Birds were twittering somewhere in the grass or the sky. The air was warm
and caressing and the sun was rather hot. Everything seemed fine but for
some strange reason Alex suddenly began feeling uneasy. He could not
understand why at first but then he guessed it was because there were no
planes on the field.
There was not a single one to be seen and the field was totally
empty.
What would he fly in, then?
It was only when he had almost reached the houses that he spotted a
plane, but it looked more as if it was used for aerobatics or instruction
than carrying passengers in. It was small, light and almost transparent.
The tall grass was partly covering it, and Alex could not see it
properly. He was anxious now to meet someone and find out how to get to
Vetrogorsk.
Beside the brown house stood two birches with a swing hanging between
them. A boy, slightly smaller than Alex, with rather tousled, very fair
hair was sitting on it. He was wearing a white tee-shirt with a light
blue stripe just under its collar. He was very suntanned. On his lap he
was holding a map-case which was only slightly darker than his scratched
thin legs.
"My, how tanned he is!" marvelled Alex. "And his hair's been bleached
white. He's probably a pilot's son and has flown in from the South.
Around here you can only get that tanned by the end of the summer and
then only if you try really hard. But there's no way you can do so in
June."
The boy did not notice Alex as he was looking down and lazily
swinging to and fro, pushing himself off with his sandals' toe-caps.
"Perhaps I should ask him about planes to Vetrogorsk?" thought Alex
but at that moment he spotted two dark blue signs marked "Ticket Office"
and "Controller's Office" on the door of the house.
He ran onto the porch and pushed the door open.
In the corridor he saw a ticket-office window. It was shut. He tapped
shyly on it. Nothing happened. He turned towards an inner door which was
covered with black oil-cloth and had a "No Admittance" sign on it.
What should he do now? Go and ask the boy? But he was not a cashier
or a controller, was he? Plucking up courage, Alex pulled the door open.
The Controller was seated at a desk in the room which was fitted out
with all sorts of strange equipment, radio transmitters and telephones.
He was wearing a white shirt, his blue jacket with stripes on its sleeves
was hanging on the back of his chair, and his uniform cap was lying on a
pile of papers. He was angrily munching an apple, making marks with a red
pencil in a large exercise-book and did not notice Alex.
"Good afternoon," said Alex in the doorway, addressing the back of
the Controller's bald head.
The Controller stopped munching but went on making marks and asked,
"What do you want?"
Strictly speaking, Alex should have been taken aback by such a cold
reception but he only felt slightly annoyed.
"I've got to get to Vetrogorsk!" he said loudly.
"Really? Is that all?"
"Well... yes," replied Alex not so loudly.
"Then, what business is it of mine?"
"Well... I wanted to show my ticket but the ticket-office's shut. I
wanted to ask you..."
There'll be no planes today," said the Controller, lifting his head
and putting his cap on. He had bushy eyebrows and a strong square chin.
"My. he's tough," thought Alex. He's most likely an ex-pilot who used
to fly to the Arctic." Generally speaking, he liked the look of the
Controller but did not like the way he spoke.
"There'll be no planes, got it? So that's that."
"What shall I do?" asked Alex plaintively.
"I don't know."
"But I really need to get to Vetrogorsk."
"People who really need to, get here on time and fly on scheduled
flights. All our planes leave in the morning."
"I didn't know that. I was told I could fly any time."
"Who told you such nonsense?"
Alex was about to explain that the Captain told him but then realised
that the Controller would not care a straw about what some captain or
other had said.
"There're no planes today," repeated the Controller. "None at all."
Alex felt offended and began to get rather angry again.
"None, you say?! Well, I've just seen one. It's standing quite near
here."
"Well I never! Seen it, have you? This plane's special, and for
special cases only."
"Well, that's just what I am!"
"Really," grinned the Controller sarcastically. "And what have you
got to prove it?"
"A ticket," said Alex boldly. "Here it is."
He strode towards the table and put the Green Pass down in front of
the Controller.
"Mmmm..." said the Controller, scratching his left brow with his
pencil and then, opening his eyes wide, he shouted deafeningly, "Masha!"
A girl in a blue forage cap appeared from behind the equipment.
"Sir?"
"Masha," said the Controller sternly, "please go out into the field,
find the Pilot for Special Missions and ask him to come and see me."
"Golly!" thought Alex.
"Oh! Right!" said the girl. Her heels clicking against the floor, she
headed for the door but then turned round and looked enquiringly at the
Controller, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as if to
say, "Well, what else can I do?"
The girl went out.
"How amazing!" thought Alex. "So I'm going to be flying with the
Pilot for Special Missions!" He expected a tall pilot in a blue uniform
with gold stripes and a pair of large gloves in one hand and a helmet and
goggles in the other to come into the Controller's office, and say, "I'm
ready. Where's my passenger?"
But what if he didn't? What if he refused to take Alex?
Instead a boy came in - the same one Alex had seen on the swing. He
was carrying a map-case on a long strap which kept catching on the
floor-boards.
The boy stood in the middle of the room and looked at the Controller.
"The Controller'll send him off to look for the Pilot," thought Alex.
But the Controller asked, "Where's Vetrogorsk?"
The boy smiled faintly, looked away and pursed his lips as if he was
going to whistle or to say "ooh".
"I see," said the Controller. "Is it on the map?"
"On mine it is," the boy replied in a ringing voice.
"I'm asking about ordinary maps," snapped the Controller.
"Nope..."
"How long does it take to fly there?"
The boy kicked his map-case and it began swinging like a pendulum.
"I've no idea," replied the boy in no hurry. "Depends. You know how
it is..."
"I don't know anything about all those fancy things of yours
altogether, I didn't really want to send you because of all the pranks
you've been getting up to."
"But what have I done?" the boy asked innocently and kicked his
map-case again.
"Well, who swooped down on that lorry? Perhaps it was me?"
"But why did they steal the dog from those children?!"
"You chased the lorry into a ditch."
"It served them jolly well right."
"You might have caused a serious accident. Do you realise that?
"But it would have been worse if the children had been left without
their dog. Do you realise that?" asked the boy insolently.
The Controller's ears and nose began to flush. The boy kicked his
map-case with the toe-cap of his sandal and watched it spinning round and
round on the strap.
Alex took a liking to him. He was such a fine, bold lad even through
he was so small. But Alex could not understand a word of what was being
said between him and the Controller. Only one thing was clear: the boy
had done something naughty and had almost caused an accident with some
lorry or other and because of it was not being allowed to go somewhere.
Perhaps, to a film? Whatever it was, it did not concern Alex. He began
wondering where the pilot had got to.
"Stop kicking that bag. It's state property!" snapped the
Controller. "And stand up straight when you're addressing the Controller
on duty."
"Right!" the boy rapped out and deftly threw the strap over his
shoulder, clicked his heels, pulled up his blue shorts, which had poppers
on their pockets, and stood to attention.
"That's more like it," muttered the Controller. "You've really got
out of hand, you know."
Then the boy said in a quiet but distinct voice, "There's nothing
wrong about the way I'm standing. Please use a more respectful tone when
you're addressing the Pilot for Special Missions!"
"Gosh!" Alex gasped to himself.
But the Controller's nose and ears went puce. There was a creaking
sound as he got up from his chair. Alex thought he was going to roar like
a lion but instead he said in an offended bass, "Listen to what you're to
do... please."
"At your service!" said the Pilot for Special Missions.
"You're to... please... take a passenger with Green Pass to
Vetrogorsk. And then come straight back... When... could you...
possibly... get back here?"
"Hard to say. Just depends."
"Well, you're to come back as soon as possible. Understood?"
"Right. May I go?"
"Yes... thank you..."
The little pilot turned towards Alex, looked gravely at him and said,
"Let's get going. Don't forget your ticket."
They went towards the plane. The pilot walked ahead, knocking
daisies' heads off with his case. Alex felt rather uneasy.
The pilot turned round, stopped and asked quietly, "Scared?"
"No, no... I just didn't expect this. I didn't think YOU were the
Pilot."
"Don't worry. I've got a good plane. It's as safe as houses."
It was only now that Alex got a good look at his face. It was quite
ordinary-looking and even slightly familiar. The pilot had huge serious
eyes without a trace of mockery in them. After all, he might have smirked
or looked smugly at him and asked, "Got cold feet, eh?" Or put on airs
for he was, after all, a pilot. But he wasn't at all snooty.
"Don't be afraid. We'll get there safely, you'll see."
"I'm not afraid," said Alex in a relieved voice. "I was just
surprised, that's all."
"How long have you been travelling?"
"One day."
"And you're still feeling surprised?" asked the Pilot, laughing.
"Yes," said Alex and laughed too.
The plane was covered with something silvery. Its tail and wings
shone in the sunlight.
"It's a toy," thought Alex. "I could probably pick it up with one
hand." However, he no longer felt frightened, or, at least, not really.
Three blue letters - SFC - were painted on the plane's tail.
"They stand for Special Flying Corps and everyone here calls the
plane 'Fly' for short. I think it's a silly nickname because it doesn't
look a bit like a fly."
"Of course it doesn't," said Alex. "Flies are ugly black things but
your plane's beautiful."
"I call it 'Dragonfly'," the Pilot said shyly.
He threw back the transparent hood over the cockpit, and open the
door.
"Get into the back seat and I'll start the engine."
Alex scrambled inside. The plane sunk and bounced gently under him.
The plastic-covered seat turned out to rather hard but he did not mind.
The Pilot went to the plane's nose, jumped up, caught hold of a
propeller blade and hung on with his legs dangling in the air. The blade
turned slowly and the Pilot strained himself and swung it round. The
propeller suddenly jerked and at once almost vanished, turning into an
empty circle, studded here and there with sparks of sunlight. The Pilot
jumped aside and burst out laughing. The grass under the plane's wings
bent and lay flat against the ground. The cabin began shuddering and it
became rather noisy inside.
The Pilot came up to the door with the wind from the propeller
streaking through his hair, he turned towards the house, raised his arm,
climbed into the cockpit, slammed the door, lowered the hood and said
gleefully, "Off we go!"
Chapter Eight
After a very short run the plain leapt into the air. The airfield
receded into the distance and the houses became tiny.
It took Alex about ten minutes to get used to flying. He had flown
before with his mother in a large jet but it had not been such fun. You
could hardly see anything and did not even feel you were flying. It only
got rather bumpy over the sea just before landing. Now, however, there
was sky and puffy clouds above and green land, dark forests and light
meadows below. Stretching out all around was the misty horizon, which
seemed vaster than it looked from the ground.
Sometimes the plane tilted one way and then the other and every now
and then began to fall as if sliding down a steep hill. But it was fun
and not at all frightening to hear the engine whirring like a
sewing-machine and the oncoming wind whistling against the glass.
Alex glanced at the Pilot. His seat was lower than his passenger's
and tilted far back. Above the plastic seat Alex could see the back of
his head, his shoulders and knees, which were raised high and moved every
time he pressed the pedals. The plane was flying due south and the sun
was almost directly ahead of them. The Pilot's hair was ablaze with light
and his knees shone like hard brown chestnuts.
"I say!" called Alex. "Where did you get so tanned?"
"Here," replied the Pilot and without turning round, raised his hand
and tapped the glass hood. "It's fibreglass and unlike window glass lets
through all types of rays. And as you can see, I'm flying very close to
the sun."
"Do you fly often?"
"Quite often!" said the Pilot loudly.
"You don't mind me chattering to you, do you?" asked Alex. "Perhaps
you're not meant to during a flight?
The Pilot turned his head. He was smiling.
"Go ahead! Only I can't hear very well because of the engine. Come
over here, if you like."
There was a narrow gap between the pilot's seat and the wall of the
cockpit. Alex squeezed into it and squatted down on his heels.
The horizon swayed ahead and the sun's rays beat down on his
forehead. He screwed up his eyes.
"Doesn't the sun bother you?" he asked the Pilot.
"I'm used to it."
And, sure enough, his light grey eyes were calmly staring straight
ahead and two tiny suns were shining in them.
"Is it far to Vetrogorsk?"
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