Retribution

by T. R. Harris

  And could he learn from experience? That was also an unknown. Joanie Hollis’ words came back to haunt Zac: Why didn’t the AC-3s learn from their various Runs, to the point where less input was needed from the Controllers? It was one thing to have prior knowledge, but what about experience acquired during actual operations? Was that two separate things?

  Cross and Zac debated the issue. Was knowledge only retained if it came before—or between—activations? The question was of crucial importance.

  But there was another issue? The simulator was not fully compatible with the spacecraft the pilot was expected to fly.

  “He’s thinking literally at all times,” Cross pointed out. “When I asked if he detected the bogie, he looked to his left rather than decipher the readouts on the screen. We can’t have that in combat. He has to be able to understand the data on the HUD.”

  “I believe he already does,” Zac said. “I think his literal inputs are being confused by the cockpit layout. But we won’t know until he’s either in a true 308 simulator, or he’s behind the controls of an actual fighter.”

  Cross shook his head. “There’s no way I’m sending him up in a spacecraft, not yet anyway.” He leaned back in the chair. “I’ll get on the phone to Langley. Let’s load up our AC-3 pilot and get him to a real 308 simulator.”

  “That sounds reasonable. But let’s take our own techs. I’m sure the people in Virginia wouldn’t know what they’re looking at.”

  “I concur.” The general stood up. “Pack a bag, Mr. Murphy. We have several military transports available at the base. I want us out of here within the hour. No time to waste.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Mark Perry woke up just as he was being loaded into the transport on a gurney.

  “What happened?” he mumbled. “Did it work?”

  Zac was trailing alongside the cart. “Sort of,” he answered with a scowl. “But you tore up the simulator pretty bad. That’s why we’re loading up a Galaxy and heading for Langley. We need to get you into a real 308 simulator.”

  “I can be shot up again so soon?”

  “Yeah, that’s the great thing about AC-3. After a quick turn-around, you can be back in the field a couple of hours later. You handled the dosage just fine. It was the other part that we’re still working on.”

  “But I was able to fly while on the drug?”

  “That part was easy, so yes.”

  Perry pressed his head back on the pillow and smiled. “Thank god. So, there’s a chance…”

  “So far, so good,” Zac said. The gurney bounced as it ran up the back ramp of the huge Air Force transport plane. It was a conventionally powered jet aircraft, and it would take about four hours to make it to the Langley Air Force base in Hampton Roads, Virginia. That was still better than packing up a 308 simulator and shipping it out to Nevada. But if the next test proved successful, a couple of the huge devices would be on their way to Groom Lake by the following morning.

  “We ran into a compatibility issue with the flight controls,” Zac continued. “You were watching a 308 screen while trying to operate a standard cockpit arrangement. That didn’t work out so good.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you kinda ripped the cockpit to pieces.”

  “I did? Oh, yeah. I think I remember now. Holy shit, I ripped the control stick clean out of the undercarriage. How did I do that?”

  Zac grinned. “Along with your quicker reactions came an increase in strength. You simply overreacted. Don’t worry about it. If we can work out the other kinks, each 308 cockpit will be hardened to accommodate a REV pilot. That’s an easy fix.”

  Perry tried to sit up, but Zac forced him back down. The cargo hold of the C-29 Galaxy was quickly filling with military personnel and equipment. There was a frenetic pace to everything.

  “Relax, major,” Zac said. “You’re the star of the show. Just let the roadies handle everything.”

  “So, do you think the kinks can be worked out?”

  “I hope so. We’re about halfway there, which is a lot further along than we were three days ago. Back then, the Human race was planning its funeral. At least now, we see a glimmer of hope. Thanks to you.”

  “And you, Captain Murphy. I hope you get the credit you deserve for this—if things work out as planned.”

  Zac pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one, Mr. Perry. It has never worked out like that in the past. Why would things change now?”

  9

  Five hours later, Major Mark Perry was strapped into another simulator, this one in southern Virginia, and made specifically for the Summerlin Industries M-308 Starfighter. Thanks to Rev, the pilot was fully recovered from his first session and anxious to do it again. He felt more comfortable with the flight controls in this simulator and was familiar with the vivid graphics in front of him.

  Dr. David Cross went over the results of the first test with the pilot, being brutally honest about both the good and bad aspects. Mark got the impression there was more negative than positive conclusions, at least by the general’s telling of it. Zac was more encouraging.

  “As I said, we just have a few kinks to work out,” he told the pilot. “In an ideal world, you would have complete control of the spacecraft and able to make instantaneous decisions at REV speed. It may turn out that you’ll need more coordination with the AI. That’s fine if we can keep the computer from being deceived and the tasks basic. But first, let’s get you into a situation where you feel comfortable.”

  “Good luck with that,” Mark said. “But you know, you were right. I couldn’t recall anything during the flight, but afterward, it was all there. I’m trying to work out in my mind if there’s anything I can do to help. The problem is I don’t know if I’ll remember any of this once I’m shot up again. You call that activation, don’t you?”

  “That’s right. It sounds better than saying you’re getting shot up.”

  The men were speaking through the comm unit. Now, Perry gave the thumbs up, signifying he was ready to begin the next test.

  “We’re going to send you against stationary ground targets this time,” Cross told him. “There shouldn’t be the need for quicker reactions in this operation. We just need to see if you can extrapolate between the HUD and the fire controls. Remember, the whole purpose of this exercise is to see how you do in combat. The AI can get you into and out of the engagement area. It’s what you do while you’re there that will make the difference.”

  “Understood, sir. I’ll do the best I can. I wish I had more confidence in what we’re doing. The mark of a good pilot is the ability to operate in the moment. But I’m operating on memory only. Situations are constantly changing while in flight. I hope I can adapt in real-time.”

  “So do I. Now, prepare. You can begin, and this time I won’t give you a countdown. Activation will be unexpected. It’s all part of the testing process.”

  “Roger, that, sir. Liftoff. Climbing to thirty-thousand feet.”

  The flight continued smoothly for ten minutes, causing the techs in the room to grow anxious. It was obvious Mark Perry knew how to fly a 308, and nothing unusual was being asked of him. But being the professional he was, he didn’t question the decisions of Dr. Cross. He obediently gave periodic reports as to the status of his craft.

  Cross then gave the order to inject the AC-3.

  There were a few of the Langley techs in the room. They watched intently, looking for any sign that Perry was now under the influence of the Rev drug. When they saw none, they began to fidget.

  “Load the ground target program,” Cross commanded. A moment later, a tiny square appeared on Perry’s HUD, flashing red and located dead ahead.

  “REV One, identify ground target. Classify hostile.”

  Sensors in Perry’s helmet followed his eye movements as he locked on the target.

  “Destroy all hostiles as they are determined. Engage.”

  Without the need to abruptly change course to engage
a target, Perry almost leisurely began his attack profile. Leisurely to a REV, that is. Zac’s jaw fell open as Perry’s simulated 308 aircraft pounced on the ground target, accelerating to Mach seven in an instant and obliterating the structure in the blink of an eye. He was back at thirty-thousand feet before anyone knew he’d begun his attack.

  “One point six seconds,” someone said over the comm system. “Target destroyed.”

  Someone else nearby whispered, “And the cockpit is still in one piece.”

  Zac looked at Dr. Cross, but he was busy at a command console. “Load in a cluster target program.”

  “Ground target?”

  “Yes, for now.”

  A moment later, Perry was given the order to destroy multiple targets. Six simulated ground-to-air missile batteries were destroyed in three-point-two seconds. Zac knew this amazing feat was a testament to the REV pilot’s reactions and coordination, but also the capabilities of the 308. From this simple exercise, it was obvious both entities were made for one another. It was a perfect marriage of man and machine.

  “Run status?” Cross asked.

  “Still six minutes until first barrier.”

  There was plenty of time to continue the test before Perry would be Twilighted.

  “Okay, he’s done fine with stationery targets. Let’s put a couple of hostiles in front of him. Give them basic evasive abilities. Let’s see what he does with that.”

  Two simulated aircraft appeared on the screen in front of Mark Perry. He noticed them immediately and the HUD locked onto their locations. Even before giving them a hostile designation, the contacts began to bob and weave, attempting to evade the spacecraft approaching from behind.

  “REV One. Targets hostile. Destroy.”

  In a blur, Perry’s left hand landed on the weapons selector on the armrest. His eyes remained glued to the targets, and a split second later, missiles were launched that streaked through artificial air to contact both targets. No fire control buttons were damaged during the test.

  “Why didn’t he smash the armrest as he did before?’ Zac asked David Cross.

  Cross shrugged. “I’m not sure. Perhaps in the first test, he continued to hit the spots where the buttons should have been until he got confirmation of firing. Maybe frustration played a part.”

  “Emotion? That would be a first.”

  “Everything is a first here, captain.” Cross checked the clock again. “Time for one more test. Let’s see how he does evading a hostile. Control, place a target behind the 308.”

  A moment later, Cross was in contact with the pilot. “REV One, evade hostile to the rear.” He didn’t give the command for him to subsequently destroy the target, just avoid it.

  It turned out to be not much of a test. The imaginary attacker was a conventional aircraft and kept lighting off guns, and then missiles and finally energy weapons. Each time, Major Perry deftly steered his spacecraft out of harm’s way, the result of the 308 being much faster and more maneuverable than the trailing aircraft. It barely challenged Perry’s reaction time.

  But that wasn’t the purpose of the test. It was to show that the REV pilot was able to adapt to the changing environment of combat. And he did it without breaking anything. Had Major Perry learned from his prior activation? It was impossible to tell at this point.

  The final test of the session, conducted with only three minutes left in the Run time, was to see if Perry could react to targets introduced after receiving instructions. He was told to destroy any hostiles appearing before him. The first one didn’t materialize for twenty seconds, then it was splash one a second later. Then three more popped up. Without any input from Cross, Perry competently dispatched each target as they lit up as hostiles. A stray bogie was introduced that never lit up red. Perry ignored it.

  What happened after that was a whirlwind of activity. The pilot was Twilighted and pulled from the simulator, only moments before technicians ran in and began disassembling the unit. By midnight, Nevada time, the Groom Lake team was back on the C-29 Galaxy and in the air heading back to their base. Nine hours later, the components of a 308 simulator were safely aboard another transport, with a second unit nearly loaded.

  Zac and Cross talked on the flight back to the base. They acknowledged several issues still had to be worked out, but overall, the test was a success, something Cross begrudgingly accepted, despite his initial reservations. All they needed to do now was develop an elaborate screening and training program, followed by a tactical plan using the 308s to save the Human race from extinction, and do it all in under ninety days.

  10

  The Groom Lake facility was already a buzzing hive of activity from the recruitment of new AC-3 REVs and the training of thousands of additional Controllers. Now the place truly exploded, becoming the center the universe for the defense of the planet. Once General Cross convinced the higher-ups in D.C. as to the feasibility of the plan, all barriers fell, and Cross was given anything—and everything—he wanted.

  Soon, the entire 308 pilot and R.I.O compliment moved to the Nevada desert, along with their spacecraft. Pole tents went up to house the new bodies, while every available hangar became filled with the super starfighters. Mark Perry was the point man in convincing the pilots to submit to the REV program. To no one’s surprise, one hundred percent of the pilots volunteered without hesitation. And although a Radar Intercept Officer was not required for the operation, many if the RIOs were skilled pilots in their own right. Summerlin Industries was turning out a new spacecraft every three days, so there was a need to move some of the more experienced rear seaters to the front seat. Soon the 308 fleet numbered five hundred fifty vessels.

  All this activity happened in only seven days, and between his presentations to his fellow pilots, Mark Perry continued to be tested with AC-3. David Cross refined the formula, learning that a dose slightly more than half that of a normal combat REV was enough to achieve the desired results. This meant a corresponding shorter recovery time and operational awareness bordering on consciousness. The pilot was more aware of his surroundings and was almost on the verge of responding verbally to commands. The words he spoke were more grunts than anything else, but that was better than nothing. Activation times were also extended out to forty-five minutes, adding a third to that of conventional AC-3 Run times.

  And then Cross scheduled the first in-space combat test against an array of drones programmed to act as true as possible to Antaere Glorybat fighters. Only Mark Perry would go up the first time. There was still the question as to whether or not he was learning from his prior activations. Cross would compare his effectiveness with that of other pilots who would begin their training/conditioning with the same test Runs. If he performed better, then additional training sessions would be scheduled for the pilots to hone their skills. If not, then the new AC-3 pilots would be inserted into the attack plan raw, hoping their chemical enhancements would be enough for mission success. In addition, the computer programmers had to reconfigure the AI to match the new mission parameters. Practical operations were needed to define these requirements.

  Zac volunteered to ride along in the backseat as an observer.

  “That’s not necessary,” David Cross said. “We can monitor everything from the ground.”

  “I realize that,” said Zac. “It’s just that I want to observe the real-time conditions of combat at this level. Only AI’s have done it to this point. Maybe I’ll be able to see things from the Human perspective that might help with the overall planning.”

  “You’re not a combat pilot, Captain Murphy. Besides, as you’ve seen, these tests occur at such an accelerated pace that only by playing back the data feeds can we evaluate a mission.”

  “That’s why it would be good to have a Delta in the backseat. I can withstand the stresses and still be able to see things in real-time, REV real-time.”

  Cross studied Zac’s face for a moment. “What’s the real reason, captain?”

  Zac sighed. “To be honest, th
ere’s so much riding on this, general, that I want to get a first-hand sense of what we’re up against. The 308s were built as a gamechanger, but they didn’t turn out as planned. What if that’s the same with what we have in mind? I want to see for myself if this will work.”

  General Cross continued to study Zac for a long moment before responding. “Fine, you go up with Major Perry. But if anything goes wrong, you be ready and willing to pull the escape lever. And have your detection beacon on at all times. If this goes south, I want to be able to find you out in space. I have other 308 pilots, but there’s only one Zac Murphy.”

  Zac was surprised by Cross’s reaction. It was the first time the scientist acknowledged Zac’s unique pedigree, other than as him being the first. There were other Delta REVs—including a couple hundred of the Alpha REVs by now—but Cross knew Zac was different. His body had lived with natural REV longer than anyone. Also, he had been injected with a form of Antaerean Rev. The drug had combined with his natural NT-4 to form a hybrid version. David Cross wasn’t anxious to lose his most unique living specimen of a natural REV, especially not during a simple training mission.

  To tell the truth, Zac was anxious to ride again in a 308, and this time in space and at its full capabilities. He always enjoyed flying, and in his youth, had entertained the idea of becoming a fighter pilot. Then the REV bug took hold, and the rest is history. But the little taste he got of the 308 during his initial trip to Groom Lake piqued his curiosity and revived his lost dreams.