Free Pure Heat by M. L. Buchman Page A

two.
    He caught where his mind had gone and stamped that ember out quick. Since when had he thought kids were cute or he’d ever want one?
    Dobson, the family trio, and his angel crowded up close.
    â€œIt looks like a toy.” Carly tapped the drone’s nose in a friendly manner.
    â€œI’ve read all the report.” The IC had a strong baritone voice, one clearly used to commanding a fire. “Supposed to help, but I never actually saw one up close or flew a fire with one. I’m trusting you on this, Henderson.”
    The ICA stood easy, his thumbs caught in his jeans pockets, his eyes behind his standard Ray-Bans. “Oh, these birds can do some interesting things. Up until now, the few drones used on firefights were flown by NASA as a courtesy. MHA is the first time that they’ve been released to a private outfit. So they sent along their best.” He nodded toward Steve.
    Or at least it would look that way to anyone other than Steve. To Steve it looked as if Henderson were actually acknowledging the equipment racks in the truck over Steve’s right shoulder.
    Steve half turned before he stopped himself from looking again at the black boxes. When he turned back to Henderson, the man smiled blandly as if of course he’d been just acknowledging Steve. No way could Steve ask him, “What the hell?” in front of this crowd.
    About twenty people had gathered round. He recognized Chutes, the loadmaster, and Betsy, the camp cook. Two of the 212 pilots who he’d shared a dinner table with last night showed up, though he’d missed their names, Tom and Jim maybe? Andy and Bruce? He’d met too many people too fast. Mickey and Bruce, that was it.
    TJ came swinging up on his crutches.
    Steve pulled out a small folding stepladder that made an okay seat and set it down for him.
    â€œHow’s the ankle?”
    Angel came up from behind to help TJ as he settled onto the ladder with a nod of thanks. “Still swollen like a son of a bitch, but pain’s down to about half. Got yourself an audience today, kid.”
    The man’s broad wink made it clear who he thought mattered to Steve in the impromptu crowd.
    Yep. The guy had him down cold. Angel remained close behind TJ. Steve tried not to look up at her. Didn’t do him any damn good; he looked anyway.
    She rolled her eyes at TJ’s back, knowing exactly what her uncle had done, even if she couldn’t see it, but she rested one of those fine hands on TJ’s shoulders.
    Focus, dude. Focus.
    Steve went through the full preflight. Not that he hadn’t already checked everything, but he was too damned aware of the effects of a screwup. These folks were all pros and he was the outsider. He’d been jumping for Sacramento smokies and on a fire in southern California when it all went bad. They didn’t know him from Adam.
    He again checked the launcher, thirty degree up angle, aimed down the side of the runway. He didn’t want any trees or other surprises, like an aircraft suddenly entering the flight pattern, to screw things up.
    He keyed his handheld radio on the control frequency to chat with the tower.
    â€œTower, this is SkyHi flight”—he checked the number on the drone’s vertical tail fin—“November-three-five-seven-sierra-hotel requesting clearance for launch. Over.”
    â€œRoger, SkyHi. Let’s see what she can do, Merks. Pattern is clear. Winds out of the west at ten. N357SH cleared for flight.”
    That’s exactly what the gear mounted on the antenna was telling him as well.
    â€œThanks, Zach.” One of the guys from his dinner table last night.
    â€œAll clear,” he called to the crowd, though it was fairly pointless. Everyone had left a lot of space around the launcher. Far more than necessary. Steve hit the power switch on the launcher and started the drone’s engine. He slapped the off switch.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” someone called