A/N 3/26/13 - Another long wait has come to an end. My apologies, again, but I got myself so bogged down on my other story it was effecting everything else with a vengeance. Now that is working itself out too, so maybe I'll be able to get this ball rolling again.
We are finally back on the Farm. It's Monday, and time for crop duster Chuck to get to work in his Air Tractor. It's also Sarah and Casey's first day on their cover jobs. Will they make a good first impression? Let's find out. So without further ado, let's head out to the airport and spray some crops.
Thanks again to my ever faithful beta and good friend somedeepmystery for the much needed tough love with this. She's tops, and her editing skills are in great demand! Go over to her page and read one of her stories. You will not be disappointed.
I don't own Chuck, but I'm having fun with it, and that's pay enough.
Sarah Versus the Farm
Chapter 8 - It's Not Just a Job
Sarah awoke to a faint buzzing sound coming from somewhere on the floor. The sudden and startling reality of someone's arms around her, and the subtle, steady, sound of a heartbeat in her ear, caused her to instantly assess her surroundings as her awareness and training kicked into high gear. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized she was wrapped in the warmth of a blanket, burrowed into the side of a man, obviously a man, a very naked man. Chuck Bartowski.
It wasn't a dream. They had really done it. Wow, had they ever jumped into the deep end...several times last night. In fact, until they'd finally fallen asleep in each other's arms, they hadn't really stopped to so much as catch their breath. Sarah didn't think there was a piece of furniture in the room that didn't get used in some very provocative way, even the floor. She raised her head and looked around. Yes, even the coffee table, everything that was once on top of it was now scattered over the rug. She was never going to be able to look at this room the same way again.
They were in the chair and a half again, but the other one now, on the other side of the couch, with a pile of throw pillows beneath them. Sarah'd had some experiences with this sort of thing a few times in her life, but never, ever one of this magnitude; nothing remotely like this. She felt like she'd been melted in a crucible, poured into a new mold, and then forged into something new; something very shiny. Once, she'd decided to do this - they'd decided to do this - she didn't see how they could ever turn back. It was a life changing event. It had been that big for her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and took in the scent of him, wondering if it had been the same for him. Her memory of the night before was shouting a resounding yes.
Riding along in the turbulent undercurrent of her thoughts were the frightening concerns and deep turmoil about what she'd allowed herself to do. Never once in her entire career had she been so affected to even remotely consider the steps she'd taken with Chuck. It was completely out of her frame of experience to break with discipline like this. Depending on what Chuck's classification with the DNI ultimately turned out to be, it could mean that she had broken, or severely bent a written regulation or two, and smashed more than one unwritten rule as well.
If it wasn't for the fact that the man in her arm's status with the Agency was still very nebulous, and a strange inner calm that enveloped her when she was with him, she'd have probably been freaking out some right about now; probably even distancing herself from him. But the distress was still there, buried under the immense weight of a powerful emotion she'd never experienced before. She struggled with the idea that something so massive, could at the same time, make her feel so light. In spite of it all, she felt lighter than air.
"We have to get up, Sarah," Chuck groaned from beneath her, pulling her from her thoughts.
She looked up at Chuck's, weary, yet smiling face, and his placid brown eyes that were telling her a story so fantastic it was making her question reality. She watched awestruck when his pupils clearly dilated, as he looked at her in the dim light from the wall sconces, and wondered if her own eyes had done the same when she looked at him. "Am I awake? Is this real? This can't be real." she said, with mixture of wonder and disbelief. I did this?
He took her cheeks in his fingertips and kissed her, softly, and tenderly, but tentatively; like he couldn't believe it himself. "Does that feel real, like you're awake? Like we're awake?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure. That felt pretty dreamy," she said, her eyes still searching his, as a soft smile graced her face. "What time is it anyway? I feel like we only barely got to sleep."
"According to that buzzing sound from my phone it's 3:45," he said, stretching his free arm over his head and rolling his eyes at her when she winced.
"Oh Jeez," Sarah said, rubbing her palm over her face, "I'm not much of a morning person, Chuck, especially after only a couple of hours sleep...if we even got that much." Sarah had been trained at the Farm to cope with sleep deprivation, but that didn't mean she had to like it or seek it out.
"Well, you should have given your cover job more thought then, this is the way we roll around here this time of the year," he said with a chuckle, throwing off the blanket. "Besides, sleep is highly overrated, especially after a night like we had last nig-... Oh, my, God," he breathed, with a stunned expression, when he sat up and gazed down at the beautiful woman, covered with growing goosebumps on her arms and legs, from the late spring morning coolness of the room.
"You don't look half bad yourself, cowboy," she sang, with a soft melodious giggle, watching him transition through several shades of steadily deeper pink.
"Wow, now I'm the one wondering if I'm still asleep and this is all a dream." He abruptly pulled his eyes away from the sight and met her eyes. But his own eyes had a faraway look in them, almost like he didn't altogether believe what he was seeing.
Sarah quickly sat up, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, and locking him in a deep and passionate kiss. It had an instantaneous effect on both of them. There was no doubt at all they were now wide awake as their hands started to wander and caress each other's skin.
"Okay, that definitely wasn't a dream," said Chuck, a little breathlessly as he broke the kiss, "Sarah, as much as I'd like to stay here with you all morning, we can't. We have to get out to the airport. You heard Morgan say how much work came in over the weekend."
"Well, we can't exactly hang out in bed all day, anyway, Chuck; not with Casey around. We have to be very cautious about this. What we're doing is extremely dangerous." Sarah didn't want to say how worried she already was about what they'd done. If the Major had wanted to, he could have easily come into the house and checked on them, even in this windowless room.
"I understand," he said sheepishly, "I don't regret this, Sarah, not one damn bit."
She kissed him softly and hugged him tight, whispering into his ear, "I don't regret it either, Chuck. We'll figure out how to make this work. Even Beckman is already expecting us to be in a cover relationship. We just have to make sure they think it's only a cover and not real."
"Ha, piece of cake," Chuck deadpanned, snorting into her shoulder.
She pushed him back to look in his eyes, and grinned at him, "I'm a spy, Chuck, and almost your whole family were spies. We'll figure something out, okay?"
"Being a spy is not my schtick, Sarah," he replied with a one shoulder shrug and a small lop-sided smile.
"Being a spy is in your blood, Chuck. It may be time for you to embrace your legacy, whether you want to, or not."
Chuck's face fell gradually into a frown and he pushed off the chair to pick up his boxer shorts and began stumbling into them, while Sarah sat up in the chair on her knees watching him pensively. "God, I don't want that life, Sarah, I just don't. I wish none of this had ever happened. Dammit, Bryce, why did you do this to me?" he asked the ceiling. He looked back down and Sarah's face was crestfallen. He stepped quickly to her and took her face in his hands. "Oh, Sarah, I'm sorry. God, I wish we could have met any other way than this. I can't tell you how much it means to me to know you at all. I'm...I'm, not saying..."
"Chuck," she whispered, her face and voice filled with an emotion that frightened her, "It's okay. I know this wasn't what you wanted, but we probably wouldn't have met any other way. Chuck...about Bryce...there is something you need to know."
"What about that bastard?" he asked, pushing away, with eyes that were suddenly aflame.
"Chuck, c'mere," she whispered to him again, pulling him back in so she could get close to his ear, "Listen to me," she breathed so quietly it could barely be heard, "there's much more to Bryce and what happened to you than meets the eye. He left you a message, Chuck. I have it. I couldn't let the Agency see it, at least not now. I was going to tell you, but-"
"When?" he rasped back into her ear.
"Soon. I was going to tell you, soon. Things just kept getting in the way."
"No, when did he leave me the message?"
She pursed her lips and exhaled sharply through her nose, turning away from him, "When he sent you the Intersect. It was on the monitor when I found you here."
"Well, maybe that was a good thing," he said woodenly. "At least Morgan didn't see it when he came looking for me. Where is it now?" he asked, his body rigid, and his hand tense on the back of her neck.
"It's in a safe place. We need to find somewhere private so I can show it to you."
Chuck pushed away again. His hands fell to his sides and his chin fell as his eyes scrunched tightly shut. He stood there silently, as motionless as a statue.
"Chuck?" Sarah murmured hoarsely.
He snapped out of it and met her eyes with a penetrating stare. After a moment he broke eye contact. "I'm going to go put on a pot of coffee," he said abruptly, and strode to the door.
"Wait, don't open that, Chuck," Sarah said emphatically, her voice still low, as she scrambled to put on some clothes.
He froze with his hand on the door knob, watching her quickly don her panties, and throw her shirt on without a bra. Sarah gracefully gathered her remaining clothing and boots in one hand, and then she silently padded to the door and placed her other hand on top of his on the doorknob. "Let me make sure the coast is clear," she said, searching his eyes, "I was going to tell you. I did tell you. I wasn't going to keep this from you, Chuck." She said it so quietly, when she swallowed, it sounded like a thunderclap.
Sarah gently pushed him back a half step, turned out the lights, and opened the door a crack to peer out. The house was still dark and silent. She moved stealthily into the hallway and stood there for a minute listening, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Then she snuck a peek around the corner of the doorway into the living room, turned back to Chuck, and nodded, before walking silently down the hallway to her room.
Sarah froze at her door when she felt his eyes upon her, and looked over her shoulder to see them shining at her in a sliver of cool moonlight coming through the window at the end of the hall behind her. A surge of relief flooded over her when a toothy and reassuring grin appeared in the darkness with those shining eyes, before it disappeared and his silhouette moved down the hall towards his room.
No sooner had she stepped into her room and started to close the door, than Chuck's voice boomed through the house with a deep throatiness she'd not yet heard. "Sarah, rise and shine! Time to get up! We're burning daylight, and we're already late!"
Sarah, clapped her hand over her mouth to squelch the laugh that tumbled out.
-II-
They hurried down the front steps to his truck in the driveway. Chuck was carrying his usual large Stanley thermos, and they each had a coffee cup in their hand. It was going to be another one of those caffeine fortified days. They exchanged a glance that said neither of them regretted it one little bit. "Casey's not here," Sarah observed, looking toward the big motorhome the Major was staying in, "See? His car is gone." The trailer behind the motor coach was empty and the black Crown Victoria that had been on it was nowhere in sight.
"Huh. Wonder where he got off to. Ya, think he's already out at the airport?"
"Could be," said Sarah thoughtfully, opening the passenger door on the Ford pickup. "Morgan said something about introducing him to Mac last night. He could be anywhere, though." Sarah knew Casey was going to be overseeing the setup of surveillance at the airport and the ranch, but she wasn't prepared to drop that one on Chuck yet. She also knew she was going to have to locate all the cameras and microphones Casey was installing to insure her and Chuck's clandestine relationship wasn't discovered. Even with Beckman's allusions to a cover relationship their situation was incredibly fluid and complicated.
There was also any number of other tasks related to their new assignment that Casey could be working on. They had plans for the offices and other facilities at the airport depending on how the next several weeks went with Chuck, so Casey would likely be off doing things at all hours of the day and night for the next several weeks. Life on the farm was going to be anything but bucolic for the foreseeable future, but maybe she and Chuck could take advantage of that.
They were driving down the county road to the airport, and Chuck had just begun to discuss the work schedule for the day when, as if on cue, both of their phones started to vibrate in their pockets. They glanced at each other and reluctantly released their clasped hands to retrieve the devices. "Yeah, Morg," said Chuck as he answered, and fell silent to listen.
Sarah looked at her phone, seeing she had two text messages. The first was a secure message from Casey.
Briefing at 1400 local today at
my coach. New info on your NSA
boyfriend that may effect the
asset. Agency analysts arriving at
1500.
She suppressed a scowl at the way Casey was obviously trying to push her buttons. But the curious content of the message overrode her irritation with the Major. She wondered if he knew more than what she was reading here and decided to seek him out and ask him about it after they arrived at the airport.
The second message was from someone she had come to call her surrogate mother, Langston Graham's wife, Lillian. It had apparently come in when she was scrambling to get ready to leave the house with Chuck and she'd missed it.
I hear you have a new assignment
stateside. Something new you've
never done before. Call me, Hon.
Lilly
Sarah keyed out a quick reply, and closed her phone with a thin smile on her lips. It never took Lillian very long to figure out where she was, or what she was doing. The woman watched her like a hawk, and was always twisting her husband's arm for information about what she was up to. Even with the clearances her 'mom' had, Sarah doubted Lilly knew much about this assignment of hers yet. At this point in the chain of events, it was likely less than ten people knew all the details, including Chuck. Something new alright, she smiled, wondering what Lilly was going to think of her new cover job.
"That was Morgan," said Chuck, setting his fancy phone on the console, and breaking her from her reverie, "The work is starting to trickle in. Kyle and I each have about a half dozen loads this morning, then we'll each have another eight or so tonight after dark."
Sarah stared at him for a moment trying to decide if she'd heard him correctly. "What? You guys spray at night?" she asked incredulously.
Chuck glanced at her and chuckled at her shocked expression, "Yeah sometimes we have to do that. The job tonight is near an apiary - bees - so we need to do the work after our little buzzing friends have gone to bed for the night." He looked again at her briefly and grinned, "Don't worry, I don't have any intention of asking you to spray at night until you have a lot of experience at this."
"Oh." Sarah looked at him for the first time like he might actually have a screw loose. "And to think I was concerned about you air racing. Spraying at night doesn't sound very safe at all, Chuck."
"It's not as bad as it sounds," he said, looking again at her worried face, "We have some very powerful retractable lights mounted on the planes; they light up the field really well and they make the wires stand out like a neon sign. It takes a little getting used to, but it's not such a big deal."
"If you say so," said Sarah skeptically, "Can I watch?"
"I was actually going to ask you to spot for me. We like to have a field spotter during night work for safety, and so we can be sure there's no one in the field. People are hard to see in the dark, and some irrigators like to work at night when it's cool. Don't fret over it, Sarah, I've been doing this for a while. I think you'll feel better about it after watching us."
"Okay," was her drawn out one word response, the skepticism still apparent in her voice.
Chuck reached over and took her hand in his, "Don't sweat it, okay? It's just another day, or night, at the office. In the meantime, today, I'd like you to take the 402 out for a short flight, maybe watch Kyle and I work from the air for a bit, and then spend some time on the ground getting to know the crew. I also have some study material for you for your aerial applicator's license. Later, if there's time, we'll have you take Sierra Bravo out for another spin around patch."
"That sounds good," said Sarah with a nod. "Just a warning though, I have some Agency stuff to do too. That text message I got was from Casey. I'm supposed to meet him at his motorhome at 2:00 for a briefing, and the NSA analyst will be there at 3:00 to look at your computer."
"That's fine. Kyle and I should be done before noon. We'll be able to go home for a late lunch and I want to take a nap before going back to work this evening." Chuck scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not very excited about someone messing around with my computers. Can I be there for that?"
"I don't know. I don't see why not. He or she may have some questions for you about it anyway, so you should probably be there."
They turned through the airport entrance and drove onto the ramp to see a flurry of activity in the early morning twilight. Kyle Pruitt already had his airplane running and on the chemical loading pad near the end of the runway, the flashing wingtip strobes lighting up the ground around the big yellow aircraft. "I don't see Casey's Crown Vic anywhere," said Chuck curiously. "Not knowing where that guy is makes me nervous."
"You and me both," replied Sarah with an uneasy laugh.
Chuck parked his truck next to the office, and as they stepped from the cab John Casey pulled up in his black Ford sedan next to them.
"At least you have good taste in vehicles," said the big NSA agent gruffly, nodding toward Chuck's Ford F-250, as he hauled his big frame from the car. "Give me a hand will you? I've got some coffee and donuts for the crew." Chuck and Sarah exchanged a brief look of completely suspended belief. "Hey, I'm the new guy around here, I know how to make a good first impression," Casey said, with an irritated smirk. He opened the back door and proceeded to lay trays of to-go coffee cups and large pink boxes on the roof of the car, then grabbed a tray and a box, and walked towards the large open door of the maintenance hangar.
They watched incredulously as Casey and Mac McConnelly talked exuberantly in front of the hangar and Mac helped set the food and coffee on the round table near the big open door.
"What is up with that?" asked Sarah, her voice dripping with disbelief.
"They've already met," said Morgan loudly, over the sound of the turbine engine running on the loading pad. Chuck and Sarah spun on their heels. The short, bearded man was standing on the office deck behind them with a stack of clipboards filled with loading sheets and maps in his hands. "Did you know Casey was a Marine?" Morgan asked looking at Chuck curiously. "Do you know how much trouble two Marine Corp mechanics are going to be around here?"
"Yeah, I knew he was a Marine," Chuck said cryptically, watching the two men chatting at the table. The Intersect had told him more about Casey than he wanted to know. "Didn't give much thought to the consequences of it though."
"Didn't think so," replied Morgan with a grin, "I hope we're all going to survive this."
"I never had a doubt that things were going to get more interesting around here," Chuck said absently, glancing at Sarah warily and picking up a tray of coffee cups. "Morg, tell Juan that Sarah's going to be taking on a hundred and fifty gallons of water when she gets to the pad. The plane behaves a little more predictably when there's something in the hopper," he said, looking at Sarah, and receiving a quiet nod back. Tell the gang to come over to the hangar for a cup of coffee and some donuts after Kyle heads out."
"Roger Wilco, Chuck."
"Well, let's get this show started," Chuck said, hoisting the tray of coffee in front of him with the Bartowski eyebrow dance, "Breakfast is served."
After setting the remaining trays and boxes on the table, Chuck and Sarah walked over to the two mechanics who were reviewing some of the maintenance logs at Mac's desk in the back of the hangar, "I see introductions have been made and you guys are sorting everything out. You remember, Sarah, don't you, Mac?"
Mac McConnelly raised an eyebrow and broke into a broad smile, "You're freakin' kidding me, right? How could I possibly forget?" he asked, shaking his head, "Morgan tells me you've decided to join this crazy bunch. Welcome aboard Ms. Walker." He reached across the desk offering Sarah his hand.
"Thank you, Mac. I'm looking forward to working with you guys," she said, shaking his hand, coyly.
"Now, you just come to me or Casey here if you have any troubles with Sierra Bravo, okay? I doubt she'll give you any problems though, she's a really great airplane."
"I'll do that, but I'll try to treat him right, too."
"Heh,heh, this is going to take some getting used to," Mac said glancing at Chuck, "lady ag pilots are more rare than a blue moon."
"I'm sure you'll improvise, overcome, and adapt. Isn't that how the Marine saying goes?" quipped Chuck, shifting his gaze to Casey.
Casey grunted, steely eyes on Chuck. One corner of his mouth almost looked like it had turned up. Chuck wasn't sure what that particular grunt meant but the inflection didn't sound threatening like a couple previous ones he'd heard. He filed it away for later thought and cataloging. He had a feeling he was going to have to number all of them at some point.
At about that time they heard a turbine engine spool up and, looking out the hangar door, saw Kyle's Air tractor rolling down the runway. Not two seconds later the ground crew descended on the coffee and donuts like a pack of wolves on its prey.
"You know, I'm surprised that Big Mike hasn't already shown up to help lay waste to all those donuts. I swear, he can smell those things from a mile away," Mac said with a deep chuckle.
"Who's Big Mike?" asked Casey, curiously, "Another employee?"
"Oh God, no," replied Chuck with a rippling laugh, drawing a funny 'you had to be there' grin from Mac, "Mike is the county airport manager. To say he's an underachiever would be the understatement of the century. He thrives on avoiding work. He's a great guy, but he wouldn't last a day here."
"He does seem dedicated enough to working at giving you a hard time," said Mac, still showing that inside joke grin. "If it wasn't five in the morning, Mike would definitely be here."
"True that," said Chuck with an eye roll. He looked over at the small mob around the table, and then back to Casey and Sarah, "C'mon, let me introduce you to the ground crew, I think you'll like them."
"Teenagers," Casey said, dubiously.
"Not all of them, not that that should matter a lick, anyway," Chuck responded a little dismissively, drawing the Major's sharp eye, "I think you'll be surprised by them...just sayin'. Where were you at their age?"
Sarah looked over at Chuck, struck by a memory that hit her head on. She'd just been recruited by the CIA when she was the age of most of these teenagers.
Chuck grabbed a couple of cups of coffee and a cinnamon donut to split with Sarah, and then introduced Casey and her to the crew. One of the crew was a pretty, petite, and outgoing young lady, with strawberry blonde hair, named Abigale. Abby, as she liked to be called, seemed to be taking great delight in the idea of Sarah being a pilot, telling Sarah that she was learning to fly from one of Chuck's friends. She stated unequivocally that Sarah was her new role model, and that this was what she also wanted to do someday.
The whole crew was in awe of Sarah, and there were a few discreet looks at her in her ponytail, cowgirl attire, and Justin work boots. But she noticed all the boys were surprisingly well behaved for a bunch of hormonally challenged young men. None of them were even ogling her. That was something unexpected, and they all called her Ms. Walker and spoke respectfully to her. The son of the gentleman she'd met in the rose field, Juan, was extremely polite. He seemed to be making it his mission to be sure she was comfortable and that she knew he would be watching out for her until she was used to how their work here was conducted.
All of the crew was also sufficiently intimidated by John Casey, and that seemed to be just fine with the big NSA agent. The only one who wasn't buying into his hardcore display and countenance was Abby. She had almost immediately started to tease and needle him and wear him down. Chuck and Sarah kept glancing their way in amusement as the big man reeled under the fusillade of words from the young lady.
"This is a nice bunch of guys, Chuck, and Abby is sweet. She seems to keep all these boys in line, including Mac and Casey," Sarah commented as they stood off to the side, watching the young men and early twenties girl quickly dispatch two boxes of donuts.
"Yeah, they're all loyal almost to a fault, very reliable. I don't have to think or worry too much about what they're doing, and Morgan's management style seems to click well with them. Zero complaints. Performance bonuses always help morale too," he said with a wry smile. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled a military style flight helmet bag from the shelf. He looked at her appraisingly, "What size hat do you where?" he asked with a tight one sided grin.
"What?" Sarah asked, knitting her brow together and with narrowing eyes, "What kind of a question is that?"
Chuck unzipped the bag and pulled out a Gentex, double visor flight helmet with a very distinct, blue airbrushed paint job and snowflakes streaking over it. Sarah looked over at the Frost Queen parked only a few feet from them. The paint jobs matched. "You can borrow this until we get you one of your own. Try to ignore the name on the visor cover, okay?"
Sarah looked at the helmet and frowned, her eyebrows knitting even closer together, "Chuck, if your crew starts to call me this there will be hell to pay," she said with a warning tone, after reading the airbrushed name 'Frost Queen' emblazoned across the helmet.
"They're your crew, too, but I'll have a chat with them if it makes you feel any better, and I don't want you flying that bird without a helmet. So what are you?" he said, studying her head, "Seven and a half?"
"Wow. Good eye. Close. Seven and a quarter."
"Big head for a girl," he said with a mischievous smile.
She frowned at him again, "I'm not sure how to take that."
"As a compliment. Lots of room for gray matter in there."
Her eyes lit up and that thin smile suddenly appeared, "Ha, okay. Nice save."
"I have my moments," he said, with a snerk and a wrinkled nose. "I'm a seven and a half, but you should be fine for now with an extra skull cap." He grinned again at the face she pulled as she looked at the helmet. "C'mon, I've got to get to work. Let's go get you started, alright?"
Sarah took the helmet from his hands and, pulling it on her head, looked at him with a smirk, "Fine, how do I look?" She looked over Chuck's shoulder to see Juan Tarrazas staring at her with a huge grin and she stifled a groan.
- III -
"So, there you go. Now you know the numbers and where everything is," said Chuck as they surveyed the cockpit and completed the ground check out. Sarah was sitting in the pilot's mesh cool seat as they reviewed the Air Tractor 402's controls and operation. "Now, let's go over the start routine. You've obviously flown turbines before, if you were going to fly a G-4, I assume you know the procedure?"
Sarah shot that smile at him that he was becoming used to seeing; closed mouthed, subtle, and slightly one sided; but one that radiated from her eyes like the sun. "Spin it, spark it, spray it," she said nonchalantly, reciting the turbine pilot's mantra for engine start, which described spinning the engine up to a specific speed, turning the igniters on, and then introducing fuel into the combustion chamber.
Chuck's smile grew bigger, "Yeah, that's how it works with the Pratt, but the Walter is automated. All you have to do is check the igniters, set the condition lever to ground idle, turn the boost pump on, and hit the starter when you see twenty pounds of pressure. The computer does everything else. You only have to make sure the Ng is at idle speed, watch for an ITT overtemp, and shut it down if it exceeds it, or if you don't get it to ignite. Fairly simple. Everything else is like the PT-6."
"Sounds easy enough," Sarah replied, as she scanned the switches and controls while he ran through the high points. She had the checklist on her kneeboard, following along, dropping her thumb down the list, and filling the gaps, as Chuck listed the major items.
"Alrighty then," Chuck said, doing his best Jim Carrey, Ace Ventura impression, "light her- or excuse me, him, up!"
Sarah grinned at him, then turned her attention back to the panel and ran through the procedure. They listened to the igniters pop, then she set the condition lever, turned the boost pump on, and toggled the start switch up when she saw twenty pounds of fuel pressure. They listened to the 750hp engine spin up with a whine as the propeller turned. Then the fuel ignited with a throaty tenor and a whoosh, as the engine started to pass massive amounts of heated air, and the instrument gauge needles moved smoothly into the green arcs.
Sarah flipped the switch from starter to generator and looked at Chuck with a satisfied smile. "Ah, that's a sweet sound," she said, with a raised voice above the whining din, gazing into Chuck's eyes, "I love the smell of jet fuel in the morning!"
"Oh God," Chuck said, loudly above the engine noise, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, "you are going to fit in just perfect here." He rubbed Sarah's arm affectionately and gave her hand a squeeze, "I'll talk to you on the radio."
Sarah gave him a nod and a wink as Chuck stepped down off the wing, and she watched him trot to his plane. After a few minutes of familiarizing herself some more with the cockpit layout, she looked up when her helmet earphones came to life and Chuck said, "You ready?"
She looked over at him next to her in his Air Tractor 502 and gave him a toothy smile with a thumbs up, "Ready as I'll ever be," she said, with giddy excitement.
"Okay. Line up behind me at the loading pad, I'll wait for you so you can follow me out to the field and watch for a while, then we'll have you spray out some of that water."
"Sounds good, boss," she replied cheerily.
"What a lovely voice," said, Kyle Pruitt, over the radio, "This is sure going to be a lot nicer than having to listen to Chuck yak incessantly all day long. Welcome to the Bartowski flying circus, Sarah. And don't call him boss, you're setting a very bad precedent."
"Good morning to you, too, Kyle," said Chuck laconically as he pushed the throttle forward and taxied the yellow plane from the tie down. Sarah taxied slowly out behind him feeling for the first time how the airplane handled on the ground.
"Good morning, Kyle," Sarah said with short laugh, "Thank you for the warm welcome."
"Mornin', Sarah. I'm almost full, Chuck," said Kyle, "Be off the pad in a minute, then it's all yours. I'm already three loads ahead of you. Need any help catching up?" he asked teasingly.
"Ha! No, I'll be fine. There'll probably be more for you to do when you're done with that job, anyway, so don't sweat it. We have plenty of work."
"Roger, dodger. Let the fun and games begin. If you want to see how it's done right, I'll be about three fields south of Chuck, Sarah."
"Very funny, smart-ass. I do not want her flying a field the way you do until she's got a couple thousand hours experience, you got that?"
"Yes, sir," Kyle said contritely, "I'll try to be on my best behavior this morning. No bad examples."
Sarah shook her head as she listened to the two friends banter, deciding it would be best to concentrate on what she was doing, and not participate in the ribbing. She watched as Kyle pulled away from the loading pad and rolled down the runway for takeoff after a short radio call. As she sat behind Chuck in the big yellow crop duster, the reality of the moment finally started to sink in completely. Never in her wildest imagination had she ever considered, in her career as a CIA officer, that she'd be doing something quite like this. This was without a doubt the strangest cover job she'd ever had. It easily eclipsed her six month stint as a Wienerlicious girl that one year in Germany when she and Carina Miller were doing surveillance on those Libyan Intelligence operatives who were posing as embassy diplomats.
While she waited for Chuck to load, Sarah toyed with the agricultural GPS unit on the panel, zooming the display to the polygon rendering of the alfalfa field Chuck would be spraying. It was a roughly square field 12.2 miles away on a heading of 223 degrees. Chuck had uploaded his job into her unit from his thumbdrive and given her a copy of the job sheet that included the location and a satellite image of the field. The technology they were using was impressive. Not only could it precisely navigate them to and from the job, and across the field, it could also control the rate that the products were being applied to the crop with very high accuracy. There was lot more to this job than she had initially thought.
"I'm good to go, Sarah" said Chuck over the radio, "I'll wait for you at the runup area."
"Roger, Chuck."
Sarah watched him pull over near the end of the runway and wave at her as she pulled her plane onto the loading pad. Abigale and one of the youngest boys jumped onto the wings and opened the fuel caps while Juan connected a fuel hose to a quick coupler on the side of the fuselage, and then stood back to watch everyone with an eagle eye. A fourth crewman, a young man not much younger than her, connected a two inch hose to another coupling on the side of the plane. He held up his index finger and then closed his hand, and opened it again, showing all his digits while looking her in the eye. She nodded back and he responded with a broad smile and a nod.
Sarah then watched as her windscreen was washed by Abby and her teammate. She could see Chuck eying her from the runup area, his face lit with a smile and the warm glow of the morning sun just beginning to peek over the hills. She couldn't help the big smile that grew on her face as she looked at him, causing Abby to look back and forth between them, and then gaze back a Sarah with a curious and funny grin. Sarah knew the girl hadn't missed a thing, and fought the flush as she cast the young woman a wry smile.
A subtle vibration and motion caught her attention and, looking through the window at the rear of the hopper, she could now see the water level rising as it was being pumped into the tank. It didn't take long at all for it to fill, and right about the time she was going to make a signal to the young man running the pump, it stopped right on the 150 gallon index line on the rear of the hopper in the cockpit. Apparently they could precisely meter the quantity from the pump. Abby gave Juan a signal while see peered into the fuel tank and replaced the fuel cap as soon as Juan removed the fuel hose. Sarah was impressed. The young crew had completed the task with military precision.
"Have fun, Ms. Walker!" exclaimed Abby as she jumped off the wing. Sarah beamed at her and gave the young woman a thumbs up before she raised her side door.
She advanced the prop from feather, and bumped the throttle, taking a deep breath, as the engine spooled up and the plane moved off the pad. She pulled up next to Chuck and he waved again, "Are you ready for this?" he asked, with just a hint of concern in his voice.
She did a quick control check, dropped a notch of flaps, checked the engine gauges, and looked around the airport traffic pattern. "I'm ready, Chuck," she said confidently.
"Well, ladies first. Unless you'd rather not have the additional pressure of having me watch your first takeoff."
"I thrive on pressure, Mr. Bartowski, I'll go first."
"Okay," he chuckled. "The runway is all yours, Ms. Walker. I'll form up with you after takeoff. You probably won't need much more than about 75% torque with only 150 gallons of water."
"Okay." Sarah taxied onto the runway threshold, felt a flutter in her stomach, and smoothly applied power with another deep breath. The swift acceleration surprised her as the powerful turbine engine pulled her down the runway. The tailwheel came up quickly and she hadn't rolled much over a thousand feet when the Air Tractor rose effortlessly into the air and started to climb out like it had a mind of its own. That was a lot easier than I thought it would be, she realized while she retracted the flaps and reset the propeller RPM and power.
Turning left to the south, she looked down off her left wingtip to see Chuck lifting off the runway after about a twenty-five hundred foot takeoff roll. He had an almost full load in the five-hundred gallon airplane he was flying, so he needed much more of the runway. "Power back a little so I can catch up," he said.
Sarah climbed to five hundred feet and pulled the throttle back, settling into a 130 mph cruise as she lined up the navigation line on her GPS display to take her to Chuck's field.
Momentarily, Chuck announced, "Coming up on your right wing," and she looked out to see him tucking into formation about thirty feet off her wingtip. "Hi there. You come here often, gorgeous? Would you care to dance?" he asked with a laugh.
She shook her head and a short giggle passed her lips, "This is probably the only place you'll ever get away with a pickup line like that and not get a drink thrown in your face, buster."
"Yeah, definitely not my best effort. So, how do you like...him, so far?"
"He flies nice. Very solid and stable. The controls are nice and light. I'm impressed."
"Excellent. I'm glad you like it...or him. Like Mac said, this is going to take some getting used to," Chuck said, humorously, "Why don't you take him up to a couple thousand feet and explore the flight envelope a bit, then come on down and watch Kyle and I work some. When I get this load off I'll have you make a couple of passes down the field I'm spraying, then I want you to go back to the airport and do a dump over the runway with what's left, okay?"
"Sounds like a plan, Chuck. I'll see you in a while." She watched him wave and turn away into a descent toward the fields below, and then applied power to climb the plane. When she reached altitude she began doing a series of steep turns and simulated ag turns, followed by some incipient stalls in various power configurations and bank angles. The plane felt solid and honest, especially lightly loaded as it currently was. Chuck had warned her that it would be much different with a full load, and it would require the use of flaps in turns when it was heavy, so she practiced cycling the electric flaps in a and out with each simulated turn to get used to the timing required to accomplish the task.
After a few minutes she checked her GPS display and descended down to the field where Chuck was working. She orbited overhead, and watched him as he smoothly rolled the airplane in and out of turns and dove into the field and climbed back out of it on each pass across it. He made it all look very effortless as the Air Tractor raced around and through the alfalfa field, almost always rolling onto the exact virtual line the GPS was telling him to intercept and follow. Looking about a mile south she saw Kyle making fast back to back turns as he worked another field with dizzying speed and aggressiveness. She could see why Chuck didn't want her going there just yet, as she watched his friend turn so quickly and so closely to the field.
Presently, she turned her attention back to Chuck as he turned back toward the crop from the racetrack pattern he was flying. She watched his spray sputter out about halfway across the field and he dropped a long tissue paper flag from his wing dispenser into the field to mark the spot, and pulled up with a puff of smoke from his smoker to check the wind direction across the alfalfa.
"Okay, Sarah, now it's your turn. Let's trade places. Lay an A-B line down the south edge and give me a couple of back-to-back passes. Keep it up a little high, maybe twenty to thirty feet to start. 65 to 70% torque should yield about 150mph on the pass with that load. There aren't any power lines except on the other end of the field so they won't be a factor. I'll be watching you," he added, dragging the words out with dramatic mock seriousness.
"Okay, here I go," she answered, dragging the words out, humorously mimicking him. She descended as she turned around the field to inspect it the way Chuck had taught her in the Cub, then turned off the pump fan brake and set the GPS for a left back-to-back pattern before making a gradual dive down onto the edge of the field. She had a real spray handle this time around, and she pushed it forward as she crossed the field boundary, then toggled her 'A' point with the button on the stick to mark the beginning of her line as she began to race across the field. Pulling the spray handle back and toggling her 'B' point at the other end of the field she marveled at how fast it had all happened; it was like time had compressed.
Wow, what a rush! She advanced the line on her GPS and executed a fairly wide P-turn to give herself some room for error, rolling out, lined up close, but not quite right on her new line. A little maneuvering at the last second put her almost on it. In her effort to concentrate on finding the line she almost forgot the spray handle and pushed it abruptly forward, with a sudden exhale, as she entered the field. Her concentration slipped just a little from almost forgetting the money handle - as it was euphemistically called, because the only time a spray pilot made money was when it was actually forward. Due to the slight lapse, she found herself chasing the lightbar some, as she zoomed across the field trying to stay centered on the line. This was proving to be a bigger handful than she thought it would be.
"Your doin' good, Sarah," said Chuck, encouragingly into her earphones, "Give me two more passes."
Sarah was concentrating so hard she nodded instead of answering him, and she bit her lower lip down on a laugh as she was making her turn, when she realized what she had done. This pass and the next went much smoother, and she blew out a breath with relief as she pulled the spray valve closed and climbed out of the field. She looked up to see a couple of puffs of smoke and Chuck's plane circling above her. "Nice job, Sarah, we'll make a spray pilot out of you, yet," he said with laughter in his voice.
"Thanks, Chuck," she said, with barely perceptible tremor, "You were not kidding about how much faster this happens than it does in the Super Cub!"
"You'll get used to it, I'm sure of it. You did good."
"If you say so. I felt like I was hanging onto the tail of the plane, holding on for dear life!"
Chuck laughed, "You're not the first person to say that, and you surely won't be the last. Let's head back. When we get to the airport, dump the rest of the load along the side of the runway, to get a feel for what that's like, and then land behind me, okay? Oh, and don't forget the pump fan brake."
"Okay." Sarah reached down and toggled the fan brake. So many things to get used to doing, that if forgotten could damage equipment. She was struck by the sheer complexity of the job. Looking at her GPS display, she saw her four swaths painted across the representation of the field she'd sprayed. It looked pretty good, with no significant gaps or overlaps of the green stripes in the rendering. Perhaps she could get used to doing this.
When Sarah flew down the runway at the Wasco airport she shoved the dump handle forward with a thump. She didn't even notice the old pickup truck parked in the almond orchard near the end of the runway when the remaining water spilled out of the gate box, and she pushed the stick forward slightly to hold altitude. She was also too busy and focused on setting the plane up for landing, and watching Chuck land, to notice the truck then either. By the time she had finished her rollout at the end of a semi-acceptable three point landing she was experiencing sensory overload. Chuck had told her to put the plane away and mentally debrief, as he called it, while he went and finished his job.
Sarah shut the engine down after a couple of minutes of cool down and clambered out of the cockpit. Abigale drove up in a golf cart just as she was stepping off the wing and waved her over. "Chuck wants to talk to you before he heads back out," exclaimed the twenty year old girl with a grin, "How did you like it?" she asked as Sarah took a seat in the cart and Abby took her helmet, placing it in the bag in the back of the cart.
"It was great! I loved it. But my brain is a little fried right now, it was pretty overwhelming."
"I'm sure you'll get used to it," Abby said, exuberantly as she swung the cart around in a swift, tight turn, and sped down the ramp.
"I've been hearing that a lot today," replied Sarah with a broad grin.
"Aw, you'll do fine." Abigale gave her a sidelong glance. "I want my new role model to do well here. Don't you let me down, Sarah," she said with a wink.
"Don't you worry about that, Abby. I'm on a mission to excel. I won't let you down."
"Good. Here we are," the young woman said, as they pulled up to a skidding stop next to Chuck's plane that was idling on the loading pad, "I'll put your helmet away for you."
"Thank you, Abby." Sarah jumped off the cart and ran over to the big ag plane, climbing onto the wing. Chuck had been watching her from the cockpit the whole time with a huge smile on his face.
As she reached the cockpit door he surreptitiously took her hand and intertwined their fingers as he held their hands on his leg. "So what do you think? Is this something you still think you want to do?"
Sarah couldn't help herself. She reached up with her other hand and spread it across the back of his neck, leaning into the cockpit close to him. "That was some of the most fun I've ever had with my clothes on," she said into his ear, fingering the locks on the back of his head.
His grin broadened more and he turned to speak into her ear, "After what happened last night, I'll take that as a resounding yes."
They both just gazed into each other's eyes for a few seconds, and then Sarah simply nodded with a coy smile.
"You're ready to go, Chuck!" shouted Juan, over the sound of the idling turbine.
"Right!" Chuck looked quickly from the young man on the ground and back to Sarah. "You have some studying to do. I'll see you in a little while."
Sarah gave his hand a quick squeeze. "See ya later, Chuck. Stay safe!" Sarah watched him nod and pull his helmet back on as she jumped down from the wing. Then they exchanged a wave as he pulled the door up.
Across the airport hidden in the almond trees, a darker haired, blue eyed man sat in an old pickup truck, watching them intently through a pair of binoculars. He had a look of smug satisfaction displayed on his classically handsome features. I guess I was right about them. I knew something would happen between those two, but already? Damn. And I can't believe they're still letting him do that job. Unbelievable.
A/N - I guess it's safe to call this a transitional chapter to our story. We had to have one like this that introduced Sarah and Casey to their new covers on the airport with Chuck, and to let us meet his crew. They're not as dysfunctional as the Buymoria gang, but you'll see they have their moments. Now that we're here and you've seen how the Bartowski Flying Circus works, let the espionage begin.
Thanks a bunch for all the favs, follows and reviews of this story. They have all been very gratifying and I appreciate it all very much.
I'll have an update for the Sarah Versus the Farm blog up in a day or so to explain a few of the ag flying things that were highlighted in this chapter, as well as few comments about why things are moving so rapidly for Chuck and Sarah. See my profile for the link.
Mac