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Stories from the Verse
A Dozen Verses
Chapter 38: Kondor 268
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Slade 263
A tan-painted helicopter, double-bladed for lifting, one forward, and one back, cleared the trees, and dropped to a halt about thirty feet above the ground. What with the limited size of the clearing the trees around the edge were swaying and cracking in the propwash. Getting closer to the ground would have been a mistake. A man inside pitched out a chain and bar link ladder to clank with one end on the ground. The tent was already up, and the two men followed Skink who followed a huge man up the ladder. The huge man was carrying some of Kondor’s gear for him.
It had been a while since he had climbed such, but it came back quickly. And the cool air blowing down from the copter, a Chinook of some type he thought, was pleasant after the hot humidity of a Southeast Asian jungle. Inside the copter’s bay, the ladder leader, an absolutely huge man, barrel chested and tall enough to almost scrape the ceiling, helped them get locked in place before giving them a thumbs up, a big gaptoothed smile, and a pair of headphones.
The others scrambled in and got belted into their chairs facing each other. The Chinook was easily large enough to carry the whole Reptile House team of seven men, and the two verses and a lot of spare gear. The leader, an older white man, closed the door, and spoke into the mike in front of his face.
“Komodo Dragon, take us home. Military maximum, and low until we’re out of Cambodia.”
The craft shifted and turbines near the back began to howl. The leader belted himself into his chair. “Welcome gentlemen, I’m Sea Turtle. I head this group, Reptile House.”
Each of the others threw up a hand or waved or smiled as they chose as they rang out their names.
“Boa.” That was the massive man whom Kondor judged to be four hundred pounds and six foot seven. He gave them an encouraging thumbs up again.
“Skink.” Kondor Other looked back at him, and he saw the same decision in the other’s eyes as in his. They were going to have a good long chat sometime soonish.
“Cobra.” This was another very tall man, although not as tall, and he had the build of a runner along with at least one hand always being near a knife hilt. Kondor made a note in the back of his head that if things went sideways, to stay out of arm's reach of this man. Boa would be stronger, but he suspected Cobra was very fast indeed. He smiled quick and cheery.
“Um, Gecko.” He spoke up from the co-pilot’s chair as he was in the midst of fiddling with some dials. This had been the man that called in the copter.
“Sea Turtle, I’m going to send the Contact Report, m’kay?”
No response came, and looking over, he saw Sea Turtle was pulling his hat over his head, and leaning back to sleep.
“Chameleon.” The Sergeant who had led the field team spoke. His eyes felt like sniper’s sights.
“And last, but never least, the mighty Komodo Dragon,” came a younger voice from the pilot’s seat. Looking up, Kondor thought the fellow a bit scrawny. On the other hand, his hands were rock steady on the control yoke, and the speedometer was reading 470 knots. A quick bit of calculation yielded about 540 miles per hour. Looking out to his right and left through the side windows, he saw the branches of trees flash by not far underneath. Occasionally the copter bumped.
“High treetops. Most everything I’m clearing by thirty or forty feet, but occasionally we get some over achiever.” The copter popped up a bit. “Like that one. Went up eighty feet above the canopy.”
Kondor had noted that all of them but his other were White. Oh, well, he preferred Blacks, but he had no real problem working with Whites. He made an effort to memorize the names of the team, and his evaluations of them, and then leaned back into the chair as well. It was soft and comfortable, and while he did not nap, he was not far from it when he heard Komodo Dragon announce, “Feet wet. Going to 25 angels.” This meant they had left the land behind and were now over the ocean. It also meant that instead of screaming along twenty-five feet above the treetops, they’d be up at twenty-five thousand feet in the air, almost five miles high. It was with these thoughts that he slipped into genuine unconsciousness, for the chair was far more comfortable than his tent in the jungle.
Waking to use the latrine, he saw Zeke and Cobra and Skink playing cards by a night light with almost everyone else asleep. Coming back, he spoke over the pilot’s shoulder to Komodo Dragon.
“Where are we?”
“Over the Persian Gulf. Libya is to our left, and Saudi Arabia to our right. We’ve refueled once already.” Kondor considered the geography. If this world had a similar map to his then they had been flying over the Indian Ocean toward Africa, and then cut northwest toward the Suez Canal which should be ahead. It also meant they had outpaced the sun, and so had flown from morning into late night.
“Do you have a Suez Canal?”
“No. What's that?”
“It's a canal that runs from the Med to the Persian--”
He heard chuckling from those awake except for Zeke.
“Funny, guys.” He rolled his eyes, and took his chair back and drifted off to sleep while listening to three very tough men say ‘go fish’.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
