“Bob Musgrove is the owner and founder of Defiance Industries. He’s here to teach two of you how to operate his invention.”

“Any volunteers?” Musgrove asked, stepping forward.

“No need for that, Musgrove. I’ve selected Captain Benson and Private Hughes.”

Harry’s eyes widened as a few moans of displeasure erupted in the ranks. He glanced over his shoulder at Hughes to see if the young private had any previous inkling about this, but Hughes’s frozen expression betrayed his complete astonishment.

Evidently, Colonel Horwith’s love of motion remained firmly rooted in his bicycle and did not extend to flying. Since Lt. Colonel Basque and Major Darby were currently on TDY assignments, Harry was the next senior officer. Harry followed Horwith’s reasoning at his selection, but why Hughes? The soldier had only joined them from ATC Pirbright a few months ago.

Musgrove cleared his throat. “As some of you are aware, critical care teams in the UK have successfully tested diesel-operated jet suits to aid in search-and-rescue missions.”

“The military is exploring electric-powered options, as fuel tends to burn rapidly, which limits our air time,” Colonel Horwith stated. “Benson and Hughes, go suit up.”

“This way, gentlemen.” Musgrove indicated a lorry with its back doors open. Two of his corporation’s assistants stood on either side, like sentinels guarding the crown jewels.

A stiff breeze cut through Harry’s MTPs as he followed the small man to the box truck. Private Hughes tailed them, army boots dragging.

Harry’s eyes swept over the odd-looking equipment, his eyes resting on two cylindrical tubes fused to a metal elbow-length “glove.”

“Gather round, so I don’t have to shout,” Musgrove addressed Harry’s unit, then handed Harry a dark flight suit.

The soldiers broke ranks and joined them at the lorry.

“If you follow my instructions, you won’t have any accidents. The dangerous bit is keeping your altitude to three meters. Stay low in case one of your turbines malfunctions.”

“We don’t shoot sideways if they do, do we?” Harry laughed as anticipation thrummed inside his veins. Comic books had nothing over this. Too bad he couldn’t tell Sammy about it.

“There isn’t a glide slope if you run into trouble,” Musgrove elaborated. “You simply drop. So, fly low. It’s safer.”

“How fast do these go?” one of the enlisted men asked.

“We’ve raced them at just under eighty, but it’s best to stay at thirty-five so you can avoid obstacles and subsequent collisions.”

“Is there a way to monitor speed and altitude?” Harry unbuttoned his shirt while his eyes remained on the apparatus Musgrove had laid on the lorry’s bed.

“Good question. Your helmet will transmit and overlay the information onto your lenses.”

Harry slipped into the jumpsuit and zipped up the front. It was a little short in the legs, but his boots covered the gap. Private Hughes followed his example with much less enthusiasm.