They had lost the children.
Orbit had poked her nose into at least half the buildings at the airport, but so far, they were nowhere to be found. Several tugs and chaperones were scouring the terminals (how a whole group of kids could have gotten inside without tipping anyone off was beyond her), which left any aircraft "in the know" to snoop around the tarmac. Orbit sniffed and backed out of the storage hangar. It was times like this when she was glad she had never become a parent; a whole field trip, lost at a secure airport? She'd be climbing up the walls.
Really though, the entire field trip. Poof.
A nearby summer camp had gotten clearance to bring some of their kids down to the local municipal airport to have a look about. Often enough, children of the non-aircraft variety did not get to mingle with their massive winged brethren, especially if raised in a large city. Large buildings and broad wingspans do not mix. It was a good opportunity to broaden their horizons. And, ostensibly, to learn how an airport was run. But really, that took back seat to the little gear-nibblers asking all manner of questions, especially awkward, personal ones. It made the chaperones wince, but most of the aircraft within earshot of the kids took it in good humor (those that didn't found other places to be, or were cordially invited to excuse themselves by planes large enough or old enough to command that sort of respect and get it). Orbit had received the radio alert advising craft to be mindful of the younglings currently visiting, and with nothing better to do with her time (Thrust was across the campus getting his fan blades checked), she figured being curious was better than being idle. She had entered the bizjet compound only to run smack into a large cluster of children prodding at a Cessna's propellers and generally not knowing how to ask questions in turn. Orbit's arrival had peeled off a great deal of the crush around the besieged plane, and given the expression on his face, he was exceedingly grateful.
Orbit was rescued in turn by the arrival of Meredith, an old associate from her business plane days. A beautiful, sturdy LJ-45 with a slightly aloof disposition and the gift of gab and knowing just the right place to be to land a ridiculously lucrative job (she did look nice in that new black and gold paintjob her new tech tycoon boss insisted she wear), she liked to "slum it with the plebes" when she wasn't working. "You guys help clear all the upper crust stuffiness right out," she was fond of saying. Orbit was not expecting, then, the sheer amount of gushing that happened upon her arrival. Meredith gave a half-squeal, made a beeline for the group, and spent the next half hour gleefully entertaining every off-the-wall question any of the little spawn could think of. After rolling with the first few curve balls, the chaperones got the hint that there wasn't a thing these kids could say to curb her enthusiasm. If this woman hadn't already contracted the baby rabies, then it was well into its incubation.
And yet, somehow, even Meredith had taken her eyes off of them for just long enough for the lot of them to fly the coop. So to speak. In the same vein, she was now one of the aircraft with all her senses and instruments tuned to anything that might be a wayward child. If Meredith freaked out any more than she was right now, Orbit would go deaf from the shrillness.
Orbit rolled to apron of the Child Free hangar when she spotted something; even clear across both runways, beyond several other large planes and a good couple dozen gates down, Thrust's massive white tail was hard to miss. He was out of maintenance, evidently, but still firmly on that side of the campus. He was moving away from her, at a pace that lacked any urgency whatsoever. Look at him, just ambling slowly down the tarmac without a care in the world. She opened a radio link with him; with his higher field of vision and sharply keener instruments, he might notice something the rest of them were missing.
"Good afternoon, stud."
"Hey, beautiful. I was just about to call you. You won't believe the day I'm having."
"Did they find something wrong with you, other than your broken sense of self-preservation?"
"Funny and cute. But no. I however found something very interesting."
"Can it wait, Thrust? We have a… ah, small problem."
"So do I."
"Many small problems, actually."
"What a coincidence! Me too! I mean, it's not every day you find a baker's dozen-worth of children wandering aimlessly around an international airport."
Orbit just about choked on her own tongue. No way. The universe had a mighty strange sense of humor. She made her way down past the gates, mindful of aircraft who had work to do and schedules to keep. Ahead, Thrust had stopped, turning a slow, lazy ninety towards the runways. She jogged around a Southwest jet in time to catch a clear view of the white Lockheed. From the tower, you were liable to not see anything but the top of Thrust's fuselage and wings. But from the ground…
They were huddled up under his wings. Specifically, his port wing, which faced away from the tower. Some of the children were small enough to creep up under his belly. The rest crowded close to his landing gear, shielded from the prying eyes in the sky. Even at this distance, Orbit could see his lips move, and given the wide, easy smile on his face, it wasn't anything close to the admonishment they should be getting for running loose (which still boggled Orbit's mind; there were close to ten adults in that hangar. Were they training ninjas at this summer camp?).
Orbit cleared the congested gate traffic and made it out to the taxiway. Thrust hadn't moved from where he'd stopped, still waiting for clearance to cross. She watched his gaze jog down the runway before his eyes narrowed, accompanied by that Devil May Care smirk that usually precluded all manner of Terrible Things that seemed to happen around him. His mouth was moving, gaze still pinned to the end of the runway. Orbit turned long enough to follow his line of sight. Queued next for takeoff was an older US Air, most assuredly from her and Thrust's generation. Orbit flew through radio channels to the US Air private frequencies, trying to find just the right—
"—I'm only halfway down the line, man, and this strip is two miles. You can roll that far. Or are you getting old?"
Ah. There they were.
"Please. I'm not even fully loaded; I can go from the ground to the air in a little over half a mile. Why would I double that?"
"To do us a favor."
"I just see one old dog. Who is 'us'?"
"Just some kids and I."
"You've spawned? Our species is doomed. How'd you convince your lady to willingly breed with you?"
"Har har. They ain't mine, I'm just watching them before their minders come lookin'. And I'd have to convince myself first."
"Heh, that's a relief. Good to know some things never change."
"Like your personality."
"Like your maturity."
"Oooooh, like I've never heard that one before."
Orbit rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.
"So can we get that favor or are you too tired? Gotta get to Phoenix to take your widdle nappy in the warm weather?"
"You're an idiot, and I hate you." No he didn't. Not in a million years. "Tell your brats to hold onto their bumpers."
Laughter.
"Love you, Richie."
"I hate you so much, Thrust."
Even from where she was, Orbit could hear the US Air wind up his engines. He rolled, and rolled, and rolled on passed the distance that a busy 737 could have touched off at. At about a quarter of a mile from Thrust he threw the rest of his power to his engines, rocketing down the airstrip, passed Thrust and the kids, before his wings finally caught enough air to push him skyward. On the ground though, his wash created a vortex of wind. Thrust just grinned into it, but the kids were buffeted as gusts a hundred miles an hour whipped around them. Even from the distance she was at, Orbit could hear them squeal and laugh, little brakes locked to keep them under their escort. A couple kept their wheels loose, and were taken for a short ride.
Orbit finally caught up, now opposite the group, but still with two wide runways between them. Thrust smiled at her, and said something that looked an awful lot like "wave to Orbit." And then she was pinned with about a dozen bright, excited eyes. And they all waved at her. It was inappropriate, given that there could be all manner of fines coming down the pipe for whomever watching the kids had let them take off on the grounds of a secure airport (the TSA was going to have a field day with this one), but she couldn't help but laugh. It was adorable; most of those kids didn't weigh as much as one of Thrust's rear gear assemblies. Even so, while evident that this was the first time than any of them had shared close space with a heavy-class jet, they were as comfortable with him as they were with their ground-bound chaperones. Once he got his clearance to cross, they squirmed up under and against him again, smiling and giggling to themselves as if they shared one massive, secret joke—and really, they did, but only until whomever was supposed to be minding the security cameras pointing in the other direction got back to minding them.
Once shepherded safely across the runway, several of them tried to bolt. Thrust gathered them back under his wing in short order.
"Ah ah, remember guys: the cameras on the tower have lasers attached to them. You don't want them to see you out where you're not supposed to be."
A little sedan squinted suspiciously up at him.
"Do they really have lasers?"
"Of course they do. I used to have a massive, beautiful t-tail like Orbit. But then I was bad man, and they cut off half of it. I was lucky they left me with an engine back there."
"Reeeeeeeeeally?" She still did not look entirely convinced.
"As sure as I was writhing in pain after it happened. I just have a regular tail now. So sad."
Orbit rolled her eyes, still grinning. No wonder they liked him; he was, at heart, just like them. Had almost fifty years of life experience under his plating, but that merely made his mischief more complex.
Thrust smiled at her.
"So, who am I delivering these little tire biters to?"
Yeah, she should get to calling the camp councilors. They would want to know that their children were found whole, safe, and almost without incident. She wasn't yet sure if that stunt with Richie's wash counted.
"Let me bring them up."
A young truck nudged Thrust's nose gear with a tiny tire.
"Aw, do we have to go?"
Thrust grinned down at him.
"Well, maybe Orbit and I will keep a couple of you."
She cocked a brow at him.
"We can't, Thrust."
"Why not?"
"Because that's kidnapping."
"Pfft, you're no fun."
"And you're a bad, bad man."
Which, of course, was what he loved to hear.
"The baddest. That's why you're smiling."
"I'm smiling because you're adorable."
"Imagine how adorable I'd be with a couple of kids." Never mind the dozen or so currently hiding under him. She did, however, set the jokes aside for a moment. She leveled a straight look at him, core squirming somewhat.
"…are you being serious?"
She was met with a stare and a silently mouthed hell no.
Orbit let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She should have known better; Perpetual Bachelor at Heart Thrust had been expressing his desire to remain unshackled from the responsibilities that procreating came with for years. Orbit had readily agreed; the life of a seasonal firefighter did not mesh well with full-time parent. Even so, Thrust had clearly missed his true calling; as he herded his rowdy charges into a nearby hangar with a "let's see if there's anything cool in here we can mess with," Orbit couldn't help wonder if he should do work with kids. Outreach, camp councilor, or the like.
Maybe in the off-season, Thrust might have a career as a substitute teacher. Ya know, if a school district didn't mind his blatant disregard for lesson plans.
And he stayed the hell away from chemistry.
And fire.
And chemical fires.
Hm, maybe not substitute teacher…
AN:
Because... just because. They're easy to write.
I'm hunting typos. Let's see if I can find them all. Its kinda like playing Where's Waldo.