Ep. 1 - Bird Dog - Closed

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Takes place before 'Where the Pavement Ends'!

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TIME: 0700 GMT
LOCATION: UNDISCLOSED

Once, it had been a small and uncontrolled airport.

Then, it had closed, another victim of state cutbacks and public criticism to its usefulness. It housed no businesses, they said. Its meagre fuel sales did not send enough money back into the the local communities to warrant the noise it created, they decided. Abandoned, it had been left to crumble back into the thin, rocky soil of the northern foothills. Its old terminal and restaurant had rotted, while the roofs of the flimsy hangers had rusted and sunken into wreckage, beaten down by the wind and rain.

Then, MECH had found it.

It had taken months to salvage. Months to regrade, repave - to set down good, hard pads and aprons and taxiways, that would accept the weight of a fully loaded transport helicopter. Months to fly in fresh cement and steel, from which the modern new hangers were raised. Months to build barracks, to sink bunkers, to send electricity flowing to all corners of the base. Months to fill in the paperwork, organize the personnel, draw up the maintenance schedules and technical manuals and operating procedures.

Before that, it had taken years to go through the necessary channels to ensure that no one would fly over that tiny section of airspace in the hills. But those arrangements had taken place years in the past. MECH did not sit on its heels - and its vision saw far.

That evening, that vision looked out over the fully operational helicopter recon base known only as Listening Post.

The sun dipped low over the mountains to the west. Overhead the sky was broad and red, deepening to twilight, and littered with stars. Flood lights chased most of the darkness away from the main aprons and hangers, and from the crew barracks located on the northern side of the field. Lights twinkled around the landing pads.

Half a dozen Bell OH-58 Kiowas waited in a row on the active flightline, their rotors still. Small two-man vehicles drove back and forth across the apron, crossing the distances between the hangers. The enormous hydraulic door of Hanger Four was open, spilling light across the ramp in front of it. A big Sikorsky S-70 was being towed inside, to find its place among the other vehicles already dismantled within for maintenance.

Inside, Hanger 4 was brightly lit with sterile white fluorescents. It was a giant hanger, big enough to accommodate six transport-sized helicopters with ease. The floor was crowded with aircraft, with torn-down parts of aircraft laid to rest on clear plastic sheets, with electrical cables, and with trolleys and machines, between which weaved mechanics in filthy overalls. Like an Escher painting, the space between two helicopters was another helicopter.

The night was warm. The air inside the hanger smelt like sage brush and oil. A low murmur rang through its rafters as the AMEs worked. They were a little quieter tonight. A little on edge. Now and then they glanced nervously at the stone-faced man in the flight suit and mix-matched body armour who stood at the cockpit of one of the Kiawas. He was examining the glass instrument panel and speaking in a low voice to one of the avionics engineers.

Across the base the PA system rang. A voice droned over it:

"Flight Officer Thana Gillespie, please report to Commander Silas in Hanger Four. Flight Officer Thana Gillespie, to Hanger Four."

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In the florescent glare of the lavatory, Thana stared at her mirrored image and noted the growing crows feet clustered around her eyes. Age was creeping up on her slowly like an sight hound with endless endurance. She neither grieved the shallow grooves in her flesh nor welcomed them. They were a small reminder of the passage of time and age. Vanity had little to do with her life but given her dual lifestyle, she had to maintain the pretense.

Image was important for MECH. For Silas. Inside the MECH uniform, she was a nameless, faceless soldier that moved effectively with her team. She was not a woman. She had no name and was as vague as a shadow on a gray evening. But outside of the military operation, she was Thana Gillespie. She had high marks and a rank. She attended church and baked for the local schools. Inside those revered walls, she was a shoulder for the children to lean upon when life was truly hard. She had a hand in guiding their decisions, whether it be toward the United States military or elsewhere. She was much loved and respected.

She was a good liar.

The over bright light in the small space bleached her face until she looked sallow and sickly. Her eyes were too dark and her hair shined like a light winking across a razor. When the announcement flooded over the PA system, Thana smiled at her reflection for once. A brief gesture that never reached her eyes. After she washed her hands, she patted them dry on a towel and headed for Hangar Four like a good drone. Back straight, eyes clear and looking ever forward, toward her leader whom she lauded above all else.

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Whether it was her quiet footsteps or something else that alerted the man to Thana's presence, he turned away from the interior of the helicopter when she drew near.

"Gillespie," said Silas. "Good. There's something we need to show you."

Without further preamble he began a slow circuit of the Kiowa helicopter, a big single-engine, single-rotor bird painted matte black. As he walked he touched equipment mounted on the helicopter's exterior, small pods and sensors with thick glass lenses.

"Nose-mounted targeting and surveillance system," he said, laying one hand on the helicopter's snub nose. "Delivered to the US Army early this March as part of the Cockpit and Sensor Upgrade Program, with basic production to start in full in 2015 - we have it now."

He continued around to the other side of the machine, placing his boots with care among the cables that snaked across the hanger floor. He spoke in a calm, measured tone. "This: the AAS-53 Common Sensor Payload, which includes an advanced infrared camera, color electro-optical camera, and image intensifier. These link to cockpit upgrades that include a partial glass cockpit, an improved sensor suite and communications equipment, three full colour multi-function displays, and dual-independent moving maps."

He touched a sleek pod mounted low on the fuselage. "Low light level television and forward looking cameras, along with multi-function lasers capable of acting as laser rangefinder and targeting designators should you find the need to defend yourself with additional weapons systems. Also linked to-"

A wave gestured to the large metal ball perched over the rotor system. "The existing TVS and thermal imaging systems, giving you the ability to gain target acquisition in both day or night, or in limited visibility. In essence, we are transforming our current OH-58D Kiowas into camera and targeting platforms capable of operating in a variety of light and weather conditions - while reducing its basic empty weight by nearly two hundred pounds."

Finally, Silas turned to face her. He folded his hands behind his back, his expression one of mild curiosity. The scars on his face stood out lividly beneath the florescent lighting.

"We need research data from all available aircraft," he said. "Still images, moving footage - all of it, if we are to progress further. One cannot operate without a closer understanding of simple anatomy. I can imagine you have already guessed what your target will be."

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She didn’t have to ask him how he could get his hands on such tech. Silas had his ways and was very persuasive to the point of intimidating. While a few of the younger members of MECH found him such, Thana didn’t feel anything for him but steady comfort like a wall to her back. Around the sleek helicopter she followed him, small shoes of hers making no sound as she stepped over hoses in a near dainty manner. Given her lithe form and frail limbs, one would have thought her weak, even sickly. But underneath skin was hard muscle and bone. The only point of brittleness on her was her tone of voice.

If she were a romantic creature, and just this side of cheeky, she would have taken his techno babble for foreplay. But Thana had no stirrings romantic or physical. There wasn’t even a small part of her that wished for a tender caress or loving words. The only part of her she wanted stimulated was her mind. This machine was a marvel of tech and a show of potential. If this was what they could make now, what would future years bring in engineering?

“And what if we are attacked?” She laid one hand against the fuselage as if shielding the helicopter from damage.

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Silas didn't smile, but his expression registered satisfaction at the question. He motioned for her to follow him back to the nose of the aircraft.

"Taking a page from the Kiowa Warrior, all of the OH-G8s that are operational on this field are equipped with two universal weapons pylons fixed to either side of the fuselage," he said. He crouched at the helicopters snub nose and pointed to an empty mount bolted low on the fuselage, near the glass panels where the pilot's anti-torque pedals were set, and another mounted well behind the pilot door. "These pylons allow the bird to be equipped with either AGM-114 Hellfire missiles, a seven-shot LAU-68 rocket launcher firing seventy millimetre Hydra 70 rockets, or two M296 fifty calibre machine guns. The exact payload will depend on the mission and the weight load."

He waved to the dusty black belly of the helicopter. "Survivability enhancements include ballistic floor armour and the CMWS: Common Missile Warning System. This will help protect the aircraft, but from small arms ground fire only. The pilot must still take care to avoid engagements with aerial opponents, whose air-to-air munitions the helicopter is unable to defend itself from. Your best operational procedure against such a threat is still to fly low, use the terrain to escape radar dectection, and thus avoid being drawn into a protracted firefight."

Silas laid his hands on his knees and stood, his body armour creaking at the motion.

"You are granted full permission to return fire on your target should you come under attack," he said. "Be aware, however, that we have not been given the opportunity yet to study the stopping or penetration power our conventional weapons have against the machines. When the day comes that we are able to capture and contain a live specimen for a significant period of time, rest assured we will be stripping its armour plating in order to perform conclusive tests against how well it stands up to our firepower."

He frowned, his eyes narrowing. "It's for this reason we are equipping these aircraft to perform observational duties. That is your primary goal for the next four weeks. The photographs and footage you capture may well assist us in discovering how the machines operate, what their weak points are. In vehicle mode, in root mode, transitioning between - we need to better understand how to work in order to hit them, hard. Hard enough that we can begin to taking specimens off the field."

Silas folded his hands over his chest. He gave the helicopter an appraising look, which he then turned to Thana. His gaze was cool, assessing, but confident.

"Any further questions regarding the aircraft?" he said. "You're one of our front line pilots fully checked out to fly the Kiowa, as I understand it."

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Admiration bloomed inside Thana's chest like an ember thawing a cold hearth. So few commanders were as thorough as Silas. He knew his resources and utilized them to the fullest potential. Like a conductor of an elaborate orchestra, the commander of MECH understood the rich complexities of military organization. Without his guidance, there would be no direction and precise rhythm to march to.

As he explained to her the key components of her new 'toy', Thana crouched in front of the fuselage and studied the marvel of machinery with a keen eye. She ignored a slight sour pull in right knee. Moving west had removed some of the humidity induced swelling in her joints but she had the suspicion she'd be following her arthritic father's steps. Even with modern medicine, she couldn't combat her genetics no matter how stridently she took care of her body.

With the conclusion of the inspection, she remained crouched just in case the knee decided to cramp as she stood. She was careful to never show weakness in front of Silas. He deserved no less than perfection and she would not be seen as a weak element.

"I am clear on my orders, sir. It is a fine craft." She fleetingly laid her fingertips gently against the paneling before pulling her hand away, as if hesitant to touch without clear permission. "Who will you send out with me?"

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"Chief Warrant Officer Robert Thorpe has been assigned as your co-pilot for these armed reconnaissance sorties," said Silas. "He has logged over one thousand hours in the Kiowas and will handle its avionics, the cameras, and the CMWS, the comms and the sensor suite. This will leave you with the freedom to concentrate solely on flying the aircraft, both offensively and defensively, as well as manoeuvre it into position to obtain the needed shots."

His mouth thinned into a hard line. "In dealing with these alien machines we have learned through arduous trial and error that it is crucial for the pilot to be able to fly without the distraction of monitoring other systems. These Cybertronians are a singularly dangerous target to pursue, make no mistake, and require complete focus from the pilot. It is for this reason we are assigning pilot in command duties to our most experienced fliers - yourself included."

One of the avionics technicians stuck their head from the Kiowa's cockpit. He gave Silas a nod and a thumbs up.

"All the glass checks out, the MDFs are good, sensor suite up and running - all aircraft are now checked out and ready to be brought on-line by oh-four hundred hours," he said. Silas nodded and lifted his hand in acknowledgement, and the tech disappeared again.

Silas turned back to Thana. "When we ramp up our operations from the collection of visual data to a full on assault upon designated targets, I will be flying with you for several flights," he said. "There is an upcoming mission in particular where I have put in a specific request for you to be assigned as my pilot. I have logged both actual and sim time in these aircraft, and so I will be able to operate its systems while you fly. I hope this is not a disagreeable arrangement for you."

There was no menace in the big man's manner as he asked the question - he regarded her with only a professional curiosity.

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Thana had no preferences for who she was assigned with. (Except for Bob and only because his constant smiling was disquieting.) So once she was given her orders, she was already making a mental list to prepare herself. It would take some getting used to the new machine but she was a natural as a pilot and had a level head.

She was, however, slightly surprised that Silas would pick her as a pilot. There were quite a few men he usually had escort him on missions. And while she knew it wasn't a personal preference, or even a decision rooted in gender, it was still a surprising move. If he wanted to test her mettle, she would arise to the occasion. But she didn't think he was testing her skills. Perhaps this was more of an allocation of resources.

"It is a suitable arrangement, sir."

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A look of satisfaction came over Silas' face.

"Excellent," he said.

Another technician came to his side with a flight kneeboard loaded with flying charts and paper work orders. On the other side of it was strapped a field tablet. Silas accepted the kneeboard with a murmured word and flipped through the sheaf of papers pinned to it. In the background a kneeling welder flipped down his mask and fired up his tool, throwing an arc of sparks over the piece of cowling he was working on.

"It has been brought to my attention that a rat has recently invaded our home," said Silas. He turned another page without looking up and frowned. "With your assistance, Gillespie, I intend to thwart it and flush it out. That is a subject best discussed at another time, however. In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy the modifications done to your aircraft and will put them to good use. Do you have any further questions?"

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A rat? How very peculiar...

She knew better than to press him for more information on that quip. In good time he would divulge the information if she needed it. And only then. Thana was intelligent enough to realize she couldn't be privy to all information.

"No. The new craft will serve MECH sufficiently." She brushed a dark strand of her hair away from her cheek and studied the craft with renewed interest. Oh, how she couldn't wait to be inside the cockpit.

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Silas nodded.

"Well said," he said in approval. He followed her line of sight to the helicopter, and for a moment his expression reflected her - that of studious interest, a professional admiration for a beautifully designed and constructed machine that was maintained to the highest level of standards by a dedicated crew. The welder's tool crackled in the background, while the rest of the AMEs threaded about the hanger on their own tasks, a constant drum of low-pitched noise and activity.

Then Silas turned back to face her, calm and composed.

"Very good," he said briskly. "In that case, you're dismissed. Get what rest you need, Gillespie. I expect the maintenance crews will need someone to begin performing test-flights for the most recently modified aircraft at oh-seven-hundred tomorrow morning. I would like that to be you."