Stone Soldiers: Catching Fire Read Online Free
Author: C. E. Martin
AA-12s, the predecessor to the SR-71 Blackbird, but they looked just different enough to seem alien. Not that he'd ever been up close to a Blackbird.
"How long a flight is this again?" Smith asked.
"Watch a movie or something," Kenslir said, sitting down in a coffin-like metal tube on a rolling cart. Ground crew helped him lean back and strap into the aerodynamic tube, laying his duffel across his legs and snapping straps onto it.
Smith moved to his own transport tube and laid down, thanking a ground crewman for help getting situated. Once he was comfortable- which wasn't easy in a stone body- he lowered the large, over-sized black goggles on his forehead down over his eyes.
The goggles sparked to life, text and readouts springing to life on the slightly-tinted lens.
"Good for comm?" Kenslir asked- his voice coming out of tiny speakers sewn into the headstrap for the goggles.
"Good," Smith said, watching as the ground crew swung the heavy hinged upper half of his transport tube down over him. It latched shut with an ominous thud, then he could hear the hiss of air as an inflatable ring sealed the gap around the tube.
>>>SWITCHING TO TEXT<<< Colonel Kenslir transmitted from his tube. His message scrolled across the upper field of Smith's view in glowing green text.
"See you in Iraq, sir," Smith said. He positioned his arms better in the tube, so he could rest his right hand on the small keypad strapped to the back of his left wrist. He doubted he could type without looking and since his skin was stone, cybernetic control of the tactical targeting visor was out.
>>>ROGER<<<
Smith's transport tube was quickly rolled over to the belly of the closest MF-12. He could almost feel as the cart lifted it up to the plane and bolts were secured, anchoring the tube to the underbelly of the sleek black aircraft. He knew the Colonel was similarly being attached to the same aircraft.
Several minutes later the TTV revealed the plane's movement- its displays showing a ground speed, compass heading and outside weather conditions. The MF-12 was rolled out of the hangar and onto the night time tarmac. Twin engines roared to life and the plane began moving under its own power.
From a parking apron all the way to the runway, the plane rolled along smoothly, only the faintest jarring giving away their movement. At the end of the runway, the plane paused long enough to bring the huge engines up to full power.
Smith could feel the vibrations through the aircraft even with his stone body. Then the plane surged forward, down the runway, rapidly bringing its nose up and leaping into the sky like a rocket. Smith could feel the G-forces pushing him down, his feet aimed toward the rear of the plane. It was like he was standing.
They eventually climbed to 80,000 feet and the plane swung eastward and leveled off.
>>>SOME RIDE, RIGHT?<<< Colonel Kenslir texted.
"I prefer boats," Smith said loudly, hoping his voice could be heard over the roar of the twin engines on either side of his and the Colonel's transport tubes.
***
Five hours later, after two air-to-air refuelings, the MF-12 was in position over the Middle East. The nose began to drop and the TTV scrolled out a message about an approaching drop zone.
Despite all his briefings on this tried-and-true rapid transport the Detachment had been using for years, Smith cringed when the twin passenger tubes were jettisoned at speed- plummeting earthward like guided bombs. At a thousand feet, large parachutes in the tails of the tubes deployed and slowed their descent. Just a minute later they dropped onto the pre-dawn sand of the Iraqi desert.
Explosive bolts sounded and Smith knew he could climb free. He pushed the heavy lid of his tube open and sat up.
The large parachutes attached to his tube billowed in a gentle wind. A hundred feet away, the Colonel was already out of his tube, folding up his parachutes and tucking them inside.
"Rise and shine, Smith- we have a schedule to
"How long a flight is this again?" Smith asked.
"Watch a movie or something," Kenslir said, sitting down in a coffin-like metal tube on a rolling cart. Ground crew helped him lean back and strap into the aerodynamic tube, laying his duffel across his legs and snapping straps onto it.
Smith moved to his own transport tube and laid down, thanking a ground crewman for help getting situated. Once he was comfortable- which wasn't easy in a stone body- he lowered the large, over-sized black goggles on his forehead down over his eyes.
The goggles sparked to life, text and readouts springing to life on the slightly-tinted lens.
"Good for comm?" Kenslir asked- his voice coming out of tiny speakers sewn into the headstrap for the goggles.
"Good," Smith said, watching as the ground crew swung the heavy hinged upper half of his transport tube down over him. It latched shut with an ominous thud, then he could hear the hiss of air as an inflatable ring sealed the gap around the tube.
>>>SWITCHING TO TEXT<<< Colonel Kenslir transmitted from his tube. His message scrolled across the upper field of Smith's view in glowing green text.
"See you in Iraq, sir," Smith said. He positioned his arms better in the tube, so he could rest his right hand on the small keypad strapped to the back of his left wrist. He doubted he could type without looking and since his skin was stone, cybernetic control of the tactical targeting visor was out.
>>>ROGER<<<
Smith's transport tube was quickly rolled over to the belly of the closest MF-12. He could almost feel as the cart lifted it up to the plane and bolts were secured, anchoring the tube to the underbelly of the sleek black aircraft. He knew the Colonel was similarly being attached to the same aircraft.
Several minutes later the TTV revealed the plane's movement- its displays showing a ground speed, compass heading and outside weather conditions. The MF-12 was rolled out of the hangar and onto the night time tarmac. Twin engines roared to life and the plane began moving under its own power.
From a parking apron all the way to the runway, the plane rolled along smoothly, only the faintest jarring giving away their movement. At the end of the runway, the plane paused long enough to bring the huge engines up to full power.
Smith could feel the vibrations through the aircraft even with his stone body. Then the plane surged forward, down the runway, rapidly bringing its nose up and leaping into the sky like a rocket. Smith could feel the G-forces pushing him down, his feet aimed toward the rear of the plane. It was like he was standing.
They eventually climbed to 80,000 feet and the plane swung eastward and leveled off.
>>>SOME RIDE, RIGHT?<<< Colonel Kenslir texted.
"I prefer boats," Smith said loudly, hoping his voice could be heard over the roar of the twin engines on either side of his and the Colonel's transport tubes.
***
Five hours later, after two air-to-air refuelings, the MF-12 was in position over the Middle East. The nose began to drop and the TTV scrolled out a message about an approaching drop zone.
Despite all his briefings on this tried-and-true rapid transport the Detachment had been using for years, Smith cringed when the twin passenger tubes were jettisoned at speed- plummeting earthward like guided bombs. At a thousand feet, large parachutes in the tails of the tubes deployed and slowed their descent. Just a minute later they dropped onto the pre-dawn sand of the Iraqi desert.
Explosive bolts sounded and Smith knew he could climb free. He pushed the heavy lid of his tube open and sat up.
The large parachutes attached to his tube billowed in a gentle wind. A hundred feet away, the Colonel was already out of his tube, folding up his parachutes and tucking them inside.
"Rise and shine, Smith- we have a schedule to
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