35
“I hate dentist’s chairs,” Harvey grumbled as he lay back in the control seat for the MQ-45 Casper UAV. It looked disconcertingly like one…that had mated with a well-padded Barcalounger.
Helen had never shown him a picture of her family. Did her kids look like her? Did the same shy smile shine in their intelligent eyes? Was their hair the same liquid brown of flowing dark chocolate like hers, or did they take after their father with his imagined Teutonic blond good looks and too many teeth when he smiled?
“How do you feel about electric chairs?” Helen teased him as the technician strapped him to the contraption: ankles, wrists, and forehead.
“Never met one, but I’m wagering that I’d like it better than a dentist’s chair.”
“The mighty pilot afraid of a little man with a drill. My fa
