Savage Son (James Reece #3) - Jack Carr Page 0,118
to meet Thorn and Jonathan in the Albatross at extract. Civilian Considerations: non-applicable. All civilians had been force-relocated fifteen years ago. Reece found himself wondering, why? Aleksandr didn’t have the island then. The Russian government had moved them.
Never mind that now, Reece. Focus.
At twenty minutes out, the silence was broken by Liz’s voice over the intercom system. Farkus switched to his portable bailout O2, moved to the rear of the cabin, and pushed open the polished door that led to the aft baggage compartment. The jumpers all wore clear goggles so the team medic could check for signs of decompression sickness: the bends, the chokes, neurological hits, and skin manifestations. Eli looked for pupil dilation or constriction, which could signify a nitrogen bubble expanding in the brain, and checked for signs that anyone was hyperventilating or scratching at their suits. The team looked ready.
At ten minutes out, the interior cabin lights were extinguished and everything went completely dark. Reece flipped down the L3Harris GPNVG-18 night-vision goggles attached to his helmet. The 97-degree panoramic view provided by the four images intensifiers helped eliminate the “tunnel vision” effect of the earlier NODs he’d used in the SEAL Teams. It wasn’t quite daylight with the goggles in place, but it gave them an advantage over those without them.
At the two-minute mark, oxygen lines were disconnected, leaving the men to breathe from their bailout bottles attached to their kit. Each jumper checked their buddy’s O2 system: pressure, regulator, indicator, connections, and emergency equipment. Reece considered the possibility that his oxygen system would freeze in the extreme air temperatures. If that happened, hypoxia would set in quickly and he would die a euphoric death, no doubt unaware of his fate. He shifted his thoughts to the jump sequence, suppressing the notion of when he’d last worn a parachute.
The pilots donned their emergency oxygen masks, took a few deep breaths to ensure a good seal, and checked the internal microphones. Then, with a concerned glance at one another, they depressurized the cabin to a cacophony of master caution warnings and audio alerts. Both pilots had added layers of clothing to protect them from the frigid air. The men in the rear stood in single file, the first two inside the baggage area and the rest lined up behind them in the aft lavatory and into the cabin. Farkus reached up and activated the infrared strobe mounted on his helmet and each man followed suit. Soon all eight strobes flashed inside the cabin, which was disorienting to say the least. The flashing lights, invisible to anyone not wearing night-vision equipment, would help the jumpers keep track of one another in the darkness until they could stack up and turn them off; bad guys sometimes had night-vision devices as well.
One minute out, the whine of the twin turbofans abated significantly, slowing the jet’s airspeed to one that wouldn’t rip the jumpers and their gear to pieces when they exited the aircraft. With the aircraft trimmed to just above stall speed, the cabin differential pressure was equalized to allow Farkus to turn the handle and open the aft baggage door, which slid up along internal tracks. He attempted to open it slowly, but the hurricane-force winds snatched the latch from his hands and slammed it open so hard that he thought it would be ripped from its hinges; the engineers in Savannah had done their jobs well and it stayed attached to the plane. The cargo door on the G550 lies just below the left engine nacelle at the rear of the aircraft, which meant that the risk of impacting the fuselage or any other part of the aircraft upon exit is minimal.
The quiet ride suddenly became deafeningly loud. The combination of the howling winds and the jet engine just above the hatch drowned out any chance of verbal communication. The cold air was equally shocking to the senses, even with all the layers of specialized clothing. Farkus studied the open hatch as well as his ATAK screen in sequence, the NODs exaggerating his head movements as he did so. He pantomimed a countdown from five seconds. Then, without hesitation, he exited through the open hatch into the darkness, each jumper following as closely behind him as the cramped space allowed.
The sound of the jet engine was overwhelming as Reece passed underneath but it faded away almost instantly as the aircraft sped into the night. He found a stable body position and deployed his primary parachute. The small pilot