Author's Note- Hello again, welcome to the next chapter of 'Running on Empty.' The fire is smoldering and now it is time to get all of the characters in place. As a result there is a lot of movement in the chapter, but the action really starts in the next one. Regardless, I hope that you will enjoy it. Oh, and once again, a huge thanks to TheLatterose99 for taking the time out of her busy summer to beta this chapter. As well as a huge thanks for everyone who left a review. Both mean a lot.
Chapter 2- Call to Duty
While there were many things that were important in Dusty Crophopper's life, this is what truly made him feel alive. The grass below him was streaking past as he hurtled towards the last air gate. Even as he sailed through it, Dusty banked and the gusts that had been screaming in his face just moments before were now tailwind pushing him towards victory. He was in the last stretch, coming in for final. The crowd was calling his name…but there was something off. The crowd wasn't that loud, and they didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about the race.
"Dusty…Dusty…"
He blinked, and the racing stadium was gone. Replaced by the dark cavern of his personal hanger. With a yawn, he settled back on his tires. The next race was on the weekend, and the town's fire alarm hadn't gone off, so there was no reason for him to be startled away. Still, it was odd for him not to finish a race, even if was one in his dreams.
"Oh come on Chug I know you can knock louder than that."
Chug…the racer's muddle brain thought the new fuel that Chug had him try must be why his sleep was unsettled.
"But he is sleeping."
"Which is exactly why we need to wake him up." Another vehicle, Mayday his brain finally supplemented, said with an annoyed clip. "Dusty! Wake up this instant!"
"What is it?" Dusty muttered still mostly asleep.
"Dusty you have been called up to fight a wildfire."
"I am not equipped to fight wildfires right now…" The racer mumbled as he let eyes drift closed again.
"Dusty, wake up now!" Mayday snapped, the old fire truck's order somehow finally cause the SEAT to wake up fully.
"What!?"
"The Interagency Fire Center just moved the alert to Level 5." Mayday explained with slow and measured patience. "All 'Call When Needed' firefighting aircraft have been activated and are to expect orders in the next 24 hours."
"But I am still not configured to fight fires right now." The racer yawned, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes as he opened his hanger door.
"Don't worry; I have already taken care of that." Chug grinned at the plane. "I woke Dot up on my way here. I believe she is already warming up her welding torch to get ready for you."
Dusty dozed as Dot switched out is landing gear and swapped his racers paint for the red, white, and black of his firefighter's livery. The modifications were completed just in time. Mayday rolled into the hanger as Dot was applying the last touches of paint to Dusty's tail number with the news that the racer was ordered to report to McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas. Pontoons on and tanks topped off, Dusty turned his nose to the west, spun up his engines, and took off just before dawn.
As far as the Sherriff could tell, the only thing that was keeping Radiator Springs from dissolving into chaos was all the training that Red had insisted that every residence participates in. Every vehicle was helping get the particularly flammable materials (primarily Flo and Fillmore's fuel supplies) locked down. Now that the risk of catastrophic explosions had been limited, Red let his siren whoop to gather the residence to the fire station. It was time to enter phase two of the town's wildfire response plan.
Sherriff glanced at the checklist that Red had nudged towards him and then glanced at the cars surrounding him trying to figure out who was going to be the best team for each task. It didn't take the police car long to start yelling out orders.
"Sarge, Fillmore."
A prompt "Yes, Sir!" was quickly followed by a "What ya need man?"
"You two are assigned to check all of the waterlines on the south side of town." Reading off next task on the list, Sherriff called out the next two names. "Ramone, Luigi. You two will be checking all the waterlines on the north side of town." The two cars gave their acknowledgments in a mixture of English and Italian before the two waterline teams headed to the outskirts of town to get their jobs done. This allowed the Sherriff to focus on the team who would be taking on the most physically challenging task. "Lightning, Mater."
"Present." The racer spoke for the two vehicles
"You will be herding the tractors to fairgrounds in Prescott to keep them safe."
"But what about Frank." Lightning asked wide eyed.
"What about him?"
"Won't he, you know, be concerned about his livestock…"
"Listen McQueen." The Sherriff sighed, knowing that this conversation was less about herding tractors and more about pass tractor tipping exploits. "While you probably should have thought about the consequences of Mater and your hobby before this moment, I can promise that Frank won't be giving you too much trouble."
"Besides," Sally added, "I suspect that he is already busily plowing up fire lines to protect the fields, so he will be too busy to chase after you."
It didn't take a firefighter to know that the burns out west must be bad. Dusty had been in the air for less than three hours, and already his filters were becoming think with ash. He hated to think how hard it would be for aircraft that didn't have the replaceable screens that Maru had given him after he had sucked hot cinders on one too many missions. The itchiness of grit in his engine alone would have driven the racer to distraction.
On second thought, as he glanced around the airspace around him, the ash probably had already grounded most aircraft. Sure, he could still spot the contrails of the big jets crossing the continent above him, but he hadn't seen a single airplane in his class flying since he left Denver four hours ago. Add the fact, the plane he had seen in Colorado had been a Beechcraft King Air 200 which also happened to be a 'Call When Needed' aircraft, Dusty suspected her air intake systems had probably also been modified take on the ash.
Despite the smoke, the racer made pretty good time over the Rocky Mountains. He was even able to land at Provo Airport before all the fledgling flyers took over the valley's shelter airspace for practice. From there Dusty caught the I-15 air corridor and headed south. The skies were still unusually quiet, but on this route, there were at least a lot of small airports to check in with along the way, and he was able to listen to the chatter of the commercial planes above him.
It had taken far longer that McQueen had expected to get the tractors herded out of their pasture and onto the road for the journey to Prescott. It had also required both the Sherriff's and Sarge's help to get the task done, which really made Lightning nervous about the upcoming journey. Apparently, it wasn't a fear that any of the Radiator Springs folks were feeling.
"Just keep them moving in the right direction, and you will be fine." The Sherriff had advised.
"It is going to be a hard day's drive, but if you get at it, you can probably be back before dark." Sarge added giving racer a nudge towards the road.
"It is the 'probably' that concerns me." McQueen admitted to both the older vehicle a somewhat nervous look. "I mean I have no experience with this type of activity, wouldn't it be better to send someone who as more practice herding tractors?"
"Come on McQueen!" Mater revved his engine and swung his tow cable towards tractors that they had herded onto the road. "Daylights a wasting!"
To everyone in the group Mater's comment seemed to be the last word. Both the Sherriff and Sarge had already made a U-turn back towards town. He really didn't feel like he was going to be able to succeed at this, so he turned to the beauty who was his last chance to get out of this road trip.
"Go on, Stickers." Sally planted a quick kiss on the racer's bumper that gave him a quick nudge towards the road. "I will be here waiting when you get back."
Even a good thousand feet above the desert surfaces, Dusty could feel the heat radiating up from the sun baked soil. It caused the atmosphere around him the boil and bubble with enough turbulent that it made staying level difficult and running on autopilot impossible. After nearly becoming motion sick from all the up and down motion, the racer was incredibly glad when I-15 turned west, and Los Vegas came into sight.
Double checking his radio frequencies Dusty called the tower at the airport he had been assigned to report to. "McCarran, McCarran, this is Tanker 7 approaching from the northeast, requesting landing. Over."
There was a long pause, the tower replied. "Aircraft requesting landing, please say call sign again."
"McCarran, this is TANKER 7. Over."
"Roger that TANKER 7. Is this approach mission critical?"
"No…" Dusty admitted, wondering why the airport would be asking if he on a mission critical flight. He hadn't even had a chance to report into the mission base yet. Maybe it was a standard question.
"Understood, we have a line of passenger jets coming in for final, are you capable of landing at a short runway?"
"Short runway shouldn't be a problem." Dusty replied, while in this heat it was nice of them to offer him use of the big runway, the Air Tractor was small enough to easily use any of the four runways available.
"Roger that. Please enter the traffic pattern. Once FRONTIER AIR Niner Fifi Niner has landed on runway 7R make a controlled approach to runway 19R."
"Roger that. I will make a controlled approach after the Frontier Airlines flight has landed Runway 19R."
Dusty didn't have to wait very long for the commuter jet to land on the runway on the far side of the terminal. As the jet's tires kissed the tarmac, Dusty lined up for his final approach. He was about ready to call into the tower and confirm final approach when a somewhat panicked call came across the radio.
"Unidentified Air Tractor, Unidentified Air Tractor, announce intentions and call sign immediately!"
"I am TANKER 7! And I was just told to land on this runway." Dusty shouted back. His transmission was greeted with silence. The small plane was bracing himself to perform a touch and go landing in order to clear out of the airspace as quickly as possible.
"TANKER 7. You are cleared for final approach."
"Roger that." Dusty breathed a sigh of relief as he adjusted his control surfaces for the descent. "TANKER 7 is on final approach."
"TANKER 7, when you get on the ground please get the issue with conflicting call signs corrected." While the vehicle in the tower remained calm during this transmission, it was pretty clear that Dusty had not made friends with the local tower…which was not a good thing when you were going to be living and working out of an airport for an unknown length of time. The situation was only made worse by the fact that the racer had absolutely no clue what he had done to piss everyone off. Then he realized that he had no clue where he was supposed to be reporting.
"Um, McCarran Tower, where are the fire fighting aircraft supposed to report?"
"TANKER 7, please taxi to the end of the runway. An aircraft will be meeting you on the west end of the taxi way to check your credentials and give you further direction."
"WILCO. TANKER 7, out." Dusty cleared the runway and tucked himself on the west end of the taxiway. He waited there for an uncomfortably long time and was considering testing his luck and calling the tower for further instructions, when a large shadow crossed over his wings.
"I was wondering who was using my call sign." A grumpy looking P-2 Neptune was looming over him. One glance at the big plane's tail number informed Dusty that the two planes did, in fact, have the same designation. "You better go head to hanger 19 and get things cleared up with the Air Boss, so this situation does not become more of a headache that it already has."
"Yes, Sir." Was all the smaller plane was able to squeak out before the very, large tanker gave him a final glare and trundled off.
By afternoon the residents of Radiator Springs had run through every task on the list Red had prepared for this type of emergency and the lack of anything to do was starting to bubble into stress. Flo dealt with it by trying to feed everyone, Sally by constantly changing channels on the radio in order to get additional weather updates, and the Sherriff could have sworn that Ramone had swapped his paint job at least three times in the last hour and a half.
Through all of this, there was one vehicle that was consciously missing. The Sherriff followed the tangled mess of hoses and pipes to where the community's fire apparatus had holed himself up. Red glanced up from a massive map of Radiator Springs and its surrounding area. After he had recognized that the vehicle that had interrupted his planning was the Sherriff, Red settled on his tires and turned his full attention on his old friend. The Sherriff knew from his own experience that this was one of the fire engines quiet ways of giving him space to report.
"Well, all of the valves and sprinklers have been checked, and Mater and McQueen have got the tractors on the move." The Sherriff said with a yawn. "With everything on the checklist done, I think I am going to catch a nap before things get interesting."
Red gave a nod of acknowledgment, which the Sherriff took as an okay to tap out for a couple of hours. By the time the police car had rolled back to the door the engine had once again turned his full attention on massive maps in front of him. Red was clearly trying to get some last minute planning in, but both emergency services vehicles knew that all they could really do now was wait and pray that the fire bearing down on them would change direction.
With his pontoons on, Dusty could technically call his model a Fire Boss instead of an Air Tractor…one look at the plane in front of him let the racer know he wasn't ready to grow into that title. The yellow and blue plane who was currently talking on the radio with the airports tower practically exuded control. To make the situation worse, the aircraft also had the extra wing markings indicating that he was the air boss for this situation. Dusty tried to gulp down the panic that was rising in his throat…which managed to get the attention of the Fire Boss.
"Yes." The IC did not particularly look impressed by the fact that Dusty was sitting in front of him.
"Tanker 7, Dusty Crophopper reporting as ordered." The racer managed to choke out.
"Listen Crophopper; I don't know who gave you the authorization to use a legacy call sign instead of the Zero Seven that your tail number clearly indicates, that you don't have the training to work this type of operation." The IC was staring him down, and Dusty had to literally lock his breaks to keep himself from being backed out of the hanger. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just send you back to whatever backwater you come from."
"I can vouch for him." A voice came from just outside the hanger door. Dusty spun to see who his savior was to find a familiar twin tailed aircraft.
"And how would you know him, Jump 51?"
"Take a good look at his paint." The Cabbie dipped a wing towards the distinctive triple strip along Dusty's back. "My team trained him."
"Really?" The Fire Boss allowed his eyes to flick over Dusty in disdain. "I know that Piston Peak was known for taking the bottom of the barrel, but I didn't think that Blade's standards had sunk that low."
"Well, even you have to admit that has the build for the job."
"It is not the build that I am concerned with." The little plane was glaring Cabbie down, but the former warplane was holding his own. "It is experience that I am more concerned with. I don't have time to deal with a greenhorn SEAT who doesn't have the hours to fly a mission solo."
"Then partner him with me." Cabbie suggested without even missing a beat.
"What?" Both Air Tractors blurted out.
"You said yourself that he isn't seasoned enough to go on solo firefighting missions, and I have been asking for a lead plane since I got here."
"I have seen your files; you never use a lead plane when you fly out of Piston Peak."
At that comment the C-119 gave a harsh barking laugh. "Now Sawyer, you have been around long enough to know the types of slashes that happened to our budget. Even if I wanted I spotter, we couldn't afford to hire one, and you well know anyone who fly a park as long as I have isn't required to have a spotter." Then Cabbie looked down his nose at the Fire Boss. "But you also know that this area of the United States isn't my stomping ground and I would be able to get my mission done a lot more effectively if I had a lead plane to act as a spotter. As your only cargo plane here and one of three planes on base who is cleared to fly at night, wouldn't it make sense to partner me with the only small plane who is certified to fly low level night approaches?"
"Fine." The Air Tractor in command gave in, even though he clearly didn't approve of the situation. "But if that kid flies you into a cliff you will have no one to blame but yourself."
"Rodger that."
"Well now that that has been taken care of, get out of my command center." The IC glared up at the big plane, and the C-119 didn't need to be told twice. Cabbie gave a quick quarter turn of his propeller in reply and then began to physically shove Dusty out of the hanger.
"What was that all about?" Dusty bit off sarcastically as soon as they were outside of earshot of the air bosses hanger. The plane was expecting some sympathy from the older plane, what he got instead was 20 tons of less than pleased aircraft looming over him.
"You will never, ever speak like that to an Air Boss again." The C-119's flaps were up, and he was giving his 'pissed off drill sergeant' instead of his normal 'grumpy uncle' vibe as he confronted the smaller plane on the tarmac. "Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir." Dusty stammered out not sure what else to say, but that was apparently the right thing to say.
"Good." Cabbie huffed then settled down back down on his tires. "It is best to remember just how far down you are in ICS pecking order you really are. Fire bosses are some of the most experienced specialist aircraft of the planet. Most of them have forgotten more information than you have even started to learn. They also tend to be working with a bigger picture of the situation. If you fail to follow their orders over an active fire there is the very real risk of causing an in air collision. Though, that particular fact should have been pounded into you at Piston Peak." The older plane eyed the racer, who was currently trying not to shake on his pontoons. "Well enough talk, let's go find the jumpers and see what we can do about ditching your pontoons."
"The jumpers are here?"
"What did I just say?" Cabbie said with an exasperated eye roll as he headed across the tarmac.
Next Chapter- Evacuation- The evacuation order goes out, but too late for Radiator Springs. Faced with an impossible choice Red and the Sherrif decided the towns best option is the stay put despite the risks.