"Flying?" David repeated.

"Yeah," Chris responded with the expression of an eager child.

"In a shuttle from your ship?"

"Ah no. Something a bit older." Chris looked over their standard school uniform, cotton oxford shirts and navy pants. "Though both of you will need warmer clothes. Follow me." Within fifteen minutes each boy had a bag with a sweater, jacket, and sunglasses. "The airfield is a couple of miles outside of town. Shall we walk?"

David glanced to his brother. Zach nodded in response to the unspoken question. He decided to take him at his word rather than cause Zach embarrassment. "Yes," both said at once.

The airfield looked to be a couple of centuries old. And in fact it was. It consisted of two large, well-used, banged-up hangers with tin roofs, a small office, a dirt airstrip, and a paved runway. An elderly man raised a hand in greeting as the trio approached. "Heard Enterprise was home. I got her ready to go just in case you stopped by."

"Thanks Jack. These are my nephews David and Zach." Chris shook Jack's hand while he introduced the boys.

"Yeah, heard about your marriage as well. Bring your wife by sometime so I can kick the tires and make sure she's sound? Hello boys."

Zach giggled at Jack's metaphor. "Hello."

David held out his hand to Jack, mimicking Chris' earlier gesture.

"You're the next introduction after my folks," Chris assured with a fond smile.

Jack nodded. "Do you have a flight plan in mind? I'll file it after I've towed her out."

"North to Santa Barbara, over to Catalina Island, and back."

"There's a bit a weather around Santa Clarita, but nothing an experienced pilot can't handle."

"OK. My bag still in the locker?"

"Right where you left it. Come on boys I'll show you a bit of history while your uncle gets changed."

When Chris joined them, Zach had already climbed into the front seat of the biplane while David's attention was consumed with the instrument panel in the cockpit behind it. "I'll take care of the preflight check Jack. Thanks for everything."

"Sure thing. Your flight path is approved. Santa Clarita has you until Santa Monica control takes over. I'll be monitoring channel 122.9. Have fun boys. You're in for a treat."

"Time for the sweaters, jackets, sunglasses. It gets cold and bright above 10,000 feet. Zach, I need you to climb out for a minute while I check the landing gear."

"Is this yours?" Zach asked brimming with excitement.

"Yes. My grandfather and I restored it. Most everything is original except the engine uses a power cell rather than avgas. My grandfather made the parts that had to be replaced according to de Havilland's design specifications. So it flies exactly like the 1933 Tiger Moths," Chris answered as he walked around the plane inspecting it closely.

"Look Zach, all the instruments are analog," David's said in an animated tone.

"Cool."

Chris smiled at their enthusiasm. He drew an air rectangle around six dials on the panel just above the yoke. "Those were once known as the aviator's six pack; they are the primary flight instruments, airspeed, attitude, altimeter, vertical speed, heading, and turn coordinator. In the 1930's this model was part of the training fleet for British Royal Air Force pilots. During World War II, Tiger Moths patrolled coastlines, searched for submarines, evacuated prisoners and the wounded, and flew light bombing raids. She has a top speed of 135 miles per hour, the power cell gives a boost there, and a cruising speed of 112. The ceiling rating is 14,000 feet, but I've had her up to 16,500. Even though this model is forgiving with new pilots, it's fully aerobatic in the right hands … I've slipped into Professor Chris, haven't I?" At their puzzled looks he added, "It's a … I don't know … nickname? … title? Aalin coined it." He rubbed his chin. "I'm still unsure if it's a term of endearment or a tease. And when I ask her, she just smiles and pats my arm."

David ran his hand gingerly over the maroon fuselage. "Your grandfather is an engineer?"

"A mechanic. That term was important to him; he was proud of it. Jack was one of his apprentices. Though my grandfather was naturally talented in engineering, for various reasons there was never an opportunity for formal study."

"Was he also a pilot?" Zach asked.

"No. He maintained the shuttles and planes; I flew them. Let's get you situated. The plane has to be started manually and I don't want either of you near the propeller blades." Chris patted the forward cockpit. "You'll both fit comfortably. David first. Zach, there is a jump seat behind him with its own harness. Use these wireless earbuds to talk with me and each other during the flight." He pointed to a switch on their instrument panel. "That radio is set to broadcast and receive on channel 122.9 MHz. If there is a problem, use it to call Jack. He'll interface with air traffic control. Any questions?"

After both shook their heads, Chris checked the security of their safety belts then started the plane and took his seat in the rear cockpit. "OK, communications test. Can you hear me?"

David responded, "Yes."

"Zach?" Chris asked.

"Yep."

"OK. Jack, we are five by five and ready for take-off."

The grizzled voice replied, "Cleared. Watch the crosswinds around Santa Clarita. Otherwise the ceiling is at 15,000 today."

"Understood, see you in a couple of hours." Once airborne, Chris, as always, reveled in the freedom of piloting using only his five senses. For fifteen minutes after takeoff the occupants in the front cockpit were silent. Then David and Zach burst into conversation, gesturing to the ground below and the clouds above, chattering with each other in a shorthand only they understood.

When Zach's attention turned to questioning Chris, David concentrated on the sensations; the almost imperceptible rise and fall of the plane as it moved through the air currents, the hum of the engine, the sunbeams shining through fluffy white clouds, some with thicker gray undersides. There was no other traffic at this altitude, commercial ships kept to 30,000 feet and higher, personal shuttles and local traffic flew under 5,000 feet. It was like having a part of the sky all to himself and David found the experience heady.

"Does Aalin know about your plane?" David's voice transmitted over the cockpit channel.

"No, not yet. Keep it a secret for me, for a few days? After her Starfleet exams are done, I'll fly us to a favorite spot of mine at sunset and give her the necklace we picked out today. Your aunt worked hard to make my world hers; I want her to know how much that means to me."

"Smooth," David replied, "Maybe you aren't that lame after all."

"Good to know I have improved in your estimation."

"You'll definitely get laid that night. Maybe even a BJ. Aunt Chloe says a man will do any chore with the promise of a …"

"Which one of you said that?" Chris shook his head and continued in a firm tone. "Doesn't matter. That is way beyond inappropriate when speaking of your aunt. Either of them. Or any woman. Or man for that matter. Perhaps this sounds provincial. But intimacy is precious. And at times fragile. It has to be handled with care. And it should never be used as a chit in return for favors. All women deserve respect which includes not speculating about their private lives and activities. Are we clear?"

David held up his hand. "I said that. My friends always talk … they think it's lit to … I didn't mean any disrespect, I'm sorry."

Chris' voice gentled. "I realize you didn't. Words are powerful, so are images and stereotypes. When you don't choose them carefully you can wound without intent. I know you wouldn't want to do that."

Wait, did Chris just admonish me and compliment me at the same time? David thought. He did. And it felt … kinda OK … like he was drawing a boundary rather than talking down to me. Rather than scolding a kid. David sat up straighter and squared his shoulders.

"We are five minutes from the edge of that storm. I'll skirt around it, but there may be minor turbulence, the plane could drop a few dozen feet unexpectedly. It's not a cause for alarm. Once we're past this, the weather is clear."

"I get why you like this. I mean it is slow, but in a good way," Zach remarked. Catalina Island was now a distant point behind them.

"Can I try? To fly the plane I mean," David asked tentatively.

"Once we are over land again and past Los Angeles. About fifteen minutes. What are you planning for your summer holidays when the school term is over?"

"Oh. We don't have a choice. The entire family spends the summer at my great-grandmother's place in Maine." Zach sighed. "Since you are a captain maybe they won't make you come. Surely you can say no to them and make it stick."

Interesting. Chris made a mental note to follow-up later on Zach's last comment. "OK. Where would you spend the time if you could choose?"

"Any place not teeming with cousins. How many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"None. Just me. There are a few cousins, but none live nearby."

Even over the communications equipment Chris could hear the earnestness in Zach's reply. "Everyone needs an older brother! They take care of you."

"I agree. I've definitely missed out. OK David. Grasp the yoke at two and ten o'clock. Pay attention to how it feels in your hands as the plane cuts through the atmosphere. Do you feel the slight pull?"

"Yes."

"Good. Notice how the plane drifts up and down slightly as it moves. That's OK. Think of a bird in the air, how it swoops. Nothing dramatic, just following air currents like your body does water currents when floating. Flying is about subtlety. It's about finding the path of least resistance. Your most important task is keeping the nose up and level with the rest of the frame. When you are ready to take over, give me a shout."

David closed his eyes and concentrated on the tactile feel of the yoke moving up, down, left, and right. "Ah … I think I understand what you mean. Can I try now?"

"It's all yours."

The plane's nose immediately drifted towards the ground.

"Ease it up a bit," Chris urged.

The plane's nose went into a steep climb.

"Sorry," David said as he tried another correction.

"That's not bad for a first try. Can you drive a ground car?"

"Yes."

"A plane's, and shuttle's for that matter, responses are more sensitive. Whatever correction you need to make, half it," Chris instructed. "I'll level us off and then you try again."

The plane's altitude changes were less acute with the next four attempts. "Very good. Well done. You're catching on faster than some of my cadets," Chris encouraged. "OK, I'm taking a rest, you are in charge. Stay to the left of the ridge of trees you see below. When we get within visual range of the mountains hand control back to me. That's about 20 twenty miles from here."

"I can fly all that way? Really?"

"Really. Zach if you want to try as well, we will go up again another day. There's no way to steer from the jump seat."

"Can we do a trick?" Zach pleaded as they neared the airfield.

Chris smiled to himself before suggesting, "A couple of loops?"

"Yes. Please." Five minutes later Zach blurted out, "That was freakin' amazing."

Back on the ground the boys jumped out of the plane and started to run for the office. Chris called them back. "Hang on, there's work to do."

David turned. "But … isn't that Jack's job?"

"I know you ride horses; do you hop off your mount and leave it to another to unsaddle, brush down, and feed?" Chris asked.

"To the grooms, yes."

"Many do not enjoy that level of privilege. Zach, behind the office is a hose. Fill a bucket with water and grab some rags. David, check the area around the plane for any fresh fluids while I examine the fuselage and wings for damage. When Zach returns, wipe the instrument faces, yokes, everything in both cockpits."

An hour later, well into twilight, two wet teenagers were laughing and teasing one another as well as wrestling playfully several yards ahead of Chris as they walked back to town. Making use of the privacy, he called Enterprise. "Number One, prepare guest quarters near mine, the boys can share." He looked up as Zach took off at a fast run and David sprinted to catch him. "Has Aalin …"

Zach suddenly dropped to his knees, breathless and wheezing. Within seconds David was beside him searching Zach's pockets and demanding loudly, "Where did you put it?"

"Hold this channel open," Chris instructed as he raced to Zach's side. By that time, Zach's chest was concave, and his lips were turning blue. Recognizing the symptoms Chris quietly asked David, "What's his inhaler dose?"

David's face was paled. "W..what?"

Chris' hand gripped David's shoulder and ordered in his commander's tone, "Dosage, Zach's inhaler."

As with junior and senior officers that calm yet unyielding tone resonated and steadied David. "2.5 mg I think."

"Close enough." Chris pulled an inhaler out of one of his pockets and primed it. He handed it to Zach. "Four breaths, I'll count. One … Two … Three … Four." Chris primed it again and handed it back. "Another set. One … Two … Three … Four. David, sit behind your brother and support him. I'll check his pulse." Rapid and thready, damn, Chris thought. "Another set Zach, One … Two … Three … Four. Ok, you're doing better. David, exhale, don't hold your breath."

Zach gulped in air and coughed. His eyes continued watering.

Placing a hand on the teenager's arm, Chris said in a reassuring tone of voice, "That's too fast, breath with me. Take a breath and then count to five. Now again. That's it. Slow and steady is a better way to restore your oxygen levels."

Frightened and looking for a target to release that stress David said crossly, "Zach, why aren't you carrying your …"

Chris shook his head slightly at David and mouthed "later." He then said, "OK. You're going to be fine Zach. We'll wait a bit and then beam to the ship."

"Why wait?" David asked.

"We can't risk him rematerializing in the middle of an attack. Excuse me for a minute." Chris resumed his conversation with Una. "Expect transport in about fifteen minutes. Ask Phil to meet us in Sickbay. One of our guests had an asthma attack and I want him checked out." Returning to the brothers, Chris sat cross legged in front of Zach. "How long ago were you diagnosed?"

"Last year," David replied for his brother.

"Thanks David, but please let Zach answer. Is it childhood asthma?" Chris kept his tone of voice matter-of-fact yet gentle.

Zach's shoulders drooped. "Maybe, the doctors aren't sure since it didn't manifest before I was twelve years old."

"When was your last attack?"

"Three weeks ago. I thought … I thought I could talk myself out of it." Zach's voice became softer as he continued, "But I'm not strong enough."

"I see," Chris replied and favored his nephew with a head tilt and sideways glance. "In hindsight do you think that was a good strategy?"

"Probably not," Zach answered in a tiny voice.

An experienced commander, Chris knew when one under his care needed to sit quietly with their own thoughts. Twilight began to fade when Zach asked, "Why do you carry an inhaler? Is it a Starfleet thing? Like part of a med kit?"

"I carry it for myself. As a sensible precaution."

"Wait … you … that's not possible … you're …" Zach stammered.

"I'm a soldier and an explorer with a history of childhood asthma who routinely spends time in alien environments and other unknowns. My crew depends on me as well as each other. Not having an inhaler within reach is unfair to them."

"When was your last attack?"

"It's been a while, but that is not the important bit."

'It's embarrassing when I am with my friends, and especially my cousins, and I can't do something as simple as breathing."

"Hmmm. I remember. And you see this as a weakness?"

David couldn't stay silent any longer. "Walk it off is our family's motto."

Chris chuckled, "That certainly explains a great deal about your aunt Aalin. Zach, I have no doubts you are full of courage and when extraordinary feats are truly needed, you will meet them head on successfully. Attempting to outrun your asthma without the assistance of medication isn't one of them."

"You don't think I'm weak?"

"Do you think I am weak?" Chris countered.

David snorted. "Even if others thought you were weak which I doubt, few have the balls to say that to your face."

Zach giggled. "True."

"Alright. Time to beam up. Zach, you are going to Sickbay. The CMO is expecting you."

"See a doctor? No need. I'm fine. I promise it won't happen again."

"What part of that sounded like a request?" Looking down, Chris held Zach's gaze.

"Ah … yes sir."