The Cup

CHAPTER 52

A Hercules C-130 carrying Nick and the others approached Lebanon at 35,000 feet, the maximum height for a HAHO jump. They'd spent a half hour on pure oxygen to purge most of the nitrogen from their blood before climbing over 10,000 feet. The depths of the ocean were not the only place where humans could come down with a painful and fatal case of the bends.

Selena had made one military jump at high altitude, but a HAHO jump was a different ballgame. The jump over the Himalayas had been high up but the target hadn’t been that far below and she's been down in a matter of minutes. Even with her long history of sky diving and sport jumping, the Tibet mission had taught her that what she'd learned as a civilian paled in comparison to what the military went through on a mission.

As in Tibet, Selena had a fitted mask and plenty of oxygen. Jumping that high and then gliding for many miles meant long exposure to the cold outside the aircraft and increased danger of hypoxia. To combat the cold she wore a high altitude suit and heavy over gloves. Her chute was a high glide ratio variation designed specifically for HAHO jumps. There would be no freefalling on this mission. They would pop chutes as soon as they left the plane. Nick had warned her that the shock when it opened would be unlike anything she'd experienced before. Then they would begin a long, flat glide to the target in Darraya, more than fifty miles away.

Selena was nervous. A jump like this was right up at the top of special forces skills and a lot could go wrong. It was a long way from the life she'd led before the Project.

Unlike Tibet, their gear had been distributed to equalize weight. They would be a long time in the air. Heavy objects fell faster under a chute and she weighed less than Nick and the others. It was enough to alter her rate of descent and make it impossible to keep the team together. The result was that she was burdened with more than usual to make up for the weight differential.

The container with her gear rested at her feet, under the orange strap bench where she sat. In the air she would be a flying pack mule, but she wouldn't have to carry it all on the ground.

Two physiology technicians Nick called PTs kept an eye on the team, looking for any sign of altitude sickness or symptoms of something going wrong. All through the flight they'd been monitoring the team's oxygen levels, watching for signs of distress.

"ETA, twenty minutes."

The voice of the pilot came over their headsets.

"Saddle up," Nick said.

He helped Selena with her gear and her chute, checking that everything was as it was supposed to be. He didn't let her see his concern about her being on this mission. HAHO jumps made the dangers of normal parachuting seen like a ride in an amusement park.

Ronnie came over after helping Lamont and checked Nick's gear. He made a minor adjustment to a strap.

"How you feeling?" he asked Selena.

"Honestly? Nervous as hell."

Ronnie laughed. "You'll be fine. You'll also be the only woman who's ever done this."

"Sure," Selena said. "Too bad no one will ever hear about it."

"Just remember, when that chute opens it's going to be one hell of a jerk. Be ready for it. After that, it's a piece of cake."

One of the PTs came to where they were standing. "We're four minutes out. Get ready to change over to your oxygen bottles."

At two minutes everyone switched over to personal oxygen. The ramp opened, sucking heat from the plane. They moved toward the back. Selena felt her heart pounding. All she could see through the opening was darkness. The sound of the wind blended in harsh chorus with the sound of the engines.

The jump master's voice sounded in her ear piece. "Thirty seconds."

"Remember to stay close," Nick said to Selena.

They lined up for the jump, Nick first, Selena second, Ronnie and Lamont behind. The red light on the jump indicator turned to green.

"Go," Nick said.

He leapt from the plane. Trying not to think about it, Selena jumped into space after him and popped the chute. It felt as though a gigantic, unseen predator had snuck up behind her and tried to tear her arms off her body.

The cold struck like a hammer through the heavy clothing and gloves she wore. Without the mask her face would have frozen within seconds. She kept an eye on her oxygen gauge and maneuvered the chute to keep formation with Nick, gliding in front of her, a dark blur against a deeper darkness.

Below, the coast of Lebanon fell behind. She took one last look. An intermittent string of lights ran down the coast against the blackness of the Atlantic beyond. Ahead lay darkness and the murderous battlefields of Syria.