Read Online Emile and the Dutchman by Joel Rosenberg - Free Book Online

out, puke it out."
    "Sir, any particular reason, sir?"
    "Yeah. It's on for the weekend—you and Curdova, and guess who your upperclassman instructor is."
    I shuddered. "No. Please. Not Cadet Lieutenant Brubaker, sir?" '
    "Right on the money, plebe. And the first word out your mouth is sir, scumbag. Give me thirty, then grab your bags and doubletime your ass down the stairs. Now, plebe."

    The Dutchman raised an eyebrow. "Survival drop, singular!"
    "It's the Navy, Major—and it was just more bullshit."
    "Oh. You think that survival training isn't relevant to Navy officers?"
    " Sure it is, Major. Really important. Just like it is to be able to spurt out a memorized definition of leather. Makes as much sense as an officer being really good at whitewashing walls. Makes every bit as much goddam sense as making a man with an Expert Pilot's license—with prop, rotary, jet, and transsonic validations, sir, even then—go through familiarization training on a Piper."
    "Well . . ."
    "Survival training doesn't make sense, Major. Not for a Navy officer; they're not Contact Service. What are the chances of a Navy man—flier or not—ever having to live off the land?"
    He snickered at that. "You got a point, Emmy. They actually made you take beginning flying?"
    "Yeah."
    He looked down at his compboard. "I see you got extra credit for teaching flying at Alton."
    "After they had a senior IP check me out—thoroughly—I was detailed as a student instructor in airframe, rotary-wing, and advance RW—everything offered except combat tactics, transsonic, and skipshuttle. The Service occasionally isn't totally fucked up."
    The Dutchman snickered again. "Ah. The soul of reason and grace, that we are. This survival drop where everything hit the fan?"
    "Yeah."
    "Go on."

V

    Now, as I understand it, parachuting in has been obsolete for a couple of centuries, even for the military Not that they call it parachuting in. "Vertical envelopment" is the technical term for jumping in.
    That's what they call it. I call it stupid. Anywhere you can parachute in, a copter can get you in just as fast or faster, and bring you down with more equipment.
    Maybe I shouldn't complain. After all, vertical envelopment has been obsolete for only a couple of centuries; the reason that we're taught close-order drill is that the Greeks and Romans found a phalanx a handy thing to have around, and—never mind that there hasn't been any use for it since pikemen were put up against horse-borne cavalry—it might come in handy again.
    All of which may be just a rationalization for the fact that from the moment I set foot on the Zeus I was slightly nauseous. My stomach really started heaving when Manny Curdova finished checking the straps that held my chute to my back and my pack to my front.
    Brubaker was grinning, of course, which didn't make things any better. I would have loved to get the bastard in the right-hand seat of a trainer—if you know what you're doing, you can make anyone vomit.
    Finally, we were over the drop zone. The red light over the door went yellow, and we checked our altimeters and oxygen masks. And then the jumpmaster clipped the releases to the line, and we waited for the green light.
    All too soon, it flashed.
    Manny went first. His face a bit pale inside his faceplate, he braced himself for a moment in the open door and then kicked out, his static line paying out for a long moment before going slack, whipping in the wind.
    Me next. At the door, I looked down at about twelve klicks of air, and decided to quit. There's a difference between looking at that much air through a windscreen and a faceplate, honest.
    "Whatsa matter, rich boy?" Brubaker's voice whispered in my ear, "Chickening out?"
    To hell with it. "Sir, yes , sir. As a matter of fact—"
    "Shut up. Be ready for a full inspection by the time I'm down."
    Something connected with my butt, booting me out into nowhere.
    I turned and reached, but all I caught was air.
    It was a long way to the