AUTHOR'S NOTE: Established dialogue from The Rocketeer is trademarked by The Walt Disney Company. Moving on:
"Malcolm, wake up!" Cliff Secord desperately pleaded to his out-cold friend in the cockpit of the spiraling biplane on the TV screen down in the rockets' bunker. An enthralled Morgan leaned forward in anticipation. "So, isn't this thrilling, Casey?" he asked the colonel, seated next to him just outside the vault's door with a frown.
"Why doesn't the rocket burn his legs off when he flies with it?" Casey asked softly.
"I don't know; plot points? You know, Casey, I think I know your problem with movies; you're not willing to suspend disbelief for the sake of being entertained," Morgan protested to him, "If a film's good, it's best to just sit back, relax, and enjoy it. You do know how to relax, right?"
"Of course, Grimes. Filling a terrorist full of holes makes me feel very relaxed," Casey told him.
"I'm not surprised," Morgan mumbled, nodding in satisfaction at the sight of Cliff dropping Malcolm to safety on screen. "So, anyway," he paused the movie, "While we're here and together on a mission, I've been wondering for a while, what made Alex Coburn interested in becoming a Marine way back when? If I'm allowed to ask, that is..."
"I guess you are," Casey grumbled, shifting around in his chair with a nostalgic look, "My uncle had been a World War II hero. Fought his way onto Tarawa, the Philippines, Iwo Jima, Okinawa. Whenever he told his stories about his experiences, I wanted to do the same, to be the same hero. So after I graduated high school, I enlisted. Best decision I ever made."
"I see," Morgan nodded, "You know, that's kind of basically what I had thought it was with you..."
"I worship real heroes, Grimes. I don't waste my time idolizing magical space knights with bright energy swords who fly through space with annoying robots fighting Nazi space fascists," Casey gave him a glare.
"Uh, important point, Casey: the original trilogy inspired lots of people to become scientists and engineers," Morgan stressed, "And if that world actually was real, I'll bet you'd have been on the front lines fighting against the Empire, since Darth Sidious' regime is clearly one you would have loved to have taken down at any cost."
"Probably," Casey mumbled softly, "I do hate tyrants. And his magical powers probably couldn't have saved him from a good semi-automatic."
"Assuming, Casey, you'd have been able to draw and fire quick enough before he could sense it and deflect it. See, we can talk about things like friends, even if we don't fully understand it," Morgan told him with a grin, "I guess you could say we're bonding while working."
"Maybe. And in that case, hold down the fort. I'm going to go throw up," Casey lurched to his feet, disgust on his face. Before he could leave, however, a ding rang out as the elevator down from the sound stage reached the bunker with the next shift of guards. "Right on time," Casey nodded in satisfaction. "Gentlemen, any issues," he greeted the quintet of troops with a salute.
"None to speak of, Colonel Casey," the apparent leader returned the salute, "Are the rockets still safe?"
"No one's been down here since we set up here."
"Good. Sergeant, we're taking over," the leader approached the guards on duty and saluted them as well, "You may..."
Just then, the bunker's lights went out. "What's this all about?" Morgan asked out loud.
"Not to worry, probably a short circuit," one of the previous set of guards assured him, "The emergency lights should be on in a minute."
And indeed, the emergency lights did now come on-but seconds later went out themselves with a loud zap. "Something's not right here," Casey mused, fumbling around for his gun, "Both sets of lights usually don't go out like this..."
True to his concerns, shot now rang out in the darkness around him, followed by groans as the guards collapsed to the floor. "Grimes, protect the rockets!" the colonel shouted to his possible future son-in-law, "If the emergency power's out, the vault'll be open now and its defenses down!"
"Sure, if I have any clue where the...!" Morgan was interrupted by a low thwack as he walked hard into a support column in the darkness. It was then that there came loud yells from the shaft, followed by the thumps of someone landing on the ground. More loud yells broke out, accompanied by kung fu kicks landing in the dark. Casey fired blindly around. "Casey, careful!" Morgan shouted from roughly the location of the vault's door, "I'm right here, you know!"
"Do you have any idea how to get these lights back on, then!" Casey demanded.
"Give me a minute here, let me find the junction box...see if I can remember how Chuck did it the one time...!" Morgan could be heard groping around in the dark.
"Got them!" came a voice from the direction of the vault, "Go, go, go!"
Casey lunged towards his voice, but missed and face-planted to the floor. "Grimes!" he bellowed to Morgan.
"Think I've got it, Casey...one more minute...!" Morgan shouted back. And indeed, the bunker's lights came back on now, just as one of the guards, plus a squad of about seven men dressed from head to toe in black, fired grappling hooks up the exit shaft, each of them holding a fake rocket. "Hoo boy!" one of them whimpered softly, quickly releasing the button on his controller and rapidly shooting up the shaft, kicking his legs in the air all the way. A second figure similarly rose up the same way, while the rest of their colleagues ascended more professionally. Growling, Casey ran forward and fired up the shaft after them, hitting the guard, who yelped in pain. Casey aimed higher and shot at the man's cable until it broke, sending him falling back down into the bunker. The colonel fired up after his colleagues, but they had reached the top and leaped out of his range. "Carmichael Industries; you're under arrest-no you don't!" Casey grabbed the guard's hand when he tried to pull out a suicide pill, squeezed it until he dropped it, and kicked the pill well out of his reach. "OK, you're going to tell us everything you know about what just went down here," he snarled at the prisoner.
"I know my fifth amendment rights; I'm not saying a word," the guard said defiantly.
"Yeah, well I know ways to make people talk," Casey leaned right in his face. "Grimes, nice job," he commended Morgan, who was staring up the shaft with a surprised expression, without any emotion in his voice, "Call Bell and let him know what happened, then get Bartowski on the horn...did you hear me, Grimes!?"
"That one guy...his voice sounded like..." Morgan mumbled, stunned, "But...it couldn't be..."
"Jeff, a spy? Are you sure, Morgan?" Chuck frowned in the back seat of Ellie's car the next morning as it maneuvered through downtown Palm Springs.
"I wouldn't believe it either, Chuck, but I could swore the one guy sounded exactly like Jeff. Now maybe it was the heat of the moment, I don't know. And if by some odd chance it were, this would really compromise our base of locations..." Morgan rambled on the other end of the line.
"Well, tell you what, Morgan, you are the store manager, so when they come in, see if you can get them to say where they were last night," Chuck advised him, "Just be subtle so they don't panic if there is something here. How about the rest of the guards?"
"Unfortunately all dead, buddy."
"Oh. Hope their families can get reimbursed. And the suspect you caught?"
"Corporal Brad Heath. Seven year service record, no known problems. He clammed up, but Casey and I'll try and get something out of him. Hopefully he can lead us to the rest of his squad-if our hunch doesn't on its own..."
"Well, looks like we're here at the resort, Morgan, so I'll be going now. Keep me informed," Chuck told his best friend before hanging up. "Any problems, Chuck?" Devon leaned over from the front passenger seat.
"Um, well, somebody apparently took the bait and stole the fake rockets I put in the vault, Awesome," Chuck explained, "Morgan and Casey got one of them, though, so hopefully that'll end it real quick."
"Hope so. I'd really like for you to be able to enjoy a good honeymoon here," Ellie mused, worry on her face, "What was that about Jeff?"
"Oh, uh, Morgan thought one of the suspects sounded like him; crazy, huh?" Chuck laughed nervously. He turned to Sarah next to him and mouthed, "It actually might not be a joke." Sarah nodded knowingly. "Here we are, the El Saguarro Resort," she declared as Ellie pulled into a parking space in front of the office, "I'll keep watch on the cargo; you can check in for us."
"That'll work fine," Ellie shot a worried look back at the car's trunk, where the rockets were now ensconced inside steel trunks made to look look regular large suitcases. She scooped Clara out of her car seat and followed Chuck and Devon into the office. "Hello, reservations for Bartowski and Woodcomb; honeymooners and family," Chuck greeted the manager.
"Bartowski and Woodcomb...ah yes, I have you here. Suites 207 and 208. Congratulations," the manager commended Chuck, "This your wife?" he gestured at Ellie.
"No, my sister. My wife's out there," Chuck pointed out the door at Sarah, standing watch by the rear of Ellie's car. The manager whistled. "Well, you are one lucky gentlemen then, Mr. Bartowski," he told Chuck.
"Yeah, I know," Chuck beamed towards his bride, "I really am."
"Um, just out of curiosity, pal, would you happen to have any additional rooms?" Devon asked, shooting a knowing glance towards his wife and daughter, "We, uh, had been thinking about giving Chuck and Sarah-his new wife-some privacy while they..."
"Unfortunately that would be impossible, Mr. Woodcomb," the manager shook his head, "Our last room for the weekend just sold ten minutes ago."
"Oh. Oh well, just figured we'd ask," Devon shrugged.
"Here are your room keys," the manager handed a pair of code keys to he and Chuck, "I hope you'll enjoy your stay here at the El Saguarro-and congratulations again," he told Chuck again.
"You're welcome, again. Well," Chuck turned to his sister and brother-in-law, "I guess we'll go check in then. You can go enjoy yourselves, and we'll, uh, catch up after everything, um, all set up in our room."
"I can't understand why they couldn't have made these things smaller," he groaned, straining to help Sarah carry the last rocket into their suite ten minutes later.
"Guess this was the best they could do size-wise for now, Chuck," Sarah locked the door behind them, then pulled the room's blinds shut. She opened the closet, revealing a large metal safe was already inside. "How did that get in there!?" Chuck was amazed.
"Pulled some strings with a few friends of mine; they got it done in the middle of the night," Sarah told him with a wry grin. "Help me load them in."
Chuck opened several of the trunks and extracted the rockets inside. He and Sarah quickly loaded them into the safe. She swung the door shut once they were all inside and entered a code that made it buzz. Several red lights on the front of the safe now blinked on. "It's locked," she told him, "And it'll only open with a code I know. We'll do the same with the closet door here," she swung it shut, hooked a digital lock to the door, and entered another code, one that also prompted it to beep as it activated. "This is locked with a different personal code now too. I'll probably do a third one on the inside of the room door; it'll open for room service if it recognizes them, but stay locked for anyone else. I'll use a third code with that one."
"And if room service happened to see a new lock on the closet door that clearly wasn't there before...?"
"If anyone unauthorized tried to open it, it would let out the loudest alarm you'd ever hear."
"I see so. So, will I be let in on the codes?" Chuck had to ask.
"I suppose I can trust you with it," grinning, she gently took him around the waist and rolled onto the bed with him, "For now, let's relax and enjoy ourselves as newlyweds."
"That, that I can agree to," Chuck nodded emphatically.
"I would like to say, while we're here, and everything's so good for the moment, I am sorry I got so angry after Prague, Chuck," she apologized to him, "I just...I just cared for you so much, and..."
"I know, now," he patted her hand, "Everything just seemed to go wrong for both of us right at and after that point until Paris. It's almost as if the two of us were pawns in the hands of a bad writer..."
He paused, as if this had somehow been a profound statement. "But anyway, the past is the past," he looked back down towards her, "Shall we go join Ellie and Awesome at the pool, then?"
"I guess so," she agreed, "Oh, before we do, though, Morgan thought Jeff was one of the people that broke into the vault last night, he said?"
"That's what he thought. I don't see how, though," Chuck mused with a shake of his head, "How could Jeff get mixed up in the spy game...?"