by John Conroe
“Which leads us to the conclusion that it was the most recently placed infiltration unit.”
A suit in the front row spoke suddenly. “What evidence do you have that these things are from inside the Zone?”
Aaron didn’t even blink. “Analysis of the printed components is a near one hundred percent match for the 3D printers of the Chinese mothership units that were part of the original release. Also, the remote detachable sensors are basically stripped-down versions of the Wasps that motherships carry. And the rest of the parts, all salvaged, come from the exact models of Indian and Chinese bots that inhabit the Zone, with serial numbers from the lists of units released on Drone Night as provided by the original manufacturers. And the programming is very much Chinese Spider.”
“You’re asserting that these machines were built and programmed by the Spiders in the Zone,” the same man said, his eyes angry and his tone skeptical.
“Yes,” Aaron said.
The man boggled at him for a moment while the silence grew, till he finally blurted out, “That’s ridiculous!”
“Parts printed by printers only found inside the Zone. Other parts taken from units whose serial numbers were listed on the invoices of drones sold to the terrorists, and complicated, sophisticated software code that exactly matches code from the Spider unit recovered several months ago,” Aaron said, ticking off the points on his fingers.
I didn’t like the guy, but he had a certain style and authority in the moment.
“How could you compare code to a unit you don’t have?” the suit asked with almost a sneer.
“Because Aaron and his associates gave me copies of their work before your people removed all the rest, Tim,” General Davis said, moving forward. I wasn’t aware of that, but it fit with Yoshida’s professional paranoia.
“You were ordered to turn over all material,” this guy, Tim, said, really angry now.
“No, the orders indicated that Major Yoshida and his people were to turn over all their notes, files, and evidence. Nowhere in the orders was I mentioned at all. So their analysis of this situation isn’t something you can cover up,” Davis said.
The Tim guy looked like he was going to grab a weapon and murder the general, but another suit, four places down, suddenly spoke up with no regard for the obvious tension.
“General, setting aside the massively disturbing implications of drones producing drones, how would these things have gotten out of the containment area?”
“We have recently found a small number of weak points in the perimeter barrier where a well-shielded unit of small enough size could possibly get through. The outer shells of all eight captured UGVs have finely sintered metal circuits printed right into them,” Davis said. “We experimented in the most likely weak point and found the EM detectors didn’t register enough signal to set off an alarm.”
“So you are telling us that an unknown number of drone-designed UGVs have escaped the Zone and have infiltrated who knows where?” the same guy asked.
“Yes, Director Weber, that’s exactly what we’re saying.”
“And what are you currently doing about it?” Director Weber asked. No idea what he was director of.
“We found these units by sophisticated analysis of recent drone accidents, vehicle system accidents, and control network errors. In other words, we’re looking for mistakes that shouldn’t happen. We’ve begun widening our parameters but frankly, Director, this is more your bailiwick than ours. I would like to have my people provide details on what they’re running and let your folks take it much, much further,” Davis said.
Okay, that was a clue. NSA maybe?
“I see. Has anyone informed the president?” Director Weber asked.
“I have done that at the direction of General Urses. About an hour ago,” Davis said.
Something about his expression told me he hadn’t enjoyed the experience in any way. Of course, telling the President of the United States that the first drone escape from the Manhattan Drone Zone in ten years occurred on your watch couldn’t be a great thing, now could it?
“And?”
“The president has instructed Zone Defense to do everything and anything we need to in order to, number one, find any more of these things, and two, stop them at the source,” Davis said.
“Meaning what?” Tim asked.
“Meaning we are to find and destroy the last two Spiders, the units known as Peony and Plum Blossom.”
“Haven’t you been hunting the Spiders for years?” Tim asked.
“Yes, and as you know better than anyone, we’ve had recent success,” Davis said, eyes locked on the other man.
I felt eyes on me at that exact moment. Glancing around, I found Yoshida twisted in his seat, looking at me. He nodded once.
“Major Yoshida?” Davis said, causing the major to snap around.
“Yes sir?”
The general waved a hand at the stage and, taking the hint, Yoshida popped up smoothly from his seat.
“We have been training a team of talented special operators to penetrate the Zone using drones as watchdogs. We’ll use them to hunt the Spiders,” Yoshida said, directing his attention to the suits but waving a hand at the trainees.
Tim, from who knows what agency, frowned, but Director Weber just looked curious.
“The island is an awfully big place for a couple of dozen people to hunt down the most dangerous drones on the planet,” Weber said.
“Yes, Director, but well… we have a plan. We’re going to hunt them over bait,” Yoshida explained.
Chapter 23
“You know what? The saddest part of this whole thing is that my girlfriend’s dad predicted almost exactly this,” I said.
“Oh, shut up already. You may not like him, but even you have to admit that my father isn’t a stupid man,” Astrid said, fixing something on the collar of my shirt. “Alright, it’s almost time. Ready?”
No, Brad Johnson wasn’t stupid at all. Smart, in fact, if a trifle light on morals. Really light.
The lady with the clipboard and the earpiece turned to us and pointed, but Astrid, through long familiarity, was already walking forward, holding my hand, pulling me onto the set.
“Ah, here they are. Look at them, the cutest damned couple to hunt the Zone,” Cade Kallow said as we came into camera view.
“Such a smooth talker,” Astrid said, smiling and completely at ease in front of the cameras. Me, I could feel a dribble of sweat forming on the back of my neck and my pits were a bit too moist as well.
“The warrior princess and the deadly hunter,” Cade said, smiling his trademark smile.
“Meeting the celebrated bard,” I said, mouth running without me thinking.
Cade laughed, delighted with my comeback. He turned to the camera. “Have I mentioned how much I love having these two on the show?” He turned back in time to lean into a hug and cheek kiss with Astrid, then shook my hand with hearty enthusiasm.
Astrid took the seat next to Cade’s right, and I sat next to her right.
He looked at us, smiling hugely. A consummate showman, I honestly thought he did, really truly, enjoy our infrequent on-air chats. Then he focused on me. “Ajaya, rumor has it that you’re back on the market?”
I glanced down at my left hand, which was firmly holding Astrid’s right one, then back up at Cade, a bewildered frown on my face. “Not unless Trid’s forgot to tell me something,” I said.
He laughed again. “Oh Lordy no. Never that. Let me rephrase that. Ajaya, I’ve heard you’re dusting off your recovery business, ready to head back into the Zone?”
“Ah, yes, that’s true.”
“Your stint with Uncle Sam has finished?”
“Yes, it was always just going to be temporary. Training people on Zone survival and all that,” I said.
“Well, glad to hear that our troops got the best instructor they could get,” he said.
“Thanks, but I’m sure my instructor evaluations don’t fully reflect that,”
I said.
“Oh, I don’t know. I bet they valued your expertise.”
“Oh, they did. I was working with the best of the best. Consummate professionals with years of experience. It’s just that I’ve never been a teacher before, so you know… my lesson plans were, let’s say, unusual.”
“And they’re done with you… just like that?” Cade asked.
“Yes. The door was left open for possible future engagements, but once these people get some time in the Zone, they’ll likely be the ones to teach other soldiers.”
“And so your recovery business is officially open again?”
“Yup. And I’ve already got requests,” I said.
“Ajaya, I would only be surprised if you weren’t swamped with recovery missions. When do you go back in?”
“I start tomorrow, bright and early.”
“Any details?”
“Cade, Cade, please. You know I don’t ever reveal possible recovery details,” I said.
“It’s my job to try, Ajaya,” he said. “Astrid, how about Team Johnson? What’s new with the Viking Clan?”
Astrid smoothly explained the latest weapon and equipment upgrades, then laughingly discussed her big brother JJ’s current dating escapades, and then bantered with Cade as he tried to get her to throw shade on the other Zone War teams. I tossed in a quip or two, but my mission was done. I had accomplished exactly what I had needed to and now Astrid carried the conversation expertly. She had quite literally grown up on the show and her rapport with Cade gave Zone War a big chunk of its charm and appeal. The segment ended, Trinity Flottercot seemed pleased, the crew chatted with us for a few minutes, and we gradually worked our way out of the studio.
“That what you needed?” she asked me as we left the building.
“Yes. Exactly. Thank you,” I said, kissing her cheek.
She pulled back and gave me a serious look. “I know you, AJ. That wasn’t to drum up business. That was for something else.”
“Yes, yes it was. We have a theory. That was a test of it.”
“You think the Spiders will now know that you’re going into the Zone tomorrow,” she stated.
“Yeah. Pretty certain that they will.”
“They watch the show?”
“In a manner of speaking. At least, we think they do.”
“One of those infiltrators?”
“Yes. An old one. Maybe the oldest,” I said. “The intelligence people went all out and found lots of little things that raised eyebrows. One of them was a pattern between team interviews and subsequent drone attacks. A big one was your family’s own Spider attack. The show did one of those upcoming teasers indicating that your LAV was going into lower Manhattan that day, and lo and behold, a Spider trap.”
“But it got changed at the last minute,” she protested.
“Yes… by the show producers.”
“So somewhere in that building is a bot?” she asked.
“That’s our working theory.”
“But you didn’t say where you’re going in,” she said. “But then, you never do, so it would be out of character if you did.”
“Can’t make it too easy. Plus, it gives us a chance to see if the email servers I use to receive and accept contracts have been compromised. But even if they don’t know where I go in, they’ll be on the hunt.”
“You’re deliberately putting yourself at risk,” she said, clearly unhappy with my choice.
“I take risks every time I go in. So do you. This really isn’t different, well, except that I’ll have a whole mess of highly skilled operators on overwatch.”
“You don’t think those things will figure that out?”
“Well, it’s like old-time animal trapping. If they’re too wary to come near the bait, we’ll have to change our tactics.”
“What if they just figure out a way to get the cheese and eat it too?” she asked.
I didn’t have a witty answer for that.
Chapter 24
It was still dark out when I arrived at the Holland Tunnel checkpoint and Zone access control. Armed, suited up in the latest and greatest stealth suit that US government labs could provide, Rikki locked and loaded, with my plan all mapped out. Arguably the best prepared I have ever been when inserting into the Zone.
So why was I already sweating, even in the predawn chill, and why, exactly, were my hands shaking?
The sergeant at the tunnel doors gave me a once over before waving me through. Into the airlock, the massive doors silently swinging shut behind Rikki and me. The wall monitor showed infrared images outside the tunnel, both Canal and Spring Streets lit up with ghostly illumination. Nothing moving. Dark and cold, best time to insert, when the drones were at their lowest power levels.
I hit the big red button and the outer door unbolted itself before powerful hydraulics pushed it open. Rikki shot out into the darkness, fully charged and raring to go. I followed, slow and soft, rifle ready, eyes open wide, ears straining for sound. A cool mist fell over the dark streets and blackened buildings, a sharp and oh-so-eerie contrast to the distant lights of Brooklyn, far to the east. It took two blocks to shake off the sense of pessimism I was having, which had awoken me twice in the middle of the night. But the familiar rhythm of move and pause, of checking everything twice, of Rikki’s quiet reassuring presence, all calmed me down. So I was a little cooler, a little less twitchy when we turned south onto Hudson Street.
The contract I had accepted was a phony, at least in that it had been sent by someone in a dark suit from an undisclosed government location that registered as a small corporation.
It called for me to locate a boutique wine store on Hudson Street, just south of 60 Hudson. My goal was to retrieve a case of rare, extremely collectible wine that had purportedly been in the store’s possession on Drone Night.
It was a fairly common kind of request. In the days and weeks following the attack, a lot of information had been saved and processed about the kinds of valuable items abandoned in Manhattan. Insurance claim forms in particular provided people interested in specific items with a wealth of information. And many rare things just got more valuable as the years passed.
After ten years, an important vintage could gain enormous value, especially as people consumed more of the other bottles that existed.
Lotus had hung out at 60 Hudson Street—alot, according to the log recorder Yoshida’s people had found. Our theory was predicated on one of the remaining Spiders needing to take over accessing the world networks from the massive internet hub complex.
My path was going to take me right by the building, and our plan called for pairs of newly trained special operators moving into position from the west side. I was pretty worried about them. Yeah, they had many, many years of experience in combat, had been using military drones forever, but the Zone was different. They were much better prepared than my first four, but it was still sooner than I would have liked.
Most, if not all, of them should be in the Zone already, having inserted via military watercraft along the waterfront. We had paired them so that at least one sniper type was in each group. When I moved past the internet hub building, we were hoping to lure a Spider out to play. My overwatch group would help protect me from any and all drones and maybe nail the Spider. Render drones were set up to provide heavy cover to the east of my position. We were pretty sure the plan would fall apart somewhere along the way, but we hoped to flush out Peony or Plum Blossom, kill some drones, and maybe get lucky. If nothing else, we’d be learning more about our adversary.
