Miranda nearly bobbled the climb out in her F-86 Sabrejet.
She’d called the team to prepare the Cessna M2 jet that she’d left in the Tacoma office’s hangar. Then she’d been delayed by one of the island’s sheep that had decided this morning was the perfect time to have a birth directly in front of her island’s airplane hangar door. She’d managed to coax it to behind the hangar, but hadn’t been able to stay for the actual birth.
As soon as she was aloft and about to light the afterburner, she spotted a de Havilland DHC-3 Otter seaplane idling up to her dock at the south end of the island.
She circled as she climbed and called over the Unicom frequency that all planes used around uncontrolled airports. “Calling DHC-3 Otter at Spieden Island.”
“Otter here.”
“You are not cleared to dock at
