by Michael Todd
Sal was sure that Kennedy would somehow make it about how she didn’t trust him to keep her safe out there in the Zoo in front of the rest of the team. As he walked, he directed his excess mental energy into the amusing process of creating his comebacks for the inevitable war of words that would come once they reconnected with the others.
“We’re coming up on the spot,” Kennedy said and checked her map once again. “Unless the rest of the team ran into trouble, they should already be there.”
“Keep up a steady ping for them once we get within range,” Sal said. “Make sure that they know it’s us. I’ve heard stories about folks getting trigger happy out here and shooting without looking.”
She nodded. Of course, all the reports read KIA or MIA since nobody would own up to shooting their own man, but there was talk about it in the bar once the booze flowed and tongues grew looser. Nobody owned up to anything then either, but there had been too many hints dropped for it not to be at least a possibility.
It took them another half hour to climb through the underbrush that now became far thicker and a lot more aggressive. Sal could move through it without too much trouble, and Kennedy was able to simply push. Their new Russian friend, however, had considerable difficulty, which meant that Sal needed to drop back and open a path of sorts for him to walk through. It was slow going, and they estimated that the sun had begun to set by the time they received a response to their ping.
“I have your signal,” they heard through the comms. “Is that you, Kennedy?”
She keyed her comm. “Roger that, Young. We are about one hundred meters from your location, and we have a guest.”
“Oh…that fucking Russian was in need of some help, was he?” Young asked.
Kennedy glanced up to see Gregor’s reaction and then remembered that he wasn’t attached to his comm unit anymore. He looked at her, confused, and she turned and isolated the sound from her suit he wouldn’t be able to hear it. Everyone else on comms remained connected.
“Yeah, he had some problems with his suit,” she explained. “Since the purpose of our little excursion was to save his life, it seemed the obvious choice since the alternative was to send him into the Zoo half naked and with our best wishes.”
“Half naked?” Young asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Madigan growled, “there is that. The guy is boots, boxers, and shirt shy of being as naked as the day he was born.”
“Roger…that,” Young said, clearly confused. “Might I ask why the fuck the Russian has almost adopted a nudist camp’s dress code?”
“Long story,” she responded quickly before Sal could come in with an explanation. “We’ll see you ladies in a bit.”
“Roger that,” Young replied.
“What was that about?” the specialist asked after he’d opened a private channel.
“I thought that it would be more amusing to let them try to come up with some sort of mental picture of you and me fighting over his clothes or something before we drop them back down to reality with the real story,” Kennedy said with a grin, and he chuckled.
“What are you two talking about?” Gregor asked.
“Nothing,” Sal said and quickly turned the isolation protocol in his suit off. “We’re sharing some…proprietary information with the rest of our team.”
“How long will you hold this proprietary thing over me?” the Russian asked as Sal held a couple of bushes aside for him to walk through.
“About as long as you have Kennedy over there lugging your suit of armor around,” Sal said. “Plus interest.”
“You are paid to do that!” he protested.
“At slave wages,” she retorted. “So get used to a little ribbing from us there, Greg.”
“Is Gregor.”
“Whatever you say, Greg,” Sal chimed in. He tried and failed to suppress a broad grin.
Chapter Twenty
The rotors sprayed sand everywhere as a ruthless accompaniment to the helicopter’s arrival. This was among the very long list of reasons why Anderson had no intention to ever spend more time than was absolutely necessary anywhere near a desert. The disparity of temperatures from day to night and the glaring brightness of the sun with no shade was bad enough without the unbearable amount of sand that went fucking everywhere.
No, he would not look back on this mission with any degree of fondness. And that was only partially because his meds made sure that his night’s sleep had been light and full of dreams that were less than restful. He gritted his teeth and shook his head.
He’d ordered that the morning be used to debrief the rest of the squad on exactly what had happened the day before. The colonel didn’t need to look at it or even be present for it as the team leaders had handled it. Instead, he used the time to write up his own report, and true to his word, he made sure to lay the full weight of the blame on himself and the suits that the men were equipped with. In addition, he’d firmly suggested that all future testing stages be run in controlled environments and stated in the strongest possible terms that field testing must not be held in locations with as many variables as the Zoo. Then again, there weren’t many places on earth that had that many variables. Unless they’d made the mistake of unleashing alien goop anywhere else, this was the single worst place in the world to test suits of power armor.
Thankfully, he’d taken typing classes in high school and made sure to keep those skills honed. Over the course of the morning, he’d given the dumbasses in the Pentagon—and hopefully, Congress—thirty pages of scathing review that he would make sure they read. If he couldn’t get them to come down there into the middle of fucking nowhere to do their own damned tests, he would make sure to take every inch of revenge he could, petty or not.
He owed it to Sergeant Michaels.
Anderson started to write up a few words to celebrate the man’s many achievements when he heard the helicopter approach. It would be a few weeks until the ceremony in which they returned the man’s dog tags to his family. They needed to play with the records first and provide both witnesses and paperwork that confirmed that Sgt. Michaels had never been within a thousand miles of the Zoo. Only then would they release the man’s body for burial along with a horde of posthumous medals. He would make sure that they gave the family his full pension and the man full honors. It was the least he could do.
A few members of Blue team had already been lifted to the Staging Area for medical treatment, but the colonel was happy to see that at least one member had remained, a man by the name of Chief Petty Officer Vernon. He had broken a couple of ribs in the fighting, but he had refused to be shipped out earlier.
All remaining members of Red and Green teams assembled alongside the men who stepped out of the helicopter. The team members were all in uniform. They hadn’t brought their ceremonial outfits, but out there in the middle of nowhere, it didn’t really matter. They would have signed off on not being able to return and attend the dead man’s funeral, so this was as close to honoring the dead as they would get.
The men from the helicopter didn’t think that this sort of arrangement was strange. They wore combat fatigues as well and quickly moved past the assembled troops. A couple of men who had worked on the wall and even a few of the scientists were there too.
“Ten-hut!” Anderson shouted, and the assembled soldiers snapped quickly to attention and saluted as the officers returned with a coffin.
The colonel glanced around. He had spent most of his career in the Marines. There were a couple present, he saw by their uniforms. Navy SEALs, Green Berets, and even a couple of AFSOC men were present and held their salute stiffly as the coffin passed. In any other time or place, these men would crack jokes about how inferior the other men’s branches of the military were. A handful would make themselves heard every time men from different branches gathered together. He was sure that the joshing would come later, but now was a time to respect the fallen.
The colonel’s hand dropped to his side again as the coffin was placed in the hel
icopter and the rotors spun once more. One by one, the team members peeled away and headed back to where they’d bunked. He knew these men and had hand-picked them for this. They wouldn’t break under the pressure. Each one of them would stay until the mission was done.
They merely needed a couple of moments to process it all.
For Anderson’s part, he wasn’t even sure what the mission was now. The problems with the suit—especially the communications issues which were one of the major selling points from the parent company—put the whole operation dead in the water.
He was the last to walk away a few minutes after the helicopter took off. The other men had dispersed and left him to his thoughts for a long moment. Even out in the blistering sun, it felt like the place to do it.
“Colonel Anderson?” he heard someone say behind him.
His assistant stood there with a tablet in her hand.
“It’s Carlson,” she said softly. “He wants an update.”
Anderson nodded. “I’ll take it in my room.”
He marched back to his temporary quarters, and his assistant followed him into the room to place the tablet on the desk before she left and closed the door quickly behind her.
The device came alive with the image of a blue horse with wings surrounded by a silver ring. Pegasus was emblazoned on the bottom. It vibrated gently as it asked if he was willing to accept a call from New York.
He tapped the accept button and sat as the screen came alive with the image of a man with his white hair cut by the kind of person who charged three hundred dollars. The rest of his clothes were similarly expensive.
“Colonel Anderson, it’s great to speak to you again,” the man said with a broad and well-practiced smile—the kind perfected in front of a mirror for hours and which made shareholders believe he was a pleasant man. “How’s the Sahara treating you?”
“A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Carlson,” he said. Unlike his caller, he didn’t have to smile. “The Sahara is hot and full of sand, as it’s always been.”
“Well, the same can be said about the beach.” Carlson leaned back in his chair. “I was in Bali last week—got a fantastic tan, I have to tell you. My ex-wife is a dermatologist, and she always harped on at me about skin cancer and all that crap. Even after the damned divorce. Although I guess she wants to keep the alimony checks coming in and she can’t cash them once I’ve died of skin cancer, am I right?”
Anderson had the distinct impression that this was the kind of man who liked the sound of his own voice—one who would invite a horde of people to his penthouse for cigars and brandy so that they could have what Carlson assumed was the pleasure to hear him go on about politics or sports. Yes, he definitely seemed like the guy who could go on a rant about how baseball was better than football, and it would come with graphs, quotes, and historical figures.
He looked at the screen and realized that Carlson still rambled on about his trip to Bali.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Carlson,” he interjected. “I’m sure that your encounter with the two young women while deep-sea diving was very memorable, but the internet connection around here is spotty. I think it would probably be best if we could get the business out of the way first. Just in case.”
“Of course,” the man said with a small smile. “I’m sure that you’re a busy man too, Colonel, and I’d hate to keep you for too long. Yes, to business. How did the trial runs go?”
“There were a couple of problems,” Anderson said. He tilted his head after a moment as he considered that response. People had died. It was time for politeness to go out the window. “Actually, there were many problems. I’ve sent you and the generals back at the Pentagon my full report on the matter.”
“Of course, and I look forward to reading it,” Carlson said with a nod. “However, I’d appreciate if you could give me the pointers. I have a meeting with the lead scientists in the project over dinner, and it would be best if I knew what kind of mess we’ll walk into.”
“All right,” he said through clenched teeth. He didn’t need to be polite, but it was probably in his best interests to at least be civil. “The first issues were found during the march to the first testing stage. Sand and grit entered the joints too easily and impaired movement which could, over long use, cause problems with the hardware of the armor as well as the electronics. There was also some problem with the movement lag of the power functions in the suits.”
“We did talk to the scientists about that,” Carlson interrupted. “The lag is caused by a few inhibitors kept in place for the earlier models. We’ll refine the process and improve the training regimens for the people who will wear them from now on.”
“Right,” Anderson said. Do not snap at the man for interrupting you. He’s a billionaire company CEO, not a recruit in need of a few lessons in manners. “Anyway, that was the first mission run. The second had a lot of other problems. First of all, there was a lot of interference with the comms while the team was in there. We lost the connection repeatedly, and there was stuttering and—well, all the details are in the reports from the engineers in charge of overseeing the tests. They’ll have a much more informed report, so you should read that.”
“Wait, but I heard that these radio problems were common in the Zoo,” Carlson said, and Anderson could almost hear the cogs turning in his head. “Something to do with the radiation in…whatever it is that makes those trees and plants grow.”
“I’m sure all that will be covered in the report,” the colonel continued. “However, considering that the isolated comm frequencies included in the suits were one of the major selling points, this problem exposes some serious vulnerabilities that you may want to have your scientists look at and test for. The radio signals inside the Zoo are unique to this location, but only for now, after all.”
The CEO nodded. “I was told that there were casualties during the second test.”
Anderson closed his eyes and exhaled a long and eloquent sigh. “Sergeant Hugh Michaels. The men on his team managed to recover his body before retreating. Well…most of it.”
“Most?” Carlson asked and raised an eyebrow.
“The animals that attacked them managed to tear a leg off,” he explained, his tone curt. “Something else that you might want to bring up with your development team since we were told that the armor was impervious to most attacks, which we assumed included animal attacks.”
“I’m not sure I appreciate your tone, Colonel Anderson,” the caller said and leaned forward in his seat. “You need to appreciate that the amount of research we put into these suits is being funded for the betterment of the military.”
“And you need to appreciate that one man died and three others were wounded in testing your company’s suits, Mr. Carlson,” he responded but managed to keep his tone even and make sure not to show any emotion on his face. “Men with families who will have to be told some lie about how their fathers, husbands, and sons were injured or killed in the line of duty. Don’t you tell me to mind my tone.”
Carlson leaned forward, raised a finger, and opened his mouth to retort. Anderson had the feeling that few people in his life ever talked back to him, and those who did were divorced rather quickly.
He brought himself under control, leaned back in his seat once again, and allowed the momentary tension to fade.
“I apologize,” the CEO said in a more even tone. “I do realize that there are people dead and injured due to our lack of foresight.”
Anderson said. “I’m sorry too. It’s been a stressful day.”
The man nodded. “I appreciate that. Now, with…Sergeant Michaels, you said that they recovered the body. I assume that excludes his leg and the armor in which it was encased?”
“You assume correctly,” he replied.
“Not putting GPS locators in the limbs of the armor,” Carlson said with a shake of his head. “Such an obvious issue in hindsight.”
“We’ve considered sending a team in to recover the leg.”
; “Do you know where it is?”
“Well…no. Not a clue. The Zoo is a massive place in which to mount a search.”
“Well, in that case, if you don’t have an idea as to where it could be, I think it might be best if we leave it as is,” Carlson said decisively. “There’s no sense in risking any more of our men and resources on a search for something that the Zoo is probably consuming as we speak. No.” He shook his head. “We’ll have to outfit all our suits with locators on each of the limbs, but the risk to reward ratio of any attempt to recover a piece of broken hardware is too terrible.”
Risk to reward ratio, Anderson thought. While he was happy with the decision not to go after the leg, he couldn’t help but realize that it had actually been made by budgetary concerns. Still, looking a gift horse in the mouth and all that.
“Anyway, I’ll put your thoughts to the team here in New York,” Carlson continued. “For now, though, how long do you think it’ll be before they get the tests back on the road, as it were?”
“That will take time,” Anderson said. “The suits used by Blue team were heavily damaged. To repair them for the new team you send in and have all the other suits upgraded for use in the field—it’ll be a week, at least, before we’re ready for operations again.”
“Look, every day that we run this operation inside the walls costs us a fortune,” Carlson said with a shake of the head. “I can authorize a five-day delay, but that’s it. Believe me, you could buy a house in the fucking Hamptons with the cost of two extra days, and I’ll eat these extra costs myself.”
“I understand,” the colonel said. “I’ll inform the team.”
