![]() ![]() ‘There he is again.’ The mission commander next to her stabbed his finger at the FLIR screen. Trying to ignore the smell, Kaitlyn clutched her paper bag in one hand and leant over the Forward Looking Infrared screen.įor a disconnected moment she felt as though she was a child again, watching her parents’ black and white television and feeling ill after too many of her mother’s homemade sweets. On the other side of the aisle the Australian Federal Police senior constable had just filled another sick bag. This was just another day at the office for the surveillance crew. The two Border Watch crewmen, who sat at consoles that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a NASA space shuttle, appeared unconcerned. The smoke had seeped through the air conditioning, biting at their throats and stinging their eyes. After a week in the air she still found the unpredictable movement of the Dash 8 alarming. ![]() Kaitlyn’s five-point harness pressed into her, jabbing the sharp plastic edge of the Border Watch visitors pass into her chest. ![]() Flames shot up through the plumes of dense smoke, flaring and leaping as though trying to scorch the paint from the fuselage. The aircraft bucked in the swirling heat. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |