Bloodline is an original story, inspired by the U.S. T.V. series AIRWOLF.
Copyright refers to the author of this original material, and is not meant to supersede any copyrights held by Donald P Bellisario or any other persons or corporations holding rights to the television series AIRWOLF and its characters.
This story is purely a figment of my imagination, and apart from the usual ensemble of characters, borrowed for the occasion from Mr Bellisario and company, any and all resemblance to any real person or place is purely coincidental, accidental and downright bad luck on my part!
PROLOGUE:
Somewhere in California – Late March, 1985.
"String?" Dominic Santini's gentle, but concerned voice finally penetrated the dark red haze that had settled over Stringfellow Hawke as his finger gripped the firing nipple on Airwolf's joystick control, like a death grip, releasing almost every round from the chain guns into the target on the ground about sixty feet below them.
The old Army Sherman tank had exploded into a ball of flame several seconds ago, after the first ten rounds of ammunition had found their mark, but still the young pilot kept firing.
"Son," Dominic Santini spoke again, in a soft low voice.
"Ok, Dom," Stringfellow Hawke finally responded, dragging his memory back to the present day, instead of that awful day, just over a year ago, when he had come face to face with Charles Moffett, Airwolf's creator, and the man who had murdered Gabrielle, the woman Hawke had been in love with, in the fierce heat of the Libyan desert.
"We done now?" Santini asked from his position at the engineering console in back of Hawke.
"I guess."
Hawke sighed deeply over the microphone in his helmet as he relaxed his finger and gently applied vertical pressure to the console to allow the sleek, shark like, black and white Mach 1 Super helicopter to effortlessly gain altitude.
"We probably don't have anything left to throw at them. Unless you packed your peashooter," Hawke quipped, trying to make a joke now, more by way of reassuring the older man that he was alright.
That he was back in control.
"Think they'll be impressed?" Santini asked.
"Wouldn't you be?"
"Sure, but then I'm easy to please," Santini chuckled.
"Frankly Dom, I really don't care. We did what Archangel asked. We showed them what this baby can do, the rest is up to him and Marella. Let's get out of here. Gimme turbos."
"Turbos," Santini confirmed, pushing forward the lever on the console before him, that would activate the turbo engines.
"Say String, I don't understand why Archangel needed to put on this little demonstration in the first place," he mused as Airwolf gained altitude swiftly now, and Hawke manoeuvred her back on to the course that would take them back to Airwolf's hiding place.
"Dom, check that we're not being tracked by ground radar," Hawke ground out impatiently.
"Already on it," Santini confirmed, checking various screens and consoles around him in the engineering section. "Did Archangel tell you why they needed the hard sell? I thought the Firm already sold the idea of mass producing this baby to the government and the military."
"That was a while back. Money's tight these days, and she's expensive to produce, Dom. Guess he had to show them what they would be getting for their tax dollars," Hawke sighed.
"Do you think they'll go for it?"
"If they do, Dom, they'll pretty soon put you and me and the Lady out of business."
"Pity."
"Yeah. I kind of like her being one of a kind."
"Me too. Does give us a bit of an edge," Santini chuckled.
"But also puts us at the mercy of Archangel and the Firm. If they go ahead and commission a fleet of these things, we will be surplus to requirements," Hawke pointed out.
"But didn't you tell me that Marella told you once that it's gonna take them more than five years to build a fleet?"
"Not Marella. Gabrielle," Hawke paused for a moment, wondering when he would ever stop feeling that familiar ache in his chest whenever he said her name.
When he would stop hearing that crack in his voice.
When he would stop blaming himself for her death.
For not being there, to save her.
For a while he had even tried to blame himself for her being out there. In Libya. For putting her in danger in the first place, but in his heart he knew that that was not strictly true.
And so he had blamed Archangel instead.
That had worked so much better for him.
In the beginning.
Someone else to focus his anger and his bitterness against.
However, now, some fourteen months, and several missions that had forced the two men to work together very closely, down the line, Hawke had developed a grudging respect for the man in white, and had even begun to believe that Michael Coldsmith Briggs III had felt as much pain and grief and guilt over Gabrielle's death as did he.
"Five point three years to be exact, of taking this baby apart to reverse engineer her," Hawke corrected. "Picking over the bones."
"Philistines."
"My guess is, it would take them about five more years after that to actually get a fleet up and off the ground. By which time, they would all be obsolete anyway," Hawke sighed moodily.
"So why bother? What's the point?"
"Maybe they don't have their hearts set on a whole fleet. Just another couple of these babies held in reserve. We both know what kind of advantage that would give our side in an ass kicking competition with say, the Russians, for instance."
Hawke paused for a moment, before adding.
"Besides, Dom, we've always known that one day we might have to give her back."
"We?"
"I. Ok? That I would have to give her back," Hawke sighed expressively then.
"Yeah. I guess, but it breaks my heart to think of them tearing her apart to see what makes her tick. How would you like it?"
"Mmmmm," Hawke sighed, pulling a sour face, which Santini could not see because he was positioned behind the younger man, but could guess was there on the young man's face from his tone of voice.
Over the years, Dominic Santini had gotten very good at interpreting both Hawke's long and intimidating silences, and his body language. They were a whole new language of their own, but Santini was now an expert. He understood every look, every shrug of the shoulders, every sigh, every penetrating glare and scowl.
"And it will mean that you won't be able to put the hard word on Archangel any more. About St John."
St John Hawke, Stringfellow's older brother, missing in action in Vietnam since 1969.
His younger brother had made a deal with Michael Coldsmith Briggs III, code name Archangel, Deputy Head of Special Projects for a covert government agency called the Firm, that in return for repatriating Airwolf, after Moffett stole her and tried to sell her to the Libyans, he would fly Airwolf on occasional missions for the government, in return for information on the current whereabouts of his brother.
Thus far, Hawke had kept his side of the bargain, but he had received very little in the way of concrete evidence of his older brother's, fate from Archangel.
"Then I'll just have to find some other way to find out if he is alive, where he is."
"String?"
"I know you think he's dead, Dom," String sighed deeply now. "But, I can't make myself believe it. All I'm asking for is some kind of definitive proof. Either that he is alive some place, or that he really is dead. I want my brother back, one way or another, Dom. Preferably alive and well, but if not, I'd at least like to have his body back. To bury, alongside our parents. Then I'll know that he is safe. That he is where he belongs, resting peacefully."
And then maybe so could he. Hawke added silently to himself.
"You think Archangel is holding out on you?" Santini asked now.
"What do you think?" Hawke sighed deeply again. "I wouldn't put it past him. After all, it suits his purpose to keep me dangling, and to have us, and Airwolf at his beck and call. Look at today."
"At least we're not getting our asses shot at by MiGs this time. We've been to Russia so many times lately, I'm beginning to develop a taste for vodka and Borscht," Santini chuckled. "Indeed, it's a close second in line to my favourite vacation spot. Top of the list, East Germany, for the beer, Sauerkraut and Bratwurst!"
"Do you ever think of anything except your stomach?" Hawke grouched.
"Yeah."
"Oh?"
"Never you mind."
"Oh? Now who's being tight lipped and secretive? What's her name, Dom?"
"Mind your own bees wax," Santini chuckled, although he did not deny that he had indeed met a new lady.
It was early days yet and he did not want to spoil things by saying too much too soon.
"Don't you concern yourself over my love life, String. Concentrate on your own. What about you and Cait?"
"What about me and Cait, Dom?" String demanded quickly, a frown marring his handsome chiselled features now. "Dom, there is no me,andCait." Hawke emphasised his words slowly now so that Santini would fully understand. "If you hadn't noticed, Dominic, she's far too occupied with her acting career, and all those hunky stuntmen she keeps tripping over every time she goes to the studio."
"Jealous?"
"No," Hawke replied succinctly.
"Me thinks the man doth protest too much," Santini chuckled.
"Dom, there is nothingbetween me and Cait. Get it into your head, will you. We like each other and we work well together, but, that's all."
"In a pig's eye."
"No, Dom, I mean it. There's nothing between us. No chemistry. No spark. I think of her more like a sister than anything else. So quit trying to throw the two of us together. It isn't going to happen, Dominic, no matter how much youmight like the idea."
"Does Cait feel the same way?"
"I haven't exactly asked her," String sighed now. "But, she's not exactly eating her heart out over me, is she?" he reasoned. "She's seeing some guy called Roger right now, and seems perfectly happy with him."
Hawke hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should say what was on his mind, knowing that he might just be giving the older man even more ammunition for his pleasant day dreams, that his two young friends might just get together and live happily ever after.
No matter how much he hated to burst the old guy's bubble. It needed to be said.
It just wasn't going to happen.
"Look, I'll admit that when we first ran into her, there was something there," Hawke confided, knowing that his old friend had been along on that particular ride and had seen for himself the instant attraction that had flared between Hawke and the feisty redheaded Texan beauty.
"But," he added quickly. "Well, nothing ever came of it, Dominic. And with the way things have been going lately, with the three of us flying missions in the Lady, maybe that's not such a bad thing," He reminded now.
"I guess we care about each other and yes, it's nice that we watch each other's backs. Like brother and sister. I'd trust her with my life in a tight spot, Dominic, but if other emotions were involved, I'm not so sure that I could do what needed to be done to stay alive. To keep us allalive," he pointed out, recalling how it had felt to find Gabrielle as she lay dying in the heat of the desert.
No, he couldn't face that again.
Couldn't face the idea of perhaps having to hold on to Caitlin, as the life drained out of her body.
It was hard enough to reconcile himself to the idea that one day, his dear old friend and mentor, Dominic Santini, might end up getting hurt or even killed while they were flying an Airwolf mission.
But, there was no way Hawke could face putting another woman that he loved in the line of fire.
"It's better this way, Dom. If I was really in love with Cait, it would make it very difficult for me to work with her on missions, and we both know that we need her help, from time to time."
"Yeah," Santini sighed, seeing the sense in what his young friend was saying, but Hawke could still hear the disappointment in the older man's voice.
"And your constantly trying to match make us just makes Cait uncomfortable, Dom. I know youthink we're a match made in heaven. But, the simple truth is, there's nothing romantic going on between us, and there never will be."
"Just friends, huh?"
"Yeah. Just friends."
"We'll see."
"Dom …."
"They do say that love is blind. But it is my experience that there are none so blind, as those who will not see," Santini intoned sagely.
"You get that out of a fortune cookie?" Hawke drawled now and let out a deep sigh of exasperation.
"Never you mind."
"Dominic, take your own advice will you. Please. Concentrate on your own love life and don't concern yourself over mine."
"My concern is, that youdon't have one, String," Santini sighed softly then. "And even you need a little love in your life, son. Keep ya from going crazy."
"Thank you doctor Freud," Hawke growled now. "You wanna tell me what you see on your scopes?"
He changed the subject now, knowing that he was banging his head against a familiar brick wall, and that no matter what he said, Dominic Santini would not be budged from his romantic notions about his young friend and Caitlin O'Shannessy.
You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink!.Hawke thought in exasperation.
Stubborn old coot.
"Dom?" he prompted again, all businesslike now and hoped that the old geezer in back would take the hint. "Scopes?"
"Yeah, yeah I read ya. A whole heap of nothing."
"Ground radar?"
"Not a chance. We're almost on the deck as it is, but we're absorbing 95 of scans. How's it looking up there?"
"Main engine seems to be running a little hot," Hawke informed, checking the rows of gauges before him, relieved that Santini had returned his concentration to the matter at hand.
"How bad?"
"Not much, but she does seem a little rougher than usual. We'll have to take a closer look at that when we get back. About time we scheduled a maintenance check, and we'll have to spend time replacing the weapons."
"Oh joy. Just what I always wanted. Two days working my fingers to the bone in a cold, dark cave, with you."
"And your favourite Lady," Hawke quipped now.
"That's the only consolation. Never mind baby, Dom will soon find out what's ailing you," Santini cooed and Hawke rolled his eyes heavenward in exasperation.
"What about your other lady?"
"Well, she's nice an' all, but there's no competition. This little lady wins hands down every time," Santini sighed contentedly.
"Dom, sometimes I worry about you."
"Then that makes us even, kid, because sometimes, I worry about you too. Sometimes, I think you're just a little too cold hearted for your own good. I know you think I'm a crazy old man for feeling the way I do about this, machine, but, if I can care so much for a bunch of nuts and bolts, and wires and stuff, think how much more I can care for a comely flesh and blood lady of the female persuasion? You should try it some time. You might just surprise yourself."
And now they were back to square one again! Hawke thought to himself with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"So," he let out a deep sigh. "She's comely then, this new lady of yours?"
"I'll say!" Santini chuckled.
"I'm happy for you, Dom. I hope it works out for you," and now Hawke was being sincere.
The older man had been on his own for far too long, and it was way past time that he found a nice lady to share his life with.
Hawke really was glad that he had found someone special at last.
"Thanks, kid."
"Now, how about scanning around the lair to make sure we don't have any unexpected visitors when we get home?"
"Sure thing, kid. Sure thing."