Ep. 1.5 - Up There's a Heaven, Down There's a Town - Closed

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She couldn't help but be hypnotized by the blurs of colour that were her surroundings. Forests, mountains, buildings, lakes — everything became a wash of hues, and Sarita's attention was held. She barely snapped out of it in time to look back at the panel, giving a quick, "Hm?" as Deuce became business-like.

No divebombing, Runway 33, HUD, vertical doughnut — "Got it. Pulling back the throttle now...."

Very, very gradual, she eased power back into Deuce's powerful engines, the scream of them becoming louder as they surged with new life. Her eyes were focused on the nose, Sarita silent as she carefully dipped her jet towards the horizon. Like a hawk, she was scanning for the runway, gaze flickering to the quickly-descending numbers that would alert her to putting down the landing gear.

"How often do you do this kind of thing?" Sarita asked, tone somewhat absent-minded with most of her mind on the landing. "Taking gas from airports, I mean. Surely you've had some close calls with the humans that work them."

She hoped she hadn't jinxed anything by saying that.

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"I've done it a handful of times, especially since getting out of Australia," the jet admitted. "I don't have the equipment required to process energon, so that means I've gotta get my energy from cruder sources. Chemicals, fossil fuels, that sort of thing. When you're not part of a faction you become very good at scavenging what you need from a variety of, uh, unorthodox sources."

The airport was visible ahead of them now, the asphalt visible against the green hills and trees. The longest runway was a bright grey off the jet's nose; it was aligned with it, and descending swiftly. The smaller runway crossed it at nearly a ninety degree angle, forming a cross. Narrow taxiways criss-crossed in between, there to guide taxiing aircraft between the aprons, hangers, and terminal buildings.

"I've had a few close calls, but I haven't been caught yet," the jet said cheerfully. "I have a pretty convincing disguise ready once I'm on the ground. Good old R.O. Shipman. Ha! Also, I'm careful not to steal from the same place twice. Hell, with these wings I don't have to steal from the same country twice. Ah, there you go!"

On the HUD, the airspeed had just indicated it had dropped to 280kts.

"And you're good for the gear! You'll hear it clunking down into place after you switch down the gear handle."

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Smart. Sarita would have voiced the compliment, but she didn't want to condone his behaviour, either...and this was the woman who freely stole from large stores and chain gas joints to get what she wanted. Not what she needed, not what was necessary, but what was wanted.

She settled for nodding at the display, and reaching for and turning on the landing gear. "Landing gear activated, just waiting for it to deploy — " Clunk! — "There we go."

The woman leaned back in her seat, preparing herself for a landing. Though she was riding in a giant alien jet, she was pretty sure her ears were going to pop. She never had liked the sensation, but it wasn't as if Deuce gave her control over the physics behind it. Settling in and carefully re-adjusting Deuce's package, Sarita said, "I want to thank you again for letting me come with you. I...I have been enjoying the flight. Really, I have, catty as I might have seemed."

She gave Deuce a small, sheepish smile.

"You, um...you need anything while we're down on the ground, or are we going to refuel and then head straight for Oregon? It doesn't matter to me, any way you do it. You're the driver, and the driver gets the call on where the vehicle does and does not go. I'm just landing you this time."

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With a whir of hydraulics the landing gear folded down from the jet's fuselage, mains and nose. There was an audible clunk as they locked into place, and on the panel above the gear handle three green lights lit up.

The jet laughed.

"Aw, you're not catty," he said. "You're just... feisty! Which isn't the word I meant to use, that makes you sound like a Dorito flavour. Which actually might be 'zesty', now that I think about it. Anyway, don't worry about it. You're good company, and I had the extra seat handy, so I'm happy to have you along. It's nice to actually get to travel with someone else for once."

Another friendly waggle of the wings. Sarita would feel the flight stick move slightly as the motion caused it to shift as well.

"And you know, that's a good question! I think once I sign off on the fuel I'm good to go - there's nothing else I really need other than energy. Is there anything you'd like to get when we're on the ground? I'm sure this airport has a terminal building, with a restaurant - are you hungry? We've been flying for a while now."

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"Food sounds quite amazing, actually."

She smiled, and unconsciously pat the side of the jet. If she had realized what she was doing, she would have yanked her hand away like she'd touched a hot iron

"I've got money to take care of myself with. Probably could stop in the ladies' room, too, and freshen up; I think I smeared my mascara while I was napping. It doesn't look too bad, does it?"

She would lean forward for the dash to "look" at, and once given the okay or not, she would lean back in the seat. She let Deuce take the chance to talk more, enjoying the conversation; he had sharp commentary and was genuinely interesting. He'd brushed off her little panic attack like it was nothing, and —

"Who's Julie?" Sarita asked, looking up over the nose again. It wouldn't be long until they touched down and fed themselves — something the still-slightly underweight singer was looking forward to. "Is she another Cybertronian you know?"

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“You're maybe a little bit raccoon–eyed,” said the jet in amusement when Sarita leaned forward to check her makeup. “But it’s not that bad at all, really. Take your time after we land to freshen up if you like, we’re in no rush.”

At her question, however, he paused.

“Julie?” he said. “Oh, er, no, no, not a Cybertronian friend of mine. Another friend... a human friend. I, uh... I rescued her from a bad accident once. Since I had to reveal myself to do so, I guess you could say she knows about us being here on Earth. She’s been a good friend ever since. A cute girl.”

The jet sounded flustered. He hemmed and hawed a moment, as if uncertain what else to say. The ground meanwhile continued to rise up to greet the as they made their descent, now less than three miles from the airport. A big white ’33’ was visible at the threshold of the runway.

“Okay, we just got clearance to land,” said the jet. “Great! Great. Okay, what we want to do now is pull back a little on the power. When we’re over those numbers we should be a hundred feet up in the air or so. That’s your cue to bring the power all the way back to idle and pull back gently on the stick. Just pull back enough to put my nose on the opposite end of the runway, where it meets the horizon. That will make sure that I land on my main gear first, not my nose gear. Got it?”

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Talking about Julie had made the jet more embarrassed than any other moment on the flight. Sarita would not press him, but filed away his reaction for later. She was not the first human he'd been with, and — wait, had he just called the girl cute?

He could have been talking about a cute kid, or he could have been talking about an attractive woman. The implications of the latter made Sarita feel a slight sense of "ick", but she didn't show it. Her hands reached for the controls and her eyes focused ahead, the woman answering, "Got it," as she took a steadying breath.

A slight pull back. A moment of pause as she waited for the numbers, counting the seconds until the jet passed over them. A flash of the numbers before they disappeared, Sarita pulling back all the way to idle. There was no jerk this time — she was focused, collected, calm, all business and nothing to distract her. She looked back at the dash, smiling with evident pride.

"Easier than I thought," she said, showing a bit of tooth as the smile widened. "Anything else you need me to do, chief?"

Her accent thickened a touch more at the end of the sentence. There was an absence of her polite show there, replaced with an impish bent and a twinkle in her eye. It disappeared as quickly as it came, an appropriate moment of humour after all was said and done.

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The jet floated over the numbers, his nose up in the flare as Sarita applied back pressure to the stick. The controls were light and responsive; the airspeed lowered and the machine gently settled, as if the lift were peeling away from his wings. A moment later his main gear chirped on the pavement. There was a jolt that rattled the package on Sarita's lap, and then another thump as the nose gear touched down onto the runway.

"Boom, baby!" cheered the jet. "You did it, you just landed a military fighter jet. Who is also a handsome space bastard, but that's a secret between you, me, and - well, you and me. Nicely done! I can take it from here - the tower is telling me to switch to ground control, and they'll give me taxi instructions to the ramp, and god, that gets confusing."

Slowly, it's engine humming, the jet taxied from the runway and cleared on the first available taxiway. It passed a Mooney holding short of the runway as it did so. Through the canopy Sarita would get a good look at the pilot of the small airplane. The man gaped up at them openly as they passed.

"Thought we'd get an audience," chuckled the jet. "And just so things don't get too suspicious looking when we pull up to the fuel truck..."

All at once, Sarita wasn't alone in the cockpit.

Squished beside her on the seat was a good looking young man in a green air force flightsuit and helmet. Due to the cramped space he had one arm wrapped around her shoulders, as if they were in a movie theatre and not sitting inside the cockpit of a high performance fighter aircraft.

The avatar tugged off the helmet, revealing tousled brown hair. He winked at her.

"Holomatter generator," he said, grinning. "Never leave your planet without one."

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Sarita jerked away from the avatar, surprised, but gave Deuce something between a look and a grin at his antics. One finger gently poking at the solid projection, she quipped, "You know, I'm getting the feeling that, if you were a human, you'd be using your jet as a way to pick up chicks. You've certainly picked something that has a roguishly charming air to it."

And then she proceeded to shove him towards the other side of the cockpit, leaning away.

"Go and get your fuel, flyboy," the singer said dryly. "It's already awkward enough that I'm wiggling your stick and holding your package at the same time. I'll not be more than an hour, tops."

She waited for Deuce to let her out. As she did, she fished around in her pockets, grabbing a small pouch of makeup and a wallet, followed by her passport. She wasn't sure if she'd need it with Deuce, but it was good to have all the documentation she needed on hand. If anything, she could catch a plane out of there if something happened to Deuce, and she had money to flee into the state if needed.

//ooc// Feel free to commence with a timeskip in the next post, Lex.

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In the time it took to pump several thousand pounds worth of expensive Jet-A fuel into the Falcon, Sarita would have plenty of time to freshen up and grab a bite to eat.

The terminal was clean and pleasant, with a rather nice restaurant overlooking the runways with a decent menu that included foods as simple as wraps and sandwiches, for a traveller on the go. There were also several vending machines standing outside of it in a row, if she felt more like a snack than a meal - a bottle of soda, cold and refreshing, or a bag of chips or chocolate bar. Quick food, good for satisfying hunger in a hurry. There were even comfortable chairs in the lobby if she wished to rest her feet a moment.

Meanwhile, out on the ramp, Deuce's avatar chatted with the fuel truck attendants. The sight of a military jet refuelling had drawn nearly every pilot on the field; they clustered around the Falcon and asked questions of its pilot. Deuce did not seem to mind answering them. He even posed for a few photographs, smiling from ear to ear. When the ground lines were detached and the hose pulled back he signed off the billing slip with 'R.O. Shipman' and waved off an attempt to give him a coffee.

"It's all right, better not," he said. He looked around, scanning the apron. "Anyone seen the young lady I flew in with?"

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"Right here, love."

The words came as a sultry purr, the rhotics as smooth as the engine of a high-end sports car. Several heads turned, a few eyes widened and several eyebrows raised, the wolf-whistles as sharp as a hawk's cry as Sarita stepped forward. Her makeup was of crisp lines and warm, dark tones, her eyes lined and stark with fresh mascara; gentle burnished tones brought out the brown in her eyes. She had taken her suitcase with her, and switched from her bohemian reds to a stylish black skirt and a khaki camp shirt. They were adjusted to fit her flatteringly, and a button had mischievously been undone. She looked ready to hit the skies and travel the world, and look damn good in the process — her strut only emphasized the black fabric hugging her hips. Heels delicately clicking across the pavement, her hair was straight and plain, but brushed to be as glossy as possible. No fancy styles here, she had decided; too many people would remember her if she was too fabulous looking.

Of course, all the attention Deuce was getting had shot her plans of stealth straight to hell. She had (very quietly) glared and cursed out the window, wondering if it was possible for him to feel her look. After ten minutes of debating what to do, she had finally given up and decided that she'd roll with it, and get herself something special in the process.

"So sorry I took so long, darling," Sarita trilled, gently weaving through the crowd. Her slight, careful movements brushed her against several surprised-looking flyboys, and the looks on their faces were to die for. "I spent too much time looking around the gift shop for my own good. I've not been to Pennsylvania very often, so I wanted a little souvenir."

She turned and gave a charming smile — without teeth, of course — to the crowd.

"I hope my little bird hasn't been boring you with flight stories, too much?"

She leaned against Deuce, gently hooking her arm around his waist. Like the doting girlfriend she was pretending to be, she leaned against him and nuzzled her face into his collar, giving a grin. The snickers and looks Deuce was getting were worth their weight in gold.

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For an instant Deuce gaped at her, clearly taken off guard by the seductive ploy. His eyes widened behind his aviator glasses.

Then he grinned.

“There you are, kitten!” he said. “Honey, I’ve filled the tanks and we’re all set to go if you’re ready. Did you get changed while you were in there? I dig it. That skirt is really cute on you.”

With his charisma firing on all four cylinders he patted her hip in a friendly manner, then took advantage of the moment to pretend to glance casually down her shirt.

’Pretend.’

Smiling, Deuce stepped back and gestured to the short ladder deployed from his cockpit. He took her hand to help her climb it. “If you’re ready we should continue onwards. I only get one day out of the year to visit family with the jet, so we’d better make it count. Puddin’.”

“Where’s the family?” called out a voice in the crowd.

“Oregon! We’re visiting her parents. They keep complaining we never come out to see them. They accuse me of stealing their beautiful daughter away from them and corrupting her with my sexy Maverick volleyball antics, Goooose. So I’m going to machine–gun them off the face of the planet.”

He gave a thumbs up and the crowd laughed because ahh. Mother–in–law jokes.

[Deleted]

That peek down her shirt didn't go unnoticed. She turned herself aways a little from Deuce, shooting him a look that, whilst playful from afar, was laced with a tinge of, "Don't you dare try anything, jet." She'd tolerate his looking for the sake of appearances, but so help her God, if he had x-ray vision that let him peek through while she was changing in a hotel...

She put on a giggle, taking the extended hand; she clambered in with little fuss.. Deuce's holoform was incredibly solid, and she couldn't help but be impressed with how it captured the subtle nuances and motions of the human body. All she'd seen so far was Layby's and Cleaver's (mostly Layby's), and she hadn't picked up on as much range with him. Then again, she hadn't seen him use it often, so maybe Layby was more apt with it than she imagined —

“Where’s the family?” called out a voice in the crowd.

“Oregon! We’re visiting her parents. They keep complaining we never come out to see them....”

Something fairly unpleasant and sour curled up in Sarita's stomach, slithering up to the back of her tongue. A biting remark was poised to strike, but she kept it back and nodded at the crowd instead. They were headed to Oregon, so their cover story would still work — but the thought of visiting her parents, with anyone she knew, was a bitter one. Offensive, even.

But Deuce couldn't know that, right?

"We'd love to stick around, but Mum is dreadful about us being late to the party," Sarita said, a tinkle of a laugh edging her voice. "Hopefully my dear can catch up with you again to swap stories. Ta-ta!"

She gave a queenly wave, and waited for Deuce to show her to her seat. She was hoping he wasn't going to make her sit in his holoform's lap until they took off; the situation had backfired enough already. She had just wanted to seem convincing, and make Deuce horribly uncomfortable for being a show-off at the same time....

At least I made him gawk for five seconds.

[Deleted]

Deuce was cackling to himself as he climbed into the cockpit after her.

“Well, that ought to guarantee some hanger gossip gets tossed around here for the rest of the day,” he said gleefully.

The avatar settled in next to her, losing substantiality as it did so, becoming as light as cobweb. While it made the motions of running through the pre–start checklists the jet simply fired his engine, while on the apron below the ladder was removed and the fuel truck drove off. The crowd was dispersed by line marshals, signalling firmly.

The familiar shrill roar of the jet’s engine filled the cockpit again. A moment later the aircraft rolled gently forward, pointing its nose towards the rest of the apron. Only when the jet was safely on one of the taxiiways did the avatar finally vanish, leaving Sarita alone in the cockpit.

Deuce’s voice drifted from the cockpit.

“Anyway, that was pretty fun and hilarious,” he chuckled. “Nice job acting it up for our cover! I gotta say, I was impressed. That was some quick thinking. I think my fuel pump nearly stopped.”

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"We were getting too obvious," Sarita stated matter-of-factly. She hadn't meant to sound so sharp, but she was still reeling a little from the mental button pushed by parents and Oregon being in the same sentence. Her shoulders slightly hunched, and she glanced out the window like they'd been followed.

"...I...didn't want to chance anything. I'm glad you got away, really, but you didn't need to look down my shirt!"

She lifted her left foot, and with as much force as possible (thank God for square heels), she ground it onto the floor beneath Deuce's controls. Satisfied with the kick (and perhaps feeling a little guilty), she continued with, "From the sounds of it, you're on a full tank now. If you get this much attention every time you land, we're going to need a plan in case someone catches on. I can pull out the Prada if need be, but sex appeal doesn't always work on these people. Any other reasons for why you'd have a civilian passenger in a military jet?"

Giving Deuce a chance to answer, Sarita fished around in one pocket, then pulled out a small tangle of bills and several coins. There was a substantial jingle that hadn't been there before, and as Sarita's eyes flickered over the money, she paused. Amidst the coins she had retrieved, one was a silver-encircled piece of copper, stamped with the image of a polar bear. Having never seen a Canadian Toonie before, the singer held it up to her face, squinting as she tried to make sense of it.

"...Hell is this?" she murmured to herself, quiet enough most people couldn't hear. She hadn't accounted for Cybertronian hearing, however, and Deuce would be able to pick up the words despite the palm near her lips. "...Some kind of collector's coin...?"