Chapter Four
"C'mon Dobbs, keep pushing!"
Someone was yelling at him in a loud, agitated voice, as Stringfellow Hawke, still in his guise as Major Roger Dobbs, forced his arms to push the water out of his way and his legs to keep propelling him along, despite the fact that his lungs were burning fit to burst and he felt as if he had swallowed the whole damned swimming pool after the last turn.
"Keep it up! You can't quit now, I can't here the fat lady singing!"
Dobbs recognised Frank Campbell's voice now, urging him on from the poolside, and out of the corner of his eye, spotted Chuck McCrea's scowling countenance bobbing up and down behind him, no words of encouragement coming from him, as he watched Dobbs floundering on toward the other end of the pool with an evil twinkle in his eye.
Dobbs began to have a sneaking suspicion that the Navy man had more than a passing interest in the outcome.
He obviously had a bet going with the other trainees.
The man would make book on how long a guy spent in the john!
Dobbs thought sourly as he felt his leaden body beginning to fail, sinking deeper into the water and the edge of the pool still seemed an interminable distance away.
Hey, guys, drowning here, not waving!
"C'mon Roger, haul ass, and don't try to tell me you're drowning, buddy, it's using up too much energy, now move it!"
After spending another gruelling morning in the testing lab, participating in the now familiar endurance and stamina exercises, Dobbs, McCrea, and Campbell had retired to the locker room to change out of shorts and T-Shirts into swim trunks, and had assembled in the Olympic size swimming pool, measuring 25 metres wide by 50 metres long and 2 metres deep, that ran adjacent to the back of the lab.
After five minutes of playful splashing and hi-jinx to let off a little steam, they had been joined by more medics clad in white lab coats and clutching clipboards and had been called to order so that the session could begin.
The other three trainees, Webber, Shaw and Anders were following their own individual programmes this afternoon, Webber in the simulator, Shaw in the centrifuge, which to everyone's relief had not acted up since the incident with Frank Campbell on Dobbs first day at Project Thunderbird, six weeks ago, and Anders attending a routine session with Dr Van Doom.
There had been no more 'incidents' and the emergency landing that Dobbs and Anders had been forced to make almost three weeks ago had been ruled another accident, caused by stress fracturing of the bolts that held the canopy in place and metal fatigue.
Both men had had to accept the findings, relieved that no blame had been placed upon either of them and had chalked it up to experience, but they had both also heard whispers amongst their colleagues about it not adding up and the word 'jinx' had figured highly in everyone's vocabulary for a few days after the incident.
As he still had no backup on the base, Dobbs/Hawke had not been able to report the incident to Archangel. He had been relieved, for if word had gotten back to Dominic Santini, he might not have been quite so forgiving.
And, Dobbs had found himself thinking, what exactly had there been to report?
Just another little niggle, an inconvenience that meant that the unit couldn't maintain their flying hours for a couple of days, but that was a minor setback, and they had all benefited from the forty eight hours of R'n'R that they had been granted.
A thorough investigation into the incident had found nothing untoward and it had all been neatly explained, tied up with ribbons and finished off with a big red bow, as far as the top brass were concerned.
Raising doubts and suspicions that maybe it hadn't been an accident wouldn't help anyone.
And Dobbs still wasn't certain in his own mind, and he had no proof that someone had deliberately tinkered with the jet.
Now, it all seemed a very long time ago, and a lot of water had gone under the bridge.
And down my damned throat ….
Dobbs thought sourly as he again wallowed in the shallow waters of the Olympic size swimming pool.
The testing programme was back in full swing, and they were all being kept far too busy to dwell on whether the project was plagued with bad luck or if something even more sinister was going on.
Although, Dobbs suspected that good ole' McCrea was running a book on that too!
Today's aquatic session was another test to assess lung capacity, and had begun with each man strapping on oxygen cylinders and breathing regulators and sitting motionless on the bottom of the pool until their five minute air supply ran out.
They had then been instructed to release a small buoy so that the doctor assigned to them would know that they were out of air, and could start timing too see just how long each man could hold his breath before having to surface.
Next, after being allowed five minutes to recover, the only instruction each man had been given when re-entering the pool was to do as many laps as they could.
Roger Dobbs had seen the glint in McCrea's eye as he took up his starting position in the next lane and knew that the younger man believed he could out do him.
Always one to rise to a challenge, and still stinging from the constant reminders and digs to his ego that he was the oldest of the bunch, Dobbs had gritted his teeth and set his mind on forgetting every aching muscle and sinew in his body and getting through the pain barrier.
He should have known better, he thought sourly now.
McCrea had offered the silent challenge because he had already laid a bet with the other guys. Dobbs would bet the farm on it.
Dammit, he was the only one not making any money on his own outstanding performances!
He finally made a grab for the side, lunging for the handrail that ran just above the water line, dunking his head under as his momentum carried him forward and then bobbing back up to see a grinning Frank Campbell giving him a thumbs up as he reached down to offer Dobbs his hand, strong fingers closing around his wrist and hauling him easily out of the pool and dumping him on his ass on the ridged terracotta tiled floor.
"How much did you win, Frank?" Dobbs choked out, looking up at the younger man, pushing wet hair out of his eyes and gasping for air.
"Plenty," was the younger man's only comment as he grinned down at Dobbs. "I'm pleased to say that that stubborn streak of yours is ensuring that the Navy will soon be bankrupt," he chuckled at the sour look on Roger Dobbs face.
"Yeah, don't bet on it, because one day McCrea is gonna offer good odds that I keel over from a coronary on one of these little experiments, and I can't guarantee that he won't be right," Dobbs snarled, raising himself stiffly to his knees, feeling his legs shaking and his chest heaving, realising that he still didn't know how many laps he had completed.
"Touchy, touchy," Frank Campbell grinned like an idiot. "Don't take it thataways, besides, I think you're too stubborn to have a coronary!"
"I hope you're right," Dobbs muttered darkly. "So how did I do?"
"Not bad for an old timer."
"If you're not careful, this old time still has enough energy to punch your lights out."
"You were terrific, Major. It wasn't pretty towards the end there, but you clocked up twenty laps, that's four more than I managed and three more than McCrea."
Twenty laps, not bad, Dobbs had to admit to himself. When he had been younger, he could manage more, maybe twenty five, but he hadn't had the added strain of enduring all those other tests beforehand.
Well ok, Roger! He thought smugly to himself. Not bad at all.
A smile began to curve at his lips now as Frank Campbell offered him his hand once more and pulled him to his feet before slapping him jovially on the back.
"C'mon Major, I don't know about you, but I could eat a horse," Frank chuckled as both men began to make their way back to the locker room, neither man having eaten much at lunch because they had known what was in store for them later in the afternoon.
Campbell hit the shower first while Dobbs found a seat on one of the slatted wooden benches that lined the locker room, hoping that his limbs would stop shaking long enough so that he too could take a refreshing shower.
As he used a fluffy white towel to mop up the drips from his hair, suddenly the locker room was filled with tremendous noise, a loud siren sounding from pretty close by, and Dobbs almost jumped out of his skin and had to quickly cover his ears before he was deafened by the klaxon.
His heart came up into his mouth as he realised that it was the fire alarm sounding, and he somehow knew instinctively that it was not a drill.
McCrea and Campbell were both still showering, the noise of the running water and the Navy man's off key and very salty sea shanty masking the sound of the klaxon, so they were slower to respond than Dobbs, who clad only in his wet swim trunks and dripping water as he went, forced his legs to carry him out of the locker room and into the corridor beyond where he found several white coat clad people running in the opposite direction and the red alarm light over head flashing insistently.
Despite the cloying scent of chlorine from the pool still clinging to his body and the water droplets running down from his fringe and through his eyelashes into his eyes, Dobbs immediately smelled the acrid tang of smoke in the air, and glancing back down the corridor, to his horror spotted a cloud of thick white smoke drifting out of the testing lab.
Sara!
Immediately he set off at full pelt, his wet feet sliding on the shiny tiled floor and skidding around the corner he immediately ran into several more lab staff streaming hurriedly out of the lab, holding handkerchiefs or their coats over their mouths and noses, gagging and coughing as they hurriedly tried to escape the danger within.
Dobbs looked around frantically checking to see who was missing, and his heart lurched in his chest.
Sara Sykes was not amongst the scientists flooding out of the lab and pushing their way past him, and he knew that she had been working in the lab earlier that day because she had been assigned to monitor his condition during that morning's testing session.
Since the forced landing had put him in the observation ward overnight, and she had witnessed him in the throws of the beginnings of a nightmare, Sara Sykes attitude toward him had softened a little.
She had taken to smiling at him in a most charming and beguiling manner, and several times he had caught her admiring him, when she did not think that anyone was watching.
She hadn't made her interest in him blatantly obvious, but he wasn't stupid and recognised that something had changed.
She was always polite, always charming, always professional, never overly familiar, and he did not get the sense that she felt pity for him for his night terrors, more that she had somehow come to the conclusion that she understood his reserve and tendency to be silent and watchful much better now.
Still, there was no denying that her smile was genuinely warm, her manner much softer toward him, and although he had no idea why, Roger Dobbs did not find it unpleasant to be bestowed with that stunningly beautiful smile.
Nor could he forget the tenderness and affection with which she had touched his face that night, soothed away his tears, the expression on her face so understanding, so compassionate, telling him that there was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to fear ….
Or the effect it had had on him.
He had been relieved to discover that no record of his nightmare had been entered into his medical record, and no mention made of it to Dr Van Doom, although he himself had briefly mentioned in passing to the good doctor that he had from time to time suffered recurring nightmares after Vietnam, during one of their early sessions.
Now, Roger Dobbs heart skipped several beats as he watched the people pushing past him, then he began to push his way beyond them, reaching the swing doors of the lab and barging his way inside.
The room was filled with acrid smelling dense white smoke, and he could hear the crackle of fire coming from the far side of the room, see the yellow flames dancing as they licked around the ceiling and far wall, and he immediately brought his hand up to cover his nose and mouth, trying to breathe in and swallow down a reflexive choking cough all at the same time.
Squinting through the smoke, he quickly scanned what he could make out of the lab in the thickening smoke, to see if he could find Sara Sykes, then moved deeper inside, hunkering down low, to where the air was a little less noxious, moving slowly forward, around the room, working his way around desks and equipment, until at last his bare feet collided with something solid on the ground.
Dobbs squatted down, chocking and coughing and squeezing stinging tears from his eyes, the acrid, pungent fumes stronger here, burning his lungs and eyes, and he found Sara Sykes lying silent and still on the tiled floor, her back to him, so he had no idea if she was alive or unconscious.
It was obvious to him that she had been closest to the seat of the fire and had quickly been overcome by the smoke and fumes, and he knew that he had to get her out of there fast.
He quickly reached out and rolled her gently toward him and was rewarded with a soft, low moan.
Feeling immense relief that she was indeed alive, and not seeing any obvious injury to her head or face, his first fear that she hadn't just passed out, overwhelmed by fumes, but that perhaps someone had attacked her, to ensure that she didn't escape the flames, Roger Dobbs slid his arms around Sara Sykes neck and shoulders and under her legs, then heaved her up, cradling her limp body against his own, which still glistened with the odd droplet of water.
Instinctively, reacting to his hands on her body and the sensation of suddenly being lifted off the ground, Sara Sykes reached up with one arm, slipping it behind his head, held on tightly to the man's neck, then brought the other arm, which had been hanging limply down beside her body, up to slip around the other side of his neck.
She opened her eyes to see whom her rescuer was, and was not at all surprised to find that it was Roger Dobbs, his face contorted as he tried not to cough and choke, his deep sky blue eyes boring into her, filled with a mixture of anxiety and relief as, she silently thanked him with her eyes, before burying her face in the cleft between his neck and shoulder as he carried her hurriedly back the way he had come.
It all seemed to be happening in slow motion, but despite the fact that her heart was racing in her chest and her lungs were burning, the smoke closing her throat and making it harder to drag in air, despite the fact that tears were stinging in her eyes and she felt dizzy and light headed, Sara Sykes was still able to take in the fact that he was practically naked, and that he smelled of chlorine.
At that moment he looked and felt magnificent.
His broad, solid, muscular chest was heaving under the strain of trying to draw in oxygen and carry the burden of her weight through the smoke filled room, and she could feel the muscles and sinews of his arms bunching and quivering against the backs of her knees and across her shoulder blades as he supported her weight.
Carried away by a powerful wave of emotion that she did not fully understand, Sara gave into the overwhelming desire to press her lips against the warm, firm golden skin that covered his shoulder bone, dipping them into the hollow at the base of his throat, justifying her actions by telling herself that it was by way of thanks, and expressing her gratitude, as she could not speak for trying to choke back her coughs, and suddenly she felt a tremor run through him in response to the touch of her warm lips to his flesh.
Sara Sykes was surprised by his reaction and raised her head to look up into his familiar countenance and was shocked by what she found.
The look in his deep sky blue eyes almost robbed her of what little breath she had left.
There was such shock and anguish there.
Terror.
But, she did not think it was because he was scared of the fire or the smoke.
If that was the case, why the hell had he come charging in here like Sir Galahad, uncaring of the danger to his own life and limb?
No.
His fears had an entirely different source, she guessed, as he continued to gaze down at her for a long moment, and she suddenly felt compelled to reach up with her free hand to gently cup his cheek with trembling fingers, offering him a little reassurance, only to be taken over once more by an irrational need to press her lips there too, the hand she had snaked behind his head sinking into his hair, fingers curling into the crisp wetness, drawing him down closer so that she could kiss his check, briefly, before he finally had to drag his face and his gaze away, needing to see where he was going.
It had only taken a split second, but something had happened between them during that brief exchange of looks, something that neither one of them could explain, but it was over in a heartbeat as, both of them choking and spluttering, Roger Dobbs swiftly crossed the lab and came charging out through the swing doors, almost colliding with McCrea and Campbell, who took in the scene with wide eyed astonishment before getting hold of their senses and moving people back out of Dobbs way.
Someone was shouting out orders to get oxygen as McCrea and Campbell herded everyone back down the corridor away from the smoke filled environs, and then someone else was barking orders for people to assemble at the fire points they had been assigned and report to their fire marshals, and someone else was yelling for someone to get fire extinguishers, by which time the bases' fire fighters had arrived on the scene and immediately took charge.
When he finally reached an area of corridor that was smoke free, Roger Dobbs felt his legs beginning to give way beneath him, his supply of adrenalin, the only thing that had been keeping him going, finally depleted, and stumbling he sank slowly to his knees, retaining enough presence of mind to make sure that the woman in his arms did not fall, or hit her head on the wall as he panted for breath.
He held Sara Sykes firmly against his quivering chest, dragging in air and coughing and hacking like an old man who'd smoked forty cigarettes a day for most of his life, as he eased himself down into a sitting position, moving Sara's body carefully so that she was now sitting in his lap, cradling her securely against him, her head resting gently against his shoulder bone, her ebony hair coming loose from the intricate knot she usually wore, tumbling freely around her face and shoulders and tickling his naked flesh every time she coughed.
Neither spoke, neither actually able too as they forced smoke out of their aching lungs and dragged precious air in, but the look they shared sent another jolt through each of them.
Completely unaware of anything else that was going on around him, Roger Dobbs suddenly felt compelled to lower his head and press his lips to Sara Sykes soft warm ones, his hand automatically coming up to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek tenderly as he gently moved his lips against hers, until again, the cough reflex kicked in and he quickly had to drag his mouth away to succumb to another hacking coughing fit.
Smothering her own desire to cough, Sara Sykes smiled up at Dobbs, her violet eyes huge in a pale face, filling with tears which spilled over through her lashes and rolled down her cheeks, as she reached out to push his wet fringe off his face, her eyes never leaving him as she silently thanked him for rescuing her, and he fixed his deep blue gaze upon her face, almost as though he feared he might never see her again and wanted to commit her face to memory.
Neither showing any inclination to release their hold on the other, they just continued to stare at each other for several long moments, and then suddenly someone was slipping oxygen masks over both of their faces and strong hands were lifting Sara out of his lap and placing her carefully onto a stretcher, while another pair of strong hands moved him on to a stretcher too.
Dobbs watched with an aching heart as Sara Sykes was carried away down the corridor and quickly out of his sight.
"Hey buddy, you ok?" Frank Campbell was squatting down beside him now, an anxious, earnest expression on his face as he regarded his Army colleague.
Consumed by another bout of hacking coughs, despite the oxygen, Roger Dobbs could only nod then he too was being lifted up off the ground and carried down the corridor.
He lay back against the stretcher and closed his eyes briefly, trying to rid his mind of the image of Gabrielle as she lay cradled in his arms in that godforsaken Libyan desert, the life draining out of her, knowing that there was nothing that he could do to save her.
Suddenly the image was replaced with Sara Sykes exotic eyes, huge and so dark in a pale face, eyes that blessed him and thanked him for saving her, while also anxiously taking in his terror and shock with genuine concern.
He had no idea what had just happened.
Why had he kissed her?
Dumb question ….
He told himself indignantly then remembered the sensation of her lips against his, and the fact that she had responded by kissing him back.
The only thing that should matter was that she was alive, that she was safe, but he could not get away from the fact that she could have died back there in the lab, another victim of whomever it was who was trying to destroy the Thunderbird Project, and even as he patiently endured the doctor's checking him over to make sure that he hadn't sustained serious damage from smoke inhalation, or been burned, Roger Dobbs could not stop the murderous thoughts running through his mind and the blackening of his heart, as he became even more determined to find the culprit, adamant that no-one else would die, making it a personal crusade, because he had almost lost someone else ….
And the next thought terrified him more than anything else.
Someone else that he cared about ….
Recalling the intensity of the relief he had felt when, as he turned Sara over, she had moaned gently and then, as he scooped her up, she had opened her eyes, and his heart had leapt in his chest and his first instinct had been to crush her to him, and thank God that she was alive ….
Wondering when he had started thinking of Sara Sykes as someone other than just another colleague he worked along side of, and how he was going to get beyond it and do the job he had been brought here to do, when he was in grave danger of wrecking it because he was beginning to have some very tender feelings for a very exceptional young woman.