Work Text:
Captain Carthorne entered the Vandal's hangar at Brooklands expecting to be met with sounds of industrious work; instead, his footsteps echoed loudly in a metallic silence, and he was instantly on the alert.
He had been away for no more than half an hour to attend to some jobs of his own, leaving Ginger and Roy to continue inspecting the insides of the amphibian's fuel tanks. It was one of the few tasks which he could instruct but not perform himself, as the openings of the tanks on top of the wing were now narrower than his shoulders even if he stretched. For the skinny adolescents, though, it was easy- perhaps too easy for Ginger, who had slipped lithely through the small hole as though he had done it a hundred times before. Roy had followed with only a little more hesitation, leaving Pim sitting alone on the top surface of a wing vibrating with the movements and ringing with the sounds of those working inside it.
This being hardly a spectator sport, when he'd gone five or ten minutes without being asked any questions, he announced that he was heading off to do some paperwork, and would return shortly. The hatch chorused 'Alright, sir!' then he climbed swiftly to the ground and left for the hangar offices.
Now, he returned to find silence, and many thoughts were swirling in his head. They couldn't have finished, as even between them the inspections would take half a day at least, and they hadn't been working long enough for a tea break. As he moved towards the aircraft, he wondered if they were just working particularly quietly, but even as he climbed the landing gear and wing struts to reach the top plane, the quiet remained. Moving outboard with careful speed to where the hatch yawned, he looked down, and almost had a heart attack.
Visible in the opening was a pale, limp leg, the foot resting at an angle which would certainly have been corrected away from discomfort had the owner been conscious to do so.
Immediately, Pim's mind jumped to the conclusion that the fuel tanks had somehow not been vented for long enough after emptying, and the lads had passed out from trapped fumes. Falling to his knees and reaching to grasp the ankle, intent on pulling at least one boy out, he suddenly stopped his headlong rush, realising the actual truth of the situation. Not only was a leg discernible through the access hatch, but also two discordant sets of snores. It seemed that, after climbing into a small, dark, and reasonably warm space, the two boys had simply fallen asleep.
Pim breathed a sigh of relief, settling into a slightly more comfortable position as he wondered what to do next.
His main thought was, surprisingly, to let them sleep. Ginger had certainly been visibly tired for the last few days, slightly inattentive in a broadly harmless way and late on a couple of mornings. Pim knew that he had been off adventuring with Biggles and Algy for the week before, hot work with long hours as Algy had explained on their return, but with an important test in his licence course coming up, Ginger had insisted that he jumped right back into the workshop. Roy had been put through his paces by his father lately as well, as a number of other pilots had hired his engineering services, and it was excellent practice for Roy to help out. The boys were probably both dog tired, Pim thought, each no help in keeping the other focused and awake.
His second thought was that, as much as the fuel tank wasn't the best place for a nap, he frankly had no idea how to get them out of there. It was impossible to do without waking them up which, his disinclination notwithstanding, could cause damage to the boys or the aeroplane or both. Pim certainly knew that if he woke suddenly in a small, dark space with no memory of how he got there, he wouldn't take it entirely calmly. Better for the boys to take their time, waking up rested to at least some degree and, importantly, in their own time.
A third thought was that, in truth, Captain Carthorne hadn't had a particularly restful week himself. One of the flying club's machines had become stranded in Belgium, and he had been tasked with flying out an engineer to fix it. With his own aircraft them subsequently becoming U/S, he had endured a couple of sleepless nights in a thin-walled airport hotel before the eventual trio of machines returned in formation. On top of his usual duties as both an air and ground an instructor, the immense paperwork which the event had precipitated was the last thing he had needed.
A moment of further consideration revealed no other options. Pim sat down on the wing and reclined on an elbow, settling in to wait and hoping somewhat vainly that he wouldn't also be drawn in by the siren call of slumber.