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“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Charleston. It’s been our pleasure to fly you here today. Now that the heat wave is over, enjoy the blue skies and autumn leaves. At sundown, when it’s sleepy time down in the south, we’ll depart for a night in Tunisia, where there’s a small hotel. Every time we say goodbye, I get the farewell blues, but not to worry, come rain or come shine, we’ll be flying home, where it’s a foggy day in London town. Enjoy your stay in Charleston.” Douglas switched off the cabin address and looked at Martin expectantly.
Martin sighed and handed over the remains of the cheese tray. “Well done, Douglas. I have to admit I’m impressed,” he said.
“As you should be,” replied Douglas.
“But,” Martin said, plucking the last bit of emmental from the tray, “it’s not autumn, so no points for ‘Autumn Leaves.’”
“Damn,” Douglas said. “Ready for the post-landing checklist, Captain?”
“Take your time doing the walk-around, Martin, I’m going to have a nap. And I’m in no hurry to collect Mr. Alyakhin,” Douglas said, pulling his hat over his eyes. Martin shot him a glare as he exited the flight deck and walked outside. Carolyn had promised them two days in Charleston to relax, but instead had booked Mr. Alyakhin a flight to Monaco at the last minute, ruining Martin’s plans for a nice day at the beach. He’d been looking rather forward to catching up on his reading and watching Arthur and Douglas try to build enormous sandcastles before the tide came in. At least Alyakhin tipped well.
Outside GERTI, the bright sunshine made Martin squint, even behind his sunglasses. Heat shimmered up from the tarmac and it wasn’t even noon yet. GERTI looked fine, at least until he got to the port-side wing. He stared for a moment, unsure of what he was looking at.
Several large, dark masses had appeared on GERTI’s wing, and they were emitting a low humming noise. Martin took a hesitant step closer and saw that the clusters were actually thousands of honeybees, like an entire hive had parked itself on GERTI’s wing. A bee buzzed past Martin’s nose. He ducked and very quickly took three large steps back from the plane. He hurried back inside.
“Douglas, we have a problem,” Martin said to his dozing First Officer.
“Mechanical or philosophical?” Douglas asked, without opening his eyes. “Or both, since it’s you?”
“Neither. Our plane is covered in bees,” Martin explained. That got Douglas’ attention.
“Martin, I thought you told me the “ridiculous reasons a flight might be delayed” game was off-limits after the ground staff really did find a litter of kittens on the runway at Fitton?” Douglas asked.
“I’m not joking, Douglas. GERTI’s left wing is covered in bees. Go have a look if you don’t believe me,” Martin said.
“Maybe you should go double-check,” Douglas said.
Martin walked into the cabin and glanced out the window.
“Yes, I’m very sure they’re still there,” he said.
“Not going to go outside again, Captain? Not sure you can really assess the extent of the problem from in here,” Douglas said.
“I can see them just fine from in here,” Martin replied. “What should we do? Can we take off with them there? It’s quite a lot of bees, what if they interfere with the slats or flaps?”
“Dunno,” Douglas replied. “I skipped the day in flight school when they teach you about how large swarms of bees affect the aerodynamics of one’s plane. Have you checked the manuals?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing about large swarms of honeybees in the manuals,” Martin said.
“And you would know,” Douglas replied. The flight deck door opened and Arthur stepped in.
“Chaps, I just looked out the window, and I couldn’t help but notice that GERTI’s covered in bees,” Arthur said.
“Yes, we know. We were just trying to decide what to do about it,” Martin told him. “Did you tell Carolyn yet?”
“No, she’s still on the phone with Mr. Alyakhin,” Arthur said.
“Excellent. Martin, what are we doing about the bees?” Douglas asked.
“We can’t take off with them there,” Martin said. “It looks like it might be a hive that’s migrating. Could we try to move them?”
“You seem very concerned about the bees, Martin,” Douglas said. “If you would like to try to move them, I am certainly prepared to sit in the flight deck and watch.” Martin glanced out at the wing.
“I think I’ll stay here too. Maybe we should call a beekeeper?” he suggested.
“Are you sure, Martin? I know how fond you are of bees.” Douglas said.
Martin shuddered and got on the radio with air traffic control.
“Tower, this is Golf Tango India. We seem to have a slight problem with our aircraft.”
“Roger, Golf Tango India, what kind of problem?”
“It seems a hive of bees has taken up residence on one of our wings. Is there someone who can remove them? We’re on a pretty tight schedule,” Martin said.
“A swarm of bees, you said? We’d have to call in a beekeeper for that,” the air traffic controller explained. “We can’t let you take off until they’re removed safely. They’re protected, you see.”
“Of course they are,” Martin muttered. “How long will it take to get someone out here?”
“We’ll give Steve a call and see if he’s available, since it’s a bee-mergency,” the flight controller told him cheerfully.
Martin wasn’t in the mood for terrible puns. “We’d appreciate it if someone could take care of this as soon as possible,” he said.
“Hang tight, Captain, we’ll get someone out there. I’ll give you a buzz when he’s on his way,” ATC replied.
Douglas chuckled. “At least someone has a good sense of humor about this,” he said. Carolyn stormed into the flight deck.
“Alright pilots, Mr. Alyakhin’s expecting us in Fitton. Are we all ready to go? Why haven’t we been cleared to take off yet?” she asked.
“Carolyn, there’s been a slight problem with the plane,” Martin explained.
“What kind of slight problem? And why haven’t you fixed it yet?” Carolyn demanded.
“A colony of bees has attached itself to GERTI,” Martin said. “We have to wait for a beekeeper to come and remove them.”
“Why a beekeeper? Can’t you just start the engines? I think that would send the message that it’s time to go,” Carolyn said.
“Honeybees are protected,” Douglas explained. “And also Martin thinks that they would interfere with our control surfaces.”
“Well, would they?” Carolyn asked Douglas.
“Hell if I know,” Douglas replied. “Never had a colony of bees make itself at home on my plane before. It probably wouldn’t be wise to disturb them though.”
Martin radioed ATC to see if the controller had found a beekeeper.
“Golf Tango India, we’ve called a beekeeper for you, but he’s not going to be able to make it. Seems that his car’s in the shop.” ATC told Martin.
“We’re really in a hurry,” Martin pleaded. “There’s no one who can be here faster?”
“Sorry, Captain. Not too many beekeepers in these parts. You’ll just have to be patient.” Martin groaned in frustration.
“Could we go pick him up? How far away does he live?” Martin asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes away? Do you have a car?”
“No...” Martin said.
“Let me see if I can rustle something up for you,” the air traffic controller replied.
“No,” Martin said, folding his arms stubbornly. “Absolutely not.”
Douglas sighed. “Martin, unless you want to sit at the airfield all day while we wait for the bees to disengage themselves from our aircraft, you have to get on the motorbike.”
“I don’t even have a helmet!” Martin protested. “The only thing I can think of that’s more dangerous than riding a motorbike you’re driving is riding a motorbike you’re driving without a helmet.”
“Ah, but you have your hat. That should be ample protection should I lose control of the vehicle,” Douglas said. Arthur was looking at the motorbike like it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.
“If Skip doesn’t want to ride, I will,” Arthur said, looking hopeful. Carolyn shook her head.
“Absolutely not,” she said.
“Oh, but Mum, why not?” Arthur whined.
“Because you don’t have a helmet,” Carolyn said.
“Oh, it’s fine for me to ride without a helmet, but not Arthur? I see,” Martin said.
“Yes, because you are a pilot and thrive off of danger and speed. Arthur is my son and I am responsible for his safety. If you would like me to phone your mother and ask for her permission to let you ride this motorbike, Martin, I’d be happy to,” Carolyn said.
Martin sighed; clearly there was no way he was getting out of this and arguing was only wasting time.
“That’s really not necessary,” he said. “Just don’t tell her how I died, she’d be upset.”
“Martin, you will be fine, Douglas, you will not crash that motorbike and kill Martin, and both of you will be back in an hour, with a beekeeper,” Carolyn said firmly. “Am I clear?”
“This is ridiculous,” Martin muttered, and wedged himself onto the passenger seat behind Douglas.
“You could sit in the sidecar,” Douglas suggested.
“So I can be at face-level with the oncoming traffic? No thank you. At least here I have some protection when you run us into a ditch,” Martin said, peering over Douglas’ shoulder. “Quite a lot of protection, actually.” He slid as far back onto the seat as he could to put more space between them and ignored Douglas’ “accidental” elbow to his ribs.
Douglas started the bike and it lurched forward as he put it in gear. Martin barely managed to avoid smacking his nose on the back of Douglas’ head.
“Get your goggles on, Captain,” Douglas said, and pulled smoothly into traffic. He opened the throttle and Martin clapped a hand over his hat so it wouldn’t blow away. Martin had nothing to hold on to and was forced to loop the fingers of his free hand through Douglas’ belt as Douglas accelerated and wove through the traffic. Martin was terrified and he wondered if Douglas was being intentionally reckless just to get a rise out of him.
After a few minutes, Martin realized Douglas probably wasn’t going to kill them and he was able to relax. The ride was almost enjoyable, even though Martin could already feel the bridge of his nose burning under the hot Charleston sun. Douglas seemed to be enjoying himself too as he accelerated smoothly through corners and opened the throttle on the straightaways. The pleasantness of the day took Martin’s mind off of how uncomfortable he was, squashed awkwardly behind on Douglas on the small, narrow passenger’s seat.
The beekeeper lived down a long dirt track in a tidy farmhouse. Douglas pulled up front and shut off the bike so that Martin could scramble off the back.
“Martin, you’re looking rather flushed. Did you enjoy yourself after all?” Douglas asked with a smirk.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Douglas, it’s just the sun,” Martin replied as he straightened his hat, wishing it provided more protection. Now that they had stopped, the hot, humid air was oppressive and sweat trickled between his shoulder blades.
“Well, there’s still the ride back to the airfield,” Douglas replied. “Shall we see if the beekeeper’s here and get you out of the sun before you ruin your delicate complexion?”
Martin was grateful for the shade of the porch as Douglas knocked on the front door of the little farmhouse. The door cracked open to reveal a small, elderly man wearing overalls and a straw hat with a floppy brim.
“Little early for Halloween, isn’t it?” he asked, looking uncertainly from Martin to Douglas. His coastal drawl was so thick that Martin had to concentrate to understand him.
“Yes, you’ll have to pardon our fairly ridiculous appearance,” Douglas said. “Fortunately, we’re not looking for any free sweets, just someone who can remove the hive of honeybees from our aeroplane,” Douglas said. “I’m Douglas, and this is Martin. We were told you might be the fellow for the job.”
“Steve,” replied the beekeeper. “You must be the guys Jim called me about from the airport. In a hurry, are you? I’ve never had anyone come to get me before,” Steve said. “Where are you guys from, anyway?”
“Fitton,” replied Douglas.
“Never heard of it,” Steve replied.
“Most people haven’t,” Douglas said. “It’s a nice little town, very close to-”
“Hate to interrupt, but we’re actually on a pretty tight schedule,” Martin said, cutting Douglas off. “We were supposed to take off half an hour ago.” He didn’t want to survive Douglas’ motorcycling only to be murdered by Carolyn for making them even later to pick up Alyakhin.
“Let me just get my stuff and then we can go. How big is your car?” Steve asked.
“I’ve always wanted to ride in a sidecar,” Steve said as Douglas started the motorbike.
“Then it’s your lucky day,” Douglas replied. Martin looked at Steve, who had brought nothing but his beekeeping suit, a large cardboard box, and a broom. He had packed the items into the sidecar, with the broom sticking out.
“You’re not bringing smoke or...bee spray or something?” Martin asked.
“Nope. Swarms are pretty docile. I’ll just box ‘em up and move them somewhere where they’ll be happy,” Steve said. Martin shuddered at the thought of getting that close to thousands of bees with nothing but a broom and some coveralls for protection.
“Come along, Captain,” Douglas said after Steve had settled into the sidecar.
Martin climbed unhappily back onto the bike, now made even more uncomfortable by the broom poking him in the elbow. The ride back to the airfield wasn’t nearly as pleasant as the initial trip; the heavy stop-and-go traffic was nerve-wracking, and the heat was nearly unbearable. Martin felt like he was being baked from above and below as they crawled over the hot asphalt.
When they finally got back to the airfield, Douglas pulled up next to GERTI. Martin resisted the urge to dramatically jump off the back of the bike and kiss the ground. Douglas immediately removed his jacket and used it to mop his forehead. Carolyn was stretched out in her deck chair under the wing, by all appearances taking a nap. Arthur had sprawled out on the ground beside her on a hideous beach towel. Both sat up when they heard the motorbike.
“Oh, hi chaps,” Arthur said. “Is this the beekeeper?”
“Yes, Arthur, this is Steve. He’s come to put our bees in a box,” Martin said, as Steve unloaded his equipment.
“And it’s about time, too,” Carolyn said. “We were supposed to leave an hour ago. And if all he’s going to do is sweep them off the plane, why do we even need a beekeeper? One of us could have done that,” she said.
“Are you volunteering?” Douglas asked.
“Of course not,” Carolyn replied. “We have a beekeeper, we may as well use him.”
“So, where are these bees of yours?” Steve asked patiently.
Martin pointed to the left wing. “Up there,” he said. The mass of bees seemed to have gotten even bigger since the last time he’d looked.
Steve walked around to the wing, Martin, Douglas, Carolyn and Arthur following. Martin stayed well back, standing in the shade below GERTI’s tail.
“How come you’re standing all the way over there, Skip? Don’t you want to watch?” Arthur asked.
“I can see very well from right here,” Martin said. He was also closer to the door, just in case he needed to escape from a swarm of furious bees.
“Alright, Skip. They’re just honeybees, though. They won’t sting unless you make them really angry,” Arthur said.
“I’m fine, Arthur,” Martin said. He hoped brushing the bees into a box with a broom wasn’t something that would make them really angry.
“You’ll have to excuse our Captain,” Douglas said to Steve. “In the sky, he’s fearless in the face of danger. On the ground, he prefers to observe extreme caution when presented with hazards such as motorbikes or large swarms of bees.” Steve chuckled. Martin glared at Douglas.
“Don’t worry, Captain, I’ll have these little guys on their way in a minute. They’re probably just resting before they move on to their next hive,” he said. “It’s a good thing you noticed them before you started your engines, or it would have destroyed the whole hive,” Steve added.
“Yes, the tower told us they were protected and that we couldn’t take off until someone had dealt with them professionally,” Douglas said.
“And Skip was afraid they would make the plane crash,” Arthur added.
“It was just a hypothesis!” Martin said, regretting ever mentioning that he thought the bees would affect the plane in flight.
Steve donned his beekeeping gear and unfolded the large box. He carefully brushed the swarm into the box, all the while cooing and talking to the bees.
“Ah, beautiful,” he murmured. “Happy little bees. Into your box now.” Martin raised an eyebrow at Douglas and Arthur giggled. The heavy mass of insects dropped gently into the box and barely seemed bothered by the change of location. A few confused drones buzzed lazily around Steve’s head. He shooed them away and sealed the box.
“Alright gentlemen. I’ll rehome these guys later this evening. Looks like you’re good to go,” Steve said. He shook Martin and Douglas’ hands.
“Thanks,” said Martin. “We appreciate it. Er, how are you getting home?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’ll be here for a while trying to find a place for these bees. One of the controllers can give me a lift. Happy flying,” Steve said, and wandered off to the edge of the airfield with the bees.
“Alright pilots, enough procrastinating, everyone on the plane,” Carolyn said. Martin quickly finished the walk around before joining Douglas in the flight deck.
“All ready to go?” he asked.
“Awaiting your command,” Douglas replied. Martin had his hand on the radio switch to ask for permission to taxi when the flight deck door opened and Carolyn stepped in.
“Mr. Alyakhin’s just called. He has to reschedule his flight for next Saturday. Looks like you boys get your day at the beach after all,” she said.
“You’re joking,” Martin said. “After we spent half the day getting the bees off our plane just so we could meet him in time? After I rode a motorbike Douglas was driving? Without a helmet?”
“Well Martin, you could whine about it some more, or you could shut down the plane and tell ATC we’ve had a change of plans while I call a cab and book us hotel on the beach with the money Mr. Alyakhin’s already paid us. Your choice,” Carolyn said.
“I’ll radio ATC right now. Did you say he’s already paid? Does that mean tips, too?” Martin asked.
“It might,” Carolyn replied. “But, you’re only getting yours if you build a sandcastle with Arthur.”
“Oh god, no,” Martin said. Douglas chuckled.
“It’s your decision, Martin, but I didn’t realize you’d stumbled into a great fortune recently,” Carolyn said.
“You did miss out on the last trip, Captain. Building sandcastles with Arthur is infinitely more entertaining than sitting under an umbrella reading,” Douglas said.
A day at the beach sounded lovely, even if it would involve Arthur’s ridiculously elaborate sandcastles. Martin sighed. “Fine, as long as no one draws a smiley face on my back in sunscreen this time.”