Ghosts

Caitlin woke to the feel of a cold, wet nose rubbing her face. She pushed Tet gently away, giving him a quick pat and a whispered promise that she would find him a treat. As she rose, the dog took her place among the blankets.

She saw that Michael was still sleeping. It brought a smile to her face. It had taken him a long time, but her husband had finally banished the demons that had haunted his dreams. She tip-toed past him, following the scent of fresh coffee into the kitchen.

Hawke was at the stove, cooking. She poured herself coffee and sat down at the counter.

“Michael still asleep?”

“Yeah. I would be, too, if Tet hadn't decided I was in his spot,” she complained good-naturedly.

That brought a chuckle from Hawke, the first she had heard since they had arrived. “So, you're married, huh?”

“Yep.” She flashed the ring on her finger. “Five years, now.”

“Nice ring.”

She glanced at Hawke, wondering if he were teasing. Caitlin still wore the Cubic Zirconia that Michael had given her as part of their aliases on their trip into Cambodia. The “real” ring he had given her when he proposed was tucked away in her jewelry box. This was the one that had come to have sentimental meaning behind it. She decided to take Hawke's comment at face value. “I like it.”

He pushed bacon around in the pan. “Your husband, is he good to you?”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. It seemed a rather oddly phrased question. “Better than good. He treats me like a queen.”

“You're happy?”

She saw that he was serious, and gave her answer the consideration it deserved. “Are there things I would change about our lives if I could? Sure. But yes, I'm happy.”

“You love him?”

The conversation was beginning to feel like like a game of twenty questions. “More than anything on earth.”

“So where'd you meet this catch, anyhow?”

Caitlin looked up sharply. Hawke grinned openly at her. She wasn't sure how he knew, but she was certain he did. She matched his smile. “In the back seat of a helicopter over Germany. But I think you already know that.”

Michael picked that moment to walk into the kitchen, yawning and slightly disheveled. Hawke poured him a cup of coffee. “Congratulations,” he said, passing the coffee to the agent.

“String figured out who I'm married to,” Caitlin explained, seeing Michael's confused expression.

He accepted the coffee, “You're okay with it?”

Hawke shrugged. “She tells me she's happy.”

Michael reached out to take her hand. “I hope she is. I know I am.” He changed the topic. “So what's the agenda?”

“We're going to go get Airwolf.” Hawke served the eggs and bacon, sat down himself. “She's about three hundred miles northwest of here.” He sipped his coffee. “We've got plenty of time to get there. Last mile or two will have to be on foot, under cover of darkness.”

The agent scowled. “Where the hell did St. John put her?”

“Vandenberg.”

“Air Force Base? You've got to be kidding me.”

“Nope.”

Michael finished his breakfast. “Apparently insanity runs in families.”

Hawke gave him an odd grin. “Oh, you haven't seen anything yet.”

-*-

Nearly buried by the thick scrub brush, the entrance resembled nothing quite so much as a slightly oversized manhole cover, rusty metal secured by a somewhat shinier padlock. Hawke keyed the lock, and pulled the hatch open.

The odor that wafted out from the opening was nearly gag inducing. Hawke retrieved filter masks from his knapsack and passed them out. Michael pulled his awkwardly over his head, then accepted the hardhat and gloves the other man handed him. The hardhat had a light mounted on the front.

“You two ready?” Hawke asked, voice muffled by the mask.

Michael could see concern in Caitlin's eyes, but he nodded. “Yeah, let's go.”

Hawke had warned him what was ahead of them, six stories worth of ladders, then at least as many more of stairs. Michael wasn't looking forward to it, but he wasn't about to let Caitlin go without him. They descended slowly, inky darkness broken only by the lamps they carried.

Finally, the ladders ended, depositing them in a tunnel that stretched away in both directions. Their lights did little to ease the foreboding gloom. Michael retrieved the flashlight from his pocket and swung it around, taking in the graffiti scrawled on the concrete walls and corroding metal. Much of the paint was peeling. This place had been abandoned for a long time, even by the vandals.

“This way.” Checking a hand-drawn map, Hawke led them down one of the corridors, footsteps echoing on the metal plating.

Michael felt Caitlin's hand slip into his, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. The tunnel branched, and Hawke selected one of the branches. Michael hoped that the pilot knew where he was going, because it would be far too easy to get hopelessly lost in the tangled passageways.

At the top of the stairs, they paused for a few minutes rest to catch their breath. There was little graffiti here, this far under the earth. Instead, moisture condensated on the walls and dripped from pipes. The lower they went, the worse the smell became, but by now their noses had become almost immune to the stench. Michael had counted landings, and knew they had to be near the bottom. He would be grateful to get there; the ladders had set off both his knee and shoulder, and the stairs were just further aggravating the knee.

They finally reached the bottom, and continued down another access tunnel, “String, what is this place? Where are we?” Caitlin asked. She had fallen in step with Michael again, her hand in his.

Hawke glanced back at them. “Michael, you must know?”

“I know it's a missile silo, but I'm not sure for exactly what sort of missile.” He was familiar with the decommissioned Titan 1 sites, had even been in one some years earlier when it was being dismantled.. This was similar, but wasn't one of them, For one thing, he knew where they were – for another, those sites had all been stripped of anything usable after they were abandoned in the mid 1960's. This place, on the other hand, while in overall better shape appeared to have never been fully operational at all.

“It was an experiment that never worked out, an upgraded launch site for the Titan.1's. When they decided to pull the plug on the program, they never finished the site.” Hawke gestured toward piping brackets that did not look as if they had ever held pipe. “They closed up the main entrance, and somehow it got written off the maps. It appears the government forgot it even existed.”

“Are you trying to tell me Airwolf is down here?” Caitlin asked, confused.

Hawke slowed as he approached a heavy blast door. He pushed it open – the door swinging easily, despite the rust.

Releasing Michael's hand, she stepped past Hawke. Her flashlight reflected off the helicopter's sleek hull. Caitlin raised the lamp, the beam of light shining up into the darkness as Michael followed her into the launch silo. She tipped her head back further, gasping with the apparent realization of just how far up that darkness went. Eyes wide, she turned and looked back at him. “Oh, crap.”

-*-

Caitlin pressed her hand against the side of the helicopter, assuring herself that it was real, that Airwolf truly was down in the depths of this shaft. Tight fit, Hawke had said. That was the understatement of all understatements. She didn't turn, not quite willing to meet his eyes and let him see the fear in hers. “Just how much clearance is there?”

“Tip of the rotor blade to tip of the tail is fifty feet. The silo is sixty.” His footsteps approached until he stood beside her. “It's a hundred and fifty-five feet to the surface.”

Five feet, then, on either end. It made flying out of the lair look like child's play. She willed her pulse rate to slow. I can do this. I have to do this.

Michael joined them, looking upwards. “Not to belabor the point, but I don't see any stars. We've got a roof over our heads.”

“St. John and I brought in a generator.”

Michael gave him an incredulous look. “A generator that will open those doors? As I recall, they weigh over a hundred ton apiece.”

Hawke chuckled. “Told you this place was never anywhere near operational. They never installed the nuke-proof doors. Just hinged slabs of steel. Still pretty rugged, but given the way they're counterweighted, it's within the capacity of the generator.”

“How did you two ever find this place?” There was admiration in the agent's voice.

“St. John and Jo stumbled across it. They were looking for something else at the time, but Airwolf's scanners picked up some odd readings, and nothing on the maps accounted for what Jo was seeing. My brother came out here a few days later and started poking around. He found the entrance. There were records and work orders left in the control room that explained some of the history of the place.”

Michael looked down at the floor. “I'm surprised it's this dry. The Titan sites all flooded once they stopped pumping them out.”

Hawke shrugged. “That was one of the design changes. Some high-tech drainage system. Silo diameter is bigger, too, guess they wanted more room to work on the missile.”

Caitlin had been half-listening to the exchange. If the silo had been any smaller, St. John never would have gotten Airwolf into it. She rather wished that he hadn't.

“Cait, can you do it?” Michael's voice was quiet.

“Yeah.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

“Are you sure? If not, we can find another way. Bring in a crane... something.”

Right. Bring a crane onto Vandenberg Air Base and pluck Airwolf out of a missile silo the Air Force had forgotten they owned. That wasn't going to work, and they all knew it. “I'm sure,” she lied. “How do we get the doors open?”

“The generator is in the power room. I can go fire it up and open the roof. Once you're out, I'll close it again and meet you topside.” Hawke cast an appraising look at Michael. “If I send you up with Cait, can I trust you not to turn around and give Airwolf back to the Firm?”

Michael cocked a brow. “I gave you my word, Hawke. And in any case, I want Horn just as badly as you do.”

The pilot stared at him for a moment. “Okay. You take the express elevator to the top.”

“No.” Caitlin bit her lip. She hated doing it to her husband, but she had to. “I'm sorry. I'm going to need you right here.”

The glare Michael gave her would have frozen stone. She cringed inwardly. Caitlin knew what torture climbing out of this pit would be for him, but the alternative might be fatal. She wasn't that sure of her abilities, especially considering how long it had been since she had flown Airwolf. Besides, she did need their help. “I need both of you down here with radios. One on each side, to make sure I don't start drifting.”

Michael eyed her, finally nodded his agreement. “All right. So, what do we do once we get Airwolf out of here?”

“Head back to the lake. Cait, there's room behind the cabin, you can land there. Can you get the camo net over her?” At her answering nod, Hawke continued. “We'll bring the Jeep back and meet you there. It will take us awhile. You can feed Tet for me.”

Hawke had retrieved Michael's Jeep that morning, short-cutting the woods on a trail neither Caitlin nor the agent had known existed and picking them up at the cabin. At least Michael wouldn't end up slogging through the forest again.

Caitlin took a deep breath. “Let's do it.” She wanted to get the helicopter in the air before she had too much time to think about it.

“Hawke, do you need help with the generator?” Michael asked.

“No, I've got it. You two can get the radios out. I'd just as soon not leave the silo uncovered any longer than we need to.”

As the pilot left them, Caitlin yanked open Airwolf's door, the usual pop as the seal released sounding unusually loud in the still depths. She grabbed the radios out of the back, handed one to Michael. A quick test ensured they were working.

Michael pulled her to him. Arm around her, he tugged his particle mask down to plant a quick kiss on her forehead. “Are you sure about this?”

She reached up and put the mask back into place. “I don't want you breathing this stuff,” she explained. God only knew what noxious chemicals and toxins were in the air. “And yeah, I'm sure.”

There was a grinding sound, and far above them, the metal doors began to open. “I am sorry about making you climb out of here, but I do need you to spot for me.”

His eyes smiled at her. “It's okay. I don't mind. I need the exercise.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah, and you're sure you can do this.”

She hugged him, hard, and he returned embrace. They both looked up as they heard footsteps approach.

“So, we're ready?” ashed Hawke.

Moving away from Michael, Caitlin handed him the other radio. “Let's go.”

-*-

The men backed away from the helicopter as the blades began to turn, going to opposite sides of the silo. The rotor wash kicked up a blast of grit, blowing around whatever debris was left inside the vertical concrete tunnel. From inside the cockpit, Caitlin gave them a thumbs-up, and switched on the landing lights.

She lifted off, hovering just feet above the floor. Getting a feel for the controls, Hawke knew. “Hold her right there, Cait. You're exact center,” he said into the radio mic, shielding it with his hand.

Slowly, Airwolf crept upwards. Michael and Hawke both offered encouragement and minor corrections, but Caitlin kept the helicopter safely centered virtually on her own. It was impressive flying. Hawke remembered her first time in Airwolf, and fought back a grin. She had certainly come a long way since then.

“I'm clear!” Her voice came over the radio, a mixture of excitement and relief in her voice.

“Good work.” he answered.

“Knew you could do it. Love you, Cait. Fly safe.” Hawke heard Michael's words over the radio as he stripped off the headset.

With Airwolf gone, it was silent again, the darkness seeming even deeper after the harsh glare of the helicopter's lights. “You want to wait here while I close up and shut the generator down?” he asked Michael.

The agent eyed him suspiciously. “How many more flights of stairs?”

Hawke chuckled. “None. Actually, the power room is pretty much on our way out.”

“Good enough. Let's go.”

Once there, Hawke threw the switch that would close the overhead doors, and shut the generator down. They left the area as quickly as they could – although St. John had rigged a vent to the machine, it didn't work very well, and the air in that part of the complex was thick with the fumes.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Hawke sat down on one of the lower steps. “Let's take a break before we head up.”

Michael glared at him. “I'm fine.”

“Maybe you are. I'm not. Sit. My ankle is killing me.” It wasn't too much of an exaggeration.

The agent gave him a dubious look, but sat down. “Injuries from the explosion?” he asked.

“Yeah. Shattered it.” He looked down at Michael, seated on the step below him. “How bad is your arm?”

The agent looked up sharply. “What did Cait tell you?”

Hawke shook his head. “She never mentioned it.”

“Oh.” His tone said that he realized he'd just confirmed Hawke's suspicions. “I didn't know it was that obvious.”

“It's not.” The pilot paused. “But you didn't answer the question.”

Michael shrugged. “Some weakness in my hand, and I can't raise my arm over my head. Nerve damage. It's not a problem.”

“Is that what she meant about you being in the hospital?”

He nodded. “I was in pretty rough shape. She didn't leave my side for over a week.”

Hawke knew that when she had first arrived at Santini Air, Caitlin had held something of a torch for him -- although much to Santini's chagrin he had never seen her as anything more than a little sister. He wondered what the old Italian would think of the relationship between her and the agent. Behind the mask, he grinned. “I never would have pictured you and Cait together.”

“Neither would I,” Michael admitted.

“She know about your first trip over there?” Hawke well remembered how he had met the agent, flying him into Cambodia for an assassination mission.

“She knows everything.” Michael stretched his leg. “Cait saved my life. Hauled me out of that God- forsaken jungle after I'd been hit. Afterwards... we were both in a bad place. She found out about the accident at the hanger -- I learned the committee had eliminated my division, and--” He broke off, flexing his right hand. “That took awhile. At one point, I didn't think I'd ever... I guess we leaned on each other.”

“You know, I never thanked you,” Hawke said quietly.

“For what?”

“For what you did, and what you tried to do.” The agent had more than held up his end of their deal. He had risked his own life in an attempt to rescue St. John, and it had cost him dearly. It wasn't Michael's fault Bouchard had gotten there first.

“Don't thank me. It was worth it. We got seven men out of that camp, and in the process, I found the love of my life.” Left hand on the railing, Michael pulled himself to his feet. “Come on, let's get the hell out of here.”

-*-