Who... Christian Summers and Scott Summers What... coersion Where... Chris's apartment, over the phone When... Sunday evening Rating... PG Status... complete
"You want me to what?" Chris's brow wrinkled in surprise. Had he heard his father right? He reflexively held the telephone closer to his ear as his father explained himself. Scott had been telling Chris about how he had checked in with a contact of his in the intelligence field, asked about how the Prophets of Delphi investigation was going. He hadn't found out much, but the elder Summers had learned that there'd been very few leads regarding what had actually happened to cause the plane crash about a month ago now. Scott, knowing that Frost's aerospace program held some of the best and brightest minds in the field, decided it was time to give his son a call.
"Dad", Chris tried to explain once he had the chance, "There are people who do these kinds of investigations. Experts. Not-" He paused as he was cut off. "Yes, I know we-", he tried to continue. "I really don't know-" Chris had to give his dad credit for being persistent and for making a good argument.
"So you want me to pull some of our best minds to look through wreckage? For?" He listened to the answer, actually intrigued. "Now that is interesting. That would be... a challenge." And Chris did like a challenge. "And if we could use what we learn to build a new generation of airplanes that could stand up to-" He paused again to listen. "Yeah. I... I agree." He knew that saying so was the first step down a slippery slope, but he couldn't argue with his dad's logic.
He paused again as his father began to talk on about details, things he'd already set in motion, knowing he could get his son to agree to this. "How soon?", Chris asked. "Really? I don't know about that. I'd have to- No, no, I know this is important. I - Okay, okay. I could get a team of people assembled in a couple of days. One day?" Chris sighed. He felt like his dad was pushing things now, but knew that time was of the essence, especially if any of Chris's people could find anything that could help prevent further attacks. "That's a - Okay, yeah, I can do that." As they continued to talk, Chris pulled out his PDA, beginning to jot down details.
"You really think we'll be gone that long? Where are they keeping it?" The answer to that question was not at all what Chris expected. "Where? Area 51? Dad, that place doesn't even exist anymore." What his dad told him next put any doubts to rest. "Really? Wow. Okay. Guess I won't need my cellphone where I'm going."