To: 
From: "Jay  P Hailey" 
Reply-To: trekcreative{at}yahoogroups.com


Title: Accidents
Author: Jay P. Hailey (JayPHailey{at}aol.com) Series: Vista City
Part: 3/8
Rating [PG]

Scott walked in to his home with a bone deep weariness. It wasn't until he
was driving home that the emergency coping mechanisms that he developed had
subsided. Scott then began to second guess himself. Was there anything that
he could have done differently?

Scott tried to cope with that in the best way he knew. Hindsight always
revealed ways in which a situation could have been handled better. Scott
tried to remember these things for future reference. He struggled not to
blame himself for things that had already happened. He couldn't undo the
past, not even five minutes ago.

But it always took awhile.

As he walked in the door, His children ran to greet him. Scott was fifty
years old. That was little old to be raising a family, but he cherished
them. Scott and his wife lived a "Leave-it-to-Beaver" life style
that they guarded ferociously. They had almost missed the chance at their
family and lifestyle several times.

Spaulding was named for Jennifer's grandfather, a man he had never met. He
was eleven years old with red hair and freckles. He moved with relentless
speed and unflagging spirit. He swarmed into Scott's space, grabbed a quick
hug and ran off. There were monsters to be destroyed in the Nintendo world,
and he was quick to be about it. Scott and Jennifer made him play the
Nintendo in his own room away from their sight.

Michelle was quieter and more thoughtful, but no less happy a child. She
hugged her father and said "I love you, Daddy," before returning
to her book.

Scott looked at his generic three bedroom house in the suburbs. He had
stayed in a dozen such places but few held the emotional impact of this
one. This one belonged to himself and his family. The fact that it was the
nest for his family moved the house out of the realm of the generic and
into the realm of the sacred for Scott.

Jennifer was there waiting for him. She was thirteen years younger than
Scott, but they had found their common ground in the field, working for
their secret government agency. She had red hair and a slim figure. Her
face was a touch too rugged to really be pretty, but her determination and
love shined out to Scott like a beacon. In the end, they both realized that
they hated the life of a secret agent, and had taken an opportunity to
retire.

Jennifer saw the strain written into Scott's face and wordlessly took him
into their nest where she sat him down and fed him.

With Jennifer watching over him Scott felt free to let down his guard and
relax. It was one of the reasons that he loved her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Scott and Jennifer had no difficulty expressing their feelings on a
non-verbal level. Their love was written in their body language and the
little reflexes they had. But after years of undercover work, they still
rarely discussed small details of everyday life with each other.. What you
don't know, you can't give away. This made their usual conversations either
very bland and boring, or extremely technical.

Scott just looked at Jennifer. This was an unusual request. He shrugged
"We came through the smoke and there he was. I tried to evade, but the
plane was too heavily loaded and we didn't dump the fire retardant quickly
enough. So... bang. Then I recovered from the collision and went back to
base." Scott waved his hands to demonstrate the motions.

For her part, Jennifer considered the old bomber a relic waiting to find
its accident. When ever she expressed a jealousy to Scott about the time he
spent with the old plane, he would make a special effort not to ignore her
and to make her feel loved. Jennifer didn't mind this part of it at all.
She was afraid that Scott was going to get hurt or killed flying an old
piece of junk around and didn't understand why he wanted to do it.

Jennifer listened patiently and when Scott was done she said "Was Jack
hurt?" She liked Jack Small. He had a gentle humor and confidence that
appealed to her. She kept trying to draft him into the role of ersatz
grandfather for Spaulding and Michelle. Jack didn't fight this too hard.
"No. He was a little disturbed, and I think he overextended himself,
but he wasn't physically hurt. He's got the stuff. He'll be okay."

Did you know anyone in the other plane?" It was a cruel question but
Jennifer could think of no other way to ask. Scott and Jennifer had lived
with a slow attrition of their friends since they began their careers as
secret agents. Their duty and community spirit required a certain amount of
sadness at the passing of any person. They had been close enough to death
so that this reaction was pared down to its essential basic, and no more.
Real emotions were reserved for people that they knew, personally.

"No, I didn't. Does it matter?"

"It always matters. I'm sorry. I know that you have to be feeling
pretty bad, but at least we didn't lose you, or Jack."

"That's looking on the bright side."

"I want to talk to you about that."

Scott knew what was coming, but didn't know how to avoid it. So he attacked
first. "You don't like me flying the B-25."

"When we were single and undercover in L.A. getting shot at was part
of the deal. It needed to be done and we did it. But then we said it was
over. I thought maybe the idea of dying any minute would loose its
appeal."

"But flying the bomber isn't that bad. I've checked out the plane from
stem to stern and so have the others. At one point or another, we all ride
in it, and everyone does their part. She's a good plane and I'm not in
danger flying her."

"Just like today."

"That was an accident. It could have happened to anybody."

"But it didn't happened to anybody. It almost happened to you. I don't
want to lose you because you have to prove what a fly boy you are."

"I'm not trying to prove anything to anyone. I just..."

"Just what?"

"I just like to fly."

"I'll put that on your tombstone."

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Just one more thing. I didn't cry about Panama, That I understood. I
didn't cry about Saudi, even though I'm still not sure I understand that
one. I won't cry about the Police. That I understand, too, and I'm behind
you one hundred percent, do you understand?"

"Uh-uh."

"I think you owe it to me and to the kids to pick and choose the risks
you take. Please just tell me that you'll think about it."

Scott agreed to this.

Scott ate dinner and spent the evening relaxing. His relaxation was a
deliberate, meditative act, learned from years of therapy. It helped.

-*-

The next morning was Monday. Scott woke up before dawn and got into the
work groove. He got into his usual blue suit and picked a Mickey Mouse tie.
Once upon a time Scott was supposed to act as a model of American society,
correct and upstanding in all appearances. He was happy to be able wear
something as frivolous as a Mickey Mouse tie and not draw a second glance.

He got into his car and drove to work at the Vista City Police Department.
There he was the captain in charge of the Special Investigations Squad.

Scott's situation with the police department was odd. He was a member of
the Vista City PD and took its mission to heart. However, he had gotten
that job under false pretenses and he knew that his mission to defend Vista
City had certain details that his bosses didn't know.

This Monday, the job was routine. Scott said hello to the officers under
his command. Then he got down to the paper work that allowed his crew to do
their jobs.

Terry "Bumpers" Parkinson was a good driver with excellent
reflexes and reaction times. He also had a certain amount of bad luck. In
every response situation he damaged the police car that he was assigned.
Mostly it was dented fenders and cracked tail-light lenses. Some times it
was worse. Parkinson had sent two patrol cars to the wrecking yard during
the six months that Scott had worked with him. This was balanced by Terry's
fine sense of timing. The cars that he had wrecked had both been wrecked in
such a way as to be a great benefit.

Scott carefully pointed these things out to the Assistant Chief of Police,
as well as his decision to temporarily remove Terry's driving privileges if
more damage should occur.

Then Scott tried to sort out the paperwork caused by Samuel Thomas. Thomas
had dropped between the cracks of the bureaucracy of the Vista City PD.
When pulled in to be assigned to the Special Investigations Squad it was
found that he had been patrolling the same neighborhood in the same patrol
car since 1979.

The 1978 Dodge Dart that was his patrol car was well out of date for the
police. Thomas had been taking it in for service at a local garage in his
neighborhood and paying for it out of his own pocket.

The conflict of interest issues alone were staggering. During training
exercises with the rest of the squad it was found that Thomas hadn't known
of the switch from .38 specials to 9mm automatics. There were a whole raft
of "new" police procedures over the last fifteen years that
Thomas had avoided.

Thomas had done a good job. His neighborhood had been quiet and incident
free for almost all of Thomas' tour.

Scott and the Assistant Chief, Moody worked out a system for dealing with
Thomas. Scott arranged for the car to be "sold" to Thomas so that
his having used the car and maintained it for so long could be made to seem
legitimate. It would also make Thomas happy. The old car would otherwise
have to be scrapped.

Scott and Assistant Chief Moody agreed that most of Thomas' system worked
for his neighborhood, and so Scott agreed to keep Samuel Thomas assigned to
his old neighborhood unless he was specifically needed for a "Special
Investigation"



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