Round Robin: Part 5 (v. 1.1) by Brian Wight

The Peck and the Plunge (Rated R)

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Duggan was left speechless after hearing about the conspiracy to kill off the Wildcards. Saunders assured her that it wasn't a prank. Besides, Hawkes could never carry a joke *that* far-he still had not yet learned how to show a good poker face.

"What are you going to do?" Jess asked.

"There's not much we can do," West replied, chewing on a stale pretzel.

"I'm going to ask some people I know... to see what I can find out about this Colonel Dembicki," she offered.

"Are you sure that's safe? That might make things even hotter for us."

"I promise, these are people I can trust. I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Jess. Don't forget that *you* might get caught up in this if you ask too many questions," West cautioned. Duggan walked off nonchalantly to avoid arousing any suspicion. Hawkes, West, and Saunders were left with their beers and empty shot glasses.

"I'm really scared, you know." Hawkes began to shred the paper napkin under his beer mug. "I don't want to die like this. We gotta tell someone, man."

"McQueen said he'd work on it. We just have to sit tight, lay low, like he said," West countered.

"I've only been alive for seven years... there's so much more I want to do."

"Like what?"

"You know... stuff."

"You really liked your stay at the Bacchus, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but it was dirty-like, you know? I want something better before I die."

Saunders was touched by Hawkes' openness, although this was likely induced by one too many drinks of tequila. "That reminns me of mar girl... back on Earth." He fumbled for his wallet. "Here's a piture of har." He held up his military identity card. West reached over and took the wallet.

"You mean this one, I think," he said, pulling out the faded picture of a teenager barely out of high school.

"That's har, awright." Saunders took another swig of beer, letting it slide slowly down his throat.

West noted how young-looking she was. "How old is this picture, man? She's pretty young."

"She's pretty awright." He wiped the foam off his lips.

"How'd you meet her, Saunders?" Hawkes asked with some hesitation.

"How'd I met who?"

"Your girlfriend."

"Oh, you mean Leeenda. I met her in the lawbrary. At school. She was readin' my favorite... hup, 'scuse me, book, so I asked her out."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Gonna get married sumdays-if I make it through this war." Saunders passed out. His head fell onto his arms folded on the table.

"Hawkes, you'd better take him back to his bunk. I'm gonna find Fairbanks and see what she's up to. I'll meet you later."

"Come on Psycho," Hawkes hoisted up Saunders and wrapped his arm around his neck. "We're gonna be on duty in six hours."

William began to dream. The phantom was killing his squadron again, as he always did.

* * * * * *

Captain Tina Pearson, the squadron leader of the 58th, was sitting at her desk in the 58th's wardroom. She mulled over an inventory checklist and occasionally referred to a thick stack of papers at her side.

She scarcely noticed that Hawkes entered the room, dragging Saunders behind him. After dumping him onto his bunk, Hawkes stood behind Tina and looked over her shoulder. He was initially interested in her checklist, but his gaze traveled to her hands, her arms, her shoulders, and more, creating his own mental checklist.

He stood there admiring her beauty. He longed to reach out and stroke her long black hair that was still damp from a shower. He inhaled quietly to smell the air around her. "She must use her own shampoo," he thought--it certainly didn't smell like the Navy spooge in the soap dispensers.

His eyes lingered over her wet pink lips that needed no lipstick.

He imagined that his tongue was running over them, feeling the pulsing blood that reddened her cheeks and lips. Mrs. Tina Hawkes... so small for a Captain... how would I kiss her? He wondered whether she would stand on her toes, or would he bend over, or would they meet half-way? He bent over to test his second idea. Pearson felt a hot breath on her neck.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Pearson shrieked in fright as she sprang out her chair. Hawkes stood up straight and looked away.

"Don't sneak up on me like that! Hell, I could have killed you!"

She paced in front of Cooper, her chest heaving with deep breaths.

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew that I was there."

Tina shook her head and closed her eyes as she tried to calm down.

"Look, just stay away from me, OK? I've got a lot of work to do, and I've had enough stress for today." She turned and sat down at her desk. Cooper stood there, still wondering about his kissing technique.

Pearson glanced over her shoulder and sighed heavily. Cooper, still lost in his imagination, was not recognizing her signals.

"Can I help you, Corporal?"

"I was just wondering..."

"Yes?"

"How... well, how come you're so quiet?"

"Excuse me, Corporal? Were you addressing your squadron leader?"

"Oh, sorry, sir. Captain, sir."

"Now all of it together..."

"Uh... Sir, how come you're so quiet, sir."

"When... well, *if* you become a captain you will know why I'm quiet around my squadron."

"But Vansen wasn't quiet, we talked--"

"Vansen is *dead*, Corporal Hawkes. The sooner you admit that, the sooner you can give your best during combat to your *living* squadmates."

Cooper smiled and turned his head to the side.

"Well, SAR didn't recover any bodies."

"Have you ever seen wreckage from a catastrophic re-entry?"

Hawkes shrugged his shoulders.

"That's because there isn't any--and if some piece of them managed to survive re-entry, it would be scattered over hundreds of miles."

"Yeah, but there's always a *chance*."

Pearson wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned back to her paperwork. "Great, not only are you a *tank*, but you talk like a *Silicate*."

Cooper grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

She swiped his arm off and shot up, shouting right in his face.

"Don't you *ever* touch me! You touch me again and I'll have you thrown into the brig!" Cooper could smell her breath. They were so close, if he just bent his knees a bit...

"Yeah? Yeah? Well, don't call me a *tank*, you... y-you snake-head!"

Pearson bent backwards in laughter. "Snake-head? Bwahahaha! Snake-head?" Cooper could only fume as he soaked in a beautiful laughter that matched her good looks.

"What? What's so funny?" He didn't like her anymore.

"You're too funny, Hawkes. I think you need some more training at the In Vitro Authority."

"I don't get it."

"That's exactly right. And you *won't* get it. I'm going to the ready room. Bwahahaha! Snake-head!" Pearson's voice trailed off as she walked down the corridor.

Cooper checked on Saunders to make sure that he was still sleeping. Hawkes sat in his own bunk and ran a hand through his short hair, staring at the floor. "Women... women... women," he muttered as he shook his head.

* * * * * *

"Listen up, five eight." Colonel Dembicki stood in front of the Vagrants assembled in the squadron ready room.

"You will be the assault force for a re-capture operation on 2063-R Sat-3. A refinery in the northwestern quadrant has been overtaken by the Chigs. The bulk of the personnel were safely evacuated, but the civilian security force remained on-planet. They held out for two hours before being overrun, so these Chigs are not exactly Navy SEALs.

Intelligence reports that Silicate troops will arrive in a few hours to take operational control of the facility. Your mission goals are to both shoot them down and secure the refinery."

The colonel referred to an enlarged reconnaissance photo of the refinery. "The compound has one Surface-to-Air mobile missile launcher, seen here. It is unlikely that the Chigs have bothered to move it. You will use this launcher to destroy the Silicate transports. Not surprisingly, the enemy is operating on a strict timetable, so we'll have to match it. There can be *no* delays in the schedule. If you botch things up, signal the abort command and get the hell out. You'll be outnumbered once the AIs touch down."

"Until then, you'll match the Chigs that are patrolling the grounds and digging in. This effort will consist of three squadrons. The 46th will assault from the north, the 33rd from the east, and the 58th from the top." Dembicki pointed out these movements on the photo.

"The Chig have set up defenses here, here, and here. Due to the concrete slabs, the Chigs are spread thin along the perimeter. The 46th and 33rd will provide a diversionary attack on their flanks while you come in from the top via HALO parachute jumps."

"You will land behind their emplacements while they are distracted. It should be easy to clean them out and take the SAM unit. This site has considerable strategic value, so the Navy has unfortunately ruled out air strikes and orbital bombardments. This goes for you too.Watch your fire- don't damage the refinery unit to the southeast. The other buildings are expendable, but save them if at all possible. Any questions?"

West and Hawkes glanced a look at each other and remembered McQueen's words. They feared what might happen to them on-planet.

"OK, wheels up in twenty mikes. I'll see you all back here at oh-eight hundred for debriefing. Dismissed."

As the 58th filed out of the room, West whispered to Hawkes, "I've got a bad feeling about this."

* * * * * *

"You know the drill, people. Up and clip!" Captain Pearson barked. Their ISSAPC was nearing the drop point and the red light above the cargo door was flashing. Ripping through the upper atmosphere, the transport was slowing to a safe speed for troop airdrops.

"Masks ready! Check flow!" she yelled. Hawkes stared at her,grinning beneath his mask. He could smell the tinny air supply, so he let his mask fall back around his neck. The uncomfortable rubber masks were worn only when necessary.

"Thirty seconds!" Pearson checked her own mask while they lined up in front of the cargo door. West was first, then Saunders, Fairbanks, Michaels, Hawkes, and Pearson last. They looked like robotic killing machines draped under so much armor, weaponry, and equipment. The green light flashed.

"Let's go, move it out!" Pearson slid the door open and the cold air stung at their faces. There was nothing but blackness outside the hatch. She stood at the rear of the exit and led West by the shoulder.

He jumped and Saunders quickly followed behind him. Fairbanks and Michaels jumped as a pair as well. Hawkes approached Pearson with a mischievous glint in his eyes, glancing at her chin. Before she could push him away, he kissed her on the lips and jumped through the hatchway in one fluid motion.

"Semper Fiiiiii," he shouted. She stood there stunned at this blow, this violation, this indignity! She felt hot in the face as she realized the full measure of what he had done. She twisted her body in rage, yet her face was red from more than anger.

"Damn you!" she screamed, charging into the blackness.

Cooper Hawkes loved HALO jumps because they gave him plenty of freefall time. He spun around and marveled at the agility of the human body when freed from the constraints of gravity. By monitoring his position relative to the spaceborne beacon system, he could stay right on top of the refinery complex that was hiding somewhere in the blackness below. The green panel strapped to his chest displayed altitude, time to release, and positional readings. He kept his descent on course by subtly adjusting the positions of his hands and legs.

Pearson sped up to reach the same altitude as the others, but she kept her distance from Hawkes. It was critical for all of them to hit the dirt simultaneously. Michaels would pull his chute first, since he was the heaviest and would fall faster under his parachute. Hawkes was next, then West and Saunders, and finally Fairbanks and Pearson. She already had an ass-chewing speech for them if they screwed up this first airdrop of the 58th Vagrants.

Angels 10 and there was nothing below them. It was still too dark--even for night-vision goggles. They would pull the chutes at five thousand feet leaving them about twenty seconds of reserve. The wind was deafening as it pounded at their faces. Angels 9 and Hawkes thought about how the Chigs would feel when they realized their rear flank was compromised. The 46th and 33rd had already started the attack. There was a firefight down there *somewhere*, but they couldn't see or hear it.

Angels 8 and Hawkes recalled the words of McQueen: resume your duties, follow orders, and *watch your backs*. How could he act naturally when his CO and a squadmate were planning to kill him and his best friend?

Angels 7 and he wondered whether McQueen would return with his new leg and kick some ass for them.

Angels 6 and Michaels prepared to release his chute. Saunders began to tremble as he always did just before touchdown. He was thankful for the cover of darkness to hide his shaking limbs. He knew that the shock of touchdown would quiet his nerves.

Just before Angels 5, Michaels yanked his D-ring and his drag chute streaked upwards. In a split second his main chute trailed behind him and opened to meet the night air. Hawkes yanked on his ring shortly after Michaels. He felt the main chute exit his pack, but there was no violent yank at his straps. West and Saunders waited two seconds and pulled their rings, oblivious to Hawkes' problem. Both seemed to fly upwards, but West soon sped back towards Pearson and Fairbanks.

Michaels and Saunders saw it all. Hawkes' main chute spun violently as it came out and the twisting had tangled the wires. They could only watch in horror as the chute uselessly whipped in the wind.

Nearly an identical pattern occurred when West released his drag chute.

When both Marines realized that their main chutes were tangled beyond all hope, they jettisoned them and released their reserve chutes. Unbelievably, the same spiraling pattern tied up their last remaining chutes.

Angels 4 and the ground finally yielded unwelcome details to their night vision goggles.

Fairbanks and Pearson traded looks. Fairbanks repeatedly signaled with her hands in perfect airborne precision, "Below altitude--pull chute immediately." Pearson, however, frantically made gestures originating from a zoo exhibit indicating that she wanted to attempt a rescue of Hawkes and West. Fairbanks only shook her head. Pointing at her altimeter display, she pulled her ring and held the straps.

Angels 3 and Pearson cursed Fairbanks for bailing out on her squadmates. The only means to save Hawkes and West from the awaiting ready-made burial was strapped to her back. She spread every part of her body into the wind--she knew that every square inch would be critical. She turned to face the ground, resisting the strain on her neck as her helmet cupped the wind. She prayed that they would dive to meet her, yet she knew that their instinctual urge would be to spread out their limbs as she had in order to prolong their lives. Fortunately, they saw what she was doing. They both cut their chute lines with their K-Bars and dove towards Pearson.

Angels 2 and Pearson had to choose: Life or squadmate... life for squadmate. The ground was revealing details that she didn't want to see. Buildings, rocks, concrete... it was all enlarging like a time-elapsed film of mushroom growth she had seen in biology class so long ago. This was how she would go, with her last thoughts centered on fourth grade biology. And then it happened... SLAM!

"WAIT!" West yelled into her ear. Under any other circumstances, Pearson would have decked him for such a violent body-check. He was clinging to her back and staring at Hawkes still racing towards them. Tina's eyes were glued to the altimeter computer. As if it feared its own destruction, the altimeter flashed red and yellow, faster and faster. She had missed all the other messages: "Caution!",

"Warning!", "Danger!" Now it read, "Too slow, HA HA!" She blinked her eyes... "Too low, HALO!"

Angels 1 and they would be permanent infantrymen in less than five seconds.

Hawkes slammed into them- pushing them closer to the unyielding ground below. Both men screamed at Pearson to pull the ring, but she had already yanked it out. She had pulled it just as Hawkes arrived. She could only hope that he had gotten a good grip on her straps before the main chute opened. Cooper had expected better circumstances for the fulfillment of his dream: holding Pearson tightly, merely inches from her face--close enough to kiss her again if she was only willing. In what were likely to be the last seconds of his life, he could only stare into her eyes and wish for more time.

As the main chute opened, both men slid down along her body. The shoulder straps cut into their fingers yet they held on. 450 pounds of man and gear tugged at Pearson's tender shoulders. The ground was coming up fast. They hadn't fallen under the main chute for very long.

As Pearson tried in vain to steer the overloaded chute, they braced themselves for the inevitable impact.

KERCLANG! The three-person package punched through a sheet-metal roof on a housing structure. This slowed them down a bit before they crashed onto one of the bunk beds lining the walls. The top bed crashed down onto the bottom bed, collapsing them both. As the beds' vertical supports splintered outward, a footlocker was kicked across the waxed floor. It hit the opposite wall, sending neatly folded socks flying into the air.

Hawkes was twisted half-across the bed with the others on top of him. Dust was pouring from the hole in the roof. The bunk bed was in ruins; a pair of torn mattresses and a pile of splintered wood was all that remained of it. As if they didn't have enough excitement, they were now in the middle of a firefight.

"Guys, I know *I've* fantasized about this, but can we try this some other time?" Hawkes managed to wheeze out. The weight on his chest was unbearable. Nathan awkwardly wiggled his legs to right himself.

Pearson was too busy releasing her straps to hear him. Errant bullets were hitting the walls and the occasional rocket blast made the roof clamor. West rolled onto the floor after extricating his bloody fingers from the harness straps. He freed his rifle and pulled back the charging handle. "I'm gonna kill that bitch!" he muttered as the bolt drove home the first round. He made his way to the north door.

"My God, I thought we were dead. What in the hell happened to your chutes?" Pearson panted, being careful not to suck in the cloud of dust stirred up from their crash landing.

"West! Wait up!" Hawkes cried as he emerged from the remains of the bunk bed. Pearson stood near the north window, looking out for Chigs.

"It's clear," she signaled with her left hand. West opened the door and ran to the building across the narrow path. They had crashed into the southwest building of four barracks. To the east were three cooling units and to the southeast was the refinery tower. While West dropped down and covered Pearson's flanks, Hawkes picked pieces of the bed mattress out of his rifle.

"We're too early!" Pearson yelled over an explosion. The 46th and the 33rd were pummeling the Chig perimeter with shoulder-launched rockets and grenades. Unfortunately, they sometimes overshot their targets. West stared at the sky looking for Fairbanks.

The 46th to the north side and the 33rd to the east would stop using explosives in one minute--the time planned for the 58th's touchdown.

"Kill Chigs first!" Hawkes shouted at him. Knowing that Hawkes was right, he turned his head away in disgust and crept to the edge of the building. Cooper covered their rear. The Captain ran through all their options: fight, stay put, or run. West saw Fairbanks land to the east in the middle of the compound. Although she was obscured by smoke, he saw her run into one of the corridors between the cooling structures at the north end.

"If only she had landed closer," he squeezed the grip on his rifle.

"I say we move east and join up with the 33rd."

Pearson scanned to the east with her infrared binoculars. "Hold on, there's a whole Chig squad out there."

While watching their rear, Hawkes' jaw dropped at the sight before him. Six Chigs were trotting right past his position, oblivious to the 58th. He didn't need any orders for this one.

Pearson and West spun around as he opened fire, killing two Chigs with his first burst. They were bunched up and easy to hit. West joined in, then Pearson. The Chig fireteam was dropped without getting a shot off in return.

"Hoorah! Scratch one Chig team." As the rocket attacks fizzled out, they could see the chutes of Saunders and Michaels drift downward to the south near the SAM launcher: right where everyone should have landed. They needed to man that launcher before the Silicates arrived.

The AI troopers had a nasty habit of jumping out of their transports twenty feet above the ground when entering hot landing zones. Dispersed in this fashion, the expected three dozen Silicate troops would quickly overpower the 58th and prevent the other squadrons from penetrating the Chigs' lines.

They would have to make their move soon. Pearson scanned to the north. She could see one Chig three-man fireteam in a trench, but the other buildings blocked her view to the northeast. Figuring that the Chigs they just killed were reinforcing the northern perimeter, she reasoned that the 46th was faring well. This made her decision easy: they would assault the east perimeter and clear the way for the 33rd.

Pearson directed West to take up a covering position on the northwest side of the huge refinery structure. Hawkes and Pearson leapfrogged to within thirty meters of the east perimeter and hit the deck. They tossed smart grenades at the Chigs' trenches to flush them out. Those that crawled out of the trench were cut down by both the sniper specialist of the 33rd and fire from the 58th. Those that stayed put were sliced up by shrapnel. Within seconds, the east perimeter was devoid of aliens.

Pearson and Hawkes ran to the SAM launcher. Nathan made his way to the south and joined up with Saunders and Michaels as they mopped up the stragglers to the southeast. As Pearson clambered up onto the wide tracks of the mobile launcher, the radio squawked twice: two minutes until the Silicates' arrival.

"Let's go. We've got some birds to shoot down." Hawkes followed her into the crew compartment and shut the door behind him.

Tina sat at the fire control station and donned a visor that relayed targeting information and system status readings. Cooper manned the lidar station and quickly oriented himself to the overwhelming array of panels and buttons before him. Dominating his station was a circular lidar display that produced a three-dimensional picture of the airspace above the launcher.

"All squads, be advised, stay clear of SAM unit. Bandits in the sky." Pearson flipped several switches to prime the systems.

"Power, check!"

"Pressures, check!"

"Lidar array, check!"

"Master arm, check!"

The computerized voice began its sequence. "Warning, unknown contact bearing two seven three." Hawkes could see the blips on his lidar scope, so he switched to IR to identify the bogey. The green computer screen brightly contrasted with the red internal lights of the cabin.

"Come on... if they get too low--"

"I know! I know! Hold on..." He switched targeting to automatic and confirmed the IFF signature. The bass tone emanating from the console turned into a screeching soprano.

"He's locked up, let 'em fly!"

" 'Non serviam' this, Silicate bastards!" Pearson slammed her fist onto the red launch button. With a bright flash, a missile leapt off the black rails leaving a thick plume of exhaust in its wake. A cloud of dust kicked up by the rocket blast swirled in the air and drifted over the compound. The SAM launcher vibrated as the shock wave passed over the cabin. Thankfully, metal slats over the windows had folded down and protected them from implosion.

"Target two confirmed--locked and ready!"

"Stand by... firing!" A second missile flashed off the rails. Hawkes watched as the missile symbols moved outward from the center of his lidar screen. Altitude, velocity, and acceleration readings flashed under the icons. The time to impact countdown circle rotated steadily. It was certain death for the transports; they didn't have the thrust or agility to evade the missiles. The two ships burst into balls of flame as the missiles detonated upon impact. Twisted chunks of metal arced out of the inferno and spun to the ground leaving countless trails of smoke and burning fuel. Pieces of the transports and the AI troopers onboard rained down upon the compound and the surrounding hills. Smoking legs and arms squirmed on the cold concrete, searching for their CPUs. A severed head loudly beeped and clicked, broadcasting emergency cries to friends that would not hear them.

Hawkes and Pearson stayed in the SAM launcher to monitor the skies for enemy contacts. The squadron leader sent a coded signal reporting that the transports had been destroyed. The 33rd and the 46th had taken the trenches without any casualties. All surviving Chigs were retreating to the south. Pearson ordered West's fireteam back to the compound. She told everyone that they would wait for Army regulars to relieve them. An ISSAPC extraction was going to arrive in twenty minutes.

Three of the 58th were standing around the central square of the compound. Saunders smoked a cigarette and inspected his rifle, sliding the bolt back and forth, again and again, enjoying the close fit of the oily parts. Michaels straightened out his fatigues, glanced around in boredom, and began some push-ups to keep fit. West gripped his rifle with white-knuckled fists of iron.

"Where's Fairbanks?" he demanded over the radio.

"I saw her a minute ago," the 46th squad leader reported.

"Well, where is she *now*?" West asked.

"Using the head, I guess. She went somewhere."

* * * * * *

Pearson was facing to the left in the SAM launcher seated at the fire control station, behind the driver's station. Hawkes sat in the front-right seat, on a lower level. They both knew that the sky was clear of enemy contacts. It was only a formality to keep sitting there.

Hawkes looked up at Pearson in the red light. "Pretty good shooting, Tina."

"That's why I'm a captain." A few buttons beeped as she started yet another diagnostic test of the computer system.

He waited for the return compliment that never came. He started again, "I don't know what to say about what happened up there."

"It was nothing--absolutely nothing." Tina felt the warmth of blood rushing to her cheeks. Thankfully, the red glow of the cabin masked her emotions.

"Nothing? You risked your neck for us! We'd be flatter than a pancake if you hadn't--"

"Well don't get any ideas, Cooper Hawkes. I would have done it for anybody." She began to punch the buttons faster, never looking at him.

"I just wanted to thank you. For West too, you know."

Pearson shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, whatever. Can I finish my test now?"

Hawkes stared out the window, admiring the smoking pieces of wreckage dotting the compound. "We really gave it to those Silicates. I wouldn't mind having one of these rigs." He leaned over to inspect the driver's station. His head slowly crept lower as he pivoted on his left hip.

He ran a finger over the long line of switches under the navigational display. She fed more numbers into the computer, ignoring him.

"Pearson, look at this..." Hawkes turned his head. Something stirred in his loins as his eyes ran across her waist. Her fatigues and combat equipment couldn't hide her beautiful body--or his own. He scooted back to his seat and shifted his weight.

"What?"

"Never mind. I just... thanks again."

* * * * * *

As West paced around the central square, Fairbanks came up from the east. He stomped up to her and blocked her path.

"How could you bail on us like that?! You saw me and Hawkes lose our chutes!"

"What was I supposed to do? Get us *all* killed in that stunt Pearson pulled? Unlike you and Hawkes, I wasn't going to abandon Michaels and Saunders." Fairbanks turned to pass with a flick of her hair. West stepped in front of her.

"What did you say?" he growled.

"You heard me. Everyone knows you abandoned Captain Vansen and Lieutenant Damphousse to save some half-dead civvies." Michaels rose from his push-ups at this remark.

"One of those *civvies* was my girlfriend!"

"Everyone knows that too. Killed off half your squadron for some bitch who didn't like being a POW. How do you think Wang likes it?"

"Wang? Wang is dead. Everybody knows that," West sneered.

"Thanks to you. I should kick your ass right here and now. You should be drummed out of the Corps. You and Hawkes are a disgrace to all of us." Michaels edged between them, fearing that a fist-fight was going to break out.

Saunders tried to rally the squadron. "Hey man, are we forgetting what happened to their chutes? I'm not jumping anymore until they figure out what happened. I'd rather be court-martialed than die like that." Michaels and Pearson nodded in agreement.

West moved closer to Fairbanks' tall frame, pressing Michaels' arm into her gut. "What a coincidence that our chutes failed, isn't it? Not just the main chutes, but the reserves too."

"I couldn't believe it either!" Michaels said. "You both spun around the same way. Whoever packed your chutes must've been drunk or stoned. Whoever he is, he's finished."

"That's right, Michaels." West leaned even closer to Fairbanks until their noses almost touched. "They're finished."

--------END PART 5--- by Brian Wight (briwig@odc.net)--------