Airwolf and all associated characters (except mine) are owned by Belisarius Productions, NBC Universal Television, Atlantis Communications. All persons described herein are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental. Copyright infringement is not intended.

Chapter 6: Flight Plan

Nadine cleared her throat and mentally prepared herself. This was the real deal. Despite her successes on the Firm's simulator, flying a helicopter was way different from a fixed-wing. She positioned her feet on the antitorque pedals, wrapped her right hand around the cyclic stick, and pulled back slowly on the collective arm. The rotors whined and there was a slight shudder as the helicopter lifted off. "Gear up," she ordered.

"Gear up," Michael responded, and a clunk sounded. "Looking good so far. All systems are in the green. It's hard to believe that she hasn't been in the air for over twenty years. Moffett might have been insane, but he could design things to last. And I'll give Vogel this: he knows how to take care of an aircraft."

"We have no time to put her through her paces properly," Nadine said ruefully as she eased the chopper into forward motion. "Have you programmed in the rendezvous coordinates?"

"I have, they should be showing on your side. At our top conventional speed, we'll be there in a little under an hour."

"Assuming everything goes well."

He sighed. "There is that." Then he typed some more, and there was a subtle change in the sound of the engines. "Stealth mode engaged. Radar scrambling active. How familiar are you with nap-of-the-earth flying?"

"I thought modern radar made low-level avoidance techniques ineffective," she protested. "Besides, I have a civilian license, not a military one. I'm not trained in ground-hugging."

"Do your best, because we can't afford to be spotted. I'll monitor the sensors and warn you if you need to check your altitude." Then Michael gave a chuckle and said in a reminiscent tone, "The first time I flew with Hawke, he scared the pants off of me by cruising at Mach 1 at only a hundred feet off the ground. That's when it sank in what a damn good pilot he was. Flying was second nature to him."

Nadine whistled. "Wow. I could never aspire to be that good." As much as she enjoyed the challenge of flying, she knew her own limitations and was aware that she could only be a competent pilot at best. "No wonder you worked so well with him."

"I wouldn't say that," he demurred. "We weren't even friendly at first, and we butted heads often because he had a high disdain for politics. But we did respect each other."

She did a quick check of the instrumentation again before increasing their speed with more confidence. "How are you feeling so far?" she ventured to ask.

"Truthfully? Like a million dollars," was his ardent response. "Despite the circumstances, I have to admit that I'm impressed. It doesn't surprise me at all that Vogel is so eager to capitalize on this 'youth serum' of his. Who wouldn't pay to be young again?"

Nadine hummed thoughtfully. "I noticed, though, that neither he nor his wife have used it themselves. They know that the effects are temporary, and almost certainly lethal, but they're selling it anyway. Do you think they intend to extort the buyers somehow, like they did with Pierre Gerard?"

"That's highly probable," Michael said. "The question remains, what's their end game? Olga Fokichna made it clear that she's doing her part out of revenge for the killing of Karl Krüger and his men. Vogel, however, is a harder nut to crack."

"We don't know how Hans Keller fits into this either," she reminded him. "My gut tells me that his being on that train wasn't a coincidence, given the recording of Airwolf's howl that I heard. What if we're all being played?"

He was silent for a few seconds. "If that's true, we might have bigger problems. It would mean that someone in the Firm engineered this entire situation." Then he started to type at his console again. "One thing that they didn't take into account, though, was Airwolf herself. Do you still have the prosthesis?"

"Yes." She locked the collective into position temporarily so she could work the tiny object out of her sleeve. Then she held it out behind her so he could take it. "What are you going to do?"

There was a smugness in Michael's reply. "I had the micro-camera running the entire time. With a bit of luck, I can download the information and send it to Principia through the Firm's communications satellite. Then she'll be able to take further action." He typed some more and then sighed. "Thing is, this isn't exactly plug and play. The actual file formats haven't changed much in the last twenty-five years, but finding the right frequency to use to retrieve them is…" His voice trailed off.

"What?"

"The Lady beat me to it; I'd forgotten that she has a frequency scanner. We're in business. Transmitting the information now." He pressed a button.

She couldn't help chuckling. "Incredible. A thirty-year-old chopper has Bluetooth."

"Effectively, yes. I did say that Moffett was a mad genius."

"It's sad that he couldn't see beyond his own avarice," Nadine commented. "He could've done a great many good things."

"The same could be said for a lot of people," her boss noted. "Vogel included. But he's already wealthy, so why would he force Gerard to steal financial information if money was no object?"

Nadine theorized, "Unless those records pertained to specific individuals whom Vogel wanted to deal with?"

After a pause, Michael said, "You might have something there. I'm going to try to access the Firm's database directly; by now they should've been able to determine exactly what Gerard had stolen."

Surprised, she asked, "Wouldn't your access codes have been deleted when you retired?"

Now it was his turn to laugh. "Have you forgotten? A good operative always gives themselves a way out. Or in this case, a back door." His keystrokes became more confident. "I didn't get as far as I did in the Firm without staying one step ahead of everyone else. Here we are." He paused as he read something on his screen. "The info that Gerard passed to Keller consisted primarily of account numbers and holdings for several prominent French and German businessmen, particularly those in the pharmaceutical industry."

One possibility leapt to Nadine's mind. "Extortion, or blackmail. Vogel could've been looking for help to perfect his serum and potentially mass-produce it without bringing it to public attention."

"Keeping his own company clean at the same time," Michael agreed. "That way he might be able to circumvent the government regulations and control who gets the doses. Imagine: a corrupt judge who can stay on the bench indefinitely, or a dictator who can rule his country for generations."

She glanced at the briefcase in the co-pilot's seat beside her. "What's in here could be samples for such an endeavour. Maybe we should destroy it."

"No," said Michael sharply. "That would give Vogel an excuse not to give us the antidote." He unzipped his flight suit partway and fumbled with his shirt collar. "The guards who searched me were amateurs and didn't find the transponder I'm wearing. I'll attach it to the case so it can be tracked later."

"Where does he get those wonderful toys?" Nadine asked sarcastically.

"You wouldn't expect me to come into a situation like this unprepared, would you?" he retorted, but without heat. "I've been nabbed enough times in the past to have the wisdom to take precautions. And before you ask, Christina has one also, so I can sacrifice mine without too much of an issue at this point. Look." He reached forward; in his hand was a thin circular chip the size of a shirt button. "Pass me the case and I'll hide this in the lining."

She did so. "If I ever do this again, I'm making sure to get some of those gadgets for myself."

"Think of it this way," Michael said with amusement colouring his tone, "you're flying the best gadget of all right now."

They reached the rendezvous coordinates without incident. A dark-coloured car was waiting for them at the edge of a large field, and as Nadine carefully brought Airwolf down, four armed men emerged. "I suggest that I do the handover," she said. "With you appearing the way you do right now, we shouldn't risk your being recognized."
"That's prudent. Good luck."

After removing her helmet and disconnecting her G-suit, she took hold of the case's handle firmly. It wouldn't do to drop it in her nervousness. Then she clambered out of the helicopter and approached the men, one of whom was carrying another briefcase. Presumably, the payment.

"Halt!" one of them said, and motioned for her to put her case down on the ground. She obeyed and backed up a few steps. The man with the case approached and substituted them, but he eyed her suspiciously. "Polizei?" he asked gruffly.

She gulped and called up her limited knowledge of German. He wanted to know if she was a police officer. Shaking her head, she said, "Pilot."

Fortunately, he seemed to accept that, and walked away with the vials. Another man gestured that she could pick up the payment and go. She did so and retraced her steps, wanting to hurry, but also being aware that showing haste or fear might prompt the men to shoot or otherwise react. Once safely back inside Airwolf, she carefully put the case on the co-pilot's seat and began to reconnect herself.

"I did a scan of that case," said Michael, startling her. "It looks clear, there's no electronics or explosives in it. Airwolf also noted the license plate of that car: it's registered to a privately-owned pharmaceutical research centre in Munich."

"Long way from home," she observed. "At least now we have more evidence."

Suddenly he uttered a strangled noise. Nadine twisted in her seat to see that his face was flushed and he seemed to be having difficulty focusing. "Michael?!"

He swallowed hard and dragged in a breath. "I think the serum is starting to wear off."

This was bad! "Why? It hasn't even been ninety minutes!"

"Maybe my advanced age shortened the time frame," he guessed. "It doesn't matter. We need to get back pronto."

"On it." She spooled up Airwolf's systems and lifted the helicopter into the air. "Gear up."

"Done," Michael said, his voice strained.

After checking her instruments, she guided them back the way they had come. "Don't you die on me now."

He let out a chuckle. "I survived a missile strike. There's no way in hell that I'm going to let this get me."

It was bravado, and they both knew it. The serum's effects would eventually kill him unless they got the antidote. Therefore, she had no choice but to push Airwolf to her limit. "Lock rotors in six, five, four…"

"Now who's certifiable?" Michael grumbled, but he reached for the rotor control.

When she reached zero, she pressed the Turbo button on the cyclic.

With a roar of jet engines the aircraft surged forward, breaking the sound barrier in six seconds and leaving an eerie howl in its wake.

They landed on the roof of Alpensegler twenty minutes later, by which time Michael was weak, sweating, and in severe pain. Nadine performed the requisite systems shutdown as quickly as possible as two men helped Michael descend from the helicopter. Then she took a firm hold of the briefcase. After she exited, she was flanked by two more men as she walked toward the door that led into the castle.

Dr. Vogel met her in the doorway, a large grin on his face. "Excellent, excellent," he enthused. "You have my compliments." He took the case from her. "Now, your reward. Follow me, please." They all returned to the room where the agents had been held previously, only this time there were two gurneys present. Michael lay on one, and Ms. Fokichna began to examine him. Christina was sitting on the other, looking apprehensive.

When Christina saw Nadine she said eagerly, "Everything went well? We're good now, right?"

"How are you doing?" Nadine asked. Although the younger woman was clearly agitated, she seemed to be unaffected by the serum at all.

"I'm feeling fine right now," Christina said, "but Ms. Fokichna insisted that I'll be experiencing the side-effects within the hour. What's happening to Archangel?"

Ms. Fokichna straightened up and regarded her husband impassively. "For some reason, the process has accelerated. He needs the counter-agent immediately."

Vogel flourished his free hand dramatically. "I do believe that is your cue, my dear. I have some business to attend to, and then we can proceed with the next phase." He strode out.

Ms. Fokichna put her hands on her hips and regarded Michael for a moment, and then turned to pick up a syringe from a tray that lay on a nearby table. "The moment of my revenge has arrived," she said conversationally. "Only one detail remains. You, pilot," she addressed Nadine, "you may choose which one of your friends lives."

Christina went white. "What?"

"This was not the agreement!" Nadine shouted as she mentally kicked herself. She should've expected a double-cross.

The older woman smiled crookedly. "The agreement was that the counter-agent would be made available. It was never specified that there would be enough for two. Choose."

Nadine felt herself going cold. This was why Vogel had asked her if she'd ever killed someone. It was a sadistic choice to have to doom one person in order to save another; a choice that many people would find nearly impossible to make. In this instance, the logical option would be to save Michael, no matter what her personal feelings happened to be. He was more experienced, more knowledgeable, and therefore more valuable alive. And he was dying right in front of her. She bowed her head and whispered, "Archangel."

Christina abruptly slid off her gurney. "That's the second time you've chosen him."

"Yes, because of who he is, and what he knows," Nadine countered, barely managing to keep her voice even. "Every agent knows that they might face a life-or-death situation at any time; it's not an easy thing to do. You are supposed to be a professional, so stop acting like a rookie."

"Dina." Michael's rebuke was weak but stern. "Let Christina have the antidote. You both will be more likely to survive long-term than I am, and you're smart enough to figure a way out of this."

"How very admirable of you to sacrifice yourself," Ms. Fokichna said mockingly as she cast a glance over her shoulder at Michael. "I know as well as you do that as far as your government is concerned, you are all expendable. But it doesn't matter to me." She began to saunter in Christina's direction.

Nadine couldn't help herself; she tried to move forward in order to snatch the syringe. One of the guards blocked her way and aimed his weapon at her. Another guard grabbed Christina and held her so that Ms. Fokichna could administer the antidote. The same guard then forced the younger woman to leave the room.

Smiling broadly, Ms. Fokichna told a despondent Nadine, "I said that I had wanted to strike back. He shall die quite painfully. And then my husband will probably insist that you train that child on how to help you operate the helicopter, so he can continue his plans. But that will be his business." She sent one last contemptuous look at Michael, who was now having difficulty breathing. "It'll be over soon. Fighting is useless. I'll leave you alone to say your farewells." Beckoning crisply to the guards, she left, and the men followed, locking the door behind them.

Immediately she dashed to Michael's side and took his hand. "I'm so sorry, I–"

"No need," he interrupted. "I should've told the Firm… to go to hell, and left well enough alone. You were… stressed out already, without this."

She shook her head vehemently. "You believed in me, Michael, at a time when I'd lost faith in myself. I owed it to you."

He weakly gave one of his half-smiles. "That's all right, then."

It was heartbreaking to watch him fade away in front of her, knowing that there was nothing she could do. If she could exchange places with him, she would. Something nagged at her mind, something important that she had to remember in order to possibly find a solution for this quandary. She had a degree in biology and had taken several courses in medicine during her forensic science degree. What could she figure out that the doctors who'd attempted to treat Pierre Gerard could not? Especially without any equipment? Quickly she made mental notes of Michael's worsening symptoms. Also, the comment that Ms. Fokichna had let slip about fighting being useless stood out…

Stress. Michael was suffering from an overload of stress hormones: adrenaline, cortisol, and norepinephrine. Whatever the serum did to reverse the aging process also triggered a massive amount of hormonal activity. And the harder the subject resisted, the more hormones their system would pump into the bloodstream until their heart failed.

The most widely used anti-stress medication was Prozac, but they had no access to any. Another way to combat stress was to raise the body's levels of dopamine and endorphins. As a scientist, she knew of a number of ways to naturally boost endorphin production, but the situation right now precluded most of them.

The obvious one repulsed her as she thought about it; that would be breaking all kinds of rules, written and not… which she was willing to do, she realized with a jerk, if it would save him. She leaned closer. "Michael," she murmured, "I know what's wrong, and I might be able to help reverse this. You need to spike your dopamine levels."

His eyes widened as he read her expression. "I know what you're thinking," he managed to gasp. "Don't demean yourself. I'm far too old and cynical. I have too many scars, too many regrets."

She gave a rueful smile. "You're not old any more – physically, anyway."

"Doesn't matter," he insisted. "Get out of here, find Christina, and escape. That's an order."

For the first time ever, she disobeyed him. This went beyond any perceived debt; she cared about him enough to want to do this. "Please, you have to stop fighting," she begged. "Do you think you're impressing me by sacrificing yourself? By trying to be a hero? How can you be so cold?"

"It's what kept me alive until now," he said.

"No, it's what kept you alone all these years. Let it go for once. Put aside the Archangel persona and be Michael. Be the kind and insightful man who taught me that the world is much more nuanced than black and white."

He gave a pained half-chuckle, half-cough. "I can't… God knows I want to, but... Not like this. Not you. But there was never a chance."

The confession stunned her for a moment, but there was no time to think about it, so she had to discount it as his being affected by another side-effect of the serum. "I'm okay with it, I promise. I don't want you to die. Being your angel has been the best thing that's happened to me."

His face transformed into pure admiration. "Dina," he whispered, part in entreaty and part in apology, then he pulled her down to him. Their lips touched, softly at first, and then more hungrily.

In enemy territory, under an all but certain death sentence, two lost souls found each other.