For the Futurefolken.

[gone_byebye]

The point of re-entry to Ray's world is the same nearly every time. He makes a point of using the same exit from the Firehouse: a door that leads from the building's side into a nondescript alley. The door opens, this time, onto a windy November day. Ray glances up at the sky, then gestures to the others. "Looks like home," he says. A sniff of the air reveals gasoline, horses, and a couple of tough-to-identify stenches. "Yeah, smells like home too. C'mon, guys, I'm pretty sure this is my dimension."

Comments

[trustntheharper.livejournal.com]

As she expertly maneuvered them to face away, Harper climbed up like a little monkey, looked around, popped the engine cover open sideways and started poking around joyfully.

"Oh holy crap, is that a--wow. I can't believe they actually got this thing off the ground," he was mumbling quietly to himself.

[gone_byebye]

Ray edged in Harper's direction, trying to look casual and harmless while at the same time presenting the maximum visual profile to block out the view of Harper's tinkering. "Like I said," he said, "old planes down here. If we were in DC, I could show you a wright Brothers plane..."

[trustntheharper.livejournal.com]

"Ooh."

There was more poking. "So that's how they--huh."

A ringing laugh came from where Beka was, and apparently that was a single, because just as quickly as he popped up there, he closed the engine cover, dropped down, and started reading the placard about the plane, as if he'd been doing that all along.

Just then the guards looked up again and some other museum goers walked into the room.

[rocketsgrownup.livejournal.com]

Beka walked back over, casually. "Happy? Because I'm not doing the hair-twirling thing again."

[gone_byebye]

"Will there be much more of this here? I'm just wondering." And, he had to admit, being silently glad they weren't at a more complicated museum like Natural History or something. "Because we're about to head to the flight deck elevator. Helicopters, a Harrier, and a couple of other older jets."

[rocketsgrownup.livejournal.com]

"No, there won't, because I don't intend to play decoy again, and he's horrible at one-man jobs," Beka said signigicantly.

[trustntheharper.livejournal.com]

"I am not," Harper protested, sullenly.

[rocketsgrownup.livejournal.com]

"You tried to pull a Niedermeyer by yourself," was all Beka said, crossing her arms.

[trustntheharper.livejournal.com]

"Exactly! It was a two-man job, and all I had was little old me," he protested. "Besides, there was no way I could've known the guy was a narc. He was more grizzled and ex conly looking than Vex Pag."

[rocketsgrownup.livejournal.com]

"It was Takilov drift, Harper, the cops are the most grizzled, ruthless criminals there," Beka argued. "They'd sell their own grandmas to Magog for a half-crown."

She looked to Ray, "So where are these other jets? I want to see something more recent than these dinosaurs."

[gone_byebye]

Ray shook his head. "You can explain that one to me later. In the meantime, c'mon. Flying machines. Behave with these guys and I promise to find somewhere else to direct my attention when we get to the gift shop."

The flight deck elevator was designed for lifting vehicles, not people, and was therefore home to several helicopters and a Harrier. There were a number of other museumgoers, including one small child, who was squalling at the top of his lungs. "It's okay, honey, there's a plane upstairs you can get into, never mind that mean man," soothed his mother.

Ray rolled his eyes. "She's right, you know," he added. "There's... I think it's a HOrnet upstairs. They let kids sit in it for photographs. Can't fly, but it's otherwise restored."

[trustntheharper.livejournal.com]

Harper was busy grimacing at the kid. He was not used to crying, because he wasn't used to kids. Beka wasn't either, and was therefore finding the squalling grating, but she was tactfully keeping her mouth shut.

Harper, of course, was not exactly the most tactful person there was.

"Sorry, Ray, I can't hear you over that really obnoxious, screaming, little anklebiter," Harper said in a loud voice, purposely loud enough so that the kid's mother could hear.

Kid was a porker, too. Harper couldn't remember ever being that chubby in his whole life.

[Ray's tag. Go nuts with the mother's reaction if you'd like.]

[gone_byebye]

[Forgive my lateness, as I am not getting notifications today. Le sigh.]

Ray winced. Several onlookers froze. The child continued to wail.

The mother turned, a step-by-step, inch-by-inch, grr-maim-argh sort of turn. "Excuse me?" she snapped at Harper. "What did you just call my-"

Somewhere behind her, somebody coughed. It sounded suspiciously like the words 'he's right', for some reason.

[rocketsgrownup.livejournal.com]

Beka covered her face with her hand.

"He's not starting a fight with a three-year-old, he's not starting a fight with a three-year-old, please tell me he's not starting a fight with a three-year-old..."

[gone_byebye]

"I'm... sorry, Beka, I"m afraid I can't do that."

[trustntheharper.livejournal.com]

"You heard me, toots," said Harper, taking a confrontational step closer. "Y'know, it'd be nice to go a public place I will probably never be able to go to again, without having to listen to your brat wailing away because you've spoiled him rotten, and not given the poor porky schnookums his ice cream cone, or whatever the hell he's whining about."

The kid was still wailing away.

"WAAAAAH!"

"--AAAAAUGH!" Harper yelled at the kid, and he stopped and blinked up at him.

"WAAA--"

"--AAAUGH!" Harper interrupted again.

The kid rallied and tried again. "WAAA--"

"--AAAAUGH!"

Finally, the kid gave up, and looked rather horrified.

[gone_byebye]

Ray took that as his cue and grabbed Harper by the arm. "Upstairs. Now." He jerked his head towards the nearest exit; under his breath he hissed, "We're going to the early supersonic aircraft before that kid's mother tries to eat you!"

Which it looked like she was about ready to do, given that the child's screaming had left him so overwrought he was looking distinctly blotchy in places.

"Excuse me, sir," snapped the mother as Ray started to herd Harper out. "Just who do you think you are? And don't try to wriggle out of this-"

Ray had to think fast. This was normally easy for him because normally thinking fast involved flying snotballs with teeth. Unfortunately, living human beings were a little harder than ghosts, and his voicebox was forced to go on without the involvement of his brain. "My name's Dan Aykroyd, I'm an actor," he said. "Really sorry about this, ma'am-"

And then he bolted.

[trustntheharper.livejournal.com]

"Why the hell are we running from Old Mother Hubbard the Evil?" Harper asked, trying to wrench his arm out of Ray's grip, but with Beka helping to drag him along, it was pointless.

[rocketsgrownup.livejournal.com]

"Because you're an idiot," Beka told him. "Harper, we're not back home--you can't just go around and insult anyone you feel like."

[gone_byebye]

"And because getting into a brawl with a woman three times your mass over the fact that she can't discipline her child properly is a great way of getting thrown off the carrier before you see that," Ray added, jerking his chin towards the bright orange, slightly bulbous little aircraft perched on the main flight deck. "Now chill, all right?"

[trustntheharper.livejournal.com]

"--not my fault she can't get her kid not to be a spoiled brat--kids got shot for stuff like that when I grew up--"

That kid would never really appreciate what he had. He'd never want for anything, he'd have his mummy fawning over him, and maybe his daddy too, while he got to grow up in a world like this, with sunshine, and trees, and museums. Without knowing what it was like to starve all the time, without wondering if maybe he should take up the offer of that pervo down the lane for just a little bit of food, a pound for an hour of pounding.

The kid could go to a ballpark and see an actual baseball game there, instead of the Drago-Katsoff crucifying someone in the cheap seats.

People not appreciating what they had irked him, because he was give up his right arm--well, his left--to have grown up with Earth like this, advanced technology or no.

He was grumbling under his breath all the over to the main flight deck, but he calmed down a little as he walked over to the aircraft, sucking in air through his teeth.

"Ooooh, shiny."

[gone_byebye]

Ray smiled quietly and said, "No, if you really want shiny, you want that one over there." He pointed to the Blackbird, which had just been cleaned and was showing no signs whatsoever of any of the subtlety one might expect from a spyplane. "That's the Blackbird. That one there's a Tomcat, from the Navy; the one next to it is a Fighting Falcon, from the Air Force. That one there is British, and I think those two over there are French and... I can't tell, Polish or Russian or something."

[rocketsgrownup.livejournal.com]

Beka took interest in a few of them, but honestly, she would have been far more interested to be allowed in the cockpit of one of the old birds, rather than just looking at them.

Eventually, she edged over to Ray, as she watched Harper scamper from one plane to the other, reading every word on the informative placards and generally bobbing around excitedly like hummingbird on crystal.

"Thanks for doing this."

[gone_byebye]

"You're welcome," Ray said quietly. "By the way, there is one you can sit in. It can't fly, but they're very proud of restoring the fuselage and cockpit while they work on the engine. It's over there-"

He pointed towards one more plane that had been largely out of sight behind part of the Intrepid's geography. It was long, and slender, and had a needle nose and tiny stubby wings fitted out with large torpedo-like ends. "It's an F-104 Starfighter. First airplane to break Mach 2 in a climb, and also the first plane to be shot down by its own missiles when the pilot failed to take into account just how fast the damn things were. It was a training model built by Lockheed, so it's used to having lots of different butts in and out- just look out for chewing gum, okay? They'll take your picture in it if you want it."

[trustntheharper.livejournal.com]

Harper was wandering back over to them, his cheeks pink from the wind, looking exhilirated. As if on cue, he gestured wildly over to the Starfighter.

"Picture time!"