Another student-Dominguez, Saldanas' Cazador buddy- answered "Cheer up, friend. You're a squid. At least you can swim well."
The class tac, a retired FSA master sergeant working for the FMTG and named Olivetti called the class to attention, then "at ease."
"The purpose of today's exercise," the CI said, "is to separate from the school those who lack an essential characteristic needed in a combat leader-physical courage."
At Olivetti's last words twin explosions erupted from the water. The students shuddered from the shock. A Balboan CI, carrying a pulleylike device with a handle attached, ran from the woods toward a steel I-beam set upright in the ground, with a small platform on top and a wire cable running at an angle down to the water. The CI howled as he ran.
Reaching the I beam, the CI rapidly clambered up its seventy-five odd feet until he reached the platform. There he hooked the pulley around the wire cable, grabbed hold of the handle and lifted his feet off the platform. He sped down the cable gathering speed. Another CI, standing on a floating platform near where cable met water, signaled when it was time for the slider to let go of the handle.
Montoya watched, wide-eyed, as the slider's feet struck the water first, causing him to spin head over heels a half dozen times before knifing headfirst below the surface.
That has got to take practice, thought Cruz admiringly.
Fifty times the son of a bitch does it right in rehearsal, thought Olivetti, then he screws it up in practice. Idiot.
The CI surfaced and then swam toward the shore. Olivetti announced "What you have just seen is called the 'Slide for Life.' The CI is now approaching the Log Walk/Rope Drop."
Still howling, the demonstrator ran from the shore to the Log Walk. This consisted of three on-line poles set upright into the muck below. At a height of some thirty-five feet-shrewdly calculated to be the most frightening height to be at for a human being-the poles were surmounted by a log, topped by a flat plank, with steps in the middle. The logs swayed as the CI raced upward. At the top the CI bound down the plank, not stopping or slowing even for the steps in the middle. He took a quick seat at the far end.
Olivetti continued his explanations. "Once you have successfully negotiated the Log Walk you will take a seat while awaiting your turn for the Rope Drop."
The demonstrator CI rolled to his side and began to pull himself out onto another steel cable that ran slightly upwards toward the summit of a taller pole. Set more than halfway up, a Cazador tab painted on wood hung. The CI slapped it once, screamed, "Cazador!" and eased his body smoothly off the cable until he was hanging by both hands. The CI released his right hand from the cable, executed a smart hand salute and said, "Centurion, Cazador Torres requests permission to drop."
Olivetti returned the salute and answered, "Drop, Cazador." The CI on the cable let go with his left hand, placing it over his crotch as he fell. The right hand went under the chin, fingers cupping the nose. The water splashed more than halfway to the cable when he hit.
Turning his attention back to the students, Olivetti said, conversationally "Easy as Hell, isn't it? See, we don't ask too much of you."
Oh, God, I hate heights, thought Saldanas, as he began the long climb up the I beam. Rather than look upward as he climbed, which would remind him of how far he had to go, or-worse-downward, which would tell him how far he had gone, Saldanas kept his eyes on the rusted steel of the beam, parallel to the ground. Even when his pulley, hanging off his shoulder by a strap, caught on one of the rungs, he freed it purely by touch, rather than risk seeing the ground. He closed his eyes every time a student ahead of him took off down the slide, making the beam shudder. The climb seemed endless and limitlessly terrifying.
"Get your ass up here, Cazador," shouted the CI atop the little platform. Saldanas carefully eased through the little trap door, fingers turning white from his clenching grip on whatever seemed solid. The CI saw this.
"Scared are you, son?"
Teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, he forced out a, "Yes, Centurion."
"No shame in that, son," the CI said, not unkindly. The CI took the pulley from Saldanas' shoulder and hooked it onto the cable. Then he grabbed the back of Saldanas' shirt and pulled him under the pulley. The student resisted giving up his grip on the platform.
"Open your eyes, son. The point is to see what scares you and overcome it." Saldanas obeyed and immediately lunged for the I beam.
"Cazador, there is only one way off this platform. You either get a grip on yourself and take hold of this handle or I am going to kick your shitty butt out into space, hear me?"
Half guided by the CI, Saldanas, trembling, forced himself to stand under the pulley and take a grip on the handle.
"Now when I tell you to go, I want you to lift up with your arms. When you get away from platform a ways, bend your body into an 'L' shape. Watch the man with the flag standing at the anchor dock. He'll tell you how high to lift your legs and when to let go of the pulley. Got it? Oh, yes. One other thing. If you don't keep your eyes open to see the drop signal you are going to slam into the dock at the other end of the cable at about 100 kilometers per hour. Guaranteed fatal. You will keep your eyes open?"
Saldanas could only nod, two or three times, quickly.
"Go!" Saldanas, after a moment's hesitation, lifted off and went… nowhere. The CI still had a grip on his shirt. "Okay. Let's try it again, this time with your eyes open. Go." Again Saldanas didn't slide but he did keep his eyes from closing.
"All right, son. That was fine. Now this time I really am going to let go. Ready?… Go!"
At first Saldanas felt nothing. Then he realized he also could not feel the CI's grip on the back of his shirt. By the time this registered he felt the beginnings of forward motion. He screamed, " Jeeesuuusss!" as he picked up speed. Chuckling and thinking, it's funny how he called upon the only man who can save him now, the CI called out, "Next Cazador. Get your ass up here, boy."
Dimly, Saldanas realized on his way down, It's a good thing I'm landing in water. No one will see the piss.
Caridad Cruz's parent's home, 31/3/462 AC
"Cara? Cara, I have a letter for you from Ricardo!"
At her mother's call Caridad ran, breathless, for the front hall. She tore the letter from her mother's hand and opened it.
"Dearest Cara,
I'm terribly sorry that I haven't written before… there simply hasn't been any time at all. The only reason I can write now is that this is sort of a screw off day; terrifying but not difficult. "Terrifying?" I hear you ask. Very.
We were all (except Montoya, I'll tell you about him later) scared of heights. I still am but at least I can deal… now. The interesting one was Saldanas. He's a sailor who's bucking for officer (did I ever tell you even the squids have to graduate Cazador School to become centurions or officers?). I can't prove it, but I'd almost swear Saldanas wet himself on one of them. But he's a gutsy one. You could see he'd rather have died than walk over some steps that were thirty-five feet in the air. The steps were in the middle of one of the obstacles. But he'd rather die than fail, too. He made it over, with help, but almost in tears. We're all really proud of him.
For the rest, my mates and I are starving, and more than two weeks behind on sleep. They feed us so little here, one scanty ration a day, most days, that there isn't enough to allow the body to heal even a little cut. I have a couple I got early on that are still running sores.
Nonetheless, I am making it so far. I failed my first patrol, but it didn't count. I passed the second. Tomorrow we're off to the mountain school.