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The next two days seemed the fastest of Scott's was allowed back to the barracks briefly but sworn to secrecy about what was going on. No doubt they realised if Scott vanished, more questions would be asked. Tom had been more apologetic than his captain had ever seen him. Scott found it hard to reassure the man. How could he say everything was going to be alright when he was potentially about to disappear in the same way Kevin had?

But Scott wouldn't have been captain if he let his doubts and uncertainties show in front of his men. He stuck by the decided tale, claiming he was being sent to offices a few miles away to try and find out what had happened to Kevin. It was enough for the rest of the team. The hope on their faces made him feel bad. Would they trust him again after finding out they had been part of the same cover-up that had taken Kevin from them? But the orders were to stay silent and Scott knew he didn't have a choice. He managed to forget about the mission for a few hours as he had dinner with the men. When it came to turning in for the night, Scott trekked back across to the administration block alone.

There were more than just offices there. It was where senior members of the force bunked and Scott knew no captain had ever spent a night there, let alone two. But time was of the essence and Scott needed to be ready to leave as soon as WASP got in touch. Scott didn't mind. In his head, the mission had already started so sleeping somewhere different made it easier. It helped him to focus on what needed to be done. The different bed and surroundings - not to mention everything weighing on his mind - meant the captain had another restless night and was far from his optimistic self the following day.

Grigson put him through his paces in the morning, giving him a workout Scott didn't think he had experienced before. Every part of his training was brought into play and when he had finally dropped into a panting heap, Grigson simply stood over him with a clipboard and listed all the things he needed to improve to make sure his reaction times were perfect. Scott was not best pleased, but Hanks and Evans joined them for lunch and he was able to let his bad mood go.

The next few hours were spent selecting his plane and going over every inch. Scott could tell they were determined to bring the matter to a close as they were giving him the choice - wanting him to feel at ease with what he was flying. Scott chose his usual plane. He knew the controls and how she handled after so many times of flying her. Handling something different could potentially mean throwing his life away. He didn't think he would ever turn down the chance to fly the fastest or biggest planes the Air Force had to offer, but he had to think with his head rather than his heart. He would have to do the checks all over again when he left, but there was something soothing and familiar about running through them now. Evans made sure the others had left him to it, knowing this was Scott's way of getting his head in the right mind-set for what he was going to do.

Dinner was spent on his own, pouring over diagrams and specifications for the machine he was supposed to be destroying. The range hadn't been determined, meaning Scott didn't know if he could shoot at it before it shot at him. Instead, he found himself studying the plans of the actual weapon. He didn't think he would get that close; if he failed flying in then WASP would take over. But it made him feel better knowing he would be able to pull the plug without blowing himself up if he had to.

Scott wished – not for the first time - that his mind worked the same way as John's. No doubt his little brother would take one glance and be able to tell him exactly what to do. Virgil would be more useful right now, his mechanical mind allowing him to understand what the diagram was telling him. Scott stared at it helplessly, wishing there was a big red button he could push. He even wished he had met the young scientist his father had recently been in contact with, certain that – given enough time – the genius would be able to build some sort of cloaking device to allow the plane to get closer without being under threat.

Scott fell asleep pouring over the diagrams. He was awoken by Evans sending him to bed around midnight. Too exhausted to protest, Scott fell into bed without changing and managed to get a few hours before his brain started to remind him of the pressure on him. This wasn't just about staying alive: it was about stopping more planes from being shot down. How the Air Force had managed to make sure no commercial flights travelled within range, Scott had no idea. But he knew it wouldn't be long before questions were asked. It was up to him to make sure the area was safe. With those thoughts bouncing through his mind, sleep was chased off.

The second day – and Scot's final day on the Base - was a mirror of the day before. The men had been told that he had already left so Scott was kept out of sight. Grigson's training wasn't as severe and Scott knew it was because they didn't want him tired-out before he had left. More time was spent on the plane and even longer on the diagrams but the commanders joined him for dinner that night.

"You leave at dawn, Captain. A car will be here to take you to the docks, the ship that will be acting as your transport came into harbour this afternoon. Your plane is being taken now."

Scott mutely nodded, knowing telling Grigson he was worried about sea-boys handling his plane wouldn't go down too well. Evans seemed to know what he was thinking if the small chuckle he suddenly gave was anything to go by. Scott made a mental note to run through a few more checks once he was on-board the ship. The last thing he wanted was for it to have been jolted. He didn't deny WASP were good – Gordon would have his head otherwise! –they simply didn't know how to handle aircraft. If he was being fair, Scott knew the opposite was true. He wouldn't even know where to start if someone told him to maintain a boat.

"Do they have co-ordinates yet?" Scott asked quietly, forcing himself to casually put down his cutlery before an odd tremor in his hand was mistaken as him shaking.

"If they do, they aren't telling us," Evans scowled, stabbing at a potato with more force than necessary. Scott understood his frustration – it would have been much simpler if he could fly in himself without anyone else having to be in the potential firing line.

"I wish they weren't involved…"

Grigson's grumble seemed to make Evans remember the task at hand. "Now, now, Commander. They feel responsible, they want to help fix the issue…"

"They are responsible. It was their colonel…"

"Enough!"

Scott had never heard Evans sound so sharp before and even though the tone wasn't directed at him, he found himself shrinking back in his seat a little. The man had partly risen from his chair, but forced himself to take a deep breath and sit back down again.

"You know that is classified on a need to know basis. Tracy here doesn't need to know. They are involved, and there is nothing we can do about it. I happened to know on good authority that the young captain here is good at thinking on his feet; I'm sure he will be fine."

Scott wasn't sure if that was meant to reassure him or not, but he knew a warning when he heard one. The conversation was closed.

The rest of the meal was quiet and Scott excused himself as soon as he could. They let him go –Evans cautioning him to try and sleep while he could – and Scott knew it was because they thought he was nervous.

He was - he would be a fool to deny that. But a small bubble of excitement was rising up in the pit of his stomach. He had wanted a solo mission ever since he joined the Air Force and the chances he might not make it back only made this all the more important. If he succeeded, he knew it would change his career forever. He refused to think too hard about what had happened to Kevin - it would only agitate him - and instead focused on how many people he would be helping if he could not only destroy this machine, but catch the person responsible.

The excitement helped neutralise the nerves a little, but Scott didn't get much rest. Adrenaline kicked in at some obscene time in the morning and by the time Evans knocked on his door just before dawn, Scott was ready to go. The commander seemed to know how he was feeling and that any words of reassurance or last minute instructions would go straight over Scott's head. He clapped him on the shoulder, led the way through the maze of offices and out via a back door. There was a jeep waiting by a small gate and Scott knew this was one of the unofficial exits to the base. It couldn't be seen from the fields, blocked by offices no pilot would voluntarily choose to enter. It was too small to be seen from the sky and Scott knew it meant no one would have any idea he was leaving.

Just as they reached the gate, Scott realised they were not alone. Grigson and Hanks, faintly illuminated by the sun beginning to creep over the horizon, were waiting for them.

"Captain Tracy."

"Sir." Scott saluted at both men but found that his eyes were locked on Hanks.

"You're our last chance at this before WASP take over entirely." Hanks said.

"Understood, Sir." Hanks nodded approvingly at the steely glint in Scott's eye. He had no intention of failing.

"Good luck, Captain Tracy."

Scott nodded in gratitude and Hanks dipped his head in answer before striding back towards the offices. Scott knew he wasn't the first pilot Hanks had sent into the unknown. The man was a general, after all.

"Tracy." For the first time since Scott had met Grigson – both officially and unofficially, having seen the man roaming the base for months without ever approaching him – the man seemed genuinely lost for words.

"Sir?"

"Just… fly straight."

Scott smiled, knowing that was Grigson's motto for everything, then watched as the man disappeared after Hanks. Hanks had looked completely in control but Grigson didn't seem to know what he was doing.

Evans watched them go for a long moment before sighing.

"Here." He held out a closed fist to Scott, who put out his hand obediently even as a frown crossed his face. Evans pressed something small into it and as Scott uncurled his fingers, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He only had the basics with him; the standard kit issued for every solo mission but no personal effects. But Evans had selected the one thing that meant more to Scott than anything else. In his hand was a small pebble. Virgil had pressed it into his hand the day he enlisted and had scratched all of their names into it. Scott didn't know what his brother had used to make the marks, but it reminded him that his family supported his choice no matter what.

"Thank you, Sir." Scott honestly didn't know what to say and tucked the pebble away securely. The driver of the car made an impatient gesture and Scott knew they had to be leaving. He took a deep breath, nodded at Evans and stepped towards the car.

"Scott?"

Scott stopped, stunned. He thought that might have been the first time Evans had ever used his first name. The man offered him a gentle smile.

"Good luck, Captain. Try and come back alive."

"I will, Sir." Scott grinned, suddenly feeling excitement taking the place of nerves. He knew it wouldn't be long until he was stuck on a boat, not being sure where he was going or what he would find when he got there. But right now, he was just a young man who had been handed everything he had ever wanted. People were relying on him and this was his chance to make a difference. Evans' smile turned genuine at Scott's enthusiasm and he clapped him on the shoulder before moving back behind the gate and carefully shutting it behind him.

Taking one last long look at what he could see of the airfield, Scott moved forward and got into the car. As the engine started up and the jeep pulled down a small lane that seemed better designed for animals rather than cars, Scott suddenly wondered what he had gotten himself into.

TBTBTB

Gordon knew he was not going to be the most popular man on the ship when he woke the rest of them before dawn. If he was honest, he knew he wasn't anyway. At only eighteen, he had broken some sort of record to even be allowed on a mission at his age. He hadn't had the best start with WASP, his prowess in the water meaning he was a target for jealousy amongst some of his peers during training. Things had escalated and he – with others – had eventually been pulled up in front of senior officers. The men had been fair, though and had heard both sides of the story before adapting Gordon's training.

He still had to work as hard as any of the new recruits, but he didn't need the same stamina and fitness-building as some of them. His Olympic medal meant he knew how to be focused and dedicated. Rather than training with the newest recruits, Gordon joined the ones who were already in their second stage. They had trained under a firm man who had refused to answer any questions about who Gordon was and the young man was accepted. The men found out he was supposed to still be in the first stages of training after he had been with them for a couple of months and by then he had already made some firm friends. Anyone who tried to say anything about it had to go through them first and Gordon finally found his dreams were coming true as he was pushed through with the rest of them.

He easily kept pace, struggling at some things and excelling at others, just like everyone else. But through missing the first year of training, Gordon had caused a few problems when it came to their team being given active duty. His age had raised questions - still only being seventeen at the time - but eventually permission had been granted and he found himself on his first ever mission.

That had been three months ago. Since turning eighteen, Gordon had been eager for another. When his team had been ordered out on this assignment, however, he was disappointed. They were using a ship rather than a submarine. Whatever this mission was, they were staying on the surface this what Gordon had worked out, this sort of operation was usually handled by the Navy, but there had been a personal reason why WASP were the ones involved. He hadn't asked, knowing if they were supposed to know, they would have been told. His brothers would have been surprised at how much he had changed when it came to following orders.

But even though the ship requested was unusual for WASP, the mission sounded nothing short of boring. They had to escort a pilot somewhere so he could get onto an island and then stay there like sitting ducks in case said pilot needed help. Gordon found himself wondering how Scott would feel about that; having to accept help from others. But the last Gordon had heard, Scott had been hundreds of miles away in Boston, nowhere near the coast and probably having no idea that this mission was even taking place.

Despite no one being too happy – it wasn't only Gordon's second mission, but the whole team's – they had dutifully packed their bags and come to port somewhere Gordon considered to be the middle of nowhere. They had been allowed off the boat, but with a curfew in place for ten pm to make sure they were ready for the early start no one had particularly enjoyed themselves - Gordon least of all when he had found himself on duty just before dawn, leaving him with no chance of catching up on missed sleep.

Slightly grouchy and longing to be back out on open water, Gordon dutifully left the command bridge and wandered through the boat, banging on doors as he did so. The grumbles he received in response made him smile as he thought of Virgil and Gordon perked up a little as he reached his own quarters. Pounding his fist on the door, Gordon waited for a moment before letting himself in.

Snatching up his own pillow – and thinking longingly of when he could next use it – Gordon threw it at the man sleeping in the hammock next to his.

"Oi! Frankie! Get your ass up." The finger he received in response made Gordon smirk, satisfied the man was now at least awake. Moving back towards the door – he still had a few more men to awaken – Gordon paused for a moment before crossing back to Frankie. Using his knee, he tipped the hammock until it rolled, dumping the man on the floor.

"Up and at 'em, sunshine," Gordon called cheerfully as he finally moved on. Even if this was going to be a boring and routine mission it didn't mean they had to see it that way. Instead, he found the grin didn't leave his face as he completed his rounds and made his way back to the command bridge. He arrived just in time to be dismissed - along with the man taking the duty after him. They exchanged confused glances but then the man shrugged and sped towards the lower levels, clearly unable to believe his luck and seeing it as a chance for a second breakfast. Gordon followed at a steadier pace, realising it must be because the pilot was arriving on board. It seemed whatever mission he was on, the briefing that was about to take place on the bridge was strictly confidential.

Not thinking anything more of it, Gordon joined his friends for breakfast, yawning along with the rest of them. They were struggling to wake up; he was struggling to stay awake. But they all knew it wouldn't matter how much they grumbled, it wouldn't get them anywhere. Especially not Gordon. It had turned into a joke how many dawn shifts he was given, almost as if the captains weren't sure whether they would ever be able to get the teenager up unless they dragged him from bed at some unknown time.

The food hit their stomachs and yawns slowly turned to chatter. There was a buzz in the hall when the commanding officers appeared and began yelling orders. Groups of people slowly began disappearing through various doors as they were given their assignments for the day. Gordon wasn't sure which of his team groaned at hearing they were up on deck, but Gordon didn't mind. It might be a day of scrubbing the decks, but it also meant a day out in the open as they took to the seas. Whoever would be overlooking them would know they had an easy job for the day and so be laid-back. For someone who hadn't got much sleep, nothing could have been better.

Besides, he knew that should they have duties below deck, the chances were they would spend most of the day being ordered away from certain spots while this mission – whatever it was – was kept secret. The command bridge was strictly off limits to everyone. Gordon said nothing as he followed his friends upstairs, knowing they would never let him live it down if they realised he didn't mind where they were going. The boat had cast off while they had been eating and as the others squabbled over who got what task, Gordon found his elbows resting on the railings as he stared back towards land. It still gave him something of a thrill watching the shore slowly disappearing, knowing not many people got to experience a sight like this on a regular occasion.

"Gordon!"

Gordon turned in time to catch the mop being thrown at his head and sighed. It didn't matter how much he might like the chance to watch the ocean swirling around the hull of the boat, losing himself in the mesmerising movements, he was not going to be given the chance. Shouldering the mop, he moved back towards his team.

It was only then he saw the bulk of a plane resting on the deck. It was well-secured and covered, but Gordon knew what it was. It was small in comparison to some of the planes the Air Force had and Gordon smirked. He was sure if Scott had been the one on this mission, then he would have demanded the fastest plane the Air Force had.

"So what do you reckon this top secret mission is this?" Frankie dragged Gordon off out of earshot of the commanding officer as they both selected parts of the desk to start cleaning. Gordon rolled his eyes.

"How am I supposed to know?"

"You were on duty."

"Yeah, on my own. You think any of those guys were up at that time?"

As Frankie saw the logic in his argument, both men turned towards the work they were supposed to be doing. Still, Gordon let his mind wander,wondering what was so important that WASP found themselves combining efforts with the Air Force. They normally travelled under the water, the planes flew high above it. He couldn't think of anything they had in common.

By the time a couple of hours had passed, Gordon had given up caring what the mission was. All he wanted was for it to be over so he could go back to doing something more interesting. Even training had to be better than dawn duties and scrubbing decks. Gordon moved into the shade, leaning against a door he believed to be shut as he took a moment to have a drink. The talk amongst his friends had reduced to nothing more than a murmur as the physical work took its toll and Gordon knew they were most likely cursing why whatever this mission was needed a boat so big. They were never going to get the decks clean at this rate.

"… think Tracy can do it?"

"I don't know, he's young…"

Gordon jumped, turning to stare at the door. It was only now he realised it was open a crack. The voices he could hear drifted off again as the men moved further down the corridor. Gordon glanced around, checking no one was watching him before slipping through the door. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't help himself. All that he had been given so far were dawn duties. If they were planning to give him something more, he wanted to know.

Gordon made sure he kept his distance as he shadowed the men down the corridor, not wanting to be seen. But it meant their words were lost and he couldn't hear anything else. Now his interest had been sparked, however, Gordon wanted to understand what he needed to do to make sure he proved himself to be worthy of whatever it was they were thinking about involving him in. He had got this far despite his age, he wasn't going to let that stop them from selecting him now.

Gordon didn't realise where he was going as he let his feet move, too intent on making sure he didn't lose the men to pay attention. They disappeared through a door and it shut with a sharp click behind them, forcing Gordon to stop. Swearing under his breath, he realised he had accidentally followed them up to the command bridge. Gordon hastily glanced around and turned in order to backtrack and get back out onto the deck before anyone noticed he had gone.

But just as he turned, a throat clearing behind him made him stop and wince. It was too late to pretend that he had just been passing through, Gordon knew he had been caught out. He was exactly where he shouldn't be and he had a feeling his dawn shifts were about to increase. He tried to grin ruefully at the stern-looking officer standing in front of him, but knew by the frown on the man's face it was getting him nowhere. Sighing, Gordon shut his eyes with a groan and waited to hear just how many orders he had disobeyed by being there rather than staying with the rest of his team.