Home » The Archives » Chapter 7 » Trouble Under the Hood
| Re: Trouble Under the Hood [message #1901 is a reply to message #1899] |
Sat, 28 July 2012 18:55   |
Lillehafrue
Messages: 478
Registered: July 2012
Location: Northeastern USA
Karma:
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TB Pilot
Evil Genius |
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From: AmandaTracyandFred Sent: 5/20/2006 7:20 PM
The sun sank in glorious splendor of reds, oranges, and pinks in the sky as a two-seater, silver blue, Mach 3 model Jet Star made its approach on the landing strip at the Tracy Industries Testing Grounds outside Wichita, Kansas. Richard Tate, test pilot as well as emergency donor pilot, stood watching with arms folded, feet apart, as the swift plane landed and then taxied up to its hanger bay. The name of the plane, Blue Streak, was painted on the right hand side near the nose cone. As soon as the plane rolled to a stop, Tate drove a small tractor up to the plane and hooked it up to prepare for berthing.
The scream of the engines died away suddenly. The owner pushed the canopy back. A pair of hands reached up to pull the navy blue helmet off, revealing a crown of braided auburn hair encircling a soft pale oval face and a confident smile.
Tate got back out of his tractor, concerned. The pilot was taking her time getting out of the jet. "Hey, Heather!" A navy blue glove gave him a slow, royal wave, and then grasped the sides of the cockpit to push herself up and out of the seat. Tate walked purposely up as close to the side of the cockpit as he could and offered the lady a helping hand. "So, were you able to get that heart to the patient's medical team in time?"
Heather smiled with yawn. "Yes! I cut it kind of close though. There was a thunderstorm halfway to Kansas City and I had to make a slight detour. Donor tissues can't take a lot of shaking around. The flight has to be as smooth as possible." Pulling herself out onto the Blue Streak's wing, she continued, "I'm tired, but at least today I didn't have to test fly. I played a long streak of poker here at the testing grounds, and then I got the emergency flight call. Oh, Richard, the sky was just beautiful!"
"How did you do in the poker game---or dare I ask?"
"I cleaned up, and I ticked off one of the players so bad, he attacked me as I was trying to get to the plane for that trip to Kansas City."
Helping her down off the wing, Richard shook his head. "I heard security arrested Jack Little. I didn't know he took it out on you! So, what happened?"
Rubbing her forearm in remembrance and wincing again, she walked with Richard to the hanger's exit. "He was drunk, and you know how he gets when he's drunk?"
"Yup. I do---unfortunately. Then what?"
As they talked, she noticed Richard was walking with her through the hanger. His body hugged her personal space and after flying in a cramped cabin, she needed some room. "Dick, you don't have to escort me, you know."
"Hey," Richard replied. "I know you can kick some serious butt with your Tae Kwon Do and all, but I would be remiss in my duties to make sure you are all right. We're partners! Live with it." He received a snappy salute. As their boots tapped a slightly out of sync beat against the cement flooring, Richard pulled out a piece of paper with a name and phone number. "Your mother called. Turned off your cellphone again, eh?"
"Oh no," Heather sighed, pulling out her cellphone and turning it on. "Did you have to take it? I told her not to call the testing grounds! If Maw isn't careful, Mr. Tracy himself will chase me out of here because of her!"
"'Maw'? Boy, that prairie accent is definitely kickin' in, Kennedy."
"And yo not helpin', Tate!"
"That was bad!"
"Yup! Ah know!"
Richard dropped her off at the nearest exit that would take her into the airport's facilities. Heather made her way down the hallway, eventually coming out in a map room that held a long briefing table and chairs. Stepstools sat pushed up against a contour map of Kansas at the Oklahoma border. From the map room, she walked down another short corridor until she reached the testing grounds' comfortable lounge room. Here, Heather savored the quiet, while making herself a glass of iced tea from a nearby iced tea brewer near the bulletin board. She barely had a moment to take a sip when the electronic beeps of Pomp and Circumstance came from an inner pocket of her leather flight jacket. She groaned to no one in particular. "I am not in the mood for this. Grrrr!"
Leaning against the bulletin board where several notices, both large and small, were posted, she pulled out the cellphone. One notice was for a pizzeria. Heather cringed. "Forget that. Maybe a hamburger somewhere. A third pounder! Or a taco salad. No, wait---a T-bone steak medium rare!" Her stomach rumbled. Popping the lid of the little phone, she answered it. "Hi Maw---"
"Heather Marie Kennedy!" came the response from her mother, causing Heather to pull the receiver away from her ear. "I did not send you to private school all those years so you could lapse into talking like a-a-a hayseed from Dodge City!"
"I love you, too, Mother. How are you?"
"Hi 'Feather'!" a young male voice said next, interrupting her mother's conversation.
"Hey Donnie! How's life treatin' you?"
"Hello, Heather. How's my sweetheart doing? How's that bird of yours holding up?"
Hearing the multitude of questions, Heather laughed while trying to sort them out. "Hi, Dad! The Jet Star is lovely! She flies like a dream."
"Oh, Heather!" She heard her mother say. "Honestly, by all rights you should come home, stay home, and be properly married--"
"Martha, leave that girl alone for right now. Ignore her, Heather. You sound tired. How was your day, sweetheart?"
"Not too bad. I made about $2,000 tonight at a local poker game and then I received an emergency call from the hospital...."
"Another donor flight?"
"Yes, Dad. I hit a large thunderstorm and had some high winds to contend with--"
"Heather!" her mother interrupted. "I think it's high time you got rid of this 'job' of yours testing aircraft for Tracy Industries. Does that man ever appreciate the job you do?"
"Mother--"
"And does he realize how dangerous it is? Didn't you have to--oh what is the word now? The last trip you made and something went wrong, and you had to escape...?"
"'Bailed out' is the phrase you're looking for."
"Honey, I'm tired of worrying about you every single day, wondering if we're going to get a call that you're dead!"
Come on, Dad. Cut in any time now! Heather inwardly groaned, dropping her forehead against the bulletin board's posts for positions opening. Suddenly, she felt exhausted as her mother rattled away her worries. Her eyes stared at one plain white index card. Jeff Tracy was looking for a new personal pilot. He's asking for a new pilot already? What happened to the one he just hired?
"Heather," James said with a carefully gentle voice. "I do have to agree with your mother on this. I worry, too. There's no reason why you can't just 'retire' from your work at the testing grounds and get a position with my company."
It was bad enough that she had to hear that from her mother almost every time she called, but now with her father adding his voice to her mother's, Heather felt defeated. Fuming at what she considered a slight betrayal from her father, who helped finance her Jet Star in the first place, Heather decided it might be time to try again in applying for personal pilot with Jeff Tracy. Making her decision, she felt better already.
"Okay. I give up. I've decided you are right and I'm going to go ahead and apply for a new position." She could hear her mother praising God, her father's heavy sigh of relief, and almost wished she hadn't said it.
"Wonderful!" Martha said with delight. "When can you make it home?"
"Oh, I'm not coming home," Heather said with a smile on her face.
"But you said--"
"I said I was going to get a new position--as Jeff Tracy's personal pilot! Bye, Maw! Bye, Paw!" With that, she firmly tapped the cellphone, cutting off the connection in Virginia. With iced tea in hand, she walked out of the exit, heading for the parking lot where her jet black Jaguar waited for her.
98% pure evil...and loving every minute of it.
 
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