Terminal Velocity Read online

  1.8 metres

  Physical Description:

  Black hair, athletic build, no defining physical features/markings (scars, tattoos etc.)

  Background:

  Currently lives with parents and younger sister. Has a good relationship with mother and sister, though relationship with father is clearly strained. One year left in school: grades satisfactory, but struggles with academic work; generally succeeds through determination.

  Operation(s):

  Brought in on a mission to carry out a HAHO jump with the team to a target site and cause sufficient disruption, through the use of diversionary explosions, to aid the recovery of a hard disk containing top-secret government data. This mission was carried out with success and he executed his role well. He has continued to demonstrate considerable drive and determination and a willingness to learn. Though impatient at times, and allowing his own feelings to cloud his judgement at others, he is now becoming an integral part of the team. Ethan’s skydiving skills will soon be on a par with the best in the team.

  Development:

  It is imperative that, while building the team’s skydiving skills and teamwork, we do not lose sight of the fact that the team as a whole must be trained up in other vital skills for their wider role. Current priorities are developing techniques for survival; escape and evasion; resisting interrogation; CQC and explosives.

  1

  ‘Shit!’

  Ethan was expecting the usual jolt from the canopy as it exploded with a loud crack! in the air above, taking him from 120 mph to 10 mph in less than ten seconds.

  It didn’t happen.

  All he heard was material flapping in the air and he knew something had gone seriously wrong. It was nearly six months since he’d done his tandem skydive with Sam, then been put through his AFF. He was now a member of a skydiving team. And he knew canopy failures were rare. Not rare enough though, he thought.

  Panic gripped him round the throat, tried to squeeze him to death. He could feel it tightening, cutting off his air, suffocating him. Seconds felt like hours. He knew if he didn’t sort this out he was only moments away from a messy death.

  Start sparking, Eth …

  Ethan focused on his body position, tried to stay stable, but it was difficult with his canopy going insane above him. He looked up to check his steering lines. They were in a seriously messed-up state, twisted round each other in a nightmare tangle. They looked more like a burst ball of string attacked by a cat than the tidy lines of a skydiving rig. And above them, his main canopy was completely and utterly useless.

  Ethan knew if he didn’t do something, he’d hit dirt in less than thirty seconds. It’d be a bounce to write home about. Except that someone else would have to do the writing; at this height and speed no way in hell would he survive – he’d be making an Ethan-shaped hole in the fields below.

  He tried to think clearly, but all he could see and hear was the canopy above his head doing about as much good as a deflated balloon. It was flapping and dancing in the air, like it was laughing at him, enjoying the idea that he’d be dead in seconds.

  Ethan shook his head to try and clear his mind, help him deal with the serious situation he was in. It didn’t work.

  He looked back up, grabbed the steering toggles, tried to get the canopy back into shape. He flicked his legs to spin his body, yanked again, but nothing worked. He was sweating now, and his muscles were aching with the effort of trying to save his life. But no amount of tugging or twisting worked; the canopy just stayed as it was – a billowing bag of material that looked more like an air sock than something that would prevent him being totalled on the ground below.

  A ping sounded amidst the flapping. It shattered Ethan’s panic like glass. His mind cleared and he checked the audible altimeter on his wrist. He’d just zipped past three thousand feet.

  At last, Ethan’s months of intensive training since finishing his AFF and becoming a proper skydiver kicked in. He saw clearly what he had to do. He had to cut away; get rid of his main canopy.

  Skydivers could go their whole life without ever having to do a cut away; modern rigs were phenomenally reliable. But you still did the training; every skydiver had to. If you weren’t prepared for the worst, then what chance would you have if the worst actually happened? None.

  Ethan remembered what Johnny had told him about his own experience of it, that it had been the scariest thing he’d ever done, because it’s a conscious decision to get rid of the one thing you’ve become so dependent on: your main canopy. All you have left is the reserve. And if he left it much longer, the only thing that would be opening it would be his AAD. And depending on something that opens your reserve at under 1,000 feet isn’t leaving much room for error. He’d still have to cut away his main anyway; didn’t want it to get tangled up with the reserve.

  Ethan had asked the obvious question: ‘What happens if the reserve fails too?’

  Johnny had told him the odds were so nuts that it just didn’t happen. Reserves always deployed. But then he’d added, ‘Obviously, there’s always a first time.’

  Thanks, Johnny …

  Ethan took one last look over his head. The main canopy was screwed. It was a hell of a decision. One there was no return from. One he’d hoped he’d never have to make. But what choice did he have?

  None.

  He cut away …

  He was in freefall again. Despite being a mess, his canopy had slowed his descent considerably. With it gone Ethan was accelerating again. It felt like the Earth was pulling him towards it, willing him to slam into it like a meteorite.

  Once stable again, he reached round to deploy his reserve, then stopped. He hadn’t checked the air above him was clean – what if his main canopy was still directly above, chasing him down to the ground? Deploy now and he’d find himself smacking straight back into it. And if that happened …

  Ethan checked above, left, right …

  The main was off to the left and dangerously close. Ethan knew he had to get out of its way. He was also becoming increasingly aware of just how close the ground now was. Even more so when his altimeter pinged again at 2,000 feet.

  Ethan swept his arms back and jetted himself out of the way of his main, tracking across the sky like a falcon after its prey. Now he was safe. This was it.

  Crack!

  The reserve blasted out. It grabbed air and inflated instantly, yanking Ethan from terminal velocity to a slow, controlled descent.

  Ethan was utterly speechless. He’d just done his first cut away; it wasn’t the kind of moment that came with a pre-recorded list of awesome quotes to impress the chicks. Though he had a feeling Johnny would’ve come up with something.

  Gripping the steering lines, he checked that his heading was OK, adjusting his course to make sure he wasn’t about to come in across another skydiver’s line and screw up their landing. He was aiming for the fields to the right of the DZ. He’d landed there before when he was training, but this was a little bit different; he’d just saved his own life!

  Adrenaline burned through his veins, but Ethan didn’t know which emotion was stronger: the sense of relief that he wasn’t about to die, or the excitement that he’d nailed a cut away.

  The ground came up quicker under his reserve than his main and Ethan felt his heart thumping hard. He pulled on the lines to flare the reserve and slow it down, but it didn’t have much effect.

  He felt like his whole body was shaking with every beat. He lifted his legs up. For a second or two, the soles of his shoes cut through the long grass with a swishing sound, then they found earth.

  Ethan skidded, sunk his backside onto the ground and, as he came to a halt, let out a yell that sent a flock of birds to scatter from the field about him like streamers from a party popper.

  Lying back on the ground, he stared up at the sky. A dusting of clouds danced high above like they were trying to impress someone. A shout came from over by the DZ.

  ‘Eth!’

  Ethan s
at up, flipped round onto his knees, started to pull his rig in, lines first, then the reserve. Jogging across the field towards him was another skydiver. He was wearing wraparound shades and his shoulder-length blond hair bounced in the air like it was trying to get the world’s attention.

  This was Johnny, the biggest ego ever to walk the planet, a fantastically talented skydiver – and a great mate.

  ‘Just wanted to check that I didn’t need to find another housemate. You OK?’

  Despite the joke, Ethan could tell Johnny was concerned. On the outside he didn’t seem to have a care in the world, but on the inside he cared deeply, particularly about his friends. And for Ethan, the fact that he was moving into Johnny’s flat that very evening helped tear his thoughts away from what he’d just done and focus on normal life. He’d finished packing that morning before heading out. Now all he had to do was get home, load up and move in.

  ‘It was scary as hell,’ he said, ‘but I’m alive.’

  Standing up, he threw his reserve canopy and steering lines over his shoulder. Then he made to head off back to FreeFall, the skydiving centre.

  ‘You left it pretty late,’ said Johnny, stepping in beside Ethan. ‘What happened? Trying out some freestyle?’

  ‘Panicked and got wrapped up in trying to sort out the lines on my main.’

  ‘Easy to do. Terrifying, isn’t it?’

  Ethan nodded. ‘Not something I’m keen to repeat.’

  He then felt Johnny rest his arm across his shoulders and looked up to see a smirk; a sure sign he was about to walk down Johnny-is-God alley.

  ‘Of course, when I did it? Textbook, Eth.’

  ‘A perfect cut away?’ said Ethan, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm. ‘Amazing.’

  ‘Totally,’ said Johnny.

  ‘How is it that none of this brilliance goes to your head?’

  ‘Thankfully, one of my greatest attributes is my modesty.’

  Laughing and chatting about the cut away, Ethan and Johnny walked on, taking a wide berth of the DZ to keep out of the way of other skydivers, and headed round to FreeFall itself. It may have looked like nothing more than a collection of knackered hangars and buildings that should’ve been condemned years ago, but to Ethan it had become a second home since he’d started working there over the previous summer. And now, despite being back at college for his final year, it was all that really mattered. The thrill of skydiving, the friends he’d made, the new direction his life now had. He’d pass his college exams, of that he was sure, but they’d lost their significance. He belonged in the air, and no badly dressed careers advisor or lecturer was going to make him see his life any differently.

  Ahead, the rest of the team were waiting for him, sitting outside the café on a bench. It was Luke who approached him first and, as ever, he was immaculately turned out. Ethan half wondered if Luke had a nice clean jumpsuit for every day of the week; his own was already looking a little worn in places, but Luke’s was never anything but pristine.

  Luke held out his hand and smiled; a strange mix of politeness and warmth.

  ‘That was a bit close, Ethan,’ he said as Ethan shook his hand. ‘Most people don’t get to do a cut away for years, never mind in their first few months. Well done on giving up on your canopy and going for your reserve.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ethan.

  Luke then stood back, arms folded, like he was appraising Ethan.

  ‘Do we know who the rigger was? We should trace it back and find out. A cut away could be a random event, or – and more frighteningly – because someone didn’t do their job properly.’

  ‘Do you ever stop?’ asked Johnny. ‘Do you sleep at night, or do you go around checking the wiring in all your plugs, or making sure any envelopes you might use won’t give anyone a paper cut?’

  Luke’s face didn’t crack. ‘Devil’s in—’

  ‘The detail,’ finished Johnny.

  ‘You should be very proud,’ said Natalya, pushing back her red hair and handing Ethan something to drink. He still hadn’t been able to work out where she was from, her eastern European accent not pinning her down to anywhere specific. ‘It is a difficult thing to do, to keep a level head in such a situation. You have done well.’

  Ethan never quite knew how to take Natalya’s compliments. They were never given with much in the way of emotion, more a statement of fact. Everything about her seemed slightly guarded, like she was hiding something. Even the way she walked looked calculated rather than relaxed, almost as though she was always ready to bolt. And Ethan didn’t fancy his or anyone else’s chances at keeping up with her; she was built like a gazelle.

  He sipped his drink, then looked over to Kat. He may not have been all that sure yet of Natalya, but Kat was easier to read than a tabloid, and he liked that, well, more than liked it actually, not that he’d let on quite yet. Didn’t want to mix work and pleasure.

  Kat smiled. As always, it lit up her face like a firework.

  ‘You still feeling the adrenaline?’

  ‘Totally,’ said Ethan, sitting down next to her. His leg momentarily touched hers and for a split second he wasn’t exactly sure which was more exciting: jumping out of a plane, or the idea of him and Kat. ‘My fingers are still tingling.’

  A very distinctive sound trampled any further conversation dead.

  ‘Sam’s here,’ said Luke, stating the obvious as the roar of an engine thundered through the air. ‘Let’s see what he thinks.’

  Ethan glanced over to see Sam’s huge black Defender skid to a halt. Then the man himself jumped out and made straight for him, his face as dark as an approaching storm.

  2

  Ethan stood up and tried to make himself look as tall as possible. It didn’t work. Sam didn’t just have the height advantage, he was huge all over; it was like standing in front of a bear. The shadow he cast under the afternoon sun blacked out Ethan’s world and he shivered.

  ‘What happened?’

  Sam’s gruff voice always got to the point. He wasn’t one for niceties.

  ‘I had to cut away,’ said Ethan, stating the obvious. Under Sam’s stare, he felt like everything he was about to say was going to sound stupid and wrong.

  ‘Why?’

  Ethan felt his throat closing up. How did Sam have this power?

  ‘The exit looked fine,’ said Sam. ‘Formations were spot-on. When you broke away, that was textbook.’

  At last, Ethan found his voice. ‘I think it was a line over,’ he said, doing his best to use the right terminology, not just to impress Sam and the rest of the team, but also to make himself feel better; he wanted to show he knew what he was talking about and that he’d done well in the circumstances. But on hearing his own voice he wasn’t convincing even himself. ‘One of the lines passed in front of the canopy, I mean the nose. The air couldn’t get in to inflate it properly.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ethan, working hard to sound confident. Thinking back over what had happened, he knew it was the only explanation. He just wasn’t sure he’d explained it clearly enough.

  ‘You handled it well, Ethan,’ said Sam, ‘once you’d made the cutaway. But you took too long to do it. You know that, right?’

  Ethan knew it better than he knew anything. Just the thought that he’d left it really tight made him go cold; he’d been only seconds away from a bounce that would’ve killed him. It was a chilling thought.

  ‘I got too focused on my rig,’ he said, trying not to let that feeling of fear show in his voice. ‘I know I shouldn’t have done, but it’s not the same when you’re up there and it actually happens.’

  Ethan wanted to kick himself. That last comment had sounded like an excuse. It wasn’t. He was just trying to say … oh crap, what the hell was he trying to say?

  Sam’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

  ‘You lost altitude awareness.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ethan. ‘It was the ping from my altimeter as I burned through three thousand t
hat brought me round. Then the training kicked in.’

  ‘It’s supposed to,’ growled Sam. ‘Just not so bloody late in the day, got it?’

  Everything Sam said felt like a punch in the gut. But Ethan knew he had to man it up, as Johnny would say. Sam was hard on them because he knew better than any of them the risks involved.

  ‘The rest of you take note,’ said Sam, and Ethan watched him swing round to look at the team, saw them all flinch just a little. ‘Ethan was lucky up there today. No matter how rare cut aways actually are, he’s just demonstrated that one’ll bite you on your arse without any warning. Understand?’

  Ethan, like the rest, said, ‘Yes, Sam.’ They felt and sounded like schoolchildren in trouble with their teacher.

  ‘Never lose altitude awareness. Always follow your training. It’s that simple and that important.’

  No one responded.

  Sam looked at them all in turn, then said, ‘Right, into the hangar, all of you. Let’s run through Johnny’s film of the jump and find out what else went wrong. And then once we’ve done that, I want to tell you about a little break from the norm I’ve arranged.’

  Johnny sighed. ‘Great. A two-week holiday in a hole in the ground, shitting into plastic bags, right? I remember the last time you took us on holiday.’

  Ethan wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the faint flicker of a smile dare to chance its way across Sam’s face. He said, ‘But I thought we were training for when the competition season starts up again in the spring?’

  Ethan was loving the fact that despite being so new to the sport, he would be doing his first proper competitions with the team in a few months. He wouldn’t be doing solo stuff or freestyle, but formation. And he was completely focused on not simply getting everything right, but perfect.

  ‘We are,’ said Kat. ‘But sometimes it’s good to take a break. And despite what Luke thinks, it stops you making errors by focusing too much on the detail.’

  ‘But what about the competitions?’ asked Ethan, unable to avoid the fact that he felt he was going to be hard-pushed to match the skills of the rest of the team come their first competitive jump. ‘Won’t a break in practising set us back?’