Robert Doherty - The Citadel

"One minute out, sir!" he yelled to Major Min.

Min turned and looked over his shoulder at the men. "Remove the coverings on your canopy releases," he ordered. The jumpers popped the metal covering on each shoulder. These metal pieces protected the small steel cable loops that controlled the connection of the harness to the parachute risers; pulling the loops would release the risers, separating the jumper from his parachute. Doing this in the air would result in death, but Min had a reason for taking this dangerous step prior to exiting the aircraft.

He shuffled a little closer to the door, his parachute and rucksack doubling his weight. "Open the door," he ordered Chong. "Activate trackers," he called back to the rest of the team. Then Min reached down and activated the small transponder/receiver strapped to his right forearm.

Chong twisted the handle on the door. It swung in with a freezing swoosh. They'd depressurized a half hour ago and were now flying in the middle of the storm and still descending. They were at an estimated altitude of 1,500 feet above the ground.

Snow swirled in the open door, along with bone-chilling cold. Min didn't even bother taking a look-he knew he wouldn't be able to see a few feet, never mind the ground. The plan was to jump as soon as Hyun relayed that the needle focusing on the transponder swung from forward to rear, indicating they'd flown over the beacon.

"One minute," Chong relayed. The one-minute warning was Hyun's best guess, meaning that the needle had started to shiver in its case in the cockpit.

Min grabbed either side of the door with his gloved hands, his eyes on Chong, waiting for the go. The seconds went by slowly, and Min realized he was losing the feeling in his hands, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Chong suddenly stiffened. "Go!" he screamed.

Min pulled forward and threw himself into the turbulent white fog. Behind him, the other eight men followed as fast as they could get out of the aircraft.

Min fell to the end of the eighteen-foot static line, which popped the closing tie on his main parachute. The pack split open and the parachute slid out, struggling to deploy against the wind. He felt the opening jolt and looked up to make sure he had a good canopy.

He couldn't tell what the wind was doing to the chute, nor could he see the ground. With numbed hands, he reached down to find the release for his rucksack so it would drop below him on its lowering line and he wouldn't smash into the ground with it still attached.

Min was still trying to find the quick releases when he did exactly that: his feet hit ice, then his sideways speed, built up by the wind, slammed his head into the ice, the helmet absorbing some of the blow.

Min blinked as stars exploded inside his head. Now the lack of feeling in his hands truly started to work against him. He scrabbled at his right shoulder with both hands, trying to find the canopy release; he'd never have been able to grasp and pop the cover under these circumstances, proving his risky decision in the plane was been correct. The wind took hold of his parachute, skiing him across the icy surface, his parka and cold weather pants sliding across the ice and snow, his head rattling as he hit small bumps.

Finally his numbed fingers found the cable loop. Min pushed with his gloved right thumb underneath, grabbed his right wrist with his left hand and pulled with all the strength in both arms. The riser released and the canopy flipped over, letting the wind out. Then he lay on his back, trying to gather his wits. He knew he needed to be up and moving but his head was still spinning.

Min had no idea how long he'd been lying there when a figure appeared out of the snow, right wrist held before his face, the receiver there homing in on Min's transmitter. The small face of the receiver blipped with a red light, indicating the direction of the team leader's device. By following the red dot, the team could assemble on Min.

The soldier immediately ran to the apex of Min's parachute and began S-rolling it, gathering the canopy in. Min finally turned over and got to one knee. He popped the chest release for his harness and slipped it off, then pulled his weapon off the top of the reserve and made sure it was still functioning.

As Min was stuffing his chute into his rucksack, other figures appeared out of the blowing snow. He could see that two men were hurt: Sergeant Yong apparently had a broken arm that the medic, Corporal Sun, was still working on, and Corporal Lee was limping. Min counted heads. Seven, besides himself. One was missing.

"Where is Song?" he yelled to the others above the roar of the wind.

When there was no immediate answer, Min quickly ordered the team on line. "Turn off all receivers!" He pushed a button on his transmitter, and it became a receiver, picking up the different frequency that Song's wrist guidance device had been set to send on.

Min headed in the direction the red dot indicated, his team flanking him on either side. His first priority was accountability of all personnel. He broke into a trot, his men keeping pace, Yong and Lee gritting their teeth to ignore the pain of their injuries. Min was actually satisfied so far that he had eight of his nine men-he'd expected at least twenty-five percent casualties on the jump.

They found Song, his body fortunately jammed up between two blocks of ice, otherwise it might have been blown all the way to the mountains. As two men ran around to collapse the parachute and gather it in, Min knelt down next to his soldier. Song's eyes were unfocused and glassy, and Min unsnapped the man's helmet. As he pulled it off he immediately spotted the caked blood and frozen, exposed brain matter that had oozed through the cracked skull.

Min looked up at Senior Lieutenant Kim. "Have two men pull him with us to the target."

Min pulled his mitten off and quickly reset his wrist transmitter/receiver to receive on the transponder frequency. He turned his face into the wind. The target was in that direction.

"I'm going to check the weather," Brothers announced.

"Don't stay too long," Burke called out from the stove as Brothers zipped his parka up. "The food will be ready in about five minutes."

"Who wants to go with me?" Brothers asked as he headed for the door to check on the weather and, if possible, his plane.

Smithers hopped up from his chair. "I'll join you. I'd like to take a look outside. Feeling a little cooped up in here."

Vaughn glanced around the mess hall at the remaining members of the party. Logan had recovered the instruction manual for the nuclear reactor from the control room and was poring through it. Tai was staring intently at whatever was displayed on the screen of her portable computer.

Vaughn was not happy with the current situation. There was little of the base left to explore. Other than the note from Lansale, they had found nothing of much value. If publicized, the nukes and stock of Nazi nerve agent would cause a scandal, but a scandal wasn't exactly a threat. When the weather cleared they would head back and report in to Royce. Maybe he could do more with the information.

Min froze and peered through the driving snow. There was something large looming directly in front of him. He moved forward ten feet on his hands and knees until he was sure it was the surface shaft, about forty feet ahead. Using hand and arm signals, he sent two men scurrying around each flank to encircle the entrance.

There was a black wedge open on Min's side, and he could make out some movement there. Staying low, he continued forward, slowly closing the distance. His team was poised behind him, awaiting his instructions. He silently worked the bolt on his weapon, making sure it wasn't frozen.