Ripple in the Pattern: Shot in the Dark (The 4th Dot, IWA)
Oct 29, 2013 8:26:07 GMT -8
Ross likes this
Post by Jenn on Oct 29, 2013 8:26:07 GMT -8
Sarah and Tracer headed out to the modified Robinson training helicopter. He let her take the main stick and they buckled in. As Sarah went through the motions of pre-flight and spin up, Tracer watched.
“I’ve got some fun stuff to teach you today.” He smiled. “After we go over the last lesson again.”
Sarah nodded. “Okay.” She called up to the tower of the municipal airport and got permission to fly. After the official forms were followed, she sat back into the comfort of what was becoming routine. “What first?” All around them, the waxing moon filled the night sky with highlighted clouds.
“Go northeast. Let’s get away from civilization.”
“Roger that.” Gentle pushes and pulls guided the helicopter in the correct direction while she kept an eye on the various gauges—altimeter, fuel, pitch, yaw, and a myriad of other lights that said, “All is well.”
About 10 minutes out from the airport, Tracer shifted. “All right. We’re gonna do some fun stuff. Fir—”
Tracer’s voice cut out as there was popping sound mixed with the sound of glass breaking. Cold wind whipped through the cockpit, almost tearing away the sound of Tracer’s soft grunt of surprise. His body jerked, hitting the control panel and knocking the secondary control stick to the side, pulling the main stick from Sarah’s hand. Then he slumped against his four-point harness.
As the helicopter spun wildly around and around, the stall alarm sounded and helicopter blades slowed. Sarah grabbed the stick and risked a look at her companion. “Tracer? Tracer!” The helicopter plummeted from its 5000 foot height.
His only response was to slump more to side as the helicopter spun, his head lolling. Sarah ran through the stall and recover procedures in her head—stick to neutral, apply opposite rudder to the spin, recover, bring the nose above horizontal, full power, level off—before she executed them. The helicopter righted itself as its engine came to life and the alarms cut off.
She could smell blood.
“Tracer! God dammit! Tracer!”
Glancing back, she saw a small hole in one of the window panels in the back of the helicopter. Tracer still didn’t move. Someone had shot him while they were in the air. But she couldn’t figure out how they did it from the angle of the window. Unless there was another helicopter out here.
Assessing the situation, Sarah knew she needed to be back on the ground as soon as possible. A gunman in the air was too dangerous to ignore and she needed to see if she could do something for Tracer—if anything could be done. They were above a field. It was as good of a place as any to make an emergency landing.
“Tracer, c’mon. Say something!”
Keeping radio silence, Sarah landed the helicopter on the rocky but mercifully flat ground. She turned to Tracer as she unhooked herself. “Tracer!” She grabbed and shook his shoulder.
Then she noticed the slight smile on his face and sat back, watching him. After a moment, he popped open one eye, then the other. While she fought the conflicting urges of hugging and hitting him, Tracer sat up.
“Not bad. Not bad at all.” He looked around. “Executed an emergency stall and recovery, then landed without hitting a cow.”
“You motherfucking son of a bitch! What the fuck?!”
Tracer, completely unfazed, gazed at her. “How else was I supposed to test your skills in an emergency?”
For a moment, Sarah couldn’t speak. “How the hell?”
“Tiny bit of C4 on the window. Some on the chair rigged to a blood pack. Both wired to go off remotely.” He held up a tiny device in the hand farthest from her. “Set it off, kick you out of control, and wait.”
“We could’ve died!”
“Nah. I’m tough. Also, I had faith in you. Now you can have faith in you, too.” He gave her a charming smile. “Besides, I needed to replace that back panel anyway.”
“Bastard.” Sarah found herself smiling back despite her receding anger.
“C’mon. Let’s fly back. I’ll replace the panel. Then I’ll show you the really cool stuff.”
“I’ve got some fun stuff to teach you today.” He smiled. “After we go over the last lesson again.”
Sarah nodded. “Okay.” She called up to the tower of the municipal airport and got permission to fly. After the official forms were followed, she sat back into the comfort of what was becoming routine. “What first?” All around them, the waxing moon filled the night sky with highlighted clouds.
“Go northeast. Let’s get away from civilization.”
“Roger that.” Gentle pushes and pulls guided the helicopter in the correct direction while she kept an eye on the various gauges—altimeter, fuel, pitch, yaw, and a myriad of other lights that said, “All is well.”
About 10 minutes out from the airport, Tracer shifted. “All right. We’re gonna do some fun stuff. Fir—”
Tracer’s voice cut out as there was popping sound mixed with the sound of glass breaking. Cold wind whipped through the cockpit, almost tearing away the sound of Tracer’s soft grunt of surprise. His body jerked, hitting the control panel and knocking the secondary control stick to the side, pulling the main stick from Sarah’s hand. Then he slumped against his four-point harness.
As the helicopter spun wildly around and around, the stall alarm sounded and helicopter blades slowed. Sarah grabbed the stick and risked a look at her companion. “Tracer? Tracer!” The helicopter plummeted from its 5000 foot height.
His only response was to slump more to side as the helicopter spun, his head lolling. Sarah ran through the stall and recover procedures in her head—stick to neutral, apply opposite rudder to the spin, recover, bring the nose above horizontal, full power, level off—before she executed them. The helicopter righted itself as its engine came to life and the alarms cut off.
She could smell blood.
“Tracer! God dammit! Tracer!”
Glancing back, she saw a small hole in one of the window panels in the back of the helicopter. Tracer still didn’t move. Someone had shot him while they were in the air. But she couldn’t figure out how they did it from the angle of the window. Unless there was another helicopter out here.
Assessing the situation, Sarah knew she needed to be back on the ground as soon as possible. A gunman in the air was too dangerous to ignore and she needed to see if she could do something for Tracer—if anything could be done. They were above a field. It was as good of a place as any to make an emergency landing.
“Tracer, c’mon. Say something!”
Keeping radio silence, Sarah landed the helicopter on the rocky but mercifully flat ground. She turned to Tracer as she unhooked herself. “Tracer!” She grabbed and shook his shoulder.
Then she noticed the slight smile on his face and sat back, watching him. After a moment, he popped open one eye, then the other. While she fought the conflicting urges of hugging and hitting him, Tracer sat up.
“Not bad. Not bad at all.” He looked around. “Executed an emergency stall and recovery, then landed without hitting a cow.”
“You motherfucking son of a bitch! What the fuck?!”
Tracer, completely unfazed, gazed at her. “How else was I supposed to test your skills in an emergency?”
For a moment, Sarah couldn’t speak. “How the hell?”
“Tiny bit of C4 on the window. Some on the chair rigged to a blood pack. Both wired to go off remotely.” He held up a tiny device in the hand farthest from her. “Set it off, kick you out of control, and wait.”
“We could’ve died!”
“Nah. I’m tough. Also, I had faith in you. Now you can have faith in you, too.” He gave her a charming smile. “Besides, I needed to replace that back panel anyway.”
“Bastard.” Sarah found herself smiling back despite her receding anger.
“C’mon. Let’s fly back. I’ll replace the panel. Then I’ll show you the really cool stuff.”
