Hi y'all!! I've had a lot of time on my hands, so I've tapped out as much
as possible, but I have to get back to my real life on Monday. I will
finish this, I promise.
If only fanfic writing was a major in college . . . or even a minor. I could deal with that.
************************************************************************
"This 1-4-0-niner. The fog is still to thick, grid reference G-23. No sign of crash site."
"Roger, 1-4-0-9. Return to McPhereson airport."
"Roger, over and out."
The man in the co-pilot's seat looked out his window and did a double take. "What the hell is that?" An orange glow sped beneath them, swirling the fog as it moved at an incredible speed. It disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"What the hell was what?" The cranky pilot asked unenthusiastically.
"I saw something down there, next to the trees."
"You can't even see the trees," the pilot snorted. "That fog bank is over 300 feet high."
"There was this orange. . . "
"There is nothing down there, Charlie." The pilot cut him off and banked the plane back over the area. "We've been up all night. You're eyes are playing tricks on you."
"I'm telling you I saw something."
"Whatever, Charlie."
The small Cessna banked left and headed east, unaware that below them two men sat holding their breath.
"They're moving off," John said watching the radar scope.
"That was close," Scott raised Rescue 1 from the clearing he had set her down in. There was barely enough clearance for her stabilizing wings. "I thought for sure they spotted us."
"The fog isn't as thick as it was earlier," John replied from the passenger bench. "We have to hurry this up." Without the earth-bound cloud, the rescue operation would have been a constant cat-and-mouse game with Canadian SAR groups. As it was, they had already had to land twice now to avoid being spotted.
"Well, they've canvassed this area pretty thoroughly, so they probably won't be back for awhile." Scott's eyes were glued to the screen in front of him. The zero-visibility navigation computer was working wonderfully, but it had taken Scott a little while to become accustomed to trusting a machine to plot his course through the uneven terrain. There had been a couple events involving near-misses and a good deal of swearing. Hopefully, John and Scott could get the dents banged out of Rescue 1 before Brains was any the wiser.
"We're coming up on a lake, John." Scott called over his shoulder. "Hit the ultrasound."
John obeyed, reaching up next to Scott to turn on the sensitive equipment. They had considered all of the possibilities, unpleasant as they were. He felt like a ghoul, waiting impatiently for the echoes to return.
There was a loud ping! and John felt sick. Before his eyes, the computer screen flashed up the dimensions of a large metallic object resting on the lake floor.
"That's about right," Scott's voice was deadpan. He began to unfasten the safety restraints. "Take the controls, John."
John didn't move. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going down there."
"Scott, we don't have the equipment for that." The craft was air-worthy, but there was still a great deal of rescue gear they had yet to place aboard, including underwater breathing apparatus and wetsuits. "That water is 40 degrees."
"I'm only going to be in it for two minutes, tops," Scott told him. "You can lower me down with the winch."
"I don't like it."
"Johnny," Scott addressed him as he did whenever he was trying to reason with any of his little brothers. "We need to know if our search for Dad ends here."
Part of John didn't want to know. He just wanted to keep going, believing that their father was alive somewhere. The other part of him was reluctant to simply sit in Rescue 1 while his brother went to find out.
"I'll go." he said.
"You're staying here." Scott set the craft to hover so they could switch places.
"I'm the better swimmer," John protested. "I should be going."
Scott wasn't going to argue with him. "Chair, that's an order." He left the cockpit, shedding his sweatshirt and T-shirt as he went.
John was about to follow and continue the discussion when he felt Rescue 1 shift slightly. He launched himself at the controls before the wind off the water could push the craft anymore. Scott had outsmarted him.
John grumbled and looked at the ultrasound. He brought the craft to hover over the exact spot where the plane rested. He knew Scott was only trying to protect him the ugly possibility that lay below them. It was one of those irritating big brother things.
Rescue 1 handled beautifully as he brought her a scant 30 feet from the water's surface. He hit the ship's intercom. "How's it going, Scott?"
"Almost ready to go," Scott called back from the equipment bay of Rescue 1. "Just hold her steady."
He looked out the starboard viewport. The lake beneath them was deceptively calm, hiding the evidence of a tragedy within its depths.
"All right, John," Scott sounded grim, "Let's go."
Almost reluctantly, John reached for the switch marked "aft winch". A light flashed on the panel before him, telling him the rear hatch was open. There was a slight whir as the hydraulics of the massive winch kicked in. Steadily, it paid out the line.
"Hold it, John," John cut the power to the winch. "I'm down." Scott was now 30 feet below the ship, about to plunge into the frigid water. "It's time to test these communicators and determine if they're waterproof."
"Be careful, Scott," he said.
"I'll be back in two minutes." There was a slight exclamation of shock as Scott hit the water, then nothing.
The silence was overwhelming. John's knuckles went white as he gripped the controls of Rescue 1. The waiting was unbearable.
"You better get used to it, pal," he said into the emptiness of the cockpit. Deep down, he knew this was just a preview of coming attractions. John's official duty as an International Rescue agent was as space monitor aboard the satellite. It was to be a duty he would share with Alan, but knowing Alan as he did, John suspected he would be spending more time aboard Rescue 5 than his little brother. That was fine with him, giving him an opportunity that most astronomers would kill for. But it also meant that John would be little more than an onlooker as his brothers risked their lives on rescues. He had already been working for months to come to terms with that concept.
"R-rescue 1 from base."
John turned to the comlink, glad of the momentary distraction. "Go ahead, Brains."
A snowy image of Brains appeared in the console. "H-how is it going, John?" The engineer looked exhausted, and John couldn't help but wonder if Brains would get fed up with them and quit after this.
John told him about their discovery.
"Scott just went down," he finished. "He should be back up in another minute."
Brains couldn't help but ask the question that had undoubtedly been burning in his mind ever since they took off. "H-how is, uh, Rescue 1 performing?"
John smiled and obliged him. "Great. The radar and the zero-visibility computer are working well. Believe me; Scott has been pushing them to their limits out here."
"Hold on, John." Brains disappeared and John heard the distinct beeping of the vidphone line.
Scott's voice came over the radio, his teeth chattering. "John, bring me in."
Sighing with relief, John hit the switch to haul Scott back up. He listened as the motor worked, pulling in the bight of heavy gage cable. It stopped automatically when the cable was completely drawn in. "I'm onboard."
John set Rescue 1 into a circular flight pattern, tired of holding the ship steady. He concentrated on navigating the perimeter, waiting for his brother to get dressed and make an appearance in the cockpit.
After what seemed like hours, Scott finally came through the door. His hair was wet and he was flushed with the cold of the water.
"Well?" John asked anxiously, relinquishing the pilot's chair.
"He wasn't down there." Scott replied, breathlessly. He shivered as he grabbed the controls.
John reached behind the seat and fetched the emergency blanket. He threw it over Scott's shoulders. "Thanks," Scott wrapped himself tightly in the cover.
"So what's up?"
Scott stared at him. "There was a man down there," he looked forward again at the controls. "He was shot, John."
After momentary shock, John's mind raced through all the implications of Scott's news. "Someone tried to overtake the plane?"
"Looks that way."
"To kill Dad? Or kidnap him?"
"That's the million dollar question."
"He could still be alive."
"Yeah, or whoever shot the pilot could have stuffed Dad out the hatch." Scott shook his head. "He could be anywhere out here."
"What do you want to do?"
"Keep looking," Scott said. "The second most likely alternative is that Dad got away and is out here in the woods, somewhere."
They didn't discuss the first most likely alternative. "So we keep going?"
Scott nodded. "Until we know for sure what happened, I intend to operate under the assumption that Dad is still alive. He either survived the crash or he parachuted out."
John nodded. "I agree."
"John?" They looked at the comlink. "Oh, uh, hi Scott."
"Hi, Brains" Scott took a minute to fill their friend in on the situation. He ended up with, ". . . and you can bet that the next thing we equip all of these machines with is wetsuits."
Brains took the news gravely, listening to every detail. "D-did you scan the shoreline with the, uh, infrared scanner yet?"
"I'm doing that now." John spoke up. He had relocated himself to a small computer that controlled the hi-tech scanner. Infrared imaging was an old concept that had been used in the past by the military to track their enemies. Brains, being the evil genius that he was, had been able to come up with a scanner based on the same principles to detect the body heat of a missing or trapped person. He had also rigged it so that the scanner could be operated from Rescue 1. They could search ten square miles in a matter of seconds.
The screen came on, and immediately, John got hits on about 100 different targets. He recalibrated the instruments to exclude squirrels and moose, concentrating on readings that could possibly come from human beings. The screen went blank.
Scott began a slow circuit of the lake so John could have a chance to scan every inch of the sandy soil.
Brains continued as John kept his eyes affixed to the screen before him. "I just got a call from Virgil." He said. "I-i have, uh, some good news."
"Give it to us Brains" Scott prodded him. "We could use some good news."
"Gordon showed signs of awakening this morning." the engineer revealed. "H- he squeezed Alan's hand."
"Are you sure Brains?" Alan had a habit of imagining things, especially if he were overly focused on the situation.
"G-gordon seemed to respond to, uh, Virgil's voice."
John nearly leapt for joy. He contained it with effort and instead, he kept scanning "Already?" he asked as calmly as possible. "I thought they said he was comatose."
"It seems that the, uh, h-head injury was not as severe as previously thought." The happy tone in Brains' voice was unmistakable. "E-even still, the physicians are having trouble, uh, explaining it."
"You know Gordon," Scott laughed. "He probably heard those doctors talking and decided to prove them wrong."
"The quickest way to get him to do anything is tell him it's impossible." John quipped.
"They've, uh, scheduled a-another series of tests to determine the extent of the trauma."
John took a breath. "What about his back, Brains? If he's stabilized, can they start to repair his spinal chord?"
"I'm sorry, John," came the quiet answer, "V-virgil didn't mention it."
"One thing at a time, bro," Scott said reassuringly, "He's alive and apparently getting better. We'll cross the next bridge when we get to it."
Scott switched gears as he continued to pilot the ship. "So Brains, how's Virgil?"
"V-very upset," Brains replied. "He says he wants a-a word with you as soon as you get back."
"Is that all?"
"Virgil's version was, uh, a bit more colorful."
"I'll bet."
Brains cleared his throat. "H-he also wanted me to, uh, tell you that he would make it a point to d-discuss this with your father when you bring him home."
John smiled. Good old Virgil. He always knew exactly what to say.
Scott chuckled behind him. "If he calls back, tell him I'm looking forward to it." He signed off.
They finished searching the lake and Scott brought Rescue 1 to a halt again.
"Nothing," John said his disappointment evident. "Where do we look next?"
"It's a crap shoot, Johnny. He could be anywhere out there." Scott looked over at him. "Pick a direction."
John raised an eyebrow. "We have to be able to do better than that. We can't just fly around out here, hoping to get lucky."
"We're already one step ahead of the search and rescue guys," Scott replied as he raised the ship. "We know where he crashed. Now the only question is, where the hell did he go?"
If only fanfic writing was a major in college . . . or even a minor. I could deal with that.
************************************************************************
"This 1-4-0-niner. The fog is still to thick, grid reference G-23. No sign of crash site."
"Roger, 1-4-0-9. Return to McPhereson airport."
"Roger, over and out."
The man in the co-pilot's seat looked out his window and did a double take. "What the hell is that?" An orange glow sped beneath them, swirling the fog as it moved at an incredible speed. It disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"What the hell was what?" The cranky pilot asked unenthusiastically.
"I saw something down there, next to the trees."
"You can't even see the trees," the pilot snorted. "That fog bank is over 300 feet high."
"There was this orange. . . "
"There is nothing down there, Charlie." The pilot cut him off and banked the plane back over the area. "We've been up all night. You're eyes are playing tricks on you."
"I'm telling you I saw something."
"Whatever, Charlie."
The small Cessna banked left and headed east, unaware that below them two men sat holding their breath.
"They're moving off," John said watching the radar scope.
"That was close," Scott raised Rescue 1 from the clearing he had set her down in. There was barely enough clearance for her stabilizing wings. "I thought for sure they spotted us."
"The fog isn't as thick as it was earlier," John replied from the passenger bench. "We have to hurry this up." Without the earth-bound cloud, the rescue operation would have been a constant cat-and-mouse game with Canadian SAR groups. As it was, they had already had to land twice now to avoid being spotted.
"Well, they've canvassed this area pretty thoroughly, so they probably won't be back for awhile." Scott's eyes were glued to the screen in front of him. The zero-visibility navigation computer was working wonderfully, but it had taken Scott a little while to become accustomed to trusting a machine to plot his course through the uneven terrain. There had been a couple events involving near-misses and a good deal of swearing. Hopefully, John and Scott could get the dents banged out of Rescue 1 before Brains was any the wiser.
"We're coming up on a lake, John." Scott called over his shoulder. "Hit the ultrasound."
John obeyed, reaching up next to Scott to turn on the sensitive equipment. They had considered all of the possibilities, unpleasant as they were. He felt like a ghoul, waiting impatiently for the echoes to return.
There was a loud ping! and John felt sick. Before his eyes, the computer screen flashed up the dimensions of a large metallic object resting on the lake floor.
"That's about right," Scott's voice was deadpan. He began to unfasten the safety restraints. "Take the controls, John."
John didn't move. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going down there."
"Scott, we don't have the equipment for that." The craft was air-worthy, but there was still a great deal of rescue gear they had yet to place aboard, including underwater breathing apparatus and wetsuits. "That water is 40 degrees."
"I'm only going to be in it for two minutes, tops," Scott told him. "You can lower me down with the winch."
"I don't like it."
"Johnny," Scott addressed him as he did whenever he was trying to reason with any of his little brothers. "We need to know if our search for Dad ends here."
Part of John didn't want to know. He just wanted to keep going, believing that their father was alive somewhere. The other part of him was reluctant to simply sit in Rescue 1 while his brother went to find out.
"I'll go." he said.
"You're staying here." Scott set the craft to hover so they could switch places.
"I'm the better swimmer," John protested. "I should be going."
Scott wasn't going to argue with him. "Chair, that's an order." He left the cockpit, shedding his sweatshirt and T-shirt as he went.
John was about to follow and continue the discussion when he felt Rescue 1 shift slightly. He launched himself at the controls before the wind off the water could push the craft anymore. Scott had outsmarted him.
John grumbled and looked at the ultrasound. He brought the craft to hover over the exact spot where the plane rested. He knew Scott was only trying to protect him the ugly possibility that lay below them. It was one of those irritating big brother things.
Rescue 1 handled beautifully as he brought her a scant 30 feet from the water's surface. He hit the ship's intercom. "How's it going, Scott?"
"Almost ready to go," Scott called back from the equipment bay of Rescue 1. "Just hold her steady."
He looked out the starboard viewport. The lake beneath them was deceptively calm, hiding the evidence of a tragedy within its depths.
"All right, John," Scott sounded grim, "Let's go."
Almost reluctantly, John reached for the switch marked "aft winch". A light flashed on the panel before him, telling him the rear hatch was open. There was a slight whir as the hydraulics of the massive winch kicked in. Steadily, it paid out the line.
"Hold it, John," John cut the power to the winch. "I'm down." Scott was now 30 feet below the ship, about to plunge into the frigid water. "It's time to test these communicators and determine if they're waterproof."
"Be careful, Scott," he said.
"I'll be back in two minutes." There was a slight exclamation of shock as Scott hit the water, then nothing.
The silence was overwhelming. John's knuckles went white as he gripped the controls of Rescue 1. The waiting was unbearable.
"You better get used to it, pal," he said into the emptiness of the cockpit. Deep down, he knew this was just a preview of coming attractions. John's official duty as an International Rescue agent was as space monitor aboard the satellite. It was to be a duty he would share with Alan, but knowing Alan as he did, John suspected he would be spending more time aboard Rescue 5 than his little brother. That was fine with him, giving him an opportunity that most astronomers would kill for. But it also meant that John would be little more than an onlooker as his brothers risked their lives on rescues. He had already been working for months to come to terms with that concept.
"R-rescue 1 from base."
John turned to the comlink, glad of the momentary distraction. "Go ahead, Brains."
A snowy image of Brains appeared in the console. "H-how is it going, John?" The engineer looked exhausted, and John couldn't help but wonder if Brains would get fed up with them and quit after this.
John told him about their discovery.
"Scott just went down," he finished. "He should be back up in another minute."
Brains couldn't help but ask the question that had undoubtedly been burning in his mind ever since they took off. "H-how is, uh, Rescue 1 performing?"
John smiled and obliged him. "Great. The radar and the zero-visibility computer are working well. Believe me; Scott has been pushing them to their limits out here."
"Hold on, John." Brains disappeared and John heard the distinct beeping of the vidphone line.
Scott's voice came over the radio, his teeth chattering. "John, bring me in."
Sighing with relief, John hit the switch to haul Scott back up. He listened as the motor worked, pulling in the bight of heavy gage cable. It stopped automatically when the cable was completely drawn in. "I'm onboard."
John set Rescue 1 into a circular flight pattern, tired of holding the ship steady. He concentrated on navigating the perimeter, waiting for his brother to get dressed and make an appearance in the cockpit.
After what seemed like hours, Scott finally came through the door. His hair was wet and he was flushed with the cold of the water.
"Well?" John asked anxiously, relinquishing the pilot's chair.
"He wasn't down there." Scott replied, breathlessly. He shivered as he grabbed the controls.
John reached behind the seat and fetched the emergency blanket. He threw it over Scott's shoulders. "Thanks," Scott wrapped himself tightly in the cover.
"So what's up?"
Scott stared at him. "There was a man down there," he looked forward again at the controls. "He was shot, John."
After momentary shock, John's mind raced through all the implications of Scott's news. "Someone tried to overtake the plane?"
"Looks that way."
"To kill Dad? Or kidnap him?"
"That's the million dollar question."
"He could still be alive."
"Yeah, or whoever shot the pilot could have stuffed Dad out the hatch." Scott shook his head. "He could be anywhere out here."
"What do you want to do?"
"Keep looking," Scott said. "The second most likely alternative is that Dad got away and is out here in the woods, somewhere."
They didn't discuss the first most likely alternative. "So we keep going?"
Scott nodded. "Until we know for sure what happened, I intend to operate under the assumption that Dad is still alive. He either survived the crash or he parachuted out."
John nodded. "I agree."
"John?" They looked at the comlink. "Oh, uh, hi Scott."
"Hi, Brains" Scott took a minute to fill their friend in on the situation. He ended up with, ". . . and you can bet that the next thing we equip all of these machines with is wetsuits."
Brains took the news gravely, listening to every detail. "D-did you scan the shoreline with the, uh, infrared scanner yet?"
"I'm doing that now." John spoke up. He had relocated himself to a small computer that controlled the hi-tech scanner. Infrared imaging was an old concept that had been used in the past by the military to track their enemies. Brains, being the evil genius that he was, had been able to come up with a scanner based on the same principles to detect the body heat of a missing or trapped person. He had also rigged it so that the scanner could be operated from Rescue 1. They could search ten square miles in a matter of seconds.
The screen came on, and immediately, John got hits on about 100 different targets. He recalibrated the instruments to exclude squirrels and moose, concentrating on readings that could possibly come from human beings. The screen went blank.
Scott began a slow circuit of the lake so John could have a chance to scan every inch of the sandy soil.
Brains continued as John kept his eyes affixed to the screen before him. "I just got a call from Virgil." He said. "I-i have, uh, some good news."
"Give it to us Brains" Scott prodded him. "We could use some good news."
"Gordon showed signs of awakening this morning." the engineer revealed. "H- he squeezed Alan's hand."
"Are you sure Brains?" Alan had a habit of imagining things, especially if he were overly focused on the situation.
"G-gordon seemed to respond to, uh, Virgil's voice."
John nearly leapt for joy. He contained it with effort and instead, he kept scanning "Already?" he asked as calmly as possible. "I thought they said he was comatose."
"It seems that the, uh, h-head injury was not as severe as previously thought." The happy tone in Brains' voice was unmistakable. "E-even still, the physicians are having trouble, uh, explaining it."
"You know Gordon," Scott laughed. "He probably heard those doctors talking and decided to prove them wrong."
"The quickest way to get him to do anything is tell him it's impossible." John quipped.
"They've, uh, scheduled a-another series of tests to determine the extent of the trauma."
John took a breath. "What about his back, Brains? If he's stabilized, can they start to repair his spinal chord?"
"I'm sorry, John," came the quiet answer, "V-virgil didn't mention it."
"One thing at a time, bro," Scott said reassuringly, "He's alive and apparently getting better. We'll cross the next bridge when we get to it."
Scott switched gears as he continued to pilot the ship. "So Brains, how's Virgil?"
"V-very upset," Brains replied. "He says he wants a-a word with you as soon as you get back."
"Is that all?"
"Virgil's version was, uh, a bit more colorful."
"I'll bet."
Brains cleared his throat. "H-he also wanted me to, uh, tell you that he would make it a point to d-discuss this with your father when you bring him home."
John smiled. Good old Virgil. He always knew exactly what to say.
Scott chuckled behind him. "If he calls back, tell him I'm looking forward to it." He signed off.
They finished searching the lake and Scott brought Rescue 1 to a halt again.
"Nothing," John said his disappointment evident. "Where do we look next?"
"It's a crap shoot, Johnny. He could be anywhere out there." Scott looked over at him. "Pick a direction."
John raised an eyebrow. "We have to be able to do better than that. We can't just fly around out here, hoping to get lucky."
"We're already one step ahead of the search and rescue guys," Scott replied as he raised the ship. "We know where he crashed. Now the only question is, where the hell did he go?"