by Diane Capri
“Hold on, hold on,” Jordan said. “Quads?”
“Quadcopters. That means a drone that has four propellers. There’s also hexacopters which have six, and octocopters which have eight, but most of us can’t really afford those. Yet.” He added the last word with a mischievous grin that doubled as a promise.
After a couple of moments of silence, Jordan prodded him. “So most of you have your own drone…”
Calhoun raised his gaze and frowned. “We wouldn’t call them drones. A drone means a military flying machine. And it kind of has a negative connotation.”
“Oh.” Jordan shifted her weight. Busted. Called out as politically incorrect by high schoolers on a grassy field. She shrugged because it seemed to be a response he understood. “Sorry. Is there a term then for all drones—or for an independent flying device whether it has four or six or eight propellers?”
Calhoun almost smiled, maybe. Like he appreciated her effort even if she wasn’t very well informed. “Yeah, the general term is multirotor.”
Jordan crinkled her brow. This was so far out of her realm. But that was part of the challenge. She was a journalist. She learned new things every day. “Multi-roader?”
“Rotor.” Calhoun’s tone was annoyed. He emphasized the T sound. “Multirotor. Or I guess you could say multicopter.”
She shrugged again. “Ahhhh, gotchya. Sorry. That’s why we’re out here. To learn these kinds of details that our viewers don’t know.” Jordan hoped she was making him feel special rather than patronized. “So you have multirotors and you bring them to your practices and…what’s the goal of this club?”
“You know, we just practice different things like, taking off, landing…” Calhoun’s gaze roamed around the field and airspace. He sighed. “It’s harder than it looks. ’Cause sometimes too, first we have to build the multirotors, and then to fly them, it’s not like you just push one button. See this?” Calhoun reached down and picked up a black box with two joysticks, a little larger than an X-Box controller or a thick paperback. “This is the transmitter. You might call it a remote control. But it’s called a transmitter.”
Jordan bit her lip to stop her laughter. Was he talking down to her now?
“There’s lots of buttons, see?” Narrow fingers with chewed-off nails and ragged cuticles pointed to the buttons.
He was right. There were a lot. Sixteen or so.
“And there’s a screen on the transmitter.” Jordan pointed to a blank square on the controls. “That’s something else you have to learn about?”
“Yeah, if the multirotor has a camera, you can watch what the camera sees on the LCD screen. Anyway, once we get takeoff down, we practice straight line flying and then we move on to rectangles or circles, and then we start practicing flying at different altitudes which is what we’re on now.” Calhoun stopped to breathe and he shrugged again. “And pretty much all year we experiment with putting different types of cameras on different rotos and improving the video.”
“Very cool, very cool.” Jordan nodded. At least this guy was able to spit out information, even if he was starting to get sassy about it.
Drew glanced over and Jordan nodded again. Calhoun shared great info, but boring as hell for a news sound bite. She’d get a better sound bite out of him. Drew continued to hold the camera, rolling on Calhoun’s every word, just in case he said something, anything, half-way usable.
“So,” Jordan took a deep breath and, using what she’d already discovered about Calhoun’s, er, communication abilities, gave him lots of options, “What do you think about the safety of multirotors? Do you think there should be stricter laws about where to fly them, or who can fly them, or how high?”
Calhoun shook his head, almost violently for him. Meaning he moved a couple of millimeters back and forth, twice. “They limit us to four hundred feet, and no flying after dark, and no flying near airports. That’s enough rules, I’d say. Anyone should be allowed to fly a drone as long as it’s not the government spying on us.”
Predictable response from an enthusiast, but better than nothing. That could be her sound bite, but Jordan pushed him for a better one. “Do you think there’s any circumstance where multirotors could physically threaten someone?”
Another all-purpose shrug from Calhoun. “I mean, assuming we all have each other’s best interest at heart, they’re pretty safe. You can always—um, they can go pretty high, so if you don’t know what you’re doing and you crash one, yeah it could hurt you.” He grinned and then ducked his head. “But no one is gonna wanna fly their multirotor if they don’t know how to do it right ’cause they’re kind of expensive. That’s why we have training.”
“Should the law say that everyone who flies a multirotor should have a license?” Jordan asked. “Or some kind of training certificate?”
Calhoun shook his head again. Only once. “Um, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Another shrug. “If they wanna risk crashing and throw hundreds or thousands of dollars out the window.”
Jordan was formulating the next question to advance the story when the biggest drone she’d seen yet flew directly toward them from across the field.
This one was too large to fit in the backseat of a car.
Maybe one of those hexa- or octo-copters Calhoun mentioned, but it was whirling too fast for Jordan to count its propellers.
And it was headed straight toward her, fast and low enough to make impact.
CHAPTER 13
The guy operating the drone stood far across the field.
“Throttle up, throttle up!” Calhoun yelled.
Jordan’s heart thumped hard against her ribs. She tried the moves she’d used to avoid the earlier drone attacks. She stepped aside and ducked. The drone followed her moves, dipped and ducked right with her.
She’d always been good at dodge ball, but the stakes of a schoolyard game were a lot lower. This hulking drone could easily kill her.
She dropped to the ground and flattened her body on the grass. The drone swooped and flew two feet above where she lay before pulling up into the sky once more.
“Close call, man,” Calhoun yelled out to the operator. “Next time keep your eye on the transmitter, not on the multirotor. You’re gonna wanna watch the monitor on the transmitter because you won’t always be able to see your rotor in different kinds of circumstances. Okay?”
Jordan pushed up and regained her footing. She dusted off. She’d suffered no real damage, except to her pride. She stood straight and stared at the student pilot.
Suddenly, her guess about the average age of the group shot up. This dude was definitely beyond high school age. Probably beyond college age, but way older than these club boys.
His shoulders and chest were filled out, and he had a solid layer of facial scruff. He moved like he had grown into his body, smooth and with purpose.
He wore a preppy collared shirt and fitted jeans. Not even close to the wrinkled t-shirt and shorts uniform the rest of the boys sported. What the hell was a guy like that doing here, hanging out with these kids?
And he seemed familiar.
“Is he a teacher?” Jordan asked Calhoun.
“Nah.” Calhoun shrugged. “Hobbyist. Been practicing with us a couple weeks.”
“Is he a club leader then?”
“Nah.” It seemed Calhoun didn’t care to talk about much of anything besides drones. Er, multirotors.
Jordan looked at the preppy guy again, this time making eye contact. His eyes focused on her and then seemed to flash fear or nerves, or something.
“Hey Calhoun, I gotta run.” His voice was clear, deep, and direct. He hustled over to the track where he packed up his stuff. He was calm and efficient. And in a hurry.
“See ya tomorrow,” Calhoun said.
He took swift, long strides to the nearest exit off the field with his giant drone and box of gear in tow.
Jordan’s News Nose twitched. Something wasn’t right about the situation.
“So, he’s not a te
acher,” Jordan pressed Calhoun. “He’s just a hobbyist?”
She didn’t want to scare off her strongest connection to the high school drone club. But she had a weird feeling about the guy. Why had he run off like that?
Calhoun curled his upper lip. “He’s a hobbyist, like I said.” His tone was cold.
Jordan saw she was losing her connection. She let the older guy go. For now. “That rotor was massive! What was that, a hex or an octo?”
“An octo. That’s why he’s having so much trouble flying it. He shouldn’t be starting out with an octo. I tried to tell him, but he already owned it.” Calhoun shrugged. Which Jordan took as a sign they were back on good terms.
She looked over at Drew, who was still filming.
She said, “And his name is…?”
“Hugo. Don’t know his last name.” Calhoun was a brighter kid than he’d seemed at first. Now he was anticipating her questions and cutting her off before she even asked.
“I wish I’d had a chance to interview him. Seems like he could’ve told viewers about the challenges of flying an octo.” She put as much wistfulness as possible into her voice. Which wasn’t easy. She’d always been a bad actress. “What did you mean when you said ‘see you tomorrow’? Is there another flying club you guys go to on the weekend?”
“Nah, I give him private lessons on the side.” Calhoun pulled his mic off and handed it to Drew. “I gotta do the group instruction now though, okay?”
“Sure. Thanks for helping us out.” Jordan nodded to Drew. “We’ll get some wide shots of the group as we leave.”
Jordan helped Drew pack up the gear while Calhoun rounded up the high school kids.
“Hey,” Calhoun turned back to Jordan. “If you really wanna talk to Hugo, come back tomorrow. Three o’clock, same place. That’s when I teach him.”
“Thanks. Maybe we will.”
CHAPTER 14
Last night’s drone package had turned out better than expected, especially considering the nearly disastrous way it started. Jordan had created a balanced package using Calhoun to tout the benefits of drones, and the near-crash video to showcase the dangers. Drew’s video was beautiful, a major bonus, the polish that made the story glow.
Actually, Drew’s video was probably the reason Patricia complimented the package Saturday afternoon in front of everyone as they informally discussed the day’s news plan. “Your drone story is drawing a record number of hits online, too. We need a follow up. Jordan, can you handle it?”
“Sure. No problem,” Jordan said and Patricia moved on before Jordan had a chance to ask any questions.
Jordan tuned out the rest. She’d had a hard time finding a local angle for the drone story on a weekday. Saturday would be even harder. The only thing she knew about was the private lesson from Calhoun, but that would only yield the same material as yesterday. Not good enough. She needed to advance the story.
Maybe there was some kind of weekend flying competition? Or some sort of air show featuring drones?
MacDill Air Force Base was just minutes away. She quickly checked her phone. No air show. But maybe she could set up an interview about drones with someone at the base. Drones had bigger implications, and she hadn’t touched on that in her story yesterday at all.
She still wanted to stop by that private lesson though. Maybe get a chance to talk to Hugo the drone dude and find out why he ran off yesterday.
Jordan’s excitement about the follow-up drone story was dampened by the news that jarred her attention back to the discussion.
Drew’s assignment was some charity story Patricia set up for him and it had fallen through.
“We had the time wrong,” Patricia said. “The event we were sending Drew to actually happened this morning. He’s free now so you two can work together again today.”
After he’d acted like a third grader yesterday, Jordan didn’t want him involved today. At all. Then again, his video had really improved her package. But she was a good photographer, too. Her video could easily be as good as his, given the chance.
She was still mulling it over when the meeting broke up and Drew attached himself to her side like Velcro.
“What time do we leave?” Drew’s enthusiasm was exhausting already.
“Are you sure you wanna come?” She had to think of something quick or she’d be stuck with him again. “What if something better comes up for you? Like that seven-hundred-pound shark story you had a couple of weeks ago? Just popped up and you were here to catch it. Remember? I can handle the drones on my own, I promise.”
She was so focused on Drew, she hadn’t realized Patricia was still present until her nasty tone carried all the across the room from the doorway. “You’re not the assignment editor, Jordan. I thought we’d already settled that.”
“I didn’t mean—” Jordan fumbled to defend herself, but Patricia wasn’t listening.
“No point in having him sit around here when he could be helping you.” Patricia turned on her heel and stalked off. Probably pissed that she didn’t have a good excuse to keep her man crush around the newsroom today.
Good grief.
“Trust me.” Drew’s wide grin revealed a virtual keyboard of sparkling white teeth. “Unless there’s a demolition today, it doesn’t get better than drones. I mean, multirotors.”
Jordan sighed heavily, defeated.
Drew winked. “I’ll act my age today, I promise.”
She collected her phone and her bag and headed for the door. “I’m counting on it. We’re going to that private lesson. Come on.”
Jordan took the lead down the back stairwell to the news truck parking garage under the building. She let Drew take the wheel.
From the passenger’s seat, Jordan researched drones and how the military uses them. She shot off emails to a couple of her military contacts and waited to hear if either would be willing to speak to her on the topic of drones in the military.
As Drew and Jordan pulled up at Boden High, the tension between them inside the Jeep felt higher than the day before. Maybe the pressure of competing with her was starting to get to him. Jordan hoped he realized she was stepping up her game and succeeding.
“So, what exactly does a private drone lesson at Boden High School have to do with the military again?” Drew asked as he gathered his gear from the truck. “I thought we were taking a military angle today.”
Drew had been behind the camera yesterday when Hugo nearly crashed his octo into her. The truthful answer to Drew’s question was that Hugo might be an example of someone who should not be operating a large, unmanned aircraft. But Jordan wanted to stay flexible. She wasn’t ready to commit just yet.
“Consider it a chance to actually get more good drone video while I wait to hear back from my military contacts,” she said. The explanation sounded lame in her ears.
Drew raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Maybe this Hugo guy just really likes drones, and he has no friends, so he has to pay someone to be his friend and play drones with him.”
“Maybe,” Jordan replied. “But that doesn’t seem likely, does it?”
He walked along beside her, bearing the weight of the equipment again today. “What do you think—he’s a pedophile or something? Where’s your little News Nose leading you?”
“I don’t know exactly. But my News Nose always leads the way, whether I like it or not.” The distance between the Jeep and the grassy field toward Calhoun across the way seemed farther under today’s cloudy gray sky. “It was a look in his eyes. Didn’t you see it?”
Drew glanced at her, stumbled on the uneven grass, and turned his head forward again. “I can’t say I generally look at men’s eyes.”
He was always making jokes, using his charm. She grimaced. “It’s like he knows something I don’t.”
“Or thinks he does. Dude seemed cocky. Does he know we’re coming today?” Drew bobbed along like he was pretending to be in control of the situation, but Jordan sensed some timidity in his question, whic
h would be another first.
“Not from me,” Jordan said. “And I don’t think that Calhoun kid talks about anything except drones.”
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” A few steps later they’d reached Calhoun. Drew asked, “Where’s your pupil?”
Calhoun stood with his drone, intently making adjustments to some wires. He clicked on his phone.
“It’s only five after three,” Calhoun said. “He’s running late.”
Drew slung his camera bag off his shoulder. “I’ll go ahead and set up the camera and we can get some good shots of your drone while we wait.”
While Calhoun provided the drone flight for Drew’s video work, Jordan checked her phone for an answer from her military contacts about a possible interview that afternoon. No response. More minutes passed and she was getting antsy.
“It’s ten after three now,” Jordan yelled a few yards across the field to Calhoun. “Shouldn’t he be here by now?”
“Let me check.” Calhoun clicked through his phone and nodded. “Yeah, okay. He wants to move the meeting to five o’clock tonight. And he’s asking that nobody—oh, I’m probably not supposed to read this part out loud.”
Jordan jogged in closer. “What’d he say?” she asked as innocently as she could manage.
“He says nobody else should come to the lesson.”
The orange mental flag of suspicion in Jordan’s mind suddenly turned a glowing shade of red. “Why do your meetings have to be so private?”
“I dunno.” Calhoun shoved his phone back in his pocket and delivered his all-purpose shrug. “I think maybe they’re embarrassed a high school student is teaching the older dudes.”
Jordan stepped back. “They? More than just Hugo? How many people are taking private lessons from you?”
CHAPTER 15
Calhoun shrugged again and continued flying his drone without answering.
Drew shot video of the drone against the ominous gray sky which was probably excellent, again. But Jordan left the private meeting with nothing except more questions. No matter how great the video was, she couldn’t create a new package without new facts and new interviews.