Thank you to everyone who has continued to read this series. I hope you enjoy it but will apologize if it takes awhile to finish and publish each chapter. Your patience is greatly appreciated and I hope that it's worth the wait. Reviews are always welcome and loved.
Thank you to Nighshae for helping me by being my inspiration, my beta and being my support through all of this so far. Thank you thank you thank you!
Chapter 1
March 5, 2012
Guardian Angel's Headquarters
Outskirts of Reno, Nevada
Lydia snarled something under her breath as she made her way down to the lab. Even with all of her training and composure, what she'd just received from one of their informants at The Firm made her blood run cold. She knew that Michael needed to review the data and videos that had been sent but she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. The information was just over three years old. Three years and four months to be exact but it was still something that had been inaccessible to their informants until now. Only luck allowed their agent to stumble upon it, making her wonder what other secrets were hidden within The Firm that might be vital intel they could use to keep one step ahead of Zeus.
The elevator doors opened, revealing a plain white hallway that led left to the labs or right towards the rec room. She stepped out and took a moment to compose herself. She couldn't go in looking like she was ready to tear something apart. If Red saw her like this, she might pick up on something being wrong. So much had happened since the December fire at the Stars and Stripes hanger that it was a miracle Red was able to get away to go through her physical assessment.
Every one of the Guardian Angels employees, from pilots to secretarial staff, had to go through an assessment once a year. Sam had already done his a month ago and passed with flying colors. Mike's assessment wasn't until September and his last one had him all in acceptable margins. Red, however, was still an unknown.
As she turned to the left, moving towards the labs, her mind flashed on seeing the woman's body bare of anything but her underwear. Yesterday, Lydia had left a flash drive in her personal locker and upon entering the locker room to retrieve it, found Red partially dressed after her shower. Red had been poked and prodded that morning for her medical exam, including x-rays and blood work. She had spent the rest of the day up to her armpits inside the engine of Airwolf, learning more in-depth detail of the specialized system mechanics. Lydia had caught herself staring before she quickly apologized and left. She still couldn't get the image of how scarred up Red's body was out of her mind.
Today was the physical assessment. They would put Red through the paces of varying exercises from walking, jogging, running and sprinting before testing her on weights to see how much she could lift with arms, legs, back and so forth. They would be testing how well her body functioned under stress with oxygen use and heart rate, plus her recovery time afterwards. She'd be hooked up to all sorts of sensors, an oxygen mask and wires. Lydia knew how uncomfortable it was since she too went through it once a year. They had to know what kind of condition Red was in and how well her body functioned overall before sending her out in the field. Tomorrow would be the final round of testing. It would include an IQ test, psychological evaluation, knowledge based exams and ending with firearm proficiency and accuracy.
She came to a non-descript door with a card scanner and slid her security badge through it. The door made a slight clicking noise as the lock disengaged and she pushed it open. She entered a room that was divided into two sections by a Plexiglas window. On the side nearest to her, the entire area was filled with computers and monitors. The other side of the window held the exercise and testing equipment.
Red was currently on the treadmill at a full out run. The rapid 'thump thump thump thump' of her feet hitting the belt surface told Lydia that Red was currently at an impressive pace. She was dressed in a pair of black runner leggings and a gray sports bra that extended down to her mid-drift. Her hair was pulled back into a braid that hung down past her shoulders, swinging from side to side as she ran. Her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat and she reached up to wipe the sweat off her forehead without faltering. An MP3 player was strapped to her upper arm, the wire for the earbuds she wore swinging in time with her pace. The rest of her was covered with sensors and her face was mostly obscured with a mask that supplied and tested her oxygen usage.
Michael sat towards the back of the observation room, keeping half his attention on the monitors in front of the techs and half his attention on Red. He looked up as Lydia approached then raised an eyebrow in question. She knew he could read her, no matter how neutral she schooled her features.
She came to stand behind him for a moment, her arms crossed in a relaxed pose as she watched the other woman run. "How long has she been at this pace?" she asked quietly.
Michael looked at the clock then back at the monitors, "Almost twenty minutes. She's starting to tire."
Lydia nodded a little. Twenty minutes at this pace wasn't too bad. She'd heard that some of their staff could stay at this pace for over an hour. She, personally, couldn't last more than fifteen minutes. She was a better jogger than a runner. She watched a little longer, seeing the signs that Red was beginning to flag then looked down at Michael. "We received some intel a little while ago. I think this is something you should review in private as soon as possible."
Michael looked back up at her, "Oh?"
Lydia gave him a steady gaze then pursed her lips, her eyes hardening a little with anger, showing him the extent how much this intel disturbed her. They had worked together for so long that he was able to read that expression and know that whatever it was, it wasn't good.
He gave a nod and rose out of his chair, supporting his weight on his cane a little. "I'll leave her in your capable hands," he called out to the techs. "And for heaven's sake, make sure she eats something for lunch."
Lydia's expression shifted, softening. Michael knew Red was easily distracted when it came to Airwolf and the few times she had been here in the past two months, she'd skipped several meals. She was as bad, if not worse than Michael when it came to being immersed in the tech and mechanics of that black battleship with rotors sitting in the repair bay.
With a final look towards the other woman, she turned and followed Michael back to his office.
Michael sat at his desk and looked over the information in the file Lydia had constructed as the video played, the volume lowered to almost nothing. The tension around his good eye was tight, his mouth pressed into a firm, hard line. His eye flicked up to the scene in front of him. His jaw tightened and he finally looked at Lydia.
"Turn it off," he growled.
Lydia raised a remote control and pushed the off button. She set the remote down and walked over to Michael's desk. Remaining silent at the moment was the best course of action until Michael was ready to comment on it. She didn't have to wait long.
"Where was this information being kept? And why has it surfaced now after all this time?" he asked, suspicious of its sudden appearance.
She shrugged, moving to sit in front of his desk. "One theory is that it was kept as a hard file, in Zeus' personal safe. It's the only place in that building that our people don't have access to. As for why, I can only guess that he brought it out to review because they could be considering another round of interrogation." These were just theories but there was no other sensible reason.
Michael flipped the thick file shut and slammed it on the desk. "I don't like it."
A large color photo slid partway out of the folder when Michael slammed it down. It wasn't hard to imagine what the rest of the picture must look like. The mangled form of a woman was being pulled from the twisted wreck of what was once an experimental Air Force jet. The photo was taken when she was finally pulled free of the wreck and her ejection seat was being hauled out with her still strapped to it. Most likely, it had been done that way to help support her broken body until the emergency workers could get her transferred to a backboard without causing further injury.
Major Cheyenne McPhearson was hardly recognizable as a human in several of those photos. Bones protruded from several limbs, twisted and bloody. It was a miracle that she survived and currently running on a treadmill in the lower levels. At first glance from the photos of the crash, one would think she'd never walk again, much less run.
There were a number of photos of the progress from the freshly crashed jet, still on fire to the woman being loaded into an ambulance after she'd been removed from the seat. The file was mostly made up of her medical file from before the crash until she was finally released from the Edwards Base hospital over seven months later. They already had most of that information but this file included pictures and information that was deleted from the other file such as the results of her bloodwork after she had arrived at the hospital. Those results showed she'd been drugged somehow between her first fight that morning and the fateful test flight that afternoon.
Michael stared at the blank screen, his eyes distant and dark. What he had just witnessed on the video would make some of the most hardened spies jittery, including him. There were suspicions that she had been interrogated by The Firm, but there was no concrete evidence, until now. He'd just watched over half an hour of Red being interrogated, the tactics used were devious and sinister. No water boarding was needed, just the application of a concoction of drugs to cause psychosis and paranoia. They had worked on her for over a day before she began to crack under the pressure. They had been trying to figure out what scared her the most so it could be used to manipulate and control her at some point in the future. In the end, they found it.
Red had taphophobia, the fear of being buried alive and they had done just that to her as part of her interrogation. Michael had had to turn down the volume on the video when they had started to bury the box they'd shoved her in. She had been screaming in fear, the drugs in her system heightening the experience tenfold.
Apparently once they were sure she was telling the truth about not having any knowledge of Airwolf they had dosed her up with an anti-psychotic medication, mixed in with something that would help block her memories, forgetting the experience even temporarily. They had hypnotized her, helping to repress her fears and the trauma of what she had previously experienced at their hands. She'd been dumped back in her room to sleep off the effects of the drugs. Two days later, the jet crashed under mysterious conditions.
Michael rubbed his good eye from under his glasses. "Do we know if she remembers any of this? Has she said anything to indicate she's aware of what happened?"
Lydia shook her head. "I don't know. She's mentioned a thing or two about suffering at the hands of The Firm but that could mean anything from losing her family to her business constantly being monitored."
He was silent for a minute as he thought. Finally, he asked "Where's Sam?"
Pulling out her PDA, she flipped through a few screens before speaking up. "He's currently in the simulator with Mike."
Michael nodded, "Could you get them both up here? I need to ask Sam if Red has said anything to him about remembering what happened to her before the crash. Mike should know about this as well. I'm not taking any chances this close to having The Lady ready to fly."
Lydia frowned a little then nodded. She moved off towards her desk, picking up the phone to call down to the lab that held the simulator.
Sam sat in a chair next to Mike, both of them staring at Michael. Sam's face was drained of color while Mike looked like he might be violently sick at any moment.
"Jesus," Sam whispered under his breath.
Michael had shown them only a few minutes of Red's interrogation after revealing some of the things that had been in the file on his desk. Sam's hands trembled. He'd known it had been bad, but his mind could never conjure up details, even after seeing the scars that crisscrossed her body.
Michael watched Sam for a moment then exhaled very slowly. "I didn't show this to upset you. I knew it would but that wasn't my intent. I wanted to show you how low The Firm will stoop to find out information on Airwolf." He grew quiet for a moment and when no one spoke, he continued. "Sam, has Red ever shown any symptoms of PTSD or extreme nightmares? Has she said anything about possibly remembering what happened to her before the crash?"
Mike shifted uneasily in his chair, having pulled Red's medical file and the subsequent pictures into his lap. He opened it so that the cover of the folder obscured anything he looked at, shielding Sam from the worst. Mike still had holes in the information he knew about Red's crash and he wanted to see if this file differed from his.
Sam looked down at his lap, then up at the blank screen that had just showed him the most frightening thing he'd ever witnessed, short of his mother's execution. Finally he looked back at Michael. "She's knows what they did to her. She remembers."
Mike's head jerked up, turning to look at Sam, his mouth hanging slightly open. Michael's eye widened and the corner of his bad eye twitched.
Sam took a moment to collect his thoughts and then told Michael and his son about the nightmares that had started just after Red had returned to the cabin from the hospital. He described how he found her thrashing around in bed, yelling at someone unseen. He saw Michael's eye soften a little when he described how she'd finally allowed him to sleep next to her, finding that it helped her rest without having nightmares.
Finally, he described the final incident that shocked her awake enough for her to remember that they weren't nightmares, but memories.
Mike blinked in surprise, "So let me get this straight, you dumped her in a barrel full of cold rainwater to wake her up?"
Sam blushed, "It's all I could think of since she was fighting me. I didn't want to slap her for fear it might make things worse."
Michael simply stared at Sam, the look on his face a mix of concern and mirth.
"It did the trick and woke her up so suddenly that she remembered some of her nightmare and realized they weren't dreams but memories. It took a few days but she managed to remember most of what had been done to her. She kept a journal of everything but after a while she stopped letting me read it. I'm assuming it's because she remembered when they finally broke her." Sam seemed to whisper those last few words, the color draining again from his face.
Mike was silent next to him having found what he was looking for and closed the file. "I can't even imagine what she went through. I have no way of putting myself in her shoes. Does she still have nightmares?" he asked quietly.
Sam nodded, though a bit hesitantly, "Only when she's extremely stressed or worked up over something. The fire at the hanger caused her to have a few rough patches, nothing as extreme as when I shocked her awake but there are times when she's extremely restless. She ends up looking strung out and isn't someone you want to be around until she's at least had coffee."
Michael took all of this in. "At least she remembers. That's the important part. I think I would be very concerned if she hadn't. That kind of psychic trauma, if repressed or buried, can cause major psychological issues later in life. They've seen it quite often with Vietnam Vets or those who were POW's."
The office grew quiet for a few minutes as everyone thought over the ramifications of what had been discussed. Finally Sam spoke up.
"Are you going to show any of this to her?" he asked cautiously.
Michael looked at him steadily for a moment and then sighed. "I don't think so. I think that her remembering it is enough. She doesn't need to revisit it in living color. As for her medical file, I know for certain she's got a copy of the one from the hospital. This one has additional information that isn't going to help any. As for the pictures of the wreck and her rescue, no. I know that to this day, seeing pictures of the results of what Airwolf did to the RedStar building and to those around me at Moffats hands did me more harm than good. If I can keep that from her, I will."
With that, Michael stood up and walked to the window. "Sam, I took you in as a confidante with this. I know this puts a burden on you but I needed to know the information you've supplied me. I had to figure out if I needed to change things up a little with Red's training and evaluations. As it stands, I'm not going to alter anything. She knows what happened with The Firm, she knows the extent of her injuries. It's in the past and I want her focusing on the future."
Sam contemplated things for a moment then spoke. "I appreciate you showing me these things. Granted, I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing or hearing any of that but now I have a better understanding of what happened. It doesn't change the way I feel about her. She's one of the strongest women I know."
Michael turned to look at Sam and smiled warmly. "Good. I need to speak with Mike for a minute and then I'll send him back down to the simulator in a few minutes."
Sam knew a dismissal when he heard one and nodded, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.
Mike was quiet for a moment then spoke up, "Is there a reason this surfaced now after all this time?"
Michael looked out the window again, the sun waning onto late afternoon. "I'm not sure what to make of it. Either Zeus is testing to see if someone at Knights Bridge is a mole and try to catch them in the act or he's getting sloppy and they're planning something that involves Red."
Mike stood and put the file down on his father's desk. "So long as our 'moles' were very cautious when handling this information, we should be safe. As for the latter, we just need to make sure we're covering her ass as well as ours by keeping things sealed tight with her business and her employees."
His father turned back to the window, clasping is hands behind his back as he looked at the snow covered mountains in the distance. "Indeed."
Red's muscles trembled with fatigue as sweat dried on her skin, making her feel slightly itchy. She sat in the locker room, her head hanging a little as her arms rested on her knees, hands hanging limp between them. Her whole body ached. Sure, she ran regularly but she could slow down or speed up as she needed. This had been a treadmill that had one speed at a time. The weights were a little more difficult. When she lifted things around the hangers it was usually only once or twice, not multiple repetitions and sets.
She hadn't worked out like that since she was in the military. She closed her eyes for a moment. Was she getting soft? Or was she just getting old? She didn't like to think that her conditioning was lacking due to the crash but if she was truly honest with herself, it was. A human body was put together from the first cells of life to work in synch with all the moving parts and material used to hold it all together and in one place. When something disrupted the inner workings of a body, no matter how good modern medicine was it was never truly up to the task of putting a body completely back together again as it was before it 'broke'.
And she had been broke in more places than was healthy. As her mind wandered around in circles, it landed on Michael. Would she someday be in the sort of shape that required her to use a cane to get around? There were days her body ached with the cold and on those days all she craved was a long soak in a tub of hot water and then a soft bed with lots of warm blankets. She gave a little groan. That thought wasn't half bad and it made her almost ache with longing.
She still had one more day of testing to go through. Tomorrows tests were more mental and memory than anything. She had been told repeatedly that every single one of their employees went through the same physical and mental assessment once a year and she would be no different. However, tomorrow afternoon after her tests she was slated for some high-G's testing to see how her body would react going Mach 1, possibly Mach 2. She hadn't had that much strain put on her body since the crash.
What she really wanted to do was to sit in the simulator and begin practicing with Airwolf's system to see how far she could push it. It's what she was good at. She needed to figure out if she could break the system before it ever went into the air. She smirked at that as she hefted herself up off the bench and shuffled towards her assigned locker, pulling out a fresh towel and her shower kit. Michael would have a field day if she broke the simulator and that's just what she intended to try and do. He was always going on about how her father could truly make Airwolf do the impossible but he hadn't ever seen her fly in any way other than a normal jaunt from the cabin to the warehouse. He'd never seen her fighter pilot skills at work. It would be entertaining.
A long hot shower and a meal of hot soup with fresh baked bread seemed to do wonders for Red in making her feel somewhat human again. Sitting at a desk in the furnished house she and Sam were currently renting, she reviewed several emails she'd received during the day, most from Rachelle about business matters. Looking up from her work, she stared out the window into the dark, watching the sparkling lights of downtown Reno in the distance. In all her life, she never thought she'd be living here. She propped her chin up in her hand, elbow planted in a stack of paperwork as she watched planes land and take off from the Reno/Tahoe International Airport a few miles away.
Moving the Bone Yard operations to Reno was taking some effort. She had spent several days at the Stead Airport on the outskirts of Reno, previously known as the Stead Air Force Base, trying to negotiate the rental of one of the larger hangers. Everything was now completed as far as the contract paperwork but she couldn't start moving equipment into the hanger until the first of April. Between now and then, the airport was required to remove all debris and discarded equipment from the hanger, inspect and fix any issues with the plumbing, electrical and structure before she took over. Then it was a matter of moving six aircraft, a vintage Soviet truck and radar trailer along with all of her tools and workshop equipment.
In mid-January, Red approached Rachelle about promoting her to 'Head Honcho' of the Stars and Stripes Air Service, though Red would still remain the manager of the Bone Yard and sole owner of both. The position of 'Head Honcho' came with a nice salary increase and benefits package. Rachelle was to oversee the finances, contracts and scheduling of both Stars and Stripes and the Bone Yard. Rachelle was to be the official 'face' of the company, traveling if need be to meet potential clients and she'd have the authority to sign contracts without passing them by Red first. Rachelle even had permission to hire a manager for the day to day activities at the Van Nuyes Airport. She was still in the process of looking for one, being particularly picky since Rachelle would have to work with this person on a day to day basis.
Red explained to Rachelle that she would be available, as time allowed to fill-in as needed with flying choppers, stunt work or if Rachelle wanted to take a vacation. Rachelle had insisted on keeping her up to date on everything that was being worked on or in the works and contact Red whenever arrangements needed to be made for any of their vintage aircraft. Red in turn had to keep Rachelle updated on her schedule and what was available to fly. Red would be on the lookout for new equipment to add to the Bone Yard's collection and consult with Rachelle so they could discuss if the business finances could afford to make the purchase.
Once the Bone Yard move was complete to the Stead Airport, Red would begin working on her other objective of making contact with other owners of vintage aircraft. She wanted to start a database of those who were willing to either rent out their aircraft or had the ability to fly said aircraft in movies as needed. She was going to start with Reno and the surrounding area before expanding outward from there. There had been discussion at one time about expanding the 'Stars and Stripes Air Service' to Reno at the Stead Airport, but it had been decided by both parties to table that discussion for a few years down the road.
The small hanger and runway that currently housed the Bone Yard was to be purchased by a subsidiary of Michael's company so that it didn't show up on the Guardian Angel's list of properties. It would essentially fall off the map and into private hands. Michael had mentioned some thoughts on modifying a few things on the hanger and perimeter fencing, making it a place where they could hide or store Airwolf if the need arose.
The worst part of all of this was shifting everything around. They were still working with the insurance company on the results of the fire. Rachelle had discussed plans with Red on rebuilding the second hanger, adding a professional office and lounge to the construction. They would use state of the art soundproofing materials and it would be a place where Rachelle could meet and entertain potential clients as well as current customers. Rachelle's new office needed to be a place where she could focus on her work without the sound of aircraft being serviced or repaired. Until the insurance issue got finalized, Rachelle had taken over Red's 'Hawke's Nest' in the upper levels of the main hanger. Once the hanger was rebuilt with the proposed office, Rachelle would move out and it would become Red's again for whenever she was on site. The crew only thought it was fitting.
Sam and Red had spent some time looking for an actual house to buy. She refused to live in the cramped city neighborhoods where they were currently renting a house. She would be perfectly happy to have some place off the beaten path but they hadn't found much at this point and she was willing to wait until the right place came along. In the few years since her life was turned upside down, she'd come to love her father's cabin. She missed it already but knew that living there wasn't feasible if she wanted to start up a business here in Reno. She'd thought about moving some of the furniture and maybe a piece or two of artwork to wherever they ended up but part of her felt like it would be a betrayal to String's memory to remove such things. However, if she didn't, it would go mostly unused, sitting for weeks or a month at a time without anyone being up there.
Red brought her wandering thoughts back to the present and huffed a sigh, stretching out a little. She was tired from the physical testing today and it seemed to be affecting her focus a little. She heard Sam come in the back door, returning from training with Mike. What came naturally to Red was a bit of a learning curve for Sam. She was still staring out the window into the dark but saw his reflection in the window as he came up behind her. He rested his hands on her shoulders, looking out at the city. He gave them a squeeze and leaned down, kissing her gently.
"Love you," he whispered in her ear and she exhaled softly, looking upward at him, smiling.
"Love ya right back," she replied, her hand coming up to cover his where it rested on her shoulder, her eyes following the ascending lights of large jetliner.
"Time for bed," he murmured. "You've got another busy day ahead of you tomorrow."
She closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the feeling of Sam's warm breath on her ear. She mmm'd softly in agreement and rose from her chair, letting him lead her towards the bedroom.
March 13, 2012
"Dammit Red, slow down!" came Michael's exasperated voice out of the headset within the specialized helmet set up for the current simulation.
With a very quiet sigh, Red adjusted the throttle to cycle down the rotors, slowing their speed and shifted the collective to bring Airwolf out of an upward lift. The simulation showed the airspeed slow as she leveled out, bringing it to hover. "Michael, it's a simulation. If I crash, its reset and try again."
Airwolf sat in the middle of the floor in one of the bigger labs, cables running from under her hood to a large bank of monitoring systems, connecting the computers and navigation systems to the flight simulator program. A flexible screen had been wrapped around the cockpit windows showing a digital landscape to those inside, simulating the look of flight. All electronics and programming were 'tricked' into thinking Airwolf was airborne though the controls to the guns and motors were locked down, unable to engage until the simulation was shut down and all cabling removed.
"You just started flying the simulation two hours ago and already you're trying to do things that take weeks, even months to master." Michael growled into the headset, sounding frustrated as he looked up at the monitors overhead.
Multiple video cameras were set up within the interior of Airwolf, used to monitor and record the body movements of each member of the crew from feet to eyes during simulation exercises. They currently showed Red sitting in a relaxed manner, looking as though she was barely breathing as she moved her hands in small increments, adjusting the controls to keep Airwolf in a steady hover.
"Michael," came Red's firm, but unemotional voice after a few moments of silence.
"Yes?" he responded, trying to keep his calm.
"Do you trust me?" she asked. Her tone stayed level and without inflection.
"What?" He sounded slightly startled by that question, the sound of someone else's voice from years past echoing in his memory.
She exhaled slowly, her eyes flicking up to look at the camera pointed at her. "Do you trust me Michael?" she replied, her tone not changing from the first time she asked the question.
"Yes," he responded immediately, knowing that any other answer would make her question this partnership. He felt a little leery about what she was currently doing. He was worried she was trying to one-up Stringfellow's record or be a showoff.
"Then trust me to know what I'm doing. I've flown more advanced aircraft than Stringfellow ever did until he flew Airwolf. Modern technology has been a part of every single aircraft I flew in the Air Force. The last one I ever flew for Uncle Sam was an experimental jet. I helped test its full capabilities and programming with a simulator for months before it ever went live. The onboard systems almost rival what you're currently doing here and I spent almost a thousand hours trying to push it, test it and then shove it to the extreme. I needed to know how far I could go, figure out what it could do while looking to see if it would break. If it broke, we worked to figure out why, so it was something that couldn't be duplicated in the actual aircraft during flight."
Michael grew quiet for a few minutes as he chewed this over. He had never seen anyone fly like String before or since he'd put him in the cockpit of Airwolf. He had been a natural, flying Airwolf on something close to an instinctual level from day one. It was hard to let go of the concept that no one else could come close to String's talent. He had only seen Red fly once, and that was months ago, from her cabin to the warehouse where she'd dropped a 'bomb' on him by showing him what was left of The Lady. The flight had been an average run-of-the mill transport, nothing fancy or spectacular needed in getting from one place to another. He knew she had a steady hand at the stick but he had nothing else to go on in judging her skill at combat flying. He knew she could fly any number of planes and helicopters but knowing and seeing were two different things. Perhaps his bias had convinced his subconscious that she would be nothing more than a beginner at Airwolf's controls, much like Mike had been several years ago and Sam was last week.
"Michael," came a soft voice in his headset. "Trust me. I'm going to push the systems to the limit with the simulation and try to do the impossible. You're outfitting her with all new electronics and sensors. You've replaced all of her computers and installed new programming into her. She's an old beast with new guts and there's bound to be complications in making the two integrate properly with the desired end result. Better to find the glitches now than experience them in the field when a delay could be counted in lives lost."
He could hear the pride in her voice. She was proud of her experience in working with simulators and prototypes. She was good at what she did and from all accounts, an outstanding pilot if her military record was anything to go by. He sighed softly, "Just bear with an old man whose living somewhat in the past, trying to learn new tricks."
Silence filled the radio for a moment and when she spoke, the camera focused on her face showed the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkle up, their gray blue color flashing with merriment. "Michael, you are in no way an 'old man'. Maybe an 'old dog' learning a new trick, but never an old man."
Michael froze, his heart thudding heavily in his chest as he suddenly saw Stringfellow Hawke sitting in the cockpit, instead of Red.
Mike's voice came over the headset from where he sat at the monitoring station next to Michael. "Red, you've got about fifteen minutes before you need to leave for that meeting with the airport. You wanted me to remind you."
Red gave a little huff of a sigh and mumbled her thanks.
Michael saw his son's worried expression out of the corner of his good eye and he turned to look at him. Mike muted the headset and looked his father over.
"You ok?" he asked, sounding concerned. "You suddenly stiffened and turned as white as a sheet."
Michael looked back at the monitor then back at Mike. "I'm all right. Just," he paused a moment, hoping Mike wouldn't think him sentimental or worse. "I just saw a ghost, a memory. Scary how much she looks like her father when she's dressed in that gray flight suit and helmet."
Mike frowned slightly then nodded once. "Uncanny isn't it," he said quietly. He had seen a number of pictures of her father in his Airwolf gear and the resemblance was striking, especially through the face and eyes. Mike chuckled softly, trying to break the sense of sudden melancholy. "I've had a few people tell me that I look like you when you were younger before the attack, especially around the eyes."
Michael smiled quietly, "Yes. Aluna keeps reminding me about that." He looked back at the monitor to find Red going through post flight checks before pulling her helmet off. She pushed open the cockpit door, the mechanics giving the telltale hiss of hydraulics and adjustment of the cabin pressure. She disappeared from view on the monitor and within moments, reappeared near the desk where Michael sat to monitor the systems.
"I'll try to come back later tonight if all goes well," she said with a bit of a nod. "That is unless you don't need me until tomorrow." She shifted, lifting a hand to rub at her left eye. "I noticed a delay in the pickup lead. Don't know if that's a simulation glitch or if she's got a hiccup somewhere in her systems."
Michael looked up at her and nodded, pursing his lips a little as if in thought. "I'll have the techs look at it tonight. Why don't you get some rest and we'll start fresh tomorrow."
She nodded as she gave Michael a quizzical look, then dismissed whatever it was she might have said before turning to leave the lab. There was little left to do with the hardware and mechanics that required Red to spend time in the lab at the moment. Most of what remained was the programming and software integration, which the only way she could help, was by working in the simulator.
Michael sighed and rubbed his upper lip, just under his mustache, his gaze going back to the monitor that showed an empty pilot chair. Was he ready to allow another Hawke to fly her or was he being over protective now that he'd finally gotten The Lady back into his hands? The ghost of his long lost friend still haunted his dreams at night, more frequently now that Red was spending a majority of her free time here.
Mike put his hand on his father's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It'll get better. Just breathe and try to remember that she's not Stringfellow Hawke. She might be his daughter but she's her own person. The differences are there. Focus on those instead of the similarities between the two. Get to know her for who she is and not compare her to someone who might be lionized in your memories. Memories change with time and distance." Mike paused then smirked a little.
"Don't forget about how frustrated and angry you used to get with String. I've read your notes and journal entries from quite a few of the events that happened when Hawke had Airwolf hidden, doing unofficial missions for you. I've listened to Lydia talk about how you would pace restlessly and then snarl at anyone that came within hearing distance after you and String had butted heads over something." Mike softened his smile. "I've yet to see you get to that level with Red. I get the feeling she's not as bull-headed as her father sounds like he was. Red's willing to compromise unless she's certain she's in the right. Even then, she's willing to take the time to explain why she believes she's correct." He gave his father's shoulder another squeeze.
Michael looked up at his son, eye narrowed for a minute before he forced himself to relax. He exhaled softly and nodded, "You're right. I've just found it somewhat difficult as of late to keep the two separated as memories resurface about things that happened all those years ago."
He reached up and patted his sons' hand and smiled wistfully. "I'll get there. Just have a little faith in your old man."
March 25, 2012
7:52 PM
Red's whole body ached as she dragged herself into the labs. She felt stiff and sore from the mental and physical beating she'd taken during the last two weeks. She and Rachelle had hashed out the final details on the contract with the Stead Airport, signing the updated copy yesterday. Red, along with Sam and Lex's help, would soon begin moving equipment and the six functioning aircraft from the Bone Yard. She wasn't looking forward to the driving back and forth between the two locations. They'd spent the past ten days packing crates full of tools and loading parts and pieces into a semi for transport. There would be at least two more loads after that one was emptied. The worst part was evaluating each tool or spare part to see if it was worth taking with them. For the aircraft that were currently inoperable, they had to remove their wings so they could be transported via flatbed to the new hanger.
Today had been a push to finish the remaining packing so that they could move everything within a four day time period, allowing Michael's 'ghost' company to take possession by the first week in April. They were already prepping to update the fencing around the small airfield and she'd seen surveyors out there a few days ago. The plan was to turn the building into a workshop for their older helicopter fleet where they could strip them down, paint and prepare them for re-sale. It would also provide a hiding place for Airwolf if they were in a pinch and close to the area.
On top of everything else, Rachelle finally found someone she was willing to hire as a manager but Red needed to have final say. She just wanted to make sure that whoever Rachelle hired was up to the task of running her business. Red had taken a few hours away from the Bone Yard yesterday to test his flying skills. The guy's name was Kurt Cavanah and he had been a civilian pilot for the past fifteen years. He passed and though his flying skills were nothing fancy or spectacular, he had a steady hand at the stick, knowledgeable on how to go from ground to sky and back again without crashing or causing his passengers to have second thoughts. He had a MBA in Management something or other and Red had given her blessing, letting Rachelle take care of salary and benefit negotiations.
Since her physical and mental evaluations, the doctors at the Guardian Angels had put Red on an exercise routine to work on her flexibility and building muscle strength, focusing on the areas that had been damaged in the crash. She hated it but Michael had adamantly insisted upon it. So every morning, bright and early for the past two weeks before she went to work on prepping the Bone Yard for the move, she found herself at a private gym with her very own personal trainer courtesy of the Guardian Angels. Her torturer, whose name was Mark had told her that once she achieved a certain level in her physical training, he would start her on self-defense and fighting skills. Thank god for the fact that she walked or ran most mornings or she might not even be able to move with as hard as he was working her. Working on restoring planes and flying them had kept up her muscle strength for the most part, but not in the areas Mark had been working her in.
Red flopped in the chair in front of the monitors hooked up to Airwolf with a pained groan and flushed with embarrassment as she remembered the training session where he tested her ability to defend herself that didn't require a handgun. Though she had received training in the military, she was a pilot and a different breed of soldier. He had growled at her, stating he would have to start from scratch just to get her to where he felt she would be safe out in the field. That little declaration from Mark had her still flushing with embarrassment.
"God, look what the wolf dragged in," came a jovial voice from behind her.
Red turned her head slightly with a wince, glared at the man grinning at her as he sat down in the chair beside hers. She made an obscene gesture in his direction.
"What in the world have you been doing?" asked Mike.
Red shifted in her seat and slouched a little to ease the pain in her lower back. "What haven't I been doing?" she grumbled. "Physical training with a torturer named Mark first thing every morning, then trying to get the Bone Yard prepped for the move, testing a potential new manager who will be running part of my business…." She made a motion with her hand as if to say 'and so on and so forth', not even bothering to finish the sentence. With an exhaled breath, she closed her eyes.
He mulled that over. "You look like you need a space to crash for a few hours," he suggested. "I can find you a horizontal space for a few hours or see if one of the nap rooms is available."
Red considered that. The 'nap rooms' were an innovation that had surprised her, but made sense with the way that Guardian Angels was run. Tired people made mistakes, and clocking out for an hour or two in the middle of the day to grab a power nap could make a big difference to a lot of people. "Tempting," she admitted. "But I think I'll pass. If I lay down now, you won't get me back up until I've slept for at least six hours. That would have me up all night and no one would want to be around me in the morning."
She rubbed her eyes and then stretched her arms over her head with another wince. "I was in better shape when I was in the military, but I haven't had to train that way since. When you end up taking a year out of your life and have your mangled body put back together, it's hard to make everything work right again and get back into the groove." She frowned, "But I'm definitely being pushed and shoved to get back into top shape again."
"If it's any comfort, when he's done with you in the early morning, Mark comes here to put dad through physical therapy four days a week," Mike supplied. "Actually, he works with several people in the organization who have physical issues because of past injuries. It's something he's specialized in."
She gave an inelegant snort, "Honestly, I think he'd make a great interrogator. Just strap someone up to a treadmill machine and have him yelling at them for an hour. I think almost anyone would break and spill every secret they know, just to make him stop."
Mike gave a bark of laughter. "You know, when I first met you, I never figured you to have much of a sense of humor. You always seemed so straight laced, military, disciplined and so forth. Then you seem to blindside us with cracks like that." He looked over at her to see what her reaction would be and was startled by the look on her face.
Red looked like the cat that ate the canary with that sly grinned, pleased, half-lidded look that was usually seen on TV villains that were plotting someone's demise.
"Uh, should I be running now?" asked Mike in a worried voice, scooting his chair out of her arm's reach.
"If I could get out of this chair without tripping over my own sore legs, I'd tell you that you'd better run for your life. But right now, I'm too damned tired to chase an insolent puppy like you." She closed her eyes for a moment, as if to give the sense that she had given it up as a lost cause.
He relaxed slightly until he heard her say, "But at some point, someday, you will be within arm's reach." He watched as her lips turned up into a devious smirk that made him question his sanity for wanting to fly anywhere with her.
TBC -
