wasn’t so sure. A long combat drop in the suits was dangerous. He’d seen many Eagle flyers tumble out of control. It was tricky falling straight down. That was the best way to do it: letting yourself drop and catching yourself with jetpack-power at the very last second. Of course, he much preferred that than flying horizontally at a machine gun nest.
In the end, the second lieutenant agreed to Tian’s adjustment.
“We’d better hurry, though,” the second lieutenant said. “The general wants us to assault the high rise in five minutes.”
“Tell him it will take fifteen to get into position,” Tian said.
The second lieutenant scowled at the First Rank.
Tian straightened and bowed his head. “This is my suggestion, sir,” he added.
The second lieutenant appeared to think about it. Soon, he nodded and motioned to his aide. The two of them walked off as the second lieutenant spoke on the radio.
Zhu turned to Tian. “You can’t talk to an officer like that.”
“I’m surprised at you, Soldier Rank. You just saw me do it. How then can you say I cannot do such a thing?”
“You should not,” amended Zhu.
“Ah. Now you’re saying something else. But tell me. Are you so eager to see Yan Luo that you want to fly into an American machine gun nest?”
“No.”
“Is my idea not better?” Tian asked.
Zhu admitted it was.
“Then why are you complaining?”
Zhu opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say.
“You are brave, Soldier Rank. But you need to temper your courage with foresight. We,” Tian indicated the squad, “should try to live as long as we can so we can fight for China. If you die stupidly, how does that help our nation?”
“I don’t know,” Zhu said.
“Neither do I. Now get ready. It looks like our rides on their way.”
Zhu looked up and saw two Gunhawks zooming toward the roof. They were bulky helos with heavy machine guns pointing downward near the nosecone and on each side by the bay doors.
Soon, Zhu climbed aboard through a bay door. So did the rest of the squad. The helo lurched up and up they climbed.
“Let yourself drop the first half,” Tian radioed the others. “But don’t wait too long to brake. Better to hang in the air for a short time than to splatter on the roof. Is everyone ready?”
There were choruses of yeses.
Several minutes later, the Gunhawk hovered high above the targeted complex. “Let’s go!” Tian shouted. “Jump!”
The Eagle flyers ahead of Zhu leaped out of the bay door and dropped from view. Then it was his turn. He jumped, and he made sure to aim his feet down. He had done this many times before, but it was still exhilarating.
Centennial spread out before him. For this second, it looked serene. Zhu concentrated on the high-rise apartment directly below. The landing zone was small: the roof of the complex. It looked like a postage stamp at this moment. He plummeted as he watched. Others plummeted with him. The attack suddenly struck him as suicidal. Look at the number of Americans on the roof. More boiled out of the stairwell. They raised their personal weapons skyward and fired.
A different Gunhawk poured chain-gun fire at the Americans. Dust rose on the roof. Some enemy soldiers tumbled. A few ran away. The rest continued to fire.
Beside Zhu, commandos ignited their jetpacks. They pulled up sharply from him. They would float down now. That presented a much easier target for the Americans. Zhu continued to drop. He wanted to get down on the roof fast, lie on his belly and shoot Americans. That was the only way to clear a roof. It was madness to attempt it while in the air. The flying soldier had two things to think about. The man with his feet on the ground or on a surface only had to think about one thing. It gave him the advantage.
Zhu plummeted and two other Eagle flyers plummeted with him. One of them must have radioed him. Zhu heard the noise in his helmet, but he ignored the message. Nothing mattered now but perfect concentration. Terror blossomed in his stomach. He ignored that, too. The grenade launcher—the man to his right triggered his. The roof rushed near and the enemy soldiers had grown into frightful menaces.
Now!
Zhu flicked on his Qui 1000s and let them roar with power. Straps cut into his legs. It felt as if the jetpack would rip him in half. The straps and belts held, and he slowed fast. The roof rushed up.