March 28th 2016, 0430, 10 ½ Kilometers above North Korea
Helena's heart pounded in her chest, threatening to crack her breastbone. She had hoped that someone would have been on this flight to keep her company, but she had no such luck. The only other person she had seen had been a comely male soldier that came back over eight hours ago to make sure that she wasn't dead. The cargo hold of the plane was mostly dark, aside from the red running lights that gave the eerily empty, massive space a sinister look. Her ride was unlike any aircraft she had seen before; it bore the same name as other C-130 planes, but the design was reminiscent of something out of a science fiction movie. Instead of four prop engines tucked under the wings, there were two turbine engines, hugging close to the body underneath the "armpit" of the craft. The body of it was slim and rounded, giving it an incredibly low drag; this thing was fast, and quiet. It was exactly what was needed.
She ran a hand through her brown hair. It had been cut recently, as the mass of brown hair that she had originally rocked wouldn't have fit inside the helmet. Instead, she sported a shorter, slightly below her ears, haircut. She was upset because it made her look like one of the Beatles, what with it's ridiculous straight fringe, but she had found ways to make it look at least somewhat sexy. She tugged nervously at the overly tight body suit she wore. The higher-ups called it a "Infiltration and Reconnaissance Suit" or 'IRS' for short. She referred to it as a "tactical cat-suit". It hugged her in all the right places, and even some that she would have preferred not to be hugged in, but she was assured that it would protect her. Kevlar had been woven into the fabric and, although it was thin, it made her thighs, chest, and upper arms appear larger than normal. The part that made her uncomfortable was that it actively hugged her diaphragm, forcing her to take shallower breaths; she was told that it increased her performance but the jury was still out on that decision. But it did effortlessly manage to give her that flat stomach that so many strived to achieve.
'North Korea. Never thought I'd be coming back here.' She thought. It had been just over a year since she had been here, the thoughts replaying in her head like a movie. Thoughts that she would rather not be thinking about minutes before being dropped out of an airplane and into a place that would be more than happy with skinning alive and parading through the streets. She shuddered at the other unwelcome thought.
"I press this button and the whole world descends into absolute chaos."
"Leon, shoot her. Shoot her, goddammit!"
There was a loud buzzing noise that shook Helena from her remembrance as more red lights came on, causing a chill to crawl up her spine. A single green light flashed on near the rear of the plane; the same male soldier appeared from out of the cockpit. Helena glanced over at him, her face pale. Her body was full of nerves; she felt like there was a cage of butterflies in her stomach. She focused on her breathing, finding it difficult to take deep breaths as the suit squeezed all the air out of her. An empty metal ammo box clattered down in front of her, causing her to jump. She looked up at the soldier in front of her, her mouth hung open and eyes wide.
"Here," the soldier said, "some of the guys need to puke before they jump. They say it helps with the nerves." He stepped back, trying to hide the wide grin on his face.
Helena grabbed the box and stared into it. "Get in there and puke, we got a game to win." She said, chuckling to herself.
The soldier cocked an eyebrow. "Pardon, ma'am?"
Helena continued her breathing. She swallowed. "Bill Russell. Retired basketball player from the 50's and 60's. Guy used to puke – allegedly of course – before every game the Celtics played." She heard the solider chuckle.
"Never pegged you for a basketball fan, ma'am. Was he any good?" He asked, crossing his arms. He glanced over at the door and checked his watch. "One minute to drop."
Helena retched. It wasn't difficult considering that the only food she consumed this trip was horrible MRE's, beef and chicken jerky, and an unhealthy amount of Ripped Fuel. She retched again at the sight of her own vomit; it was funny how that worked. A canteen appeared in front of her, one she very willingly accepted. She took a large swig of it, sloshing the liquid around in her mouth, before spitting it out on the metal deck in front of her. She wiped her mouth. "Most championships won by a North American athlete; man doesn't have enough fingers for the amount of rings he's won. So, I'd say he's pretty good."
"30 seconds to drop." The soldier said.
Helena nodded. She dry-heaved, her stomach having been emptied of its contents. She took another drink and swallowed, wiping her chin with the back of her hand; her nerves had settled down only minorly. She reached down between her legs and pulled the helmet out from underneath the bench. It was like a flight helmet, except the entire front of the helmet was covered in a face shield. Two round, stubby antennas protruded from the top of it, making her look like a cheesy alien from an old movie. She had been given a crash course on the operation of her suit before leaving, and she had browsed through the instruction manual on her flight, albeit briefly, but now it was time to put it into action. She slipped it onto her head, feeling it hug her more snugly than she remembered. She pulled the helmet down and twisted. It hissed, small jets of compressed air shooting out from around her neck as it sealed itself. To her, the glass in front of her lit up in a light blue color, displaying her heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen levels in the corners. To everyone else, all they saw was blackness. She lifted her parachute off the floor and strapped it to her back, making sure everything was in order. She strapped her rifle to her chest, a carbine version of the standard DSO rifle.
A loud mechanical, hydraulic noise filled the hold; the cargo ramp was lowering. She had a flashback to China. Helena nervously tightened the backpack that held the thin piece of canvas that protected her from certain death.
"Leon…" She whispered. For a moment, she lost focus. Images of the two of them together sped through her mind. Dinner at a nice restaurant, quiet nights in, nights of passion in the bedroom; and any other place that their hearts desired. She shook her head, her face twitching in both anger and sadness.
"20 Seconds to drop." The soldier yelled over the cacophony of the wind.
She nodded over at him, giving him the "O.K" sign with her hand. She probably looked intimidating to him, alien in appearance; her face completely hidden beneath the Darth Vader-like mask. Her visor flashed, an audio wavelength appeared in the top right corner.
"Good morning, Agent Harper." A digitized female voice said. It was almost sing-song in nature; overly cheery for the gravity of what Helena was about to do.
"Maybe for you." Helena joked.
"Very funny, Agent Harper. I would laugh, but that is not in my programming." The voice replied. "I have compiled all relevant map data for the impending mission. Would you like to view it?"
"Put it up. Transparently." Helena said.
Her visor flashed, a large topographical map appeared in front of her, then slowly faded to allow her to see unobstructed. There was a wipe, the map being more detailed with trees, roads, even small buildings.
"This is the information that our satellites have managed to gather. It is not much, but it should allow you to better complete your mission." A red circle appeared on the map. It was in a small clearing, probably not much bigger than a couple hundred meters. "This is where you will touch down. It is far enough away from any rural areas that you should avoid detection."
"Should?" Helena questioned, suddenly feeling the nerves again.
"Ten seconds to drop." The soldier called again.
Helena moved into position, rolling her shoulders. She flexed her hands, trying to get even a small amount of blood back in them; they were frozen solid, even in her suit.
"The probability of detection is approximately less than 0.001 percent. I am not programmed to lie to you." The voice said.
A green circle appeared some distance away in an industrialized area, then a red line was traced through the forest from the red circle to the green one. "This is statistically where you will find the information that is relevant for completing this mission."
"Why there?" Helena asked.
"The power consumption for that building is 200 percent higher than what it should be."
"What's that building supposed to be?"
"A textile factory."
"Maybe they're using a new kind of machine, one that pumps out shirts in record time; maybe it uses a lot of power." Helena said, smiling to herself.
"Highly unlikely, Agent Harper."
Helena frowned. "It was a joke." She muttered.
"Forgive me; I am not programmed for comedy. Let me attempt to humor you." The computerized voice uttered the most canned, fake laughter Helena had heard in her entire life. She sighed.
"What's the weather like this morning?" She asked, changing the subject.
"53.6 degrees with a humidity of 45 percent. Chance of precipitation is 10 percent."
"Five seconds to drop."
Helena watched as the soldier held his hand up, counting down on his fingers. Four…three…two… She inhaled deep, the suit straining against her mid-section. One.
She took off, taking three long strides down the ramp, leaping out into the cold air with abandon; and she was falling. The pressure of the wind on her body was painful, the wind rushing by her stung her skin and made her ears throb even from inside her protective suit. A blue altimeter appeared on her visor, the numbers counting down rapidly. "Activate night-vision." Helena said.
"Activating night-vision will produce too large a spike in power consumption. You will be visible on enemy sensors. Are you sure you wish to activate optics?" It said in the most condescending tone Helena believed it could muster.
Helena growled under her breath. "Never mind, then…" She trailed off.
"Agent Harper, I'm detecting an elevated heart rate and increased respiration, is everything alright?" The voice said.
Helena scoffed, spreading her arms and legs apart, like a star, just like she had been taught. "I'm falling out of the sky. In pure darkness. Did you think I was going to be Zen?" She snapped back, now realizing how quickly she was breathing. There were few lights in North Korea, most of the power being concentrated around Pyongyang and Kaesong, which were easy to spot from this high up; everything else was black. It was terrifying, really, plummeting into the blackness; the only thing between her and becoming a pancake was a glorified blanket, a thought that she held little solace in. "Remind me, what was the optimal distance for opening again?" She asked.
There was a pause. "The optimal distance for a High Altitude, Low Opening jump is approximately 2000 feet. The lowest safe altitude for opening is 1500 feet. The percentage of survivability rapidly decreases every micro-second once you go below 1500 feet."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence." Helena muttered.
"I will repeat; I am not programmed to lie to you."
The altimeter flashed, stopping at 25,000 feet and holding. The display flickered; the altimeter resumed its count, reading 24,000 feet. Helena assumed it was simply a side effect of being new technology and thought nothing of it. Then it happened again. The blue HUD on her visor flashed, then flashed again. Her suit tightened around her midsection, causing her to groan and grit her teeth in pain. "What's going on? I can't breathe." She wheezed, trying to suck in what shallow breaths she could. Her heart rate accelerated higher and higher, the monitor reaching 175 beats per minute.
"I am detecting large amounts of nearby electrical interference. It appears that it is causing difficulties with your suit. Would you like me to attempt to rectify the problem?"
"Please hurry." She begged; Helena didn't like the idea of having her body crushed by the very suit that she was told would protect her. Killed by her own suit. 'Oh, the irony.' She thought. The pressure subsided and Helena breathed a sigh of relief that was shorter lived than she would have liked. She looked around. Maybe it was a drone, or another aircraft flying 'low'. "Are you sure? I don't see anything."
"Yes, I am sure. The interference is 5,000 feet below you. It is closing at approximately 150 feet per second."
"Closing? You mean it's moving?" She yelled, her voice hurting her own ears inside the helmet. "Send out a SONAR ping; I need to see it."
"Agent Harper, a SONAR ping will alert any hostiles to your position."
Helena growled. "I'm in the air, not underwater. Just do it."
"As you wish Agent Harper. Initiating SONAR ping."
Helena's visor flashed again; she didn't know if the interference was to blame, or the ping. A circle materialized in front of her face, rotating to display a three-dimensional grid. A small dot sat in the centre; that was her. A thinner circle moved out from her, causing the grid to light up like a Christmas tree. A large, solid blue oval emerged beneath her, inching closer and closer by the second. "What the hell is that?" She said. "Ping again."
"Agent Harper, I believe that is unwise. Statistically-"
"Just do it." She yelled.
Another ping went out. Again, the blue oval appeared, this time much closer. She strained her eyes to try and spot what the blip could be. "It's the size of a damn bus. Why can't I see it?" She thought. She bit her lip, mulling over her actions. "Switch to night-vision." She said reluctantly. She was too high up to not be noticed by sensors, but this was concerning.
"Agent Harper-"
"Just do it!" She repeated angrily.
Her visor faded to black, her heart beat faster, an act that she thought impossible. Her visor lit up green, adding a much-needed light to her environment. She swiveled her head around, searching for the source of interference. She caught a fleeting glimpse of something, something that shouldn't belong. A teal colored flash of energy that appeared for less than a second, then saw it again. It looked to be moving, but she couldn't see where it was coming from. It flashed again; it wasn't attached to anything, it was just…moving. 'Lightning, maybe?' She thought. Her visor flickered, this time more intense than the last.
"I think I see the source of the interference. It looks like- Oh, shit!"
A/N: And I think that's where we're going to stop for today! This note might be a little bit longer than normal, because Christmas thanks and all.
I don't know if I'll get another chapter out before Christmas, I'm not really counting on it. There should be another chapter up the first week of January or maybe the final week of December. To be honest, I would love to put chapters out every week if I could, like I did when I started. But I've become so busy it's getting harder and harder to do that. I've been getting some really positive reviews on this story and am so grateful for it. I had no idea that this was going to take off like it did. So, thank you to all the readers for giving this a chance! Next chapter is coming up on 01/07/17 (or earlier if I can manage it…I'll do my best)
Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays.
J.