Target Utopia

by Dale Brown

  “Daddy, I—we need your help.” Breanna was stuttering, stumbling over her words, the same way she had when she was little and had to tell him about poor grades in school or some other disappointment that seemed monumental to her. “It has to do with the Sabre combat UAVs, and their AI. I know you may not want to talk to me, but if you could talk to Ray, or even Jonathon Reid, we would appreciate it. You have Ray’s number, I know. Here’s Jonathon’s . . .”

  Dog listened as she gave Reid’s CIA phone number and then repeated Rubeo’s number.

  He took a step toward the phone, wanting in his heart to answer. But the distance was too great, the pain too much. He shouldn’t and didn’t blame her, and yet it was too hard to get the phone, and too hard to talk to her.

  Dog stood in the empty kitchen, the walls closing around him. Water spit fitfully from the faucet as his pot overflowed.

  Finally he shut the water off and found the lid for the kettle. The igniter on the burner had long since stopped working. Taking a match from the box he kept nearby, the sturdy hands he had counted on earlier when hunting shook so badly he nearly missed the striker patch on the side of the box.

  4

  South China Sea

  THE MOMENT OF victory was also a moment of high vulnerability, for it was a moment not only of imbalance but also hubris. Vanity was a great weakness, seductive and difficult to overcome.

  And yet, Braxton couldn’t help but feel a swell of satisfaction as he steadied the two Sabre UAVs for a landing in the lagoon of the atoll two miles from the tug. It was a moment of triumph years in the making, and not simply because he had found a way to defeat Rubeo and the scientist’s military masters. He had defeated the brightest brain trust of the most powerful nation in the world. His triumph was one of historical proportions. He stood on the precipice of a new age, a time when nations no longer mattered. From this day forward, individuals were their own sovereigns; democracy had evolved to a higher level.

  At the moment it applied only to a select few, but eventually the shackles of world government would be thrown off by all. Braxton had no illusions. Governments, from the biggest to the smallest, would fight the new age. History was not on their side, but there would be many casualties. He aimed not to be one.

  The computer flying the two aircraft indicated they were nearly at stall speed. Braxton watched as the computer settled them into a gentle landing on the calm water of the lagoon. Unlike his craft, these weren’t optimized to survive a water landing, but he’d programmed the flight computer to compensate as much as possible. The Sabres skipped along the surface like stones, slowing gradually as they came toward the beach. He’d planned on them landing on the sand together, but an unanticipated change in the wind caused the first Sabre to slip into the water about twenty yards before the sand. The second aircraft continued on its own, hitting the sand and continuing about thirty yards up the gentle slope before spinning right and flipping over. The cameras he had posted on the island showed that it remained intact despite the crash.

  Braxton logged out of the computer and got up from the workstation. Opening the hatchway to the deck, he was surprised by how muggy the night air was—the computer room was kept at a constant sixty-seven degrees.

  “We’ll rendezvous at Point North as planned,” he told Fortine, who’d come over from the cargo vessel to wait for the next step.

  “Do you need help?”

  Braxton shook his head. “No, we’re more secure by keeping a low profile. Talbot and I can handle it,” he said, nodding at the sturdy seaman who was standing near the rope to the launch below. “We’ll meet you as planned. It shouldn’t take very long.”

  5

  Malaysia

  THE WHIPLASH MOBILE command center had arrived and been set up by the time Danny Freah returned to Tanjung Manis Airport. The self-contained trailer, delivered via MC-17, had an array of high-tech gear, but perhaps the most critical piece of equipment was a fully automated coffee machine that ground whole beans and brewed a cup of coffee at the touch of a button. Danny had two cups as soon as he got back from the reef.

  The coffee wasn’t much of a luxury, but it was the only one he permitted himself as he reviewed the mission with Turk, who landed shortly after he did.

  Ray Rubeo’s assessment that the Sabres had been the aim of the plot all along did little to assuage Turk’s guilt over losing the aircraft. The fact that the scientist believed there was little Turk could have done to prevent their theft had no effect either. He watched the videos glumly, and gave monosyllabic answers to Danny’s complicated questions on tactics and the aircraft flight characteristics. Rubeo wasn’t sure when the aircraft were taken over and was hoping that Turk could help narrow the area. But instead of analyzing the situation, Turk seemed only capable of berating himself.

  “Look, you had nothing to do with it,” Danny told him finally. “But the more you blame yourself, the more it keeps you from doing your job now. We have to figure out where to look for the aircraft. And then we have to get them back. And that’s what we’re going to do.”

  “Yeah.”

  Danny watched Turk examine the flight map. He was still young, still a kid, and yet he’d been through so much—even before Iran.

  “Come on, lighten up, Turk,” Danny told him. “Believe me, if Ray Rubeo says you had nothing to do with it, you didn’t.”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “He’s not exactly Mr. Personality, but there’s nothing about those systems he doesn’t know. If he says you’re not responsible, you’re not. Breanna doesn’t think you were, Reid doesn’t, and I sure as hell don’t. Get your head back in the game.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  TURK REWOUND THE map of the incident, struggling to accept what Danny had said. He was right about Rubeo—the scientist didn’t mince words for anyone, or make excuses, even for himself.

  So, back in the game.

  What the hell happened out there?

  He played the tape over, watching the positioning of the different aircraft and guessing what they were doing. He compared it to what he would have done, and to the literally hundreds of exercises he had with the Sabres.

  “I think I know where it happened,” he told Danny. “They should have nailed the target on this maneuver here. See how they crisscross? That’s not programmed, and it doesn’t make sense. So it’s right where they closed for the attack.”

  Turk reached for the keyboard and brought up a sitrep screen showing the positions of all three aircraft about sixty seconds before the moment he was focused on.

  “See this maneuver here?” he told Danny. “That’s purely spur of the moment—they’re not preprogrammed to do that. They’re talking to each other, and the move makes a lot of sense. The enemy UAV dives. That is preprogrammed. He pretends to be getting speed, hoping they fly by him. But they’re working together, and they won’t do that.”

  “And they’re not under the enemy’s control yet?”

  “No, because look—here they make their move and get two bursts off and then stop firing. Because they lose the target. Except they shouldn’t,” added Turk, reexamining the encounter. He brought up the gun camera view from Sabre Three. “He should still be firing there . . . I wonder if it has to do with the weapons radar being on.”

  “How?” asked Danny.

  Turk shrugged.

  “Let’s see what Rubeo thinks,” said Danny.

  AS USUAL, TURK was baffled by his interaction with Rubeo. The scientist stared straight into the camera above his video screen as Turk told him what he’d realized. Rubeo didn’t even blink.

  Breanna was sitting to his right. Turk could see her shoulder in the corner of the frame. Part of him wanted to talk to her directly, to say something like, See? I’m more valuable than you thought. What would you have done if they killed me like you wanted?

  Another part of him thought that would be pathetically juvenile. Besides, he was winning just by being here.

  He caught her face as she
rose. It looked white, drawn—Turk, surprised by how old and pained she appeared, stopped speaking.

  She glanced at the camera, then quickly turned away. What was she thinking?

  Remorse, maybe?

  If she apologized to him now, in front of all these people, would he accept it?

  “The attack radar mode was switched on only at that point?” asked Rubeo.

  “Yeah,” he said. “They don’t use it until they’re close because the other aircraft can home in on it more easily.”

  “It may have masked the command transmission,” said Rubeo. “Or initiated it.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Turk, struggling to get his mind back on the subject. “It may have had something to do with the weapons radar going into targeting mode.”

  “So you theorize that the returns from the radar are actually instructions,” said Rubeo.

  “Um, I don’t theorize anything.”

  “Possible.” The scientist began talking about wavelengths and transmissions and data feeds. Quickly lost in the technical discussion, Turk glanced over at Danny Freah, who shrugged. It was hard to stop Rubeo once he started explaining something.

  “I’ll spare you the actual technicalities,” said Rubeo finally. “Your insight does track with some of our thinking. The question of more immediate import is where they went next.”

  “They had enough fuel for five hundred miles,” said Turk. “They could reach Vietnam, or eastern Malaysia.”

  “Or any of a dozen places in between,” said Danny.

  “The best theory is this archipelago,” said Rubeo. He brought up an island group three hundred miles north, near Vietnam. “The Navy will be starting the search of the area at daybreak.”

  “I think that’s too far,” said Turk.

  “You just said they had fuel for five hundred miles,” said Rubeo. “And your estimate is a little short. Besides, this is the only place with airfields that we’re not monitoring.”

  “They were landing the other UAVs in the water,” said Turk. “I just think that they’d want to be closer. Near the intercept. Because, what if something goes wrong—what if the Sabres get shot down? You want to recover them. Easily. Five hundred miles away? Anything could happen.”

  Rubeo played with the lobe of his ear, considering.

  “We have several search plans under way,” said Reid, speaking for the first time since the session started. “And we do believe that the UAVs must have been operated from someplace closer. We have a possible location for that station.”

  “They had that many bases?” Danny asked.

  “It would make sense to have several,” said Reid. “They need to move around, and be sure of having a safe haven.”

  “We have circumstantial evidence on this one,” added Breanna. “A link to Braxton’s business holdings.”

  “So where is this?” asked Danny.

  “A container ship and tug that have been sailing in the vicinity for several weeks,” said Breanna. “It’s currently anchored about fifty miles north of where the aircraft were last seen.”

  “We should check it out immediately,” said Danny.

  “I’m glad you agree,” said Reid. “How soon can you put together a mission to do so?”

  6

  The Cube

  BREANNA GOT UP from the console as soon as the call with Danny was finished. She needed to take a long walk, but there wasn’t time for that. There wasn’t time for anything.

  She settled for the kitchenette suite across from the lower conference room. It was a poor substitute.

  “You must be floating in that stuff,” said Jonathon Reid, entering the room as she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Almost.” She took a sip; it was hot, but a little bitter.

  “Our call to the President is in five minutes,” said Reid.

  “I know.”

  “Do you want me to take it myself?”

  Breanna shook her head. “No.”

  “This wouldn’t have happened if she had agreed to our original plan,” said Reid. “If it had been a full Whiplash mission from the very start.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  If the conspiracy had been out to get the UAVs from the very beginning, the results would have been the same, Breanna realized.

  Except for the Chinese, maybe. Though even there, there was no way to tell.

  “You’re blaming yourself,” said Reid. “That’s foolish. You’re not to blame.”

  “No, but I’m responsible,” said Breanna. “The buck stops here.”

  “And here,” said Reid. “Should we take the call in the conference room or your office?”

  “Conference room. Change of pace.” She smiled weakly.

  A tone announced that a communication from Air Force One was incoming. Reid took his seat and directed the computer to open the line. Breanna closed her eyes while the encryption synchronized, readying herself.

  “Breanna, Jonathon, I understand the Chinese ship is no longer on fire,” said the President as soon as the line was established. Her face loomed in the large holographic screen at the front of the room. “We measure that as progress, I assume.”

  Reid started to answer, but the President cut him off.

  “I also hear that we’ve lost two Sabres,” said Todd, clearly in a bad mood. “What’s the explanation?”

  “The conspiracy appears to have taken over the controls via a transmission that mimicked one of the original command overrides,” said Breanna. She spoke quickly, not because she was nervous or wanted to get it over with, but because she felt it would be better if she was the one who told the President rather than Reid. The military aspects of the operation were hers, not his. And of course there was the Dreamland connection. “It was a vulnerability we hadn’t anticipated. It affects all of the combat UAVs, not just the Sabres. I’ve asked the Pentagon to ground all versions of the Flighthawk until we have a solution.”

  “For how long?”

  “We’re not sure,” admitted Breanna.

  “And we’re working on getting the aircraft back?” asked the President.

  “We are,” said Breanna.

  “What are the prospects?”

  “I can’t honestly say.”

  “We believe we have located another of the conspiracy’s bases,” said Reid, cutting in. “They’re on two ships, a cargo container carrier and an oceangoing tug. We think they may have used the cargo containers to hide some of their equipment, perhaps even the minisubs they use.”

  “How many bases do these people have?” asked the President, clearly exasperated.

  “They have a lot of money.”

  “If they were spending it on feeding the poor, we wouldn’t be talking about it,” said Todd bitterly. “What are they going to do next?”

  Reid shook his head. “We’ll know more if we take those ships.”

  “Take them.”

  The President seemed to be staring directly at Breanna. She knew this wasn’t true—Todd was merely looking at the camera above her screen on the plane. Still, Breanna felt as if she was on the spot.

  And she deserved to be. The “leak” had turned out to be far greater than she or Reid had feared. Nothing in this operation had gone entirely as planned. Breanna knew it wasn’t her fault, or Reid’s—but someone had to take responsibility.

  “What else?” asked the President.

  “I think that’s it,” said Breanna.

  “It’s quite enough,” snapped Todd. “Update me. Try to avoid doing any more damage to our relations with the Chinese. And stay away from the Philippines.”

  “If the Chinese attack—” started Reid.

  “Defend yourself, of course,” said Todd. “But try to keep them out of it, if at all possible.”

  There was a pop on the line as it shut.

  “I understand the Secretary of State has been talking to Beijing for the past hour,” Reid told Breanna, breaking the silence. “I would have liked to have heard the conver
sation. The secretary doesn’t like to be woken up in the middle of the night.”

  He smiled, clearly meaning the comment to somehow cheer her up. But Breanna couldn’t find anything humorous in the situation whatsoever.

  “I have to go over to the big house for a breakfast meeting,” said Reid, using his new favorite expression for his office in the headquarters building across the campus. “I’ll try to get back for the operation. If there are any delays or other complications—”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “We’ll get through this,” added Reid. “Always darkest before the dawn.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she managed.

  ALONE IN THE elevator to the surface, Reid thought about Breanna and the conversation they had just had. She was taking the matter far too hard, blaming herself, and Whiplash, for things that neither had any control over. The seeds of the conspiracy had clearly been planted years before. The vulnerability in the UAVs was extremely serious, but surely a solution would be found.

  Breanna was working herself too hard. He couldn’t remember when she’d had a vacation. While the same could be said about him, he didn’t have a child or a spouse to take care of.

  When the crisis passed, he decided, he would urge her to take some time off. It was only right.

  7

  Malaysia

  NEEDING TO MOVE quickly, Danny decided to fly down with Turk to the Marine base and talk about a possible strike using Captain Thomas’s men. Despite the fact that they’d only returned a few hours before, the Marine commander told Danny they’d be ready to launch as soon as their Ospreys were ready to go. That would be in another two hours, shortly after dawn.

  That was sooner than Danny had dared hope. While he would have preferred operating at night—and with more rest—the proximity of the Chinese took away those luxuries.

  “The technical people are working on a way to counteract the Sabres and the other UAVs,” said Danny. “But we’re concerned about the proximity of the Chinese carrier task force. The cargo container vessel is about two hundred miles from the carrier group. If the carrier group gets any closer, we’re going to go in right away.”