Blade didn't know quite what he expected when Patch announced the arrival of the TMST investigator, but having to stare up at a massive, bulky ARFF was not what he had in mind. Not gonna lie, he was anticipating a government paper pusher, not a guy who was built and outfitted for active duty. He met Blade's gaze from clear across the base, and adopted a brisk pace crossing the tarmac in his direction. With him was his aide, a forklift with a much less intimidating but equally unamused stare as his boss.
He had known it was only a matter of time before they showed up. His own crash aside, having Dusty go down in a national park was sure to draw their attention. Patch, as their equivalent of tower control, logged everything that happened. Still, inside of a day? This was quite a speedy response, especially from the feds.
The investigator nodded crisply to Cabbie and Windlifter as he passed them, and to Dipper as she turned slightly from her post in front of the repair bay. The Smokejumpers all watched from the safety of the main hangar threshold, and Blade could hear them whisper to each other as he approached.
"Whoa." Drip was halfway hiding behind Dynamite.
"No kidding." Blackout looked very much like he was going to forcefully trade places with Drip. Or hide behind Avalanche.
"I don't think I've ever seen anyone able to scowl like Blade before."
"And he just got here, I don't think he's really even angry yet."
"I BET THIS IS WHAT HIS HAPPINESS LOOKS LIKE!" No mistaking who that was.
"I wonder if his eyes can kill people, like Blade's can." Pinecone was hiding behind Avalanche, peeking from around his canopy.
"Don't drive between them; the force of their combined disapproval will suck your soul out." Drip and Blackout both nodded sagely. Blade could not have been any more grateful than when Dynamite shushed them all with a fierce hiss. If he could hear their poor attempt at keeping quiet, no doubt so could this guy.
The huge crash tender rolled up on him, stopping just close enough to ensure Blade's attention, but not enough to crowd his space. He wondered idly if it was a tactic.
"Chief Ranger." A statement, not a question.
"Indeed." He didn't feel like correcting the agent yet. This guy could turn out to be a keelhauling crankshaft.
"I am Ryker of the Transportation Management Team, and I am here in regards to a pair of incidents that occurred two days ago."
Of course he was.
"You refer to Crophopper's crash."
"Yes, and your own." Blade could still feel the tightness of the freshly soldered injuries on his left flank. Maru was still working the kid over in his shop, and hadn't had time to smooth the warping or apply fresh paint.
"According to the time on your logs, your incident occurred first, so we will begin there, if you do not mind."
"Please." Blade got the feeling that he didn't have a choice, one way or another. Even so, he was far more comfortable discussing his own wounds than someone else's, especially if that someone else was still out cold in the repair bay.
Ryker's eyes went to the burn pattern on Blade's side.
"Is that the injury that caused the incident in question?"
"It is."
"My apologies. Under what circumstances were you exposed to temperatures capable of causing such burns?"
"I'm a wildland helitanker. I fight fire for a living." Blade found he had to fight very, very hard to keep any sarcasm from his voice. He'd give a piece of his mind to anyone, but pissing off government agents tended to cause more problems than it was worth.
"Yes, from the air." Ryker gave him a look that said this should be obvious. "So, under what circumstances would a helitanker be exposed to such high temperatures for the prolonged amount of time required to cause extensive burns on your flank panels?"
"Teamwork." Blade knew he wouldn't make any friends with that vague of an answer.
Ryker frowned.
"You will have to explain in detail."
"My job as Chief requires me to safeguard my crew, Mr. Ryker. Whether airborne, land-bound, or otherwise."
"Explain." If the agent frowned any harder his eyes would be closed. Blade stifled a sigh, and decided to bite the bullet.
"My pain tolerance is much higher than his."
Blade saw something flicker in Ryker's countenance, face relaxing ever so slightly, and the air boss bit back a smirk. Rigid government enforcer he may be, but he still knew active service, it seemed. Only another online firefighter understood quite what Blade meant, and Ryker appeared to be no exception. It was the kind of thing that happened only when everybody's chips were down and a scene descended to hell in a bucket. His eyes wandered over Blade's injury again, contemplating.
"A member of your ground crew?" His voice carried less of an edge. Not much, but enough to let Blade know that he'd struck something in him.
"Grounded crew." Blade felt his eyes slipping towards Maru's hangar, and he shut that motion down as quickly as possible. Not fast enough, though, as the ARFF followed his gaze towards Dusty in the bay.
"The logs on Crophopper's incident measure over twelve hours after yours."
"They are unrelated, yes." 'Because I succeeded,' he hoped his expression read. Ryker gave a quiet 'hrn' and an almost imperceptible nod. Message received and understood.
Ryker's aide flipped over several sheets on his clipboard, tapping his pen against something on a document. Ryker regarded it briefly, before something there captured his attention. The frown was back.
"His incident happened at night. What occurred during Crophopper's flight that caused his crash?"
"Critical equipment failure." Ryker gave Blade a look that clearly wanted more than that. "Crophopper had previous damage to his gearbox."
"He was allowed to fly with a damaged gearbox?"
"It was not critical, provided the RMP of his engine remained in the lower eighty percent of his maximum."
"Provided he did not redline his engine, pushing his VNE speed."
"Correct."
"What sort of activity was he engaging in that would require him to push his throttle?"
"Fire suppression."
"At night?"
"Yes."
Ryker's eyes narrowed.
"I will assume you are aware of fire suppression regulations regarding nighttime air attack procedures?"
"I am."
"And yet you authorized this?"
And there it was. No matter, no regrets. And no delay, else this guy would notice.
"I did." Behind Ryker, Blade saw Windlifter stiffen, his rotors rotating a jolting quarter turn in surprise. Blade didn't dare risk shooting him a glare to keep his mouth shut; the agent's eyes were good and keen. Fortunately, Cabbie knew well enough to give Windlifter a firm, silent shush. The Skycrane closed his mouth slowly, reluctantly, and Blade furiously ignored the pointed stare he sent him. He knew Windlifter would force a conversation about it in the future.
"What suppression tactic required him to stress his engine?"
"He was taking on water for a drop."
Ryker cocked a brow slightly.
"Water. Not retardant?" Ryker was clearly no fool; taking on water at night was half the reason aircrews were grounded at sundown. The risk of an accident was incredibly high.
"Our water lines at base were down last night. We were unable to load retardant. We still don't have any pressure, actually; there may possibly be a rupture in the line."
"I passed no municipal water district conducting repairs on my way in, nor any signs of a water line breach." Ryker looked at his aide, who shook his head. The investigator seemed to reconsider something, the frown easing somewhat into something more closely resembling slight suspicion.
"Where is the control valve for the base's water from the main line?" The way the question was asked, Ryker seemed to know already. He'd probably made a note of it on his way here. Formality, maybe? Investigator's trap? Good try; Blade knew everything about his base.
"At the Lodge. Above ground, on the side of the building." Ryker nodded, and Blade stifled another smirk. He did know, the bastard.
"And an in-line lever denotes normal flow to the base, yes?"
"Negative, the lever is perpendicular to the pipe when it flows to us."
Ryker looked at him sharply. Very sharply. Blade felt his smugness begin to crumble a bit.
"Perpendicular?"
"Yes."
Ryker's eyes narrowed, but Blade got the distinct feeling it wasn't at him. The massive agent scowled, and Blade could hear his engine rumble up into a low, growling idle before he gave a clipped sigh, schooling his reaction back down to a professional neutrality. Something was up, and it caused Blade's skin to crawl a bit.
Someone else had arrived on base; Blade could see Windlifter and Dipper turn to look at them. Blade himself could see nothing around Ryker's bulk. Were those huge tires entirely necessary?
"E-excuse me?" Ryker closed his mouth on whatever he was going to say next; he turned and moved, and Blade could see the lodge's concierge sitting behind him. He watched the little forklift give a tiny flinch as the huge investigator scrutinized him, giving him a cold once-over before deciding he was of little importance to the task at hand.
"Chief Ranger—" The forklift started.
"Just 'Blade', please." He rolled forwards until he was just outside the forklift's personal space, causing him to look Blade in the face, relaxing ever so slightly. Huh, that actually worked. He'd have to use it more often. The concierge shifted a bit nervously, and kept looking back behind him as if someone would come leaping out of the bushes.
"I do hope I'm not interrupting, but we have a bit of a problem."
"Can this wait?" Blade did not care about issues at the lodge right now. Didn't Cad say there was a type 1 engine posted down there now? Surely this was as much their problem as his.
Ryker seemed to agree. Go figure, common ground.
"This is an official TMST Incident Investigation—"
"Which is why I am here." He was wringing his forks together. He seemed to be gaining confidence, though. And ball bearings; Ryker did not look like he was used to being interrupted. Blade knew the feeling. "You see, Mr. Spinner had me turn on the Grand Fusel Lodge's roof sprinklers last night, to protect it from the fire."
"I saw, they were remarkably high-pressure. Cad certainly spared no expense." Good to know that at least part of his repurposed budget went to fire prevention, of sorts.
"T-that's the thing. They are not high-pressure. Not without, erm, help. A boost, you might say."
The silence thereafter spoke volumes. The realization hit Blade like a tree to the face, and somehow hurt more. For a moment, Blade thought it was hard for him to breathe, until he realized that he was just feeling his caustic, scalding rage settle in his throat. In an attempt at not cursing hard enough to peel his paint again and give Maru a run for his money, he settled for a low growl, the sheer contempt contained with in it clearly echoed in the faces of his crew.
"I knew it." Cabbie's voice was a low hiss.
Blade kicked up both his engines, the sound of their slowly loudening whine only further heating the fluids in his lines, his adrenaline rising with the RPM of his rotor assembly. He had several things to say to Cad. Right now. Heaven forbid he find him relaxing down there, because he would put all four of his rotors down Spinner's throat and twist…
He heard several massive tires roll up next to him, and he killed his engines. Chrystler, he still had to deal with the TMST agent.
He was surprised, then, to look to his side and see an expression that probably mirrored his own. It was masked by that same hard, neutral authority that Ryker had worn for the entirety of this engagement, but Blade had felt it enough in his own face to recognize it. The investigator didn't have the emotional attachment (and, deep down, Blade knew that's what it was) to the base, and the people here, but evidently this situation rubbed hard enough against his acceptable protocols to elicit a reaction.
Whatever standoffishness Blade had harbored against the ARFF sloughed away. Angry on his behalf? On his crew's behalf? That went a long way towards vouching for someone's character, in Blade's book. It must have been a tough choice for him, to move from suppression to investigation. He eyed the blue and gold Maltese cross emblazoned proudly on Ryker's flank.
Blade heard the agent's engine rumble up into gear again, and his aide shot him a look of veiled surprise. Ryker ignored it, and Blade found himself face to face with a scowl that, once again, he did not think was meant for him.
"Chief Ranger, I will require your self inspection and recent repair reports, as well as your standing orders." He was abrupt, hasty, as if he suddenly had more pressing issues to attend to.
"You may have mine, and we can supply standing orders, but most of Crophopper's reports will have to come from his mechanic."
Ryker seemed to find this perfectly acceptable.
"I will return for those, then. I am familiar with Crophopper's mechanic; we will obtain those ourselves. In the meantime, I must see to the rest of my investigation." He pinned the concierge under his gaze. "I take it Mr. Cad Spinner is currently posted at the Grand Fusel Lodge?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you."
Ryker turned and, with a curt nod to both Blade and his team, sped off at a markedly brisker pace than he had arrived. With his strobes on. His poor assistant had to rush to catch up.
Blade felt a borderline feral grin slither across his face, apparently startling enough in appearance that it caused most of his coworkers to cringe out of the way. He pushed it to the side, and restarted his engines. If the federal investigator wanted to speak to Cad, right now, Blade would have to be dead in order to miss it.
"Maru." He pinged him on the radio.
"Yeah?"
"I'm gonna head down to the lodge."
"Really?" He could bottle Maru's surprise and sell it, it was so thick. Blade's contempt of that place was no secret.
"I do believe that finally, after years of forcing us to put up with his slag, Cad has finally run afoul of someone with more authority that him. He's about to get his paint flayed off, bumper removed and shoved down his intake and out his tailpipe, and I will be there to watch."
Blade could almost feel Maru's fierce sneer match his own. Longtime friends, and all that. He rose into the air, stored his landing gear and took off after the TMST Crash Investigator. He planned on perching somewhere that afforded the best view of the TMST throwing the book at Cad, and Ryker seemed like he had a lot of heavy, brutal law books.
He felt that terrible, cruel grin sliding back on, and he did nothing to hide it.
"So you better break out that high-grade I know you have hidden away somewhere. Tonight, I'm gonna sit out back and drink my motojito."
AN:
Because I promised someone that Cad would get what's coming to him. However, my ability to write seems to have died a painful death this week; there will be a part two when my skill rises from the afterlife.
Because Ryker deserves my best while I have him rip Cad Spinner three new exhaust ports. :3
Words n' stuff!
ARFF: Aircraft Rescue and Fire Fighting vehicle. Like an Abrams tank, but full of 3000 gallons of water and foam solution. Ryker is an Oshkosh Striker 3000, the coolest of the cool.
VNE: One of an aircraft's various V-speeds. VNE means 'never exceed', and is often colored red on an aircraft's speed indicator. This is the speed at which an aircraft becomes unstable in the air.
Type 1 Engine: Your typical municipal structural fire engine. Engine types range from one through five, but types three through five are usually used only for wildland firefighting.
There are typos in here, hiding like ninjas. When I find them, they will get fixed.
