“Thermite?” Colonel Blake McGrady reached out, but the short Latina slapped his hand aside hard enough to sting. “Hey!”
“Unless you have a death wish, you don’t want to be touching that without gloves.”
He jammed his hands in his pockets as a reminder to not touch, then leaned in to inspect it. It looked like any normal oxygen generator, a steel tank six inches square and sixteen inches long. Except the end had been burned off.
“Thermite?” he repeated because he didn’t know what else to say.
Jeremy was apparently all too happy to explain. “The ignition trigger for a standard oxygen generation system burns at five hundred degrees Fahrenheit once an airliner passenger pulls down sharply on the mask to trigger the chemical reaction, or in a cabin-sized unit like this one, the pilot ignite
