82,891
edits
Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure: Difference between revisions
Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure (view source)
Revision as of 16:52, 16 December 2021
, 16 December 2021no edit summary
Amwelladmin (talk | contribs) No edit summary |
Amwelladmin (talk | contribs) No edit summary |
||
| Line 198: | Line 198: | ||
Boone tilted down and tweaked the airflow over the leading edge. He trimmed his pitch. The roll and yaw were good. He maxed the [[gaze heuristic]] and kept the angle of approach constant. He targeted a drop-zone above and just ahead of the rig. | Boone tilted down and tweaked the airflow over the leading edge. He trimmed his pitch. The roll and yaw were good. He maxed the [[gaze heuristic]] and kept the angle of approach constant. He targeted a drop-zone above and just ahead of the rig. | ||
Chip was still babbling in the com-link. ''Dammit''. He cursed his own error: he left the link back to GCHQ open when he jumped. It was too late to do anything about that: at one-seventy knots he could hardly flip it to silent now: any arm-shift would bugger his trajectory and put him into an aerodynamic stall or some kind of flat spin. He had to let the GC run. But she wouldn’t let it go. The old girl was really busting his balls. | Chip was still babbling in the com-link. ''Dammit''. He cursed his own error: he left the com-link back to GCHQ open when he jumped. It was too late to do anything about that: at one-seventy knots he could hardly flip it to silent now: any arm-shift would bugger his trajectory and put him into an aerodynamic stall or some kind of flat spin. He had to let the GC run. But she wouldn’t let it go. The old girl was really busting his balls. | ||
Boone was zooming. The ambient buffeting was off the charts. The suit was shaking like a bastard. The GC was yakking like a rabbit. Boone kept the rig bottom left in the viewfinder. “Steady ... steady ...” | Boone was zooming. The ambient buffeting was off the charts. The suit was shaking like a bastard. The GC was yakking like a rabbit. Boone kept the rig bottom left in the viewfinder. “Steady ... steady ...” | ||
The suit’s digital voice assistant kicked in his earpiece. The DVA was a gas: it had a west-country drawl. Boone spent hours customising it. He called it Denning. “GROUNDSPEED READOUT: 195 KNOTS ACROSS THE GROUND.” | The suit’s digital voice assistant kicked in his earpiece. The DVA was a gas: it had a west-country drawl. Boone spent hours customising it. He called it Denning. | ||
“GROUNDSPEED READOUT: 195 KNOTS ACROSS THE GROUND.” | |||
Boone bulleted onwards. The rig grew. Two thousand metres and closing. The shaking was immense. | Boone bulleted onwards. The rig grew. Two thousand metres and closing. The shaking was immense. | ||
| Line 218: | Line 220: | ||
Denning intoned downrange coordinates. | Denning intoned downrange coordinates. | ||
Boone made two-twenty across the ground. | Boone bulleted onwards. He made two-twenty across the ground. | ||
The rig loomed real close now. | |||
Chip ran out of sanctimonious material and went quiet. Boone caught the tail end of Denning’s read out. “ ... impact drop-zone target: T-minus four seconds.” | Chip ran out of sanctimonious material and went quiet. Boone caught the tail end of Denning’s read out. “ ... impact drop-zone target: T-minus four seconds.” | ||
“Okay double-oh douches — let’s be having you.” Boone yanked the ripcord. The brake-chute bloomed. Boone jerked back and up. He flipped a backwards 540°. He quick-released the canvas straps and dropped the last fifteen feet through empty space. He cracked a three-point knee-down hero | “Okay, double-oh douches — let’s be having you.” Boone yanked the ripcord. The brake-chute bloomed. Boone jerked back and up. He flipped a backwards 540°. He quick-released the canvas straps and dropped the last fifteen feet through empty space. He cracked a three-point knee-down hero landing on the cabin roof. | ||
{{divider}} | {{divider}} | ||
''BAAAAM''. | |||
“What the hell was that?” | “What the hell was that?” | ||
| Line 232: | Line 238: | ||
“Bugsy! We got action!” | “Bugsy! We got action!” | ||
Kurzweil heard only half of Buggs’ reply “Holy hand-grenades what is tha —”. But he saw it play out: a stunt rider on a dirtbike dropped from a low ridge from nowhere. The rider carried a shoulder-loaded esotericising mortar. At that range the low tensile syntactical armour on | Kurzweil heard only half of Buggs’ reply “Holy hand-grenades what is tha —”. But he saw it play out: a stunt rider on a dirtbike dropped from a low ridge from nowhere. The rider carried a shoulder-loaded esotericising mortar. At that range the low tensile syntactical armour on Bugsy’s cruiser stood no chance. The rider let off a round. It blew Bugsy ten feet in the air. | ||
{{divider}} | {{divider}} | ||
| Line 264: | Line 270: | ||
''The timer ticked past 5:00.'' | ''The timer ticked past 5:00.'' | ||
''NOT … WHILE … I … BREATHE.'' | ''NOT … WHILE … I … BREATHE.'' | ||
A bloodied fist grabbed the running board. Kurzweil hung on for his life, for his cause, for his ''honour''. At first, it was all he could do, just to keep his hold and stop being swept beneath the monstrous wheels as they pounded the dirt, inches from his ear. He clenched his buttocks as the roadway grated and pummelled him all over. | |||
Slowly, he hauled himself back into the game. He got a second hold. He fist-jammed in the wheel-arch. He executed a switch-grip, squirrel-jumped onto the grille, dragged himself up onto the hood, heel-hooked and got a firm boot-hold on the chassis. He clambered up. He clung like a limpet. He edged around the towards cabin door. | |||
''NOT … WHILE … I … BREATHE.'' | |||
''The timer ticked past 4:45.'' | ''The timer ticked past 4:45.'' | ||