Jack squinted at the altimeter strapped to his wrist: 28,000 feet—over 8,500 meters, nearing the height of Mount Everest.
The SEALs around him began performing mutual equipment checks. Jack stood, pushed his pack into position on his back, and disconnected the oxygen line attached to the aircraft's system, connecting it to the portable tank he carried.
The noise was deafening, and all communication was conducted with hand signals. Instructions were displayed on pre-printed placards.
Jason waddled over to Jack like a duck, his heavily laden form emphasizing practicality over grace. He tugged Jack's straps tight. Everyone looked similarly encumbered, their burdens heavy enough to make balancing in the open cargo bay a feat of its own.
Since this wasn't a night jump, the cabin remained lit with standard lighting. But the two-minute warning alarm and the spinning red signal light near the open hatch created an atmosphere of palpable tension.
Jason stood at the front of the line, raising both hands high as his gaze swept over his team. "All set!" The other team members mimicked his signal, raising their hands in acknowledgment.
Jack didn't know if anyone could hear him over the roar of the engines. What followed was an exchange of shoulder slaps and loud shouts. Ray Perry, the second-in-command, shoved Jack into place behind Jason, as pre-arranged. Jason would jump first, and Jack would follow.
Jack glanced at his altimeter again: 32,000 feet—nearly 10,000 meters.
The team lined up, and Jack felt a hand slap his shoulder. He responded by slapping Jason's shoulder in turn, his eyes locked on the spinning red signal light.
In the next instant, the light switched to green without warning.
"YAHOO!" The cargo bay filled with ecstatic howls. Jason turned and flashed a rude gesture to his team, implying that the 10,000 meters to the ground was no more than the space between his thumb and index finger.
With that, he spread his arms and leapt out of the hatch.
This wasn't Jack's first jump from such an altitude, but his previous experiences had been HAHO (High Altitude, High Opening) jumps. Those involved immediate parachute deployment, with the jumper gliding for over 20 minutes, leisurely enjoying the view as frost melted off their goggles.
This time was a HALO (High Altitude, Low Opening) jump. The parachute wouldn't deploy until below 1,000 meters, meaning nearly the entire descent would be in freefall at speeds of 55–60 meters per second.
The moment Jack leapt from the plane, he stretched his arms as wide as possible, trying to stabilize his body. Unlike extreme sport skydivers, he was carrying gear weighing more than half his body weight. Agile mid-air maneuvers like those seen in competitions were out of the question.
Even so, Jack extended his limbs to maintain balance. Jason, who had jumped just seconds before, was already a speck in the distance. The oval-shaped Earth seemed to rush up to meet him.
One minute of freefall passed in a blur yet felt endless. Despite knowing he was plummeting at terminal velocity, Jack's growing sense of control over his posture gave him the strange illusion of floating in place. He couldn't resist checking his altimeter.
HALO jumps are designed to minimize time in the air, making it easier for squads to regroup. In contrast, HAHO jumps allow parachutists to travel long distances, gliding tens of kilometers from the jump point to the target, perfect for infiltration missions.
But HAHO jumps also risk scattering team members over kilometers, depending on wind conditions. HALO jumps, by comparison, ensure a team lands within a one-kilometer radius—critical for post-landing coordination.
When Jack's altimeter showed an altitude of 3,000 feet, he pulled the ripcord. A drogue chute deployed, catching the air and pulling the main parachute bag open. With a loud pop, the canopy unfurled, and Jack felt a powerful yank as his descent slowed dramatically to just 4 meters per second.
He exhaled in relief, glancing downward. Where Jason's tiny speck had been moments ago, a massive parachute now filled the sky. Estimating the distance between them, Jack judged it to be under 100 meters—a perfect setup for regrouping.
Adjusting his direction with the control toggles, Jack followed Jason's lead.
Compared to the rigorous, military-grade parachute training, Jack's foray into piloting was notably less formal.
SEAL Team Bravo was stationed at Oceana Naval Air Station, one of the Navy's most critical jet bases, and home to the final flights of the legendary F-14 Tomcat before its retirement. However, even Jason couldn't arrange for Jack to train on military aircraft.
Instead, they found a retired Navy pilot running a flight school near Virginia Beach. Jack was introduced to a private flight instructor and promptly loaded into the rear seat of a Cessna 152 for an hour-long flight.
After the session, the grizzled, fifty-something instructor handed Jack a slip of paper listing books like Your Pilot's License, 8th Edition and other essential reading.
Earning a Private Pilot Certificate, specifically a "Private Pilot - Airplane Single Engine Land," theoretically required just 40 hours of flight time plus passing a written, oral, and practical exam.
However, the reality was more complex. Prospective pilots needed a recommendation from their instructor, who had to maintain an 80–90% first-time pass rate to stay employed.
Fortunately, Jack was already accustomed to intensive study. Between daily training sessions, he poured over the expensive reading materials. In under a week, he mastered topics such as Bernoulli's principle, aircraft structures, system functions, E6B flight computers, meteorology, and the baffling array of aviation abbreviations.
He also tackled airspace classifications, entry requirements, airport markings, reading aeronautical charts, navigation systems, and techniques for determining position if lost mid-flight.
Soon, Jack was back in the air.
The United States boasts one of the world's best flight environments. After obtaining a basic license, low-altitude flight is largely unrestricted. Gaining an Instrument Flight Rules (IFR) certification allows for cloud entry.
Jack's rapid progress astounded his instructor. Within a month, he had progressed from zero experience to an entry-level fixed-wing pilot.
Jack even started considering buying a secondhand CJ-6 training aircraft with Chris's help. However, those plans were put on hold when Bravo Team received formal deployment orders.
------------------
Enjoying the story? Support the author and get early access to chapters by joining my Patre@n!
Find me at: patre@n*com/Mutter
You can read each novel for $5 or get them all for just $15.
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]