Dropping off and Picking up...sort of {Expicit}

[Dean]

Dean looked out the bug fighter's window as they neared the mission spot. It felt good to be back in Africa, he had missed it more than he would admit. It reminded him a great deal of Texas, if only for the heat. Dean managed a small smile before he turned to his faction, slipping his face back into seriousness.

"So here's the plan," he said , "We are here strictly for a pick up and transport. Once we are down we're on our own. the bug fighter is going to drop us off and then we'll have to find our own way to Cape Town." Dean paused for a second, trying to sound a bit more sympathetic.

"It isn't as bad as it sounds. Just a simple drop Op. In. Out. Simple"

Yeah, right, He thought bitterly.

Dean picked up a comm. to the Pilots, "Open 'er up!" And with that the cargo door opened into the sky over Sudan.

Dean turned back to his faction (he still couldn't get used to that) "Don't pull the cord before I give you the signal ok?" He said as he adjusted the parachute on his back.

"Any questions?"

[xander]

“Yeah I got one,” Xander raised his hand, “Can the ones with bird morphs just fly down?”

He glanced out the open door down at the ground fair below. In the past he been accused of partaking in some rather suicidal stunts and jumping from heights that could make people faint at the thought (it happened once). This however was whole other matter. If something went wrong, he’d reach terminal velocity and go splat. No amount of flippy-dos or morphing would fix that.

The fact Dean used the word simple was also unsettling. He could count on one hand without fingers how many times a mission had been called simple and actually was. Most went way side at the most inconvenient times and he was man enough to say that some of those times had been his fault. It wasn’t going to be this time though, and even if it was he’d argue it was Dean’s fault. Dean was the one the jinxed them all.

“Also,” he paused and blinked slowly, “what are we doing again?” He saw no harm in double checking, never hurt to be positive and he may have dozed off at some point while the faction leader was explaining. If Dean didn’t like the fact he was asking it was his idea to open the floor.

[Dean]

"First", Dean said matter-of-factually, "No. We are going to need shoes and gear just in case. Plus, I don't think any of us have a flying morph that can control itself this high up."

"Secondly, the purpose of this mission is to locate and extract as many members of the known Sundanese resistance group as we can. There is a weapons outlet near the drop spot. After we find everyone we'll sneak in and take a truck or two. It will look like were just another convoy heading to the "Cattle Cells" ."

Dean reached into his gun belt and retrieved a couple of blue-tooth ear-sets, handing one to Xander. "Reason number two we'll need to arrive out of morph." He put his in, the little blue light pulsating. "If this is going to work, we're going to need communication and coordination from everyone. Also-" He reached up and grabbed one of the assault rifles, checking to make sure it was loaded and had the safety turned on.

"You'll be needing one of these. Don't hurt yourself", Dean said with a smirk.

[Nineteen]

Nineteen felt her body warming up to the idea, already finding herself smiling. The parachute felt snug on her body, a bit too much like a leash -- she knew what leashes felt like -- but the prospect of jumping out of the bug fighter was making her giddy. As complicated as it was to think about what it meant to be an Animorph, she couldn't find anything to dislike about the job at the moment.

She'd been sent to the Cape Town faction, which was ironic (and she appreciated it) because she had been destined to go there as a slave. Now she'd arrive (after this mission) as a freedom fighter. Life was a funny, fickle thing.

Nineteen clucked and make a disappointed noise in the back of her throat when Xander suggested flying down. "Where's your sense've adventure?" She had to half-shout it at him to be heard over the roar of the air.

Still, she listened -- not quite patiently, but she tried -- to what Dean had to say. He was the leader apparently. Nineteen wasn't sure how you got that job, but she was sure as hell that she didn't want it. The verdict was still out on just how devoted she felt to the guy. She supposed that the stage where you followed your commander to the gates of Hell and back came sometime later on.

She put on one of the blue tooth headpieces, fumbling with the delicate device a little. She took the assault rifle with a lot more confidence, though it would be hard to tell if that came from some kind of reasonable experience, or just a readiness to handle the weapon.

Nineteen held up the rifle in a mini-salute. "Rock-and-roll, Chief."

[xander]

“Dangsineun ttonggumeongeur yoguhaetda,” Xander said under the wind. He didn’t think Dean knew Korean but better safe than sorry the first time around. Raising his voice he added, “Whatever you say Guv’.”

He slipped the blue tooth in to his ear without a problem. Yeah that was going to be fun to have in his ear while the other two had wind rushing or maybe Dean didn’t have them functioning yet. If they were on at least the others would have the same pleasure.

“My sense of adventure tends to side with my sanity in most cases,” he said to Nineteen as he took the rifle. After throwing an annoyed look at Dean he secured it. This mission was going to be so much fun, he could tell already.

“What she said,” he called over the noise and waited for Dean’s order.

[Dean]

Dean gave each a nod and turned to the open bay door. The wind whipped at his hair, smacking his eyes. Dean was not wearing his usual long brown coat and other items that were- for lack of a better term- his uniform. For the drop he figured he would need to be a little bit more protected. Plus, he didn't want to lose his coat in case he had to morph in an emergency.

No, for his first mission as Faction Leader he had worn a tan military combat uniform. from the sand colored boots to the pixelated, Kevlar-lined jacket, Dean was ready to be an extra on Black Hawk Down. Everything but the helmet. He found them annoying and useless. A Dracon beam would penetrate it without slowing down.

Archer stared down at the sky he was about to order a bunch of kids to jump into, running through his checklist to make sure he was ready. He tugged at his harness and fastened some clasps here-and-there. He checked to make sure his rifle was secure on his back. It wasn't an AR-33 like he had given the others, but a 1892 Winchester Model Saddle Ring Carbine. Dean figured that if it worked well in the old west, it should damn do well now.

He finished by looking down at his boots to make sure they were still tied, and got ready for the jump.

He looked back and called to his Faction "After I go, count to three and jump. Same to the next person. If you have any problems during, call for me"- he tapped the ear bud. Then Dean took a deep breath...and jumped.

... and hit 'play' on his iPod, starting the opening base to Red Hot Chilli Peppers' cover of "Higher Ground"

Dean was not to proud (or mature) to let out a exited "WOO HOO!" as he fell as began to reach terminal velocity.

[Nineteen]

"1-2-3," Nineteen quickly rattled off, not bothering with putting an Mississippis or Thousands between the counts. She did, however, turn around so that her back faced the opening, and gave a wink to Xander as she leaned into the open air. It was like one of those trust-building games they made you play in summer camp as a preteen.

Only about a thousand fucking times cooler.

Her hair was pulled back tight, but she could still feel stray strands of it whipping across her face. She was plummeting towards the earth face-first, and everything looked crazy and beautiful and wonderful. The wind licked tears from her eyes, and she could feel it filled up her cheeks as they were pulled back in a wild grin of joy.

[xander]

Xander nodded at Dean but said reframed from saying anything. He just hoped that the blue tooth earpieces would work. Watching him jump just solidified the situation. At Nineteen’s wink he threw up the V-sign but wasn’t sure if she saw it.

Instead of counting he closed his eyes and muttered a mantra to himself. He figured it was around three seconds or longer then Nineteen’s version of three seconds. He took one last breath before jumping out into the open air. Unlike the other two jumpers, Xander wasn’t relishing in the excitement of the situation. Other than his rather rational concern of ending up like a water balloon, doing stuff crap like this was the closest he came to working outside of a lab. Back in South Pole he had the freedom to run around the ship like a ninny, not so much now. As the ground got steadily closer he waited until he was able to pull the cord

[Dean]

Dean scratched at the strap on his goggles as he neared Mid-Stratosphere. He guessed that they were around 25kilometers up and falling. He touched his ear, calling back to the bug fighter for the last time.

“Archer nearing the 25k mark, heading 3.75-9’er. Check.”

“Copy that Dean, Checking.” There was less than two seconds of pause before, “ That’s a positive. Right on target.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. If something was going to go wrong, that would be the first. “Roger. Thanks for the ride boys, be seeing you. Dean Archer signing off.”

He kept his freefall, partially to wait until he got lower, mostly just for the fun if it. Dean had no idea which direction this mission was going to go, and throwing green recruits into the fray like this wasn’t very smart. But Dean was not going to Cape Town without Darrel and his family.

…or at least not without knowing what had become of them.

Archer saw a dark rain cloud and angled himself toward it, punching in his ear bud to try to hear over the rushing wind.

“Ok! Listen up everyone! Here’s the plan: Xander, as soon as we touch turf I want you to morph Purple Martin and get us some eyes in the air. We’re going to need to know the area and if any hostiles are in the vicinity. I say ‘hostiles’ because its not just Yeerks down there. Free humans are out and about, raiding what they can and killing what they can't raid. There isn’t that many groups but they make up for it. We don’t want to run into any of them.”

“Nineteen, you’re--” he instructions where cut short as Dean hit the rain cloud. Only it wasn’t a rain cloud, but a large plume of deep grey smoke. He coughed and wheezed, trying to free himself from the acrid taste and smell. He managed to tear away as he broke the upper Troposphere, turning to stare at the source of the haze.

Dean’s heart dropped to his boots.

It was the landing site. It was on fire.

Dean doubled back in his head, trying to regain composure. “Ok. New plan guys. Xander and Nineteen, you two stay together, keep to the smoke when you pop your chutes- it will give you cover. I’m going to go ahead to check if its clear. And whatever you do- Do. Not. Be seen.” He didn’t leave any room for discussion for when he was finished, he re-angled his body and shot through the smoke, nose pointed downward.

Every fiber and senue in his body screamed at him as the sheer force of the fall slapped him from all sides. But Dean still didn't pull the cord. Every single one of his instincts told him to pop his chute and come out of the dive before he blacked out. But Dean still didn't pull the cord. Even the edge of his vision began to redden, he still didn't pull the cord. No matter what was waiting down there, Dean wasn't going to waste any more time screwing around.

What if He had been able to help if he had been paying more attention instead of zoning out and not keeping his mind on the mission? His mission. Guilt and anger racked his insides, but Dean pushed it to the back of his mind for the time being, feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to help Darell.

As Dean reached about eight-thousand feet he finally pulled his chute, steering back into the smoke as the silk sucked him up and away to the air. He impatiently fell down to earth through the smog. After about two minutes Dean snarled "Fuck it!" and at twenty five feet cut the ropes with a small- but sharp -knife, sending him back into a fall.

Dean had fallen more times then he'd like to count, and knew how to take a fall pretty well. That said- no one can fall twenty five feet and come out of it unscratched. Dean hit the ground at a roll, the loud and cringe-inducing sound of bones cracking accompanying his recovery. He skidded to a halt, his now dislocated left shoulder hanging uselessly.

"Shit!", he yelled to no one.

He knew how to fix his arm, but it wasn't going to be pretty...or unpainfull. Dean took a breath, closed his eyes and slammed his hurt shoulder into the ground, a deep, agonized grunt escaping his clenched teeth.