Read Online Chopper Ops by Mack Maloney - Free Book Online
Authors: Mack Maloney
Tags: Fiction, Action & Adventure
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obvious none of them had been out to sea in decades. They had no engines, no sails. They were simply props.
He and Delaney climbed aboard one called Free Time . It was an elderly charter boat, a forty-four-footer with a huge open deck and sixteen fishing chairs set up on its stern. Norton and Delaney settled into the two seats closest to the shade, and Delaney dipped into his cooler. A six-pack of tall Budweiser’s was buried under a small mountain of ice inside.
"Where did you manage to get that?" Norton asked him.
"The mess hall guys have a private stash in the meat freezer," Delaney said, passing Norton a brew. "I told one of them I'd take him for a ride in the Tin Can some night. He's nuts about flying in that thing. Says he'll get us as much booze as we want, just as long as we give him a spin around the block every once and a while."
Norton just shook his head. He had not seen a beer or any alcohol since being on the island, nor did it ever dawn on him to look for any. Delaney, on the other hand, had been here less time than he had, and yet he'd managed to secure a six-pack and a future supply.
That was Slick. . . .
"Skoll!" Delaney said, tapping cans with Norton. Both took a long deep slurp of the cold beer. It felt like gold running down Norton's throat. For the first time since coming to this place, he actually felt his muscles start to relax.
"So," Delaney said with a burp. "Have you figured it out yet?"
"Figured out what?" Norton asked in reply.
"What the hell are we doing here?"
Norton swigged his beer again, then wiped the cool can across his hot forehead.
"You're asking the wrong person," he replied. "They keep telling me we'll all be briefed soon. But all I've been doing is playing in the Can. ..."
Norton let his words drift away. This was true. Though he'd been on the island for nearly two weeks, he still had no idea exactly why the CIA had brought him and the others here. Again, the security surrounding the project was that tight.
"Well, I guess we'll know soon enough." Delaney sighed. "Then we'll probably be complaining that we know too much."
They sat and drank for a few moments in silence. A light breeze blew in on them, reducing the temperature a few degrees to about a hundred or so.
Delaney broke the silence again.
"So, what kind of a chopper have you been flying in the Tin Can?"
Norton bit his lip for a moment. Was he really supposed to be talking about this?
He sipped his beer. What the hell. .. why not?
"Well, because the simulator is rigged for an attack chopper, I just assumed it was an Apache," he answered finally.
Delaney nodded. The AH-1 Apache was the U.S. military's premier attack copter, and hands down the best aircraft of its kind in the world. It was a frightening aerial weapon, small, quick, heavily armed, survivable.
"But those simulators ain't no Apaches," Delaney said. "They handle too big. Fly too big. And the control panel is ass-backwards. It's like I'm reading right to left, instead of the other way around."
Once again, Norton had to agree. The setup as presented in the Tin Can was cockeyed. In any aircraft he'd ever flown, the layout of the instruments had a rationale behind it. Fuel gauges were all grouped in one spot, environmental controls in another, electrical supply in another, and so on. The controls were allocated in such a way that the pilot could review them quickly and the eye was naturally drawn to their location after just a few hours of experience. But the controls in the simulator seemed to be for a helicopter whose cockpit panel had been thrown together slapdash, with logical placement no more than an afterthought. Fuel gauge here, auxiliary fuel gauge way over there. Ammo supply here, firing sequence button way up here. Many things about the control layout seemed foreign and didn't make sense to him. Plus many of the controls weren't even marked.
"And how about the weapons regimen?" Norton asked Delaney. "My ship is set up as a two-man
He and Delaney climbed aboard one called Free Time . It was an elderly charter boat, a forty-four-footer with a huge open deck and sixteen fishing chairs set up on its stern. Norton and Delaney settled into the two seats closest to the shade, and Delaney dipped into his cooler. A six-pack of tall Budweiser’s was buried under a small mountain of ice inside.
"Where did you manage to get that?" Norton asked him.
"The mess hall guys have a private stash in the meat freezer," Delaney said, passing Norton a brew. "I told one of them I'd take him for a ride in the Tin Can some night. He's nuts about flying in that thing. Says he'll get us as much booze as we want, just as long as we give him a spin around the block every once and a while."
Norton just shook his head. He had not seen a beer or any alcohol since being on the island, nor did it ever dawn on him to look for any. Delaney, on the other hand, had been here less time than he had, and yet he'd managed to secure a six-pack and a future supply.
That was Slick. . . .
"Skoll!" Delaney said, tapping cans with Norton. Both took a long deep slurp of the cold beer. It felt like gold running down Norton's throat. For the first time since coming to this place, he actually felt his muscles start to relax.
"So," Delaney said with a burp. "Have you figured it out yet?"
"Figured out what?" Norton asked in reply.
"What the hell are we doing here?"
Norton swigged his beer again, then wiped the cool can across his hot forehead.
"You're asking the wrong person," he replied. "They keep telling me we'll all be briefed soon. But all I've been doing is playing in the Can. ..."
Norton let his words drift away. This was true. Though he'd been on the island for nearly two weeks, he still had no idea exactly why the CIA had brought him and the others here. Again, the security surrounding the project was that tight.
"Well, I guess we'll know soon enough." Delaney sighed. "Then we'll probably be complaining that we know too much."
They sat and drank for a few moments in silence. A light breeze blew in on them, reducing the temperature a few degrees to about a hundred or so.
Delaney broke the silence again.
"So, what kind of a chopper have you been flying in the Tin Can?"
Norton bit his lip for a moment. Was he really supposed to be talking about this?
He sipped his beer. What the hell. .. why not?
"Well, because the simulator is rigged for an attack chopper, I just assumed it was an Apache," he answered finally.
Delaney nodded. The AH-1 Apache was the U.S. military's premier attack copter, and hands down the best aircraft of its kind in the world. It was a frightening aerial weapon, small, quick, heavily armed, survivable.
"But those simulators ain't no Apaches," Delaney said. "They handle too big. Fly too big. And the control panel is ass-backwards. It's like I'm reading right to left, instead of the other way around."
Once again, Norton had to agree. The setup as presented in the Tin Can was cockeyed. In any aircraft he'd ever flown, the layout of the instruments had a rationale behind it. Fuel gauges were all grouped in one spot, environmental controls in another, electrical supply in another, and so on. The controls were allocated in such a way that the pilot could review them quickly and the eye was naturally drawn to their location after just a few hours of experience. But the controls in the simulator seemed to be for a helicopter whose cockpit panel had been thrown together slapdash, with logical placement no more than an afterthought. Fuel gauge here, auxiliary fuel gauge way over there. Ammo supply here, firing sequence button way up here. Many things about the control layout seemed foreign and didn't make sense to him. Plus many of the controls weren't even marked.
"And how about the weapons regimen?" Norton asked Delaney. "My ship is set up as a two-man
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