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Stranded [Closed] - Printable Version

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Stranded [Closed] - megs - 05-11-2017

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RE: Stranded [Closed] - megs - 05-11-2017

“Lieutenant General Weatherfare?” the voice in the other end of the line prompted him for a response. Darcy hadn't realized he'd gone silent. “Do you understand what am I saying to you, Darcy?” The voice had transitioned into something close to annoyance.

Darcy blinked out of his shocked trance. He cleared his throat to buy time, still trying to process the information he'd been given. “Yes, ma’am. I understand,” he lied, because it still hadn't clicked with him. His commanding officer hung up it was a sharp sound in his ear. He knew she knew that this situation was more serious than usual for him; not that he'd expected her to have any sympathy. Darcy let the phone slip from his hand. Exhaling loudly, he pushed both hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair.

He'd just been informed that Captain Sanders Strafford had gone down somewhere over the Himalayas. They'd lost contact with with his plane as he was scheduled to pass over a known insurgent base. He knew nothing else about it. And he wouldn't until a rescue team reached the site and began their scouting. They'd already been dispatched, so that was only a matter of time. Darcy tried not to imagine the worst. Tried not to think about losing a good man. Darcy had known Sanders since the pilot was a young boy; Owen’s best friend.

Fuck,” the lieutenant general complained to no one. He was going to have to tell Owen. Darcy picked up the phone again and dialed his godson from memory. It was against protocol not to call Sanders’ family first, but Owen would be furious to find out the news from someone else. More furious than he was going to be already. Darcy listened to the line ring a few times before it was answered by Drusilla, Owen's assistant.

Her greeting chimed pleasantly on the line.

“It's Darcy,” was his own greeting. “I need to speak with Owen.”

"Of course, Lieutenant General,” she replied, recognizing his voice. “I'll let him know.”

Drusilla placed the call on hold and left Owen’s office. She'd gone in there when she'd heard his phone ringing endlessly, which meant he wasn't there. Which was unusual, but she knew where he was at present: in the backyard testing some new equipment. She opened the back door and stepped onto the porch from the kitchen. “Lieutenant General Weatherfare is on the phone for you," she informed, ears twitching. "It sounded urgent.”


RE: Stranded [Closed] - saronym - 05-13-2017

Owen was sitting on the porch stairs with attachments lined up on the porch next to him. He was switching one sight out for another when Drusilla opened the door and informed him of a call. Thinking nothing of the ‘urgency’ she suggested, often calls between officers were urgent. He had yet to find out that this would be a personal matter and not necessarily just a military matter.

“Thank you.” He set aside the gun and attachment and rose. Owen maneuvered his way around Drusilla in the doorway, placing a hand on her shoulder and sidling by her. “You can leave that stuff there, probably isn’t much.” He said as he passed by. He said it more because he knew Drusilla didn’t enjoy handling the weapons.

Owen picked up the line, taking Darcy off hold, “Lieutenant Colonel Hart speaking,” he said into the receiver still thinking that they would be discussing military matters. He collapsed into his leather chair and swiveled back and forth for a few moments while he waited to hear the news.


RE: Stranded [Closed] - megs - 05-13-2017

Darcy could hardly get his own thoughts in order enough to decide what he would say to Owen when the other man finally picked up the phone. Technically, he shouldn’t have had to think about it. There was a protocol for these sort of things, it was basically a script. But this wasn’t some call to a family he had never met about a soldier he had barely known. This was his godson’s best friend.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” he returned automatically, when Owen’s voice cut through the line. “This is Lieutenant-” Darcy cut himself off, dropped the formalities. It sounded so stupid in the shadow of the news he had. “...it’s Darcy,” he said his own name on the end of a sigh. His free hand lifted to pinch the skin between his eyes.

“I’m calling about Sanders.” His voice sounded hollow and distant in his own ears. Echoing through the receiver. “I’ve just been informed that we’ve lost transmission with Captain Strafford who was on a routine supply drop through the Himalayas.” Darcy had accidentally slipped into the more formal method of relaying the information. He thought it would be easier. It wasn’t. “It is possible his plane has gone down near Mount Kailash.” Hypotheticals, he reminded himself. Nothing was for certain. “It’s a hotbed of the insurgency. It’s possible that his signal has just been jammed, but we’ve relayed search and rescue teams nonetheless.”


RE: Stranded [Closed] - saronym - 05-13-2017

Something fell off the shelf and broke inside of him.

Maybe it was his heart, he wasn’t sure if it was beating anymore.

He was still breathing though. Heavily. He felt suddenly panicked.

“How did this happen?” He demanded into the receiver as if he were the superior officer about to reprimand an incompetent underling. “He’s flown that route before and no such signal losses were reported so obviously the chopper has gone down.”

This wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion but there were a lot of reasons that communications could go down and man-down wasn’t necessarily the only explanation here. Owen balanced the receiver between his shoulder and chin and immediately began pulling all the information for Sanders’ last assignment. He also pulled active dispatch orders and spotted one he could get added to.

“If his chopper went down you know the insurgents shot it down or at least saw it so they are going to jam the black box signal. Search and rescue won’t be able to use traditional methods to locate him. They are completely unequipped for this. If I get my gear together I can be down in hangar five to catch the dispatch flight with search and rescue that’s going out at midnight tonight.” He suggested.

He was clicking rapidly through Sanders’ assignment dossier, “If I could get authorization now I can put a Special Recon team together and we could find him.”

Owen’s first reaction was to crush down the tide of pain that threatened to sweep him under and to spring into action. If he could do something, he didn’t have to feel what he was feeling.


RE: Stranded [Closed] - megs - 05-15-2017

Darcy was silent as he let Owen work through the stages of his disbelief. He let Owen talk because he knew that’s what he needed to do. He needed to rationalize, and put everything into neat and logical little categories that he could then apply calculated solutions to. He picked up a pen and tapped the point silently against his desk calendar and watched little dots of ink be left behind.

Owen was predictable only because Darcy knew him so well. And even though Darcy knew all the information Owen was giving him, he still waited. He was working to distract himself from the reality and the possibilities of the news.

“No.”

It was one word, but he knew it was enough to crush Owen and infuriate him at the same time. “I have been directly order to follow protocol on this incident. I have no authorization to deploy an additional agents, or teams.” Darcy scrubbed at his face and sighed into the receiver.

“I’m sorry. I’m doing my best, I swear to you. If Sanders is out there, we will find him, but...you’ve been grounded, Owen. Almost, specifically. The board is...aware of your friendship with Captain Strafford and has deemed it unnecessary for your skills to be tied up in a level two search and rescue.”

“They won’t...sanction any measures above that for…” Darcy paused, swallowed hard before scoffing. “‘For a pilot,’” he spat the quote with obvious disgust with the higher ups.


RE: Stranded [Closed] - saronym - 05-24-2017

No.

No.

No.


Was that all that Darcy could ever say to him? It was always no, Owen.

“Right.” Owen said coldly. “Thank you for reminding me the importance of a mere pilot.” There was blame in his voice. Anger. He could speak this way to Darcy because he was speaking now to a man he saw as his father not his superior.

“I guess I’ll just sit on my hands like you do then. Good plan.”

His eyes stung. His stomach flipped over. The feeling of helplessness was torture.

“Dad, I -” he faltered, “he’s my friend.” He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to plead his case. So he wouldn’t. He pushed it all away and steeled himself again. He was good at that. “Thank you for informing me.”

He hung up the receiver with a heavy clack. Unthinkingly he picked it up and slammed it down again harder. He did it again and again. Slamming the phone back into the receiver. He wasn’t sure when he’d stood up. He picked up the entire body of the phone and tore it out of the socket and threw it against the wall. He could feel himself yelling fuck and clutching his head but he wasn’t really inside his body. He felt sort of outside of it. Detached.

He couldn’t lose someone again. Not Sanders. Not like this.

He was silent, stewing, when he marched from his office. Unseeing he went straight to the yard and picked a bush, fell to his knees and puked on it.

That felt better.

It felt good to break something and empty himself.


RE: Stranded [Closed] - megs - 05-24-2017

Drusilla remained in the kitchen, though she could hear the rise in the conversation Owen was having with Darcy. She had stopped doing anything specifically, unintentionally having begun to eavesdrop when she sensed that something was wrong. She couldn’t hear Darcy’s end of the conversation, but Owen’s responses were enough to enlighten her on the situation.

Sanders was missing.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, smoothing her hands over her abdomen, but she flinched each time the phone made impact. Her tailed curled tightly towards her spine when the object met the wall. For a moment, there was silence, and Drusilla waited it out. She knew the patterns of Owen’s anger. The incandescence of his rage often came in waves until he wore himself out on it.

Drusilla appeared in the yard with a bottle of water that she held loosely at her side. She kept her distance from him, he wouldn’t like it if she crowded him or fawned over him before he was ready to be taken care of.

“Sir?”

It was both a question and announcement of her presence. She didn’t dare ask if he was alright, or if there was anything she could do. His answers to both questions would be predictable and asking them would only annoy him. He’d be irritated enough that she was witnessing him in a moment of weakness. She was here for him, for whatever he needed, and he knew that.


RE: Stranded [Closed] - saronym - 05-30-2017

Owen knew she was there even before she’d spoken. A woman-shaped shadow had fallen on the ground next to him that announced her.

He swallowed, collecting himself, before he pushed back to standing. Owen turned to face her feeling almost bashful for his display before her. Embarrassment didn’t sit well on him, so as she’d predicted he was irritated with her for having witnessed it. Though it wasn’t as if he’d given her much of a choice in the matter.

Reaching for the bottle, he stared down at her with a deeply angry frown. Somewhere inside a deep well of hopelessness had opened up.

“Sanders’ chopper went down over Mount Kalish.” He said matter-of-factly before drawing water into his mouth. He swished it around and turned to the side to spit it out. Then he drank heavily from the bottle, nearly draining it. Replacing the emptiness inside.

“He’s missing Dru.” Owen’s voice sounded weak in his own ears. The hands that held the water bottle didn’t feel like his own. “The CAF isn’t funding a formal search and rescue.” His arms fell limp against his side.

She knew how much Sanders meant to him. She knew it all. Owen reached for her and pulled her into a hug he needed.

“I can’t bury anybody else. I can’t.” Owen said hopelessly against her hair. He felt for a moment that he was laying everything at her feet, his weakness, vulnerability, fear. He had long since come to trust her, for better or worse. Dru had a way of making things better.


RE: Stranded [Closed] - megs - 06-06-2017

Drusilla didn’t shrink under the weight of his irritation. She held his glare, her own expression was softer. More sympathetic. Upturned eyes and a slightly furrowed brow, silently pleaded with him to let his guard down. To rely on her and trust her with his feelings. When he spoke, she nodded to show she was listening; ears pinning backwards. She knew the situation, thanks to her eavesdropping, but something about hearing him say it out loud trapped her breath in her throat.

Hands on her waist pulled her closer. “Owen…” her empathetic murmur was mostly lost over her heels as they clicked against the deck. His arms wrapped around her form and held her against him. His sorrow seemed to crash into her like a wave and he held onto her like a lifeline. She didn’t know what to say to him; there was nothing she could say. Nothing could fix this except Sanders coming home alive. Drusilla curled her arms around Owen’s back, running her hand soothingly over his spine. She left her face rest against his chest.

Drusilla stayed with Owen until his show of weakness rounded full circle into irritation. He sent her home, either to keep his despair to himself, or find a way to defy Darcy.

Just because the Covenant refused to do anything for the fallen pilot, didn’t mean that all hope was lost. Sanders was her friend, and she had boundless resources at her demand. Drusilla would do anything for her friends, and she would do even more than that for Owen.

“Sairus,” she greeted when he answered the phone. “There’s a problem, and I need your help with something. Please.”


RE: Stranded [Closed] - saronym - 06-11-2017

Sanders was having the worst day - no - week of his life. This particular day on this particular week was especially bad. He knew he was going a bit batty from starvation and now searing, mind blowing pain with every step. Luckily there was plenty of snow he could eat to maintain hydration, but he had no food other than two MREs which he had already eaten.

Half of this particular day had been spent fashioning a makeshift splint for his lower leg. He was pretty sure he had broken his ankle after falling into a hole and jarring his leg badly while hiking down the damn mountain he was on. Most of his morning was spent lying half out of that hole and making tiny movements towards pulling himself up. Realizing that it he didn’t get moving he would probably freeze to death, Sanders sucked it up and mustered enough emotional resolve to continue aggravating the leg as he pulled himself free of the hole.

Applying what little knowledge he had about military field medicine, Sanders performed a quick examination of his leg. He still had sensation in the toes which was a good sign. He used supplies from his pack including one of his spare thermal wool sweaters and a couple of sticks to fashion an ugly looking splint for the leg. Sanders was lucky enough to find a stick long enough to serve as a terrible kind of cane.

And so in this state he hobbled miserably through the snow as he wondered how long it would be before he died out there. His mind was consumed with thoughts of his fiancee and family who had, by now, been informed of his MIA status. Thoughts of the pain that he would cause to Maeve if he gave up and let himself die propelled him forward against all hope.

He carried her picture in his wallet. One he had taken in the field of blue columbines outside his ranch. She wore a cute yellow top that day. There was a slight redness to her shoulders from the sun they had gotten riding horses all afternoon. She smiled brightly at him with gold hair lit up like a halo by rays of sun. He kept kissing her picture and promising to return home to her.

Sanders was losing his damn mind.


RE: Stranded [Closed] - megs - 06-22-2017

The queen had asked him for help, and there was nothing Sairus could do to deny her.

Which why he and two of his siblings were in the fuck all of the Himalayas looking for a downed CAF pilot that the shit organization refused to look for on their own. Sairus understood, certainly. Captain Strafford was her friend, he was important to her, and she had the resources to do what the CAF wouldn’t. He just wished he wasn’t the above mentioned resource.

He took little comfort in having two of his siblings with him. Micah did nothing but complain about the cold. Teagan was pleased as punch to be knee deep in snow and bundled up in enough layers to look like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man. She treated the rescue mission more like a leisurely hike.

They had already found the plane, but there had been no pilot inside of it. That was either very good or very bad. Micah was sure he had found a trail. His giant mahogany lynx form trotted easily through the snow with a nose to the ground. The black tufts on his ears swayed as they twitched on top of his head. Every now again he would pause, and return to Teagan who held one of Sanders’ shirts, so he could refresh the scent and find the trail he had lost.

Sairus was following directly behind Micah, who led the pack. He carried most of their gear. They didn’t need much, the three of them could easily shift into their lynx forms for warmth or to hunt as needed. Sai mostly carried supplies for if and when they found Sanders and Micah’s clothing. Teagan trailed behind the boys. Sai heard her stop, but didn’t turn around, she’d probably just been distracted by something in the trees.

Suddenly, a snowball hit him on the back of the head. Sai rounded on Teagan with a growl, lips pulled back and away from his teeth. She wasn’t looking at him. A handed shaded her eyes and she looked upwards and into a tree, playing innocent.

Turning away from her again, he followed Micah, finding that the lynx had led them to the entrance of a cave. He’d stopped, pointing into the darkness with his nose like a proper blood hound.

“Do you think he’s in there?” Teagan addressed her brothers as she came up to stand near them.

“Only one way to find out.”

“I hope he’s alive.”


RE: Stranded [Closed] - saronym - 06-25-2017

The sound of voices echoing in the dark cave woke Sanders from what had felt like a feverish sleep. He could not make out what words they spoke or even what language it was. That was decidedly not a good sign.

In the cave he had taken shelter in, Sanders had managed to make a modest fire to keep warm but didn’t have any food to eat. Sanders was near delirious with hunger and pain. His leg injury was miserable but he managed to push himself up from where he laid out his sleeping bag. He already had his gun as he slept with it in his hands. He limped into what he felt was the most defensible corner and called out to whoever was approaching.

“Stop your approach. This is Captain Sanders Stafford for the Covenant of Allied Forces Air Force and I will use deadly force against potential aggressors. Identify yourselves.”

He cocked his weapon even though he could barely see in the dark for any shooting and waited for their response. Shadows danced along the walls in his little alcove cast about by the tiny fire he made. The sound of his voice and light would likely lead them to him. Perhaps it hadn't been smart to identify himself?

All Sanders knew was his training. That he was supposed to resist being taken and resist any interrogation techniques. The CAF policies for MIA soldiers and POWs were notoriously strict and damn near impossible for a distressed soldier to be expected to adhere to but he could surely try. Sanders was too good-natured of a man to have questioned whether the policies he was trying hard to obey were humane.


RE: Stranded [Closed] - megs - 06-27-2017

The trio of would-be rescuers exchanges glances as Sanders announced himself from inside the cave. Even Michah, in full lynx form, tilted his head backwards to observe his siblings. Golden feline eyes seemed to shimmer with a vague question of disbelief.

Teagan spoke first, spreading her arms out and shrugging her shoulders. “That was easy,” she announced playfully. She was grinning as if their work was practically finished. Sairus only grunted in response, knowing full well that a sleep- and food-deprived and possibly injured human soldier was high on the list of things that were not ‘easy.’

Their journey was far from over. They still had to make it to the bottom of the mountain, and find a covert covenant work site to deposit Sanders. Sai could feel the pressure changes, and the temperature drop of a blizzard. He knew Teagan could feel it too, and her sunshiney exterior was pure hopeful optimism. While Sai was busy calculating and ruminating, the tall woman had moved closer to the mouth of the cave. She cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted back inside.

“Name’s Teagan Weatherfare!” She shouted into the darkness as if she were introducing herself at a party and not announcing her presence to an armed plane crash survivor. They’d all heard the tell-tale sounds of a gun being cocked from within.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” she continued, as Sairus rolled his eyes behind her. She wasn’t exactly wrong, but he was loathe to watch her own training go to waste. “My brothers and I were sent to rescue you Captain Strafford. We’re going to come inside. Don’t shoot us okay?”

She dropped her hands away from her face and looked over her shoulder at Sai and Micah, giving them both an enthusiastic thumbs up.


RE: Stranded [Closed] - saronym - 06-28-2017

Sanders strained to make sense of the words that echoed back to him. A woman was speaking and identifying herself as, he was pretty sure, Tegan Wearare? The unfamiliarity of the name was difficult to pick out among the vocalizations bouncing around him, but the rest of the message he received well enough.

There were multiple of them - Wearares - a woman and an unidentified number of brothers. And they were coming inside. Ready or not.

“One at a time!” He shouted back, his voice was ragged and didn’t want to cooperate with making such loud noises. “Only one at a time, hands up! Or I will shoot!”

He was nearly mad with fear. He didn’t want to be taken. Or did he? He wasn’t sure anymore. He was supposed to resist any efforts to be captured even if his life was in danger. But maybe if he was captured someone would feed him. Maybe someone would give him some medical treatment. That wasn’t a likely scenario. Torture was more likely.

“How many are there?” He asked in the darkness.