Sorry for the huge delays... real life keeps demanding time! I owe more thanks (and Vanilla Porter) than I can possibly give, to KJay99 for hours upon hours of what started as beta work, and has morphed into co-writing and patiently teaching me how to handle a plot-driven story.
"Oh!" Leena shouted, pausing to say one last thing over the roof of her car before she got in. "She hasn't had dinner yet, and she's going to have to hit the ground running."
"No worries," the pilot called as she waved at Leena, who was already diving into the driver's seat, before Joanne shooed a somewhat hesitant Myka aboard. "I'm flying solo today, because we didn't have time to scare up any other pilots with the security clearance for Warehouse business. So you can settle in the passenger cabin and relax, but I'm going to leave the door open, and you're welcome to come sit with me if you like. I need to get some paperwork sorted out before we can take off, but once we get in the air, there's food in the galley." Joanne stepped forward, then hitched up and turned around. "Oh yeah... welcome aboard Warehouse 13 Airlines, emergency exits are there and there," she said, pointing in what seemed, to the increasingly-overloaded agent, like all directions at once. "Seat cushions turn into floatation... oh, you know the drill. We aren't going to need any of that, anyway." With that, Joanne gave Myka one more confident grin as she vanished into what seemed like a sea of gauges and switches.
Myka stood still for just a moment, staring around at the very definition of luxury that she had been whisked into. Not an hour ago, she'd been fileting chicken, for grilled chicken wraps for dinner, and now she was standing in the most well-decorated space she thought she'd ever seen, filled with overstuffed furniture and an entertainment system that would have Pete turning cartwheels in the aisle. She wasn't quite sure her mind was even able to catch up to this situation she now found herself in.
To combat that sense of bewilderment, Myka went with her usual first step by grabbing her duffel bag and shoving it into an overhead compartment. That process, at least, was more or less like all the planes she'd ever been on before. With one more nervous glance at the unfamiliar surroundings, Myka blew out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, and stepped forward, following Joanne. She wasn't a nervous flier, by any stretch of the imagination, but this sudden chaos had her reeling, and she didn't feel like spending the entire three-hour flight alone.
Joanne smiled warmly at Myka, who smiled back even though she knew it did nothing to cover over her overwhelmed expression. "Never flown private before?" Joanne asked. Myka shook her head. "Well have a seat, buckle up. I need silence while I go through my pre-flight routine, and takeoff procedures, and I need you to not touch anything without permission, of course. But we'll have plenty of time to chat once we get up there, and it's going to be a hell of a view tonight." Joanne seemed to radiate energy rather like Claudia did, Myka thought as she gingerly slid into the open seat, a little too close for comfort to the mind-boggling array of controls.
She watched with unconcealed fascination as this woman, clad in a purple t-shirt, faded jeans, and smart-looking suede boots, breezed through her work as if if were something she often did in her sleep. With practiced movements, she tested various controls as she consulted a paper checklist, talking in complete gibberish periodically with... well with whomever was on the other end of the radio system. The process took quite some time, and yet almost before Myka knew what was happening, she was watching the earth shrink in the wide expanse of windshield before her. She put a hand on her stomach, which felt just a little bit strange. The last time she'd bothered to watch out the window during takeoff, she was pretty sure she hadn't yet turned ten years old, and these windows certainly made the usual view look like absolutely nothing.
"You're not going to get sick on me, are you?" Joanne asked, her words flowing just as effortlessly and quickly as her hands flowed over the controls. "You're okay to talk now, by the way. We're done with the busy part."
"I don't get motion sick," Myka answered. Joanne nodded, satisfied. "Just feels different up here," she added by way of explanation.
Joanne smiled again, and Myka decided in that moment that she liked this woman. "You should have seen Artie, the first time I let him ride up here. He spent half the flight trying to tell me how to do my job. By the time we got over Kentucky, I was about ready to shove him out and tell him to just hold his shirttail out to use as a parachute!" Myka chuckled in spite of her general sense of discomfort. That sounded like Artie, all right. Joanne glanced over at her passenger as she banked left to bypass a summer storm on their way to their destination. She'd managed to get a flight plan landing them in a city near the forest where Artie was headed, but by the time they got there, Artie and his rental car would likely be long gone. Joanne hoped Leena could solve that problem before they landed in California.
Claudia closed her eyes and breathed deeply, allowing herself to experience the sensation of being at rest, sprawled across her bed. She could hear the shower running in Pete's room next door, and she knew she needed to call and check in with Artie, but for just a few moments, she took the time to simply be. There was nothing quite like a good, cushy bed after a long day of travel and artifact-snagging. Of course, this was nothing like a good, cushy bed either, but it was close enough. After a couple more deep, cleansing breaths, she rolled over and fished in her bag for her farnsworth. Claudia combed through her hair with one hand as the other flipped the communication unit open. By the time the screen flickered to life, she was resting her chin on one hand, waiting expectantly for Artie's image to appear.
Claudia's confusion was evident when Leena glanced over at the screen, having answered the call on just a little bit of auto-pilot as she worked at Artie's desk.
"Hi, Claudia," the enigmatic woman said cheerfully. "What do you need?"
"Um, Artie, for one," Claudia shot back. "Where is he?"
Leena glanced over at the computer screen before she answered. "7,000 feet above California, and falling fast." Claudia rolled her eyes, wondering when Artie's wry sense of humor had rubbed off on Leena. "He got a ping," the woman continued to explain. "Pretty serious one. He's on his way to Yosemite to deal with it. I have a funny feeling about this one, Claudia. I think you and Pete need to consider abandoning your case for now." Leena chuckled in spite of her concern, when, with a moan of dismay, Claudia's hair suddenly blocked the view of her screen before clearing to reveal the teen laying face-first in the mattress. Leena knew they weren't going to be thrilled to have to change gears like this, but there was nothing to be done about it.
Claudia didn't even bother to report in about their case; she merely fished the artifact bag out of her messenger bag, and jiggled it in what she supposed was Leena's line of sight, before she lifted her head to make eye contact with her coworker. "Pete's in the shower. Leena, how serious is this ping? We've been up for... I don't even know how long, since four in the morning, South Dakota time." Claudia wasn't reassured by Leena's contemplative frown, or by the fact that Pete's off-key singing had suddenly stopped mid-verse, and the water had turned off. He usually finished out the song he was on, before he got out of the shower.
"Sleep first, and get moving early tomorrow," Leena answered. "Myka's only a couple hours behind him, so she'll catch up to him, and anyway you're no use to the case if you're falling asleep."
Claudia nodded. "Hey, Leena?" she asked, her voice suddenly sounding more uncertain. Leena turned and gave the girl her full attention. "Is Myka okay?" Claudia asked after a moment of awkward silence. Leena smiled and nodded, thankful for the day she'd just spent being certain of that, so she didn't have to lie to Claudia.
"She's fine, Claudia. You and Pete rest up, okay? Let me know if you need anything. Oh! What was the artifact you snagged? I'll start preparing for it."
"Pocket watch," Claudia answered. "I still have no idea what's the story with that one, but it's definitely the pocket watch."
"I'll start doing some research. Good work," Leena said, smiling as she reached for the button to disconnect the Farnsworth, and began the research and paperwork involved in adding a new artifact to the warehouse's collection. Periodically, she glanced over at Claudia's computer screen, where she had tracking information for Artie and Myka's flights. Artie had gone commercial, but she'd put Myka on Mrs. Frederic's private plane. Headphones created indentations in her curls as she kept tabs on the police scanner where Artie had first discovered that they had a serious artifact problem, while her non-dominant hand sifted through Artie's desk drawer, fishing for a notepad she knew was in there somewhere.
A French accented voice suddenly came through the cacophony of information Leena was managing. "Might I be able to help?"
"No Pierre. Thank you." She wished there was something that the man in the painting could help her with, but unless it was observing or translating, he was still just a painting.
"Perhapz se radio?" Pierre suggested.
"Pierre, you spent I-don't-even-know how many years in the warehouse, doing absolutely nothing. Surely you can entertain yourself without having music on to drive me out of my mind," she said firmly.
"Ah." Pierre sounded disappointed. "I just thought that perhaps I could help jou wis ze monitoring."
Leena stopped writing. She lifted the headset from her ear and looked at the little man in the painting. "You can monitor the frequency…"
The paint in the portrait shifted into a smile on Pierre's face. "Jes. If you like. I would like to help you."
Leena's face softened. She knew that Pierre seemed to exhibit a soft spot for her, as weird as that was, she appreciated the thought.
She pulled off the headset that were giving her a headache anyway, and put a speaker cord in the radio. The speaker was placed in front of the painting and Pierre mysteriously made a paper and pencil appear in his little painted world. She briefed him on what to listen for, making sure that he was clear. Then she was able to only lend half an ear to the radio calls in the background and turned the majority of her attention on the logistics that following three separate teams in the field requires.