Required Legal Mumbo-Jumbo:
For the record, I don't own KP. The same goes for any characters, settings, descriptions or catch-phrases which you may or may not happen to recognize from the show. Any and all attempts to sue me will be met with severe disappointment. (Can't get blood from a turnip, folks.) Employees and their families are ineligible. Must be 21 or older. No purchase necessary. Void where prohibited. See store for details. Prosecutors will be violated. All rights reserved. So there!
- Chapter Eleven -
Once you got to know it, San Francisco was a truly wonderful city.
Kim had only visited The City by the Bay once before, and that trip had been within the context of a mission. With all the trouble of fighting Shego and Senior Senior Junior, there hadn't been much time left for sightseeing.
Now, with her schedule free from the constraints of freak fighting, she and her family could simply relax and enjoy all that this cosmopolitan metropolis by the sea had to offer.
Thinking back, Kim reflected on the events that had brought her to this place.
Arriving home from her family's aborted trip to Japan had been a mixed bag. On the one hand, she was overjoyed at having finally found Ron, and in knowing that he was safe and in good spirits.
On the other hand, he was still half-a-world away, and she was still alone.
For reasons she couldn't fathom, this made her feel even worse than before. Somehow, the act of seeing him without being able to touch him troubled her mind and tortured her soul in ways that she couldn't comprehend. It was his touch, after all, that she wanted, indeed craved, more than any other thing about him. His large hands, hands that could prepare gourmet meals from scratch and summon mystical swords from thin air, always had a gentle touch when it came to her. Feeling his tender embrace in this way was what both restored and sustained her, she had learned. She needed his gentle touch.
In her dreams, Ron would come to her. She would see the two of them standing alone on a tropical beach, the great outline of an aircraft carrier silhouetted against a crimson sunset sky. No words were spoken in this dream world, as none were needed. The two of them simply held each other close, basking in each other's presence, allowing the pure joy of being together to wash over them like waves over the beach.
Then, without fail, the grating screech of the alarm clock would once again drag her reluctantly from Ron's warm embrace, and into the waking world. (She sooooo needed to get her self a hammer.)
Then there had come the fateful day one week ago, when she had returned home from school. It had been a day like any other, filled with the usual high school trifles. Bonnie was scheming, Barkin was screaming, and the hallways were filled with the usual assortment of lethargic, comatose-looking underclassmen. All in all, it had been the definition of "routine."
All that changed, however, when she mounted the ornate iron staircase to her attic bedroom and found a new email message waiting on her computer. In itself, this was by no means unusual, but the contents of that message had turned her entire world around.
The message had been from Ron, saying that he had completed his training and would be returning with the ship in a week's time. Upon docking in San Francisco, there would be a graduation and induction ceremony on board, and he was being allowed to invite a small contingent of guests for the event. Naturally, she and her family were the first ones he thought of inviting, after his own parents, of course.
"PS: Would you mind running interference with my mom for me?" Ron had finished his message by asking. "When she finds out where I've really been all this time, she'll probably strap me down to a catapult and launch me off the bow, sans airplane."
Of course Kim had been more than happy to lend an assist in this department.
And so the Possible family found themselves in the city where Tony Bennett had left his heart. So far, they had been in the city for two days, and had seen a multitude of sights. They had visited Fisherman's Wharf, rode a cable car, climbed to the top of Coit Tower, and toured Alcatraz Island. It was during this last activity that a young boy in the crowd had recognized her, and had asked if any of the villains she busted had been sent there. Kim had been forced to explain that the facilities on the island were dated a little before her time in the crime fighting business.
She had also suggested that the family might want to consider leaving her brothers there for the duration of the trip, but this had simply earned her an ice-cold glare from her mother.
The highlight of the trip so far had occurred the evening before, when the entire family had decided to take a sunset stroll across the Golden Gate Bridge.
Kim doubted that she had ever seen such a beautiful sight. The golden rays of the setting sun turned the sea into a glittering, gilded mass, and reflected an entire spectrum of color off of every island and object in the bay.
To her left, oil tankers could be seen passing through the San Pablo Strait, on their way to the massive oil refineries near the town of Martinez. Straight ahead, Alcatraz loomed large in the bay, its steep, rocky slopes capped off by the lighthouse tower and massive cell house building that she had visited just that afternoon. To the right was San Francisco itself, and beyond that lay the east bay communities of Oakland, Berkeley, and the like.
She was so captivated by the grandiose view, that she almost didn't notice the large, dark mass gliding silently beneath her. A startled gasp escaped her lips when, upon looking down, the scene was not one of shimmering waves, but of a dark black shape ringed in an outline of broken red and white stripes. It took several moments for her mind to register what she was seeing.
The Thor had arrived, and was now entering the bay, moving slowly and silently beneath her. She marveled at the sheer size of the vessel, and her heart leapt with the knowledge that somewhere on that floating fortress, Ron was waiting for her.
For half an instant, she actually considered vaulting over the railing and leaping to the flight deck below. Fortunately, the more rational parts of her brain quickly took charge of the situation, and any further thoughts regarding such fool-hearted behavior were banished without question.
Instead, she leaned on the rail with a lovesick sigh, and watched as the great ship, followed closely by its two escorts, entered the bay and turned right, slowly drifting southward along the shoreline toward their moorings at the Hunter's Point Navy Yard in the southern outskirts of the city.
"Tomorrow..." She had told herself. "Tomorrow I'll see Ron again."
And so she had come to the place she now found herself in.
Sitting in the back seat of her family's rented mini-van, cruising along one of the city's ubiquitous freeways, looking out at the industrial landscape that was the south side of San Francisco. It was an area of minor to moderate hills, packed with factories and warehouses of all shapes and sizes. Out the left-hand side of the van, the light towers of Candlestick Park could be seen over the rooftops, and beyond that lay the sparkling gray waters of San Francisco Bay. A glance to the south revealed their destination this day, the sky-scraping masts of the great ships visible even from this distance.
For Kim, sitting still was almost impossible, her personal motto not withstanding. The anticipation of seeing Ron again, (really, truly seeing him), after all this time was downright unbearable. She didn't know what she was going to do to him when they were finally reunited, but she figured that if she tried it back at school, they would both be in detention until their twenty-fifth birthdays.
Feelings of excitement only increased as the van's navigation system directed them off of the freeway and onto a side street. Directions on the in-dash video screen guided them through the labyrinth of oddly-intersecting avenues and alleys before finally depositing them at the main gate to Hunter's Point. A quick check of identification by a uniformed security guard, and they were in.
"Man, doesn't the weather in this city just beat all?" James Possible observed as he pulled the van to a stop in a parking lot near the docks. (Apparently a private lot was the only place in the entire city that one could find a space.) "Where we're standing, it's bright and sunny, and yet just a short ways away there's a fog bank so thick you could almost lean on it."
"Uh, dad… That's not a fog bank." Jim observed.
"That's a ship." Tim completed.
Craning their necks upward, the family could see Tim's point. The massive wall of gray steel seemed to stretch for a mile in either direction. It stretched upward, towering overhead and arcing outward as it soared, until it finally transitioned into a series of tiered batteries, bristling with a variety of anti-aircraft guns.
Setting atop this gargantuan monolith of gray steel was an island-like superstructure that sprouted a varied assortment of radar aerials and communication arrays. To top it all off, there was a tripod-style main mast, towering so high that it seemed to scrape the heavens themselves. From its cross-members hung a plethora of signal flags, comprising every color of the rainbow.
Five jaws now stood agape at the massive metal megalith before them. The carrier was so mind-bogglingly huge that it seemed impossible the thing could even float. It was a floating city: An entire metropolis unto itself… Fast, mobile and lethal.
Several hundred yards to the south, the Thor's escort ships, Boreas and Notus, could be seen docked abreast. These twin battleships sported some of the most modern weaponry afloat, but still found space on their decks for some decidedly old-fashioned hardware. There were five-inch guns in several locations along the flanks, and so many 40 and 20 millimeter cannon that the ships resembled floating porcupines.
But the most impressive features of these massive vessels were the guns of the main batteries.
With each ship sporting four turrets of four guns each, the main batteries dominated the superstructures of these mighty leviathans. Twenty inches wide at their muzzles, they could launch a 3,000-pound shell 25 miles distant. It was a capability that struck fear into the heart of even the most determined enemy, and made opponents think twice before attacking.
And, it made a great deal of sense, after all. These ships were built as moving monuments to visual intimidation, and nothing says "leave me alone" quite like guns the size of factory chimneys.
"C'mon! Let's go check it out!" Jim shouted, breaking into a run toward the carrier in front of them.
"Yeah! I hear they have those new 'dial-a-yield' nukes on board!" Tim concurred, following close behind his twin.
"Is anyone here concerned about turning those two animals loose onboard a ship with a working nuclear reactor?" Kim asked rhetorically.
"We could always take them down to the battlewagons and let them play 'human cannonball.'" James observed, earning an elbow in the ribs, courtesy of his wife.
After a short walk, the family found themselves standing at the base of the gangway, where a young man in uniform stood by to greet them.
"Sergeant Ray Beeze, at your service." The young man with the close-cropped haircut succinctly greeted. "May I inquire as to the nature of your visit today?"
"The Possible family." James replied in his characteristically friendly tone. "Here by invitation, we are."
Sergeant Beeze quickly scanned through a series of papers on a clipboard he had been carrying. Running his finger down what Kim assumed to be a guest list of sorts, he abruptly stopped his search upon finding the desired information.
"Ah yes… Registered guests of Lieutenant Commander Stoppable, I see. Follow me, please?"
And with that, Beeze turned briskly on his heel and proceeded up the gangplank with the family following quickly behind. Rushing to keep pace with her family and their guide, Kim's mind kept repeating a phrase that sounded so completely strange to her, no matter how many times she said it:
"Lieutenant Commander Stoppable…"
The small group was soon making their way through a labyrinth of corridors and passageways, with Beeze pointing out the functions of various rooms along the way. Kim couldn't help but be amazed by the complexity of her surroundings.
The Thor truly was, for all practical purposes, a floating city, and with a full-time population of nearly 6,000 people, it had the same needs as any land-based community.
Beyond the basic necessities of sleeping, eating, and activities that normally follow eating, there were needs for various support services, and for all the creature comforts that make civilized life possible. In addition to kitchens, bathrooms and sleeping quarters, there were workshops and supply rooms for maintaining the countless pieces of equipment the ship needed for its operations. There were laundry facilities, recreation lounges, armories and munitions magazines, a daily newspaper, a sick bay with a lab, pharmacy, and full surgical facilities, a brig, exercise rooms, and an internet café for keeping in touch with loved ones back home.
For Kim, this last item was a little more poignant than the rest. After what she had gone through looking for Ron, the thought that he had not contacted her had at first sent her into whole new degrees of tweakdom.
It was only after having Wade research the Eagles' organization for her that she had finally calmed down. The Eagles may have been somewhat reluctant to advertise themselves, but they weren't a black ops program by any stretch. There was a great deal of information to be found on-line, provided that one was computer savvy enough to know where to look for it.
By now, Kim knew of the organization's charter, and understood their mission and their goals. She knew their systems of rank and insignia, and understood just what sorts of operations they would normally undertake.
She also knew of their policy toward the anonymity of their recruits. While she didn't fully understand the reasons behind this policy, she knew it was a strict requirement, and that the lack of communication wasn't Ron's fault. She could forgive him for that sin, now. She could forgive him for everything.
After several more minutes of walking through what seemed to be an endless maze of corridors, Beeze lead the family through a set of double doors and into the cavernous hangar deck. To both sides of the large, open space, there were rows of parked aircraft. Several different models were present, some of which she even recognized. There were fighters, bombers, air tankers and AWACS planes. Toward the stern was a row of helicopters, and some of the airframes sat in various stages of disassembly, indicating ongoing maintenance procedures. Her brothers were soon dashing excitedly about, exploring the high-tech machines, and forcing her mother to corral them as best she could.
When Sergeant Beeze finally stopped, he was standing in front of an aircraft that Kim most definitely recognized. She had seen this exact plane once before in her life, approximately two weeks ago, in the skies east of the Philippines.
The Tomcat was just as she remembered; its twin red tails bearing the insignia of an eagle and a thunderbolt, and its wingtips adorned with her own logo. To the front there was the shark's mouth and "Sky Rat" nose art, and a pair of diagonal yellow stripes, outlined in black, signifying the position of a team leader.
What caught her attention most of all, however, were the words painted out in neat script just below the Plexiglas canopy. Toward the front of the cockpit was a simple phrase, split into two lines:
Lt. Cmd. Ron Stoppable
"Mad Dog"
Then her eyes drifted back along the fuselage, toward the RIO position. She gasped when she read what was painted there:
Ens. Kim Possible
"Red Fox"
Ron had somehow managed to secure for her a commission, and in future missions, they would be flying together. Her entire soul was warmed by the thought that after all those years of Ron watching her back, she would soon be watching his. The idea of being able to finally return the favor just felt right.
As Kim studied the sleek and menacing plane in close detail, her father started to let his own technical curiosity get the better of him. It wasn't long before he was bombarding Beeze with a laundry list of questions.
"So it has closeable intakes, then?"
"Correct, sir." Beeze replied in a formal and official tone. "While on the ground, the engines breath through vents on top of the fuselage. That way we don't have debris being sucked into the compressor blades."
"Neato! And how did you guys manage to boost the radar's range so dramatically?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but that particular information is classified."
James Possible groaned lightly with disappointment, then pressed on.
"Okeedokee, then… What can you tell me about the inertial guidance system?"
"OFFICER ON DECK!" Beeze shouted in reply. It seemed like a ferociously strange answer to his question.
He was about to rephrase when he noticed that Beeze had drawn himself to attention and was now saluting someone or something behind him. The entire family turned around to face this unexpected newcomer, and nearly fainted upon doing so.
There, standing not ten feet away… was Ron. Wearing an immaculate three-piece dress uniform, and standing with his shoulders back and his chest out, he was positively resplendent in his appearance.
The dark-blue, double-breasted coat was form fitting and sported a pair of golden thunderbolts on its lapels. On his shoulders he wore the stripes and rockers of a lieutenant commander, and from his right shoulder hung two braided, yellow loops of cord. On his left breast there was a glimmering, golden pair of shielded wings superimposed over an anchor: the mark of a fully qualified carrier pilot. Below the wings, a small cache of medals hung from pieces of brightly colored ribbon.
From his left hip hung an ornate dress sword, and from his right, a silver-plated automatic pistol with an ivory grip. Topping off the entire ensemble was a brilliant white officer's cap with a braided band, a shielded eagle emblem, and "scrambled eggs" on the brim.
No longer was he the awkward, shy and easily frightened little boy that Kim had grown up with. Now, he was a warrior: Forged in the crucible of combat and hardened by battle. He was a pillar of strength, a bastion of confidence, and a force to be reckoned with all his own. He was, in every sense, transformed.
"At ease, Sergeant." He said flatly, stepping forward to face the still saluting man.
Beeze relaxed himself into a "parade rest" position.
"I take it there weren't any difficulties?" Ron asked.
"No sir. Everything went as directed, sir." Beeze replied.
"The twins didn't cause you any trouble?" Ron inquired, shooting a sideways glance at Jim and Tim.
"Nothing I couldn't handle, sir." Beeze stated matter-of-factly. "I am trained for combat, after all."
"With those two on the loose, you'd better be." Ron chuckled, earning a double-barreled glare from the boys. "Excellent work, Sergeant. You are dismissed."
"Yes sir! Thank you, sir!" Beeze responded, snapping to attention and saluting once again before briskly walking away, leaving Ron and the Possibles alone in the cavernous space.
As Ron turned to watch the Sergeant walk away, Kim tried desperately to comprehend what she had just witnessed. Throughout his entire conversation with Beeze, (except for the crack he made about her brothers), his face had been taut and solid, showing no sign of emotion. His mannerisms and demeanor seemed so cold and serious to her. His entire image was something that she could only describe as being one of "professional intensity." He was no longer the young man she remembered… He wasn't the person she had fallen in love with.
Then, once Beeze had retreated from sight, Ron turned to face her family once again…
And that was when she saw it.
The very instant that the young Sergeant was out of sight, Ron changed. The stone-cold expression on his face melted away, morphing into one of his trademark goofy grins. His body quickly relaxed, regaining some of the characteristic slouch that had become all but his trademark over the years. He stuffed his hands casually into his pockets, raised a playful eyebrow, and flashed a bemused smile.
This was the Ron she remembered. The Eagles may have given him some fancy new threads and a strong sense of both duty and dignity, but underneath it all he was still the same loveable loafer he had always been. The gentle spirit, the playful attitude, the casual approach to life: it was all still there. He was still her Ron, and when he wasn't busy flying or administering to the men under his command, it was this side of him that would always shine through the brightest.
Until this moment, there was something that Kim had never quite understood. She had seen the footage on the evening news: Scenes of teary-eyed wives, mothers and girlfriends rushing out to greet their young men returning home from war. As a person who valued level-headedness and self control in her own life, she always winced at such emotional displays, struggling to comprehend just what forces could turn an otherwise mature and responsible adult into such a babbling, incoherent ball of angst.
But now, seeing her soldier standing there before her, she finally understood.
Without even realizing what she was doing, Kim suddenly dashed forward in a full-out sprint. Launching herself into the air, she nearly knocked both of them to the deck as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, capturing his lips with a kiss that threatened to turn his tonsils inside out.
This was the moment she had spent three, long, agonizing months waiting for. Her soul had yearned for this moment so much that it sometimes hurt, but now it was finally here. To see him, to feel him, to have his scent fill her nose, to have the taste of his lips play across hers: This was what she had been missing for so long. As she wrapped herself tightly around him, and felt him respond in kind, a wave of euphoria washed over her. This was her place: A magical place where she would always feel safe, where she would be forever free to be herself, and where she would always be loved unconditionally. She was, in a very real way, home.
For several long, magical moments, she simply embraced Ron in this way, never wanting to let him go. It wasn't until she heard the louder-than-necessary clearing of a throat behind her that she realized what a spectacle she was making of herself. Slowly, reluctantly, she released Ron and returned to her own two feet.
"Sorry." She softly said, her face quickly turning a color to match her hair.
"Meh… No big." Ron smiled dismissively. "I know how it is… Chicks dig the uniform."
The remark earned him a playful punch on the stripes.
Then her arms were around him again, this time simply holding him close to her. Burying her face into his shoulder and weeping softly into the epilates of his coat, she felt something that she had not felt during all of those agonizing months. There was a sense of belonging, an inner-connectedness, a feeling of unity that existed only between them, and no one else. In some strange, Zen-like way, Ron completed her. Without him, she was only half there: struggling to find her way through an emotional wilderness on a starless night with no compass to guide her. But when he was with her, she was whole, and all things became possible. Without each other, they would have undoubtedly grown to be ordinary people, leading ordinary lives and dealing with ordinary problems. But when they were together, they were something truly extraordinary.
Holding him tightly against herself, Kim could sense other changes in Ron as well. Even through the multiple layers of fabric that comprised his uniform, she could feel the taut, rippling muscles of his back. His shoulders were broader and more firm they ever were before. His chest had filled out considerably, and she could feel the strength in his arms as he embraced her. The geeky doughboy she had grown up with was gone, and in his place stood a strong, fit, proud man. The ugly duckling had been transformed into the elegant swan she had always known him capable of becoming, even if she had never expected him to actually achieve it.
Finally, after more than a minute, Kim looked up into the two chocolate-brown orbs that seemed to captivate her very soul, smiling serenely at the lopsided, goofy grin that met her own adoring gaze. She didn't know what to say in this sitch, but soon found words forming of their own volition.
"Welcome home, sailor." She whispered softly.
"Well, with a greeting like that, it's certainly good to be back." Ron smiled in return, continuing to hold her close to him. "Thanks for handling my mom, by the way."
"Pffft… So not the drama." Kim dismissively replied. "Once I explained the whole sitch, she was totally cool with everything."
"Well that's certainly a relief." Ron said with a sigh. "I was worried she would try to pitch me overboard or something. And the flight deck on this tub is eighty feet off the water!"
"Speaking of your parents, are they here yet?"
"Yeah. They got here about an hour ago. I think they're up on deck waiting for the ceremony to start."
"Shouldn't you be doing the same?"
"Shouldn't we both?"
"Good point."
"Well then, just go through those doors over there," Ron directed. "Take the stairs to the right, go up four decks, and follow the signs."
"It's your ship." Kim responded. "You're the boss."
"Yeah, well… Don't let the Admiral hear you say that." Ron chuckled.
"Or your fellow officers, for that matter." Another voice suddenly rang out.
Kim and Ron both spun around to see a quartet of uniformed individuals walking toward them. From the shoulder patches, it was clear that they all held the same rank as Ron.
"Well aren't you going to introduce us, Commander?" the man furthest to the left inquired.
"Oh yeah, right." Ron stuttered. "Guys, this is my totally bon-diggity girlfriend, Kim Possible."
"Wow, the legend herself." The officer observed. "It's good to finally meet you… Although between your press clippings and how Stoppable here tends to go on talking about you all the time, I feel like we've already met."
"I hope he was saying good things." Kim commented, smiling and shaking the officer's hand. "And you would be?"
"This is Al 'Viper' Fannomega." Ron said, introducing the officer before her. "And moving from left to right we have Max 'Quicksilver' Welhaus, Anita 'Valkyrie' Ficks, and Perry 'Eight-Ball' Anthrust. They're the other team leaders from my squadron."
"Team leaders?" Tim asked curiously.
"The Red Tails consist of twenty aircraft." Perry explained. "The unit is then subdivided into five teams of four ships each. This way, if we need to split up in combat, we know who goes with who."
"Each team has a designated leader." Max continued. "We're identified by the twin shoulder loops on our uniforms."
"And also the twin stripes on your planes." Kim observed.
"Correct! I see you've been doing some research." Max observed. "Assistant team leaders have a single loop."
"So who's in charge of the whole she-bang?" Tim inquired.
"Squadron leader is Commander Argus." Al informed the group. "You want to find him? Just look for the guy with three loops."
"So Ron is a team leader, then?" Jim asked with more than a little disbelief evident in his voice.
"This ain't last night's spaghetti, dude." Ron replied, reaching across himself to run a finger through the two loops hanging from his right epilate. "You're talkin' to the man with the mad pilot plan."
"Yeah, just like you planned to put that laser-guided bomb through the officer's latrine during training?" Anita asked with a sly grin.
"I thought we agreed never to talk about that over open channels." Ron growled through gritted teeth. "And who the heck puts a porta-potty that close to a live-fire range, anyway?"
"Well, I don't think you've got much to worry about, Mad Dog." Max observed. "Nobody was hurt, and with the level of destruction, the brass had nothing to go on."
"Literally." Anita panned with a smile and a chuckle.
"Yeah, real funny." Ron groused, folding his arms over his chest. "You guys are a regular 'Rat Pack.'"
"Just keepin' it real, rookie." Al called out as the four of them turned to walk away. "Now get your greenhorn keester up on deck, already! The show starts in ten!"
"On my way!" Ron shouted in return before turning back to Kim and her family.
"Well, I guess we'd all better be going." He observed.
"Good call, Lieutenant Commander." Kim replied.
"Yeah, the title sounds kind of strange, doesn't it? Ya' know… on me."
"Eh… Maybe a little at first, but I think it kind of suits you." Kim reassured him.
"You really think so?"
"Mmmm, hmmm… 'Lieutenant Commander Ronald Adrian Stoppable.'" Kim recited for effect.
"Hurk… Heeeeey!" a small voice squeaked, popping up onto Ron's left shoulder.
"Oh yeah… And don't forget Corporal Rufus." Ron added.
The naked mole rat drew himself to attention and snapped a tiny salute. He was wearing a uniform similar to his owner's, except his featured a single-breasted coat and a garrison cap. His small shoulders bore chevrons indicating the position of a corporal, and the entire ensemble elicited a raised eyebrow from Kim.
"Hey, he's part of the team." Ron replied with a shrug.
"Okay, I'll buy that." Kim relented. The little rodent just looked too cute in his new outfit for her to object. "So we need to get up on deck, then?"
"You remember the directions?"
"Yeah, through the door… turn right… up four decks… look for signs… got it."
"I'll see you on deck, then."
"Count on it, flyboy."
Kim then leaned in and drew herself up onto her toes, giving Ron a quick peck on the tip of his nose.
"Ah… booyah." He chuckled before turning and heading toward his designated position, Kim watching his receding form as he went.
It was so ferociously strange to see him like this, she had to admit. On one hand, he had changed so much. He was stronger, tougher, more skilled and more confident that he had ever been in his life. He acted as though he could stand against the elements themselves, and bend them to his will.
On the other hand, he was still the same exact person she had befriended on the pre-K playground all those years ago, and more recently, fallen in love with. He had the same boyish looks, the same lazie faire attitude toward life, and the same quirky personality. He was the same person in heart, soul and spirit. The only difference was that now those things came wrapped in a new and vastly improved package.
And oh, how she was going to enjoy unwrapping that package once they got home.
The salt breeze coming off of the bay was brisk that day. Not quite strong enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to let you know it was there. It swept in across the massive flight deck and up the side of the island superstructure, rippling and snapping the kaleidoscope of flags that hung from the mast.
…And the hair of one mildly tweaked teen hero.
Kim would occasionally rue the day that she had decided to wear her hair long, and a windy day like this was just such an occasion. It would flip and swirl randomly in the breeze, frequently throwing stray locks directly into her face. She soon found herself wondering what would happen if she ever cut her hair short.
Well that was easy: She would look like her mother.
"Then again," she thought to herself, "maybe long hair isn't all THAT bad."
Reaching down to pull a scrunchie from her purse, she quickly drew her hair back into a ponytail. For the time being she would need to force such hair-related issues from her mind, she thought. The induction ceremony was about to start, and she wasn't going to let anything stand in the way of her enjoying this moment.
She was standing with her family along an area of the ship that the crew called "Vultures' Row:" A catwalk, high up on the superstructure, providing a grandstand view of the festivities below. And what a view it was…
The scene before her was one of supreme organization. To the aft section of the flight deck, the enlisted personnel were arrayed in neatly in rank-and-file formation. To either side of the ship's mid section, the officers stood at ease, all of them facing toward a central aisle, which was marked by a long, red carpet. The carpeted pathway led down the center of the deck to a raised platform located on the bow, where several more officers sat waiting. Kim figured that these must be the commanding officers of the entire Eagles organization, as their uniforms glinted in the sunlight, displaying more decorations than a Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.
Suddenly a brass band, which was situated toward the rear of the deck, started to play an introductory piece, and the freshly minted cadets were brought out: Raised up onto the flight deck by means of one of the four massive elevators that normally lifted aircraft up from the hangar deck below.
The melodic sound of over a dozen horns now fell silent, as the music transitioned into a marching cadence, played aloud by a single snare drum. The cadets marched in perfect time to the beat, moving quickly and in perfect sync with one another, taking up a position in the center of the flight deck, just ahead of the enlisted ranks.
The cadence stopped abruptly the instant that the cadets were in position, turning to face the bow with their final step. For the longest of moments, silence reigned across the expansive deck. No one dared cough or sneeze as the silence enveloped everything it touched, leaving only the sounds of seabirds, and of the wind whipping through the flags above.
Then, a uniformed man on the platform stepped up to a podium and began to speak.
"Since the dawn of recorded history," he stated loftily, "the eagle has symbolized those attributes that mankind has valued above all others. Strength, courage, skill, tenacity and rugged independence: These are the qualities embodied by this, the noblest of birds.
"Forty-five hundred years ago, as human civilization was first emerging from the fertile valley soils of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, the Sumerian city of Lagash chose a double-headed eagle as its symbol. Priests and politicians alike noted the bird for its powerful grace and dignity, and sought to adopt these characteristics as their own.
"Two thousand years ago, as the Roman legions marched across the breadth of the known world, they did so under the figure of a great golden eagle. 'Aquila,' as the image was known, came to be feared and respected throughout the empire, by friend and foe alike: Universally accepted as the embodiment of Rome's awesome and overwhelming power.
"On a cold Christmas day in the year 800, when Charlemagne was anointed Holy Roman Emperor, the image of the Lagash eagle was present, its two heads signifying the union of Rome with the western territories of Europe.
"In the early nineteenth century, French armies led by Napoleon Bonaparte marched into battles across Europe behind flagstaffs topped with golden imperial eagles.
"And on a sunny May afternoon in 1782, a small group of men chose the image of a mighty bald eagle to represent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
"And it was a small group of men from this nation, that on the eve of the greatest technological and scientific achievement in human history, chose this grandiose image to represent their ship, summoning all of its glory and power to convey the magnitude of their mission.
"And so it came to pass, that as over a billion people watched and waited with baited breath, the words of former Eagle Scout Neil Armstrong rained down from a quarter-million miles away:
"'Houston, Tranquility Base here… The Eagle has landed.'
"Man… was on the moon."
The speaker now paused for dramatic effect. Silence reigned, just as it had since the ceremony's beginning. Even the wind had seemed to calm during the speech, as if nature itself was paying homage to the events now transpiring in its presence.
"And it is the image of the mighty eagle that has brought us here today." He continued, following several moments of silence. "For when a dozen men gathered on a quiet, rain-soaked aerodrome in the winter of 1918, they chose this most majestic of images to represent a newly-formed brotherhood, dedicated to using the power of flight in defense of those principals that mankind holds most dear: Justice, liberty, and the right to breathe free. Protected under the wings of the great bird, this brotherhood grew and flourished, and ultimately became a proud and strong force of good: A shining beacon of hope and promise in a sometimes darkened world.
"Today, you stand poised to inherit this great tradition. You are the next generation in a long line of noble individuals: Individuals of different backgrounds and origins, but bound together by a common belief in freedom, and a common desire to defend it. You are the valiant knights of old reborn, honor-bound to protect the innocent, and to do battle with tyranny, wherever it may reside, and whenever it may strike.
"Your skills are sharp, your resolve is strong, and your duty is crystal clear. You are the keepers of the flame, broadcasting light and hope across a dark and stormy sea. You carry your torch aloft so that others may see, and that they too might someday carry the torch themselves. You are a bastion of everything that is good in the world, and you have earned your place of honor. Never forget this."
With these final words, the uniformed man silently turned and returned to his seat on the stage. Another man in uniform then stepped up to the podium, produced a piece of paper from the interior pocket of his coat, and began to read.
"The following individuals are hereby inducted into the Sacred Order of Thunder Eagles…" he stated loftily.
He then began to read aloud the list of names that he held in his hands. Speaking slowly and deliberately, he made his way through the alphabetical list, stating the name and rank of each new inductee. Kim's heart nearly skipped a beat when Ron's name was read. Somehow, it hadn't seemed real up until that point, but hearing his name listed amongst the others drove everything home for her. Ron was one of the elite now, and she had never been so proud.
After several minutes, the end of the list was reached. "May your skies be clear, and the wind always be at your back!" the man concluded, before returning to his seat. Once he was securely seated, another man, this one with white hair and the most heavily decorated uniform of anyone present, stood up and made his way to the podium. Even at his obviously advanced age, he walked upright and proud, his image conveying an aura of authority and dignity. His very presence commanded respect from those around him, and Kim surmised that he must be the commanding officer of the entire Eagles organization. Upon reaching the podium, he cleared his throat and began to speak.
"Since the founding of our honored society nearly a century ago, each new generation has recognized the greatest among them. They have singled out the one member of their group whose courage is unquestionable, whose commitment is beyond reproach, and whose skill surpasses all of his brothers in arms.
"This individual is singled out to serve as an example of what all Eagles should aspire to be. His excellence in ability, bravery, and dedication to duty show us what we can achieve, and continually remind us of what we believe, and why we are here.
"The 'Order of the Crimson Plumes' was created for just such recognition. This emblem of two crossed, red feathers is worn front and center on the uniform, signaling to all comers that they are in the presence of true excellence.
"It is therefore my distinct and personal honor to bestow this award upon the top graduating cadet from this year's program. Would you please step forward and be recognized, Lieutenant Commander Ronald Adrian Stoppable."
"Eagles… ATTEN-HUT!!" the call went out, causing each and every sailor and soldier on deck to suddenly draw themselves to attention. Ron stepped forward from the formation of cadets and began to stride down the red-carpeted aisle, his pace a perfect marching cadence.
Kim's jaw nearly hit rail in front of her when she saw. Knowing that Ron had successfully graduated had been a shocker in its own right, but for him to be tops in his class: Well that was just blowing the "weird-meter" clean off the scale.
Transfixed by Ron's strong and steady form as he marched proudly forward to receive his decoration, Kim was only peripherally aware of Ron's parents standing a few feet away. His mother's face was almost completely obscured by the digital camera that seemed glued to her eye; her rapid firing of the shutter giving the impression that she was shooting video rather than stills. His father simply leaned on the railing, beaming a radiant smile that broadcast the tremendous pride he felt in his progeny at this moment. No member of the Stoppable family had ever achieved anything as prestigious as this. Ron had reset the bar for excellence in his family, and if Gene were to die at this very moment, then he would have undoubtedly died content.
Standing tall with his shoulders back and his spine as straight as the mighty ship's mast, Ron stepped onto the stage and stood before the snow-haired man. The older officer momentarily regarded the young man before him, then motioned for an aide to bring him a small, velvet-covered box. From the box he produced a small pair of crossed feathers, and quickly pinned them to Ron's tie, just above the "V" of his uniform vest. The feathers were of ruby, inlaid in gold, and they shimmered in the brilliant afternoon sun. The effect was truly stunning.
"There are those few individuals who exhibit courage and heroism to such a great degree," the elder officer continued, "and then there are those who define what true heroism is. For these truly exceptional few, awards such as this will simply not suffice. Truly great courage deserves nothing less than truly great recognition."
He motioned for the aide again, who responded by producing another box. From this the admiral withdrew a medal that resembled a multi-pointed starburst, it's various regions inlaid in a breathtaking arrangement of red ruby, blue turquoise, and white diamond.
"For going above and beyond the call of duty," the man bellowed for all to hear, "for gallantry action against the enemy, and for having the courage to persevere against insurmountable odds, it is my distinct pleasure to award you the Distinguished Flying Cross."
Ron simply remained standing, straight as an arrow, as the admiral pinned the multi-colored medallion to his left breast, just below his wings.
Kim didn't need to be told the back-story behind this award. She knew this must be in reference to his dogfight against the Migs, in the skies east of the Philippines. He had saved her entire family on that glorious day, and now he was getting the recognition he so richly deserved. She smiled, and suddenly found herself fighting back tears. Ron had been a nearly constant presence in her life for as long as she could remember, and now, standing in this place, she was more proud of him than she had ever been of anyone before.
"We can BOTH do the impossible." She smiled to herself, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
When the admiral was done, he said nothing. Instead, he simply took two steps back, and looked Ron squarely in the eyes. Then, he saluted.
"Saaaaaa-luuuuute… HUH!" was the command, as over six thousand uniformed individuals let loose with a perfectly synchronized salute, paying tribute to the man in their midst.
To his credit, Ron didn't say a word. There was none of his characteristic big headiness: there was no victory dance, no fist pumping, no victorious cry of "booyah." This was a solemn and sacred occasion, so obvious in its magnitude that even his easily distracted mind could comprehend its gravity.
Instead, he simply returned the admiral's salute, then turned on his heel and strode back to his position amongst the cadets. The assembled mass of uniformed men maintained their salutes for the entirety of his walk. They knew they were in the presence of greatness.
And almost as if to drive that point home, there came at that moment a monumental roar from above, as a formation of four F-8 Crusaders thundered overhead, their engines running at full afterburner. Like a quartet of winged demons, they streaked in from the south, flying directly down the line of the flight deck, then pitching up into a steep climb once they had passed. The screaming roar they produced was so loud that it threatened to split the sky itself wide open, and its vibrations could be felt throughout one's entire body.
Kim now found it difficult to refrain from calling out to Ron above the din. She wanted to stand on the rail and shout out to all those present, "That's my boyfriend down there!" Fortunately, decorum and restraint finally won out, but the pride she felt in Ron, her Ron, made it almost unbearable.
"Well done, potential boy…" she thought silently to herself. "Damn well done!"
Clear blue skies slowly faded to amber yellow as afternoon turned to evening, inviting the breeze to intensify slightly, whipping briskly along the length of the flight deck. Across its expansive surface, dozens of men in brightly colored uniforms scurried about, directing traffic, readying planes, loading the catapults, and so forth. From a distance, the spectacle looked like a cross between an ant farm and a troupe of circus clowns.
To spite the advancing hour and the strengthening winds, Kim remained at her post on Vultures' Row. With the ceremony now concluded, deck crews had cleared away all signs of the event, returning the carrier to a much more normal state of appearance. The standing order was now to prepare the deck and launch the few remaining pilots who would be flying their own aircraft home with them.
Kim waited with baited breath. Any minute now, Ron was due to be called onto the deck and prepped. She had never seen a carrier launch in person before today, and she so desperately wanted to be there to see Ron off.
She was beyond disappointed, then, when her father tapped her on her shoulder.
"C'mon, Kimmie-cub." James Possible called his daughter. "We need to be getting to the airport. Two hours early for domestic flights, you know."
"Awwwww… daddy!" Kim whined. Ron's gonna be launching any minute now, and the airport isn't that far from here. Can we please stay and watch?"
"I don't know, sweetie." James replied. "Evening traffic in this city can be a real…"
The remainder of his sentence died on his lips as he looked at his daughter. The enlarged eyes… the protruding lip… the shrugged shoulders… these were all indicative of only one thing: Kim had gone into full-blown "Puppy Dog Pout" mode.
"Ugh… Shields weakening… Back-ups off line…" he stammered, staring straight into the most sympathetic green eyes he had ever seen.
When he finally released a sound that was half sigh and half groan, Kim knew she had won the battle.
"Oh, thanks daddy!" she sang as she enthusiastically embraced her father. "Thank you so much!"
"Heh, you know me…" James replied. "Anything for my little Kimmie-cub."
"Excuse me, Miss Possible?" an anonymous voice from behind them suddenly interjected.
A young corporal was standing just a few feet away, and he held in his hands what appeared to be a package of some sort, wrapped in brown paper.
"Lieutenant Commander Stoppable requested that this be given to you." The young man stated, offering forth the parcel in question.
Kim took the package, not knowing what Ron was getting at by sending it to her. She looked back over the railing toward the flight deck, just in time to see Sky Rat being lifted up on one of the massive elevators.
Standing next to his plane and dressed in full flight gear, Ron began to slowly stalk his way around the sleek craft, inspecting every component, panel and protrusion. Slowly and methodically, he circled the entire plane, allowing no detail, no matter how small, to escape his attention.
Kim now returned her own attention to the package in her hands. Carefully unwrapping the paper, she exposed a piece of olive green fabric.
At first, she thought Ron had managed to find for her another pair of the green cargo pants that she loved so much, and whose discontinuance by Club Banana had disappointed her so. Then she dug a little deeper into the package, and realized that there was far more material present than one would expect from a simple pair of pants.
It was a jump suit, she soon discovered. And not just any jump suit, mind you, but a genuine flight suit, complete with insignia patches and the shoulder stripes of an Ensign. She quickly remembered the sight of her name painted on Ron's plane, with this very rank preceding it.
"The Lieutenant also wanted to give you this." The young corporal broke in once again, offering another object for Kim's inspection.
This time, the object was a helmet: A typical pilot's helmet, painstakingly airbrushed in the stylized likeness of a fox.
The detail of the work was downright exquisite. The texture of the fur was so realistic that one swore it would be soft to the touch, the whiskers seemed to bristle of their own accord, and then there were the eyes.
Two brilliant, soul-piercing green eyes seemed to actually follow you wherever you went. They made the work seem to have a life and a spirit all its own, and they could send chills down your spine, even on the warmest of days.
Not knowing what to say, Kim looked toward the flight deck once again. Ron was now standing directly in front of Sky Rat, looking straight at her. He crossed his arms casually over his chest, and shrugged his shoulders with a smile. The entirety of his expression and body language was completely unambiguous in the message it was conveying:
"Well… Are you coming along or not?"
Kim turned to look expectantly toward her father, ready to throw her PDP into overdrive if necessary.
James could do nothing more than smile at his only daughter. He knew that resistance was futile, and that any attempt to do so would only result in another dose of her irresistible pouting. Besides, her ticket home was refundable, and a buck saved is a buck earned, after all.
"Okay Kimmie-cub," James finally relented. "You go get suited up and we'll see you and Ronald when we all get back to Middleton."
"Oh thank you, daddy!" Kim squealed, throwing her arms around her father and giving him a peck on the cheek. "This means so much to me! You totally Rock!"
"I know, honey." James replied. "Just be safe up there."
"I will, dad." Kim responded, grabbing up the package and helmet, and running off to find a place to change.
Ten minutes later, a lithesome redhead, her flowing locks radiating in the golden hue of sunset, strode onto the flight deck. It had taken some doing to get into her new gear, not being familiar with the subtle nuances of a G-suit. Fortunately, a kind-hearted airman had been generous enough to show her what buckles attached to what straps, and within minutes she was ready to go.
Walking onto the open expanse of the flight deck with her helmet tucked snuggly under her left arm, Kim noted what a strange sensation the relatively simple act brought about. There was something about walking across a tarmac, she quickly discovered: You just naturally want to strut. She walked straight and true, with her shoulders back and her head held high, and just the slightest amount of swagger in her hips.
Oh yeah… She could get used to this.
Making a B-line across the deck, her eyes never deviated from her chosen destination: The gleaming F-14 now parked just behind the number two catapult. The plane's high-gloss paint seemed to positively glow in the setting sun, and with it's wings now spread wide for take-off, it looked as though it could fly her to heaven itself.
And in a sense, she thought to herself, that was just what it was going to do. After three long, agonizing, heart-rending months, she was once again going to be sharing a plane ride in close proximity to Ron: Three months that had seemed like an eternity.
"Is that really all it's been?" Kim asked herself, thinking back to their trip home from Go City after defeating Electronique. That had been the last time she had experienced physical contact with him until this afternoon, and in the intervening months, it seemed as though she had aged a lifetime. She had been across the highest emotional peaks and through the deepest valleys. She had circled the globe searching for him, dealing with more disappointment and heartbreak than she ever dreamed she could endure. There had been days when she had missed him so bad that it literally hurt, and lonely nights when she had cried herself to sleep. She had wanted him… she had needed him… and now she had him once again.
Walking briskly up behind Ron while his back was turned, she grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Startled by the sudden intrusion into his pre-flight inspection, he didn't have time to respond before two slender arms had wrapped themselves around his chest, and a soft face was buried into the spot where his shoulder met his neck.
Kim released a deep sigh of pure contentment as Ron returned the embrace, practically melting into him in the process. This was what she had missed and longed for: To simply rest in Ron's arms, and let the world around them just fade away. This was what both her spirit and her soul craved, and now that this wish had been fulfilled, all was well with the world once again.
"So you ready to fly?" Ron asked softly, not yet breaking the embrace.
"In a minute, baby." Kim whispered in return. This was a truly magical moment for her, and she wasn't quite ready to release it to the realm of memories just yet.
She allowed the embrace to linger for several seconds longer before finally, reluctantly, releasing Ron from her grasp. When she did, her emerald green orbs were immediately captured by his chocolate browns, and the sense of completion and belonging that she had felt when she first embraced him on the hangar deck returned in full force. She flashed a smile that threatened to split her face in two.
"Okay, I'm ready." She informed Ron. "Let's blow this pop stand."
"With pleasure." He replied, turning to stride toward the cockpit. "Let's ace this place!"
Minutes later, both teens were strapped securely into the Tomcat's cockpit, and the protective bubble of the canopy was snapped closed around them. As the pair was loaded into the catapult and the blast deflector was raised into place behind them, Ron briefed Kim on what was about to happen.
"Okay now, just be ready." He stated emphatically. "This is going to be quite a ride, so you'll wanna hold onto something."
"Pfft… As if!" Kim chided in return. "I jump out of airplanes on a regular basis, remember? I think I can handle a simple cata… AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!"
Caught off guard by the firing of the catapult, Kim was violently thrown back into her seat by the sudden burst of acceleration. Sky Rat raced down the deck at breakneck speed, dropping slightly as the deck fell away, then pitching sharply upward and rolling three times as the gear snapped firmly ino place beneath them.
It was with no small amount of embarrassment that Kim realized the screaming she was now hearing was her own.
Of course Ron's laughter coming from in front of her wasn't helping matters much, either.
"Just for the record, that was so not funny, mister." She growled from her position in the rear of the cockpit.
Ron stopped laughing and swallowed hard. There were just some lines that no man should ever cross, and the enraged teen heroine behind him was one of those lines.
"Heh, yeah… I guess it wasn't." He said sheepishly, looking over his shoulder to flash a guilty smile.
Kim just smiled in return. He was so darn cute when he smiled like that… she just wanted to crawl into his lap and give him a kiss that would short out the avionics and send the whole plane into a tailspin.
As it was, she forced herself to be content with a view of the back of his head as he banked Sky Rat onto its left wing and began a long, sweeping turn across the southern end of the bay. To their right, they could see the skyline of San Jose, and to their left, the entirety of San Francisco bay was spread out beneath them, its shimmering waters, emerald islands and sparkling cities all staring back at them in crystal clarity.
Completing the turn, Ron brought the nose up slightly, climbing toward his designated cruising altitude for the flight. Now flying a compass heading of due north, he would hold this line until he reached 38,000 feet. Then he would turn the sleek bird to the east, and head toward the home he hadn't seen for nearly three months.
He felt his thoughts drifting toward images of that home when Kim's voice from behind him brought him back to the present moment.
"So, what gives with the invitation?" Kim asked with a smile.
"Oh, you mean 'why the ride?'" Ron inquired.
"Yeah, that would be it."
"Well, after all this time, I thought we needed some time to get re-acquainted." Ron replied with a shrug and a smile.
"Hmmmm… I like the way you think." Kim cooed, loosening her harness to lean forward and snake her arms around Ron's shoulders.
"And besides," Ron continued, "I wanted to show you my office."
"Oh yeah… Your office." Kim responded playfully. "I like what you've done with the place, although it is a little light in the furnishings department."
"True," Ron responded in turn. "But what it lacks in amenities, it makes up for with the view." He flexed a thumb, indicating that Kim should look out the left side of the cockpit.
When she did, the sight that greeted her nearly took her breath away.
By this point they were directly over the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge, and dead even with downtown San Francisco. From their current altitude, they could see the entirety of the glittering city below, and the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean that lay beyond.
The sun was just now setting into the sea, turning the sparkling waters into a hue of pure liquid gold. The suddenly gilded sea reflected this golden aura back upward toward the heavens from which it had come, mixing with shades of vermilion and magenta, warm oranges, deep purples and soothing blues. Every shade of nature's grand palate was reflected in both the sea and the glass skyscrapers of the city skyline, while the familiar form of the Golden Gate Bridge seemed to take on an iridescence all its own, radiating a shade of peach that turned the earth and sea alive with an explosion of warmth and color.
"My God, Ron… It's… it's… beautiful." Kim stammered, finding it difficult to speak in the presence of such a stunning vision.
"Yeah… I know." Ron sighed, drinking the grandeur of the cosmic pageant. "I guess that's another reason I invited you along. I wanted you to see what I've been seeing all this time. Beauty deserves beauty, after all."
Kim smiled and tightened her arms around Ron. He had the sweetest ways of paying her compliments, and what made it better was that he always meant every word of it.
"Yeah, thanks for the invite." She purred. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to share it with you."
"But you were." Ron replied, reaching toward the cockpit's display panel. He tenderly pulled the wallet-sized photo from the glass screen and passed it back to Kim, who gasped when she recognized the image of herself in her cheer uniform. She somehow knew that Ron had been carrying this with him in the cockpit for the entire time they had been separated.
"You were with me every step of the way." Ron stated, a faint hint of emotion creeping into his voice.
Kim's embrace tightened even further as she realized just how much Ron meant this. She was his entire world, in more ways than she had ever previously dreamed she could be, and she now understood how difficult their prolonged separation had been on him.
She wasn't the only one who had been struggling over the past three months, she now knew. As hard as their separation had been on her, it had been just as hard for him: Perhaps even more so, as his situation was compounded by unfamiliar surroundings and a lifestyle that could not have been more foreign to him. For a quarter of a year, he had endured all of this, ultimately emerging triumphant in the end… And he had done it all for her.
As Sky Rat turned gently turned its tail toward the setting sun and raced eastward into the approaching night, Kim leaned forward to place her head on Ron's shoulder, and slowly began drifting off to sleep. Lulled by the monotonous drone of the engines and the steady pace of Ron's breathing, the veil of sweet slumber quickly descended over her. As the last vestiges of consciousness released her, Kim's final waking thought was of just how much she loved him.
Author's Notes:
About San Francisco: As someone who has spent their entire life residing within a 90-minute driving range of San Francisco, I can assure you that my descriptions of the city are based on first-hand experience.
For those of you who aren't completely familiar with the geography of the bay area, San Francisco sits on the tip of a peninsula, with the Pacific Ocean to its west, the bay to its east, and the Golden Gate Channel to its north. All-in-all, it's probably one of the worst places to locate a major metropolitan center, but the city is where it is, so there's really no point in harping about it... spilt milk and what not.
It is the northern section of the city, nearest the bridge, that is home to all of the tourist hot spots and picture-postcard vistas. Attractions such as Telegraph Hill, the Hyde Street cable car line, the Maritime Museum, Fisherman's Wharf, China Town, Pier 39 and the Transamerica Pyramid are all in this part of the city.
As you move south down the peninsula, however, things start to become decidedly less scenic. South of Van Ness Avenue, you encounter lower income neighborhoods such as the Mission and Tenderloin districts, and the Balboa Park neighborhood. Move even further south, past the China Basin area, and the landscape turns to light industrial, with vast stretches of warehouses, metal fabrication plants, machine shops and small factories. This is the San Francisco that very few tourists ever get to see.
Along the eastern shore of the peninsula in this area is a large spit of land known as Candlestick Point, and it is from this geographical feature that the adjacent Candlestick Park takes its name. (Okay… So they've technically got a corporate sponsor now, and they're calling it 3Com, or Monster Park, or whatever the hell they're calling it this week… but to me it will always be "The Stick!" You got that, corporate America? Good! …End of rant)
Hunter's Point: Visible from the south parking lot of Candlestick Park, Hunter's Point was a major shipyard of the U.S. Navy going back to the days of World War Two. In an era when San Francisco was the official home of the American Pacific Fleet, Hunter's Point was a vital hub of operations, its large dry-docks and servicing facilities hosting everything from cargo ships and destroyer escorts to battlewagons and aircraft carriers.
Activities at the point began to wind down when the bulk of Pacific Fleet operations were transferred to San Diego several years ago. Today, Hunter's Point has been decommissioned by the Navy, and is undergoing a major redevelopment effort, undertaken by the city of San Francisco itself.
Boreas and Notus: These names come from Greek mythology. To the ancient Greeks, Boreas and Notus were the gods of the northern and southern winds, respectively. Boreas was known for bringing cold winter air into the region of the Mediterranean, while Notus was known as the bringer of unpredictable storms in late summer and autumn. The eastern and western winds were the domains of Eurus and Zephyrus.
And for those of you who are up on your naval history, you're probably still asking yourselves the question, "Twenty-inch guns?"
This is somewhat the product of my own overactive imagination. In the wonderful world of reality, the largest naval guns ever mounted are the 18.1-inch weapons carried by the Japanese super-battleship "Yamato" during the Second World War. Her sister ship "Musashi" was also intended to carry such armaments, but was instead fitted with 16-inch guns similar to those carried by the American Iowa-class battlewagons. It was intended that Musashi would later be upgraded to the larger 18.1-inch armaments, but she was lost at the battle of Sibuyan Sea before such work could be carried out. A third member of the Yamato class, the "Shinano," was converted into a super-carrier following the disastrous Battle of Midway, and never received battleship armaments.
Names: Okay, so I had a little fun with the names in this chapter. Every author has a certain silly streak that he just needs to let out every so often. (If he doesn't, then he spontaneously combusts… or so I'm told.)
Have fun figuring out the hidden double-meanings, and think of it as my personal gift to all my tremendously wonderful readers. (Insert hideous kissing-sound here)
Also, as many of you have almost certainly figured out already, the name of the Red Tails commanding officer is my personal tribute to Commander Argus: One of the most talented and prolific writers in the entire KP fandom. If you haven't already checked his page out, do it! His "It Finally Happened" story arc kicks serious buttage.
Chance-Vought F-8 Crusader: Originally designated the F8U, the Crusader was a supersonic, single-engine, carrier-based fighter built by the Chance-Vought Company: Makers of the famous F4U Corsair. First flown on March 25, 1955, the Crusader became legendary in the skies over Vietnam, acquiring an operational record surpassed only by that of the McDonnell F-4 Phantom. The last Crusaders, operated by naval reserve units, were decommissioned in 1987.
Flight Deck Uniforms: The flight deck of an aircraft carrier can be a truly colorful environment, but this is not without its purpose. Every person on deck has a set of specific responsibilities, and the color of his uniform indicates to all others just what those responsibilities are.
White uniforms denote that the wearer is charged with enforcing safety protocols and administering to the injured in the event of an accident. Men in purple uniforms are known as "grapes," and are responsible for the fueling of aircraft on deck.
A blue uniform denotes traffic control, and the wearer is charged with regulating the movement of aircraft about the flight and hangar decks. Green uniforms operate the catapults and arresting gear, while a red uniform handles ordinance and munitions.
The Airport: SFO, as San Francisco International Airport is known, is located on a strip of land along the shoreline of the bay, just a few miles south of Hunter's Point. Getting from one to the other is easily accomplished via the US-101 freeway.
Well, our heroes are back together, so the universe is back in balance once again. We're only one chapter away from the end now: A short epilogue wrapping everything up, and one that hopefully won't take too long to write.
I want to take this opportunity to thank every one who has read this piece, and especially everyone who thought enough of it to leave a review. Looking back, I'm shocked at how something I originally planned to be a six-chapter story has snowballed into a twelve-chapter labor that has already surpassed 58,000 words. I suppose I should also thank everyone for putting up with me in this way. I know I tend to run off at the keyboard sometimes, and I honestly hope I haven't left too many of you bored or overwhelmed.
And on a somewhat related note, with this chapter I officially surpass the 100,000 word mark on this website! (Does small victory dance with a rubber chicken.) (Sorry... It's a long story with a lot of personal issues involved.)
Anyhooooo… Enjoy the chapter and leave a review if the spirit moves you. Remember to wear asbestos gloves when flaming, and I'll see everyone when the final chapter hits the press.
And remember too: If you can't say something nice... then you're probably a professional movie critic.
Nutzkie…