Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure: Difference between revisions

The wing-suit man pulled in his flaps, trimmed his jib and adjusted his pitch and yaw. He rocked the [[gaze heuristic]] and kept the angle of approach constant to be 20 meters ahead of the rig. The sun was behind him. It threw his shadow on the trailer: nice touch of serendipity. He riffed on dogs and crocodiles while the seconds ticked down.

Boone could hear [[Chip]] babbling in his comlink. He cursed his attention span: at three-twenty knots he could hardly flip the comlink to silent now: the arm-shift required to just to reset his watch would bugger his trajectory and put him into ab aerodynamic stall or some kind of flat spin. He had to let it run. But [[Chip]] wouldn't let it go. The old guy was really busting his balls. Then Boone remembered: digital voice assistant. Thank God for [[chatbots]]. Boone’s DVA was a gas. “Hey, Denning,” — the bot chimed awake — “mute!”

A broad west country accent said “I’m sorry, Boone: I can't do that."

Boone bulleted at the trailer. 2000m and closing. “Denning, I need a range.”

 

[[Chip]] kept up the [[yogababble]].  

 

Denning gave out soundings. He counted down range, altitude and ground-speed. This was vital Intel.  

 

[[Chip]] babbled over the top .  

 

Boone bulleted. He couldn't make it out.  

 

Denning intoned downrange coordinates.  

 

Chip babbled something about parking warden duty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Schweiner froze.