"It's an earlier model, but she'll fly," said Asami. "My father loved the prototypes, so I was betting he hadn't sent this one into battle." She gestured to a gray biplane, which had been concealed beneath a tarp in the far corner of the hangar. "He thought a museum might want it one day."
Iroh nodded. The "earlier model" looked identical to the planes he'd taken down in the battle with the Equalists. He hated to admit it, but most machines looked the same to him. In the military he'd memorized the types of ships and airships relevant to his command, but when it came to anything else—motorbikes, cars, trains, airplanes—he just counted the number of wheels or wings and called it good. He did, however, know better than to say as much to an engineer. As long as it flew, it would serve his purpose.
"This will do, thank you, Miss Sato," said Iroh. "Can you remind me how to fly it? I got the basic idea last year, but a refresher would be helpful."
Asami stared at him. "No," she said finally.
"No?" Iroh asked, raising an eyebrow. That was a problem. He thought he had gist of it, but a tutorial would certainly be useful. The young woman must be pressed for time though, and probably considered herself above giving individual lessons. "Well, if it's really that simple…" He moved to walk past Asami to the plane.
Her hand shot out to his chest, stopping him cold. "I mean, no," she said. She narrowed her eyes, brows knitting. "Do you mean to tell me that you called me asking to rent an airplane, an airplane that you intended to fly, my very last airplane, and your only flight experience is from the one time you hopped from plane to plane, setting them all on fire?"
Technically, this was true.
"I understand the basics, Miss Sato," Iroh said, "and time is short. There's a stick in the middle, and you pull it one way for up and the other for down, which is not that dissimilar to—"
Her green eyes flashed. "Don't 'Miss Sato' me, General." She removed the hand restraining him, but to his surprise started stabbing at him with one angry finger. "I don't care how urgent your mission (stab) is, you are not going anywhere near (stab) my airplane if all you know is that there's a stick (stab) in the middle you can pull (stab) on." She glared at him.
"Really, Miss Sato," Iroh said, flustered. Truth be told he was as skeptical of his ability to fly as she was, but he hadn't thought of another way to get to the South Pole in time and undetected. He'd have to chance it. But he saw from the set of Asami's jaw that she wouldn't let him go easily. He would have to tell her at least some of what he was planning if he was going to convince her to let him borrow the aircraft.
Iroh sighed. "The less you know, the better. I promise. But, I can tell you this much. I know that you are friends with Avatar Korra, and would wish to help her if you could. She said as much to me herself. I am trying to help her as well, and her people, but circumstances require that I do it a bit…" He searched for the right word. "Unconventionally," he finished, waving a hand in the direction of the plane. He pulled her hand away from his chest and held it briefly. "Please, Miss Sato," he said. "Will you help me help her?"
Asami's face softened. She glanced quickly at her hand, which Iroh immediately dropped. "Of course," she said, meeting his eyes. "Where am I taking you?"
Iroh was impressed. After he'd reluctantly agreed to Asami's proposal to serve as his pilot, she'd promised to go pack a bag and be back within the hour. He'd been prepared to have to pare down her belongings, so was pleasantly surprised to see her pull up with nothing but a dark green pack. She'd changed as well, and now sported loose-fitting brown pants and a dark leather jacket over some kind of green knit top. Her black hair was bound up into a ponytail and she'd exchanged her heeled boots for hiking shoes. Even in the flat shoes she was tall, and though clearly younger than him she walked with a surety of movement that made her seem older than Korra and the others. A pair of olive green goggles perched on the top of her head. Iroh hadn't wanted a traveling companion, but the thought crossed his mind that, if he must have one, he could do a lot worse than a pretty girl with common sense.
"This okay?" Asami asked. She looked down at her outfit, frowning slightly. Iroh realized that he must have been staring.
"Yes, fine," he said, shifting his gaze. "And no issues arranging for your leave?"
"I do own the company, General." Asami smiled. "It has its perks. Besides, I haven't taken any time off in ages. To be honest, the staff are probably happy to have me off their backs for a few days." She hoisted her pack and started walking towards the plane.
"And what did you tell Mako?" Iroh asked. He saw Asami tense. "It's okay," he went on, "I understand that you had to tell him something. But the less anyone knows about what I'm doing, the better, for his safety as well as mine. And what he does know, I ought to know as well."
"I didn't tell Mako anything," Asami said. Her back was still to Iroh, silhouetted against the soft light from the open hangar. "He, um. Didn't you know? He… and Korra… well, kind of..." He heard her let out a frustrated breath. "It's complicated."
"I'm sorry," Iroh said. He'd been deployed most of the year as the United Forces rebuilt the fleet they'd lost in the Equalist rebellion and hadn't kept up on Republic City gossip. "Forgive my mistake."
"It's fine," Asami said flatly, and started walking. Iroh saw her shrug. "I told Korra that I'm planning to meet her down there, but taking one of Varrick's ships in order to keep an eye on the Future Industries merchandise. After the theft of all those mecha tanks last month, no one will question that motive." Iroh nodded. It was a good cover. His opinion of Asami Sato went up.
Mako and Korra, he thought as they approached the hangar, and shook his head. He knew neither one well, but had spent enough time with them to be skeptical of the match. That's like fire trying to love gasoline.