while back when we were going into McGhee-Tyson in Knoxville. We were working the problem when this guy shows up in a striped Tee Thirty-Eight and asks if we want him to look us over. I have no idea how he did it, but he stayed right with us until we got on the ground.”
Tasha looked sidelong at Alex. “Really? Were you going too fast for him?”
Joe laughed. “Oh no. Not even. The ol’ gal here does her approach at about a hundred and thirty knots. Air Force pilots have told me a Tee Thirty-Eight stalls at one fifty. He stayed right with us, though, until we were safely down. Then he put on power and disappeared. Our boss about had a fit when he found out who helped us, but he couldn’t deny we needed it. He’s been a lot more mellow about that lately.”
Alex shrugged. “Well, Stripes One isn’t a stock Tee Thirty-Eight. She’s got bigger flaps and leading-edge slats, and hardpoints for extra fuel tanks. I can see the mellow part. He got a good chunk of change for the Gee Four and Citation he sold us not long ago.”
Just then the fur Alex assumed was the loadmaster called out, “Better use the head if you need to. We’re nonstop to Keesler, and it’ll take several hours!”
Alex grinned. “Or we’ll be like the gal that ran past us?”
Joe smirked. “Yep. I need to head that way myself. I’ll let her introduce herself when she gets back.”
“See you shortly then,” Tasha said with a wry grin. “We already took care of that.”
Joe gave a nod and headed for the building. Just as he got to the door, the femme came out. They could now see she was a coyote-fox hybrid. At around 5’6”, the two tigers threatened to tower over her, but she looked them in the eye and never broke stride as she walked up.
“Hi! Sorry about the rush. I knew better than to load up on water before we left. Lola Baker, Intermountain Charter pilot and den mother to the guys.”
She offered her paw. Tasha took it and repeated her introduction. Alex did the same and Lola’s eyes went wide.
“The Stripes guy Joe talks about? Wow! I’ve heard that story several times from him and Steve and Rick. Pleased to meet you.”
There was a touch of awe in her voice. Alex felt himself begin to blush under her intense attention. He quickly moved the conversation along.
“You also. Did the Loadmaster say something about getting aboard?”
Tasha came to his rescue as well. “Yes, something about only having fifteen minutes.”
Lola looked around sharply. “Yipe! Yes, we do, and get topped off with fuel. Wait right here a couple of minutes, please.”
The canid femme took off at a fast walk, meeting up with the fur heading for the fuel station. Alex made a point to look elsewhere, causing Tasha to giggle. Alex shrugged.
“Looks to be an interesting flight,” he quipped.
# # #
With Alex and Allaistor out of town, it was relatively quiet at Kentiger. Duncan and Loni had things well in paw, so Billy had been working on things for Helipro. The next thing in the pile caught his attention even before he picked it up. It actually caught him a bit by surprise. Kathleen Killian’s resumé had gotten mixed in with his business startup proposal and paperwork. He then realized why. He’d put a post-it note on it to remind him to talk to Corrie about hiring the femme.
Chiding himself for his forgetfulness, he picked up his cell phone and dialed the lioness’ number. After a couple of rings, she answered.
“G’day Billy! How’s it going and what’s up?”
“Hi Corrie, hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” Billy stated hopefully.
“Nah, I’m on the ground near Moosehead Lake, delivering today’s run. I’m surprised I have service,” the lioness replied, leaning against a porch support post in front of the camp office.
“Glad you do. Hey, have a question for you. It’s a personnel thing so I wanted to check with you. I have a resumé from a young collie femme Alex and I met at Shaw when he and I were dealing with the inquiry into his brother’s crash. She was active duty Air Force then, but she’s out of the service now. She’s experienced as a dispatcher and looks to have good administrative skills. I was thinking of hiring her as our admin now, so she can help with all this lovely paperwork as we start up.”
Billy waited while the lioness thought the idea over. After a couple of minutes, she responded.
“Have you checked the resumé ovah? Have you verified her qualifications?
“I had Loni check them. That way there’d be no personal bias. She checks out. I haven’t contacted her yet. I wanted to get your input on it before I did anything.”
Corrie was again impressed at how fairly and honorably Billy tried to do things. With a nod to herself, she answered.
“I trust your judgment, Billy. Interview her and if she’s what we’re looking for, we’ll have found ouah first employee.”
Billy made a note on the resumé and a note in his computer to call the femme asap. Corrie spoke again.
“Looks like I’m unloaded, so time to head back. Let me know what you decide! Latah Billy!”
“Bye Corrie, thanks!”
The connection closed, and Billy gathered his thoughts, hoping the young collie was all that she appeared.
End of Chapter 91