“That’s true,” she admitted, blowing out a breath. “Well, it might be a good thing I’m not going anyway, given my track record lately.”
“What do you mean?”
She grinned impishly, her eyes sparkling. “If I go, things might explode.”
I fought back a laugh and dropped a chaste kiss onto her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her hands went to my sides. “Be careful,” she breathed.
“I promise. Besides, if things go wrong, I can always use Owen as a human shield.”
“That’s only if I don’t use you as one first,” Owen replied as he threw a duffle bag in the back.
“If either of you does that, I’ll skin the other alive,” growled Violet.
I let her go and stared down at her. The joking had helped chase most of the shadows out of her eyes, but some still lingered. I was torn between wanting to comfort her further and the need to get going and focus on the mission. Violet lightly pushed me toward the car. “Go,” she urged. “I’ve got your back.”
Placing one more kiss on her forehead, I nodded and left, climbing into the driver’s side. I threw the vehicle into gear, took one last look at Violet—standing wearily, but on her own, in front of the farmhouse, her cap pulled down over her forehead—and then took off. I turned my mind to the mission ahead, confident in her and my ability as a team, even with distance separating us.
20
Violet
The fingers of my left hand, save for my thumb, all rested inside four identical hollow metal tubes, which tapered at the bottom until they connected to wires that jutted out of the remote control. The device itself was about as wide as my forearm, as thick as the palm of my hand, and as long as my foot—probably about eight inches or so. Hard black plastic encased the device, and several buttons and dials were within reach of my thumb. The rest of the surface was filled with a screen, and I peered at it intently as I carefully manipulated my fingers.
In response, the camera angle shifted until it was pointed at a small window. A smile grew on my face as I raised my right hand, cast and all, and waved at the drone I could just see, a flicker in the dark, through the thin glass. Caught by the drone’s front-mounted camera, my actions were mirrored on the screen in real time. The drone’s design was sleek, not entirely unlike a heloship on a much smaller scale—about three feet in length and two feet in width. It stood a foot and a half when set on the ground, and was painted a matte black. The conical nose sloped back wider into the first set of wings, branches with propellers set in them at an eight-inch distance. The wings drew back in at a right angle, ending as they connected to the rectangular body. Another set of wings with inset propellers sat behind the first, probably eight to twelve inches away. It looked like an “H”, but with the connecting line in the middle jutting out farther on either side.
I lowered my hand and used my left thumb to click one of the dials, changing the camera to the one mounted on the drone’s belly. I then flipped a switch, activating night vision. Immediately the screen glowed a neon green, and I could see the ground just below where the drone was hovering.
I used my index and middle finger to pull the craft up and away from the window, while my ring finger and pinky controlled the turn. Once it had spun in a tidy circle, I relaxed my smallest digits and used my index to press it forward, while my middle finger controlled the height. I flew a slow loop around our camp beside the road to the farmhouse, over the tents, noting the placement of our guards and facilities.
The drone was remarkable. Its engines were whisper-soft, and the controls were sensitive to miniscule movements, yet somehow fairly intuitive. Piloting required a certain amount of dexterity, but remained mostly user-friendly, especially since the sensitivity of the controls could be adjusted. I smiled as I thought of Thomas’ demonstration earlier that evening, which had resulted in the drone getting lodged in a tree, clicking angrily.
It had been two hours since Viggo and Owen had departed, and while I knew I should have been resting, I had instead taken the time to practice my flying with one of the spare drones from the barn. I wanted to make sure I had a complete understanding of all the controls and features. It was as compulsive a need to me as checking a gun for ammunition or cracking my neck before a fistfight.
Besides, there were too many unknowns on this mission to risk Viggo and Owen’s lives with my inexperience with the equipment. Not that anyone was an expert on drones right now, of course, but that didn’t give me license to relax. I was too edgy to rest anyway. Watching Viggo leave today had been difficult, and even though I was definitely part of the mission, it wasn’t the same as being physically there with them. On the other hand, the moment wasn’t always what it was cracked up to be—the tension seemed to exist no matter which end I was on. This tension was actually almost worse, because if anything went wrong, I was literally too far away to do anything about it. I was certain Thomas felt the opposite, while Ms. Dale just rolled with the punches one way or the other.
A sharp rap on the door jolted my attention from the screen, and I flicked another switch, putting the craft in a locked holding pattern, before looking up. The woman herself stood in the doorway, her brown eyes on me. “They’ve arrived at the destination,” Ms. Dale announced with a nod. “They’re unboxing the drone now.”
“Give me one second,” I said, and she nodded and left. I quickly adjusted the controls and flew the drone toward the barn, landing it right outside one of the doors. Powering off the remote, I slid it from my lap—it was too heavy and awkward for me to lift with my cast—and then stood up.
I moved down the hallway, through the dining room and kitchen area, stepping into a room on the opposite side. The strange room took up the width of the house on this side and was clearly a trophy room of sorts. Animal heads were mounted on the wall, while furs stretched over the mismatched chairs sitting near the fireplace opposite the door. A sofa running along the inner wall also had a few dark brown furs draped over it. I wasn’t sure what kind of animal the skins were from, but if I’d had to guess, I would have said bear.
In this room, Ms. Dale and Thomas had set up a long, collapsible table along the rear wall of the house, and they’d carried in several screens and computers while I was tinkering with the drone. I had offered to help, but Ms. Dale had waved me off, insisting my time would be better spent resting or practicing. As I entered, Ms. Dale was leaning over Thomas, going over a few of the pictures once more, and neither seemed to notice me at first.
We were using some of our camp’s precious electricity for this mission. Since I’d been awake, I’d learned the farmhouse had been off the grid when Ms. Dale had found it, but she’d picked it partially for the old generator in the basement. Thomas and some of the refugees had managed to patch it up, and while they’d also brought several smaller, state-of-the-art generators from Ashabee’s stash, it would be easy to max them out for non-emergency situations.
Besides, Ms. Dale and Thomas had both insisted keeping the lights off made us much less of a target at night in case another heloship came by. Thus, the camp had fire-cooked soup and tea heated on the wood stove in the kitchen, hand-washed laundry with hand-pumped water; the makeshift sickbay, the handhelds that needed charging, and Thomas’s spying equipment were the only things we were allowed to use power for. It was vital for this mission, especially for staying connected to our crew—and since the drones charged electrically as well, I was insanely grateful we had it.
I moved over to a ladder-back chair pulled out in front of the table, the familiar remote control set up in front of it. Sitting down, I looked over to where Thomas and Ms. Dale were still softly speaking and cleared my throat. Almost as one, they turned toward me.
“Good,” Ms. Dale said, straightening up, as though I had announced myself. “Viggo just let me know the drone is out of the box. Here.” She handed me a gray case, and I opened it up, pulling out the headset and earbud that would allow me to communicate with Viggo and Owen. Unlike the previ
ous missions we had used subvocalizers on, there weren’t any separate channels set up, which meant everything would be heard by everyone. Ms. Dale and Thomas were already geared up in simple headsets with microphones; since the three of us were in a secure location, we wouldn’t need to use the subvocalizers, and would be patching our regular voices into Owen and Viggo’s ears through these while they communicated to us via subvocalizers, the devices scanning their vocal cords and reconstructing the sounds they would make in exacting detail.
I pushed the earbud into my ear and pressed the small button on the base. Immediately I heard Viggo’s voice coming through the line, probably speaking to Ms. Dale.
—set up the drone about fifty yards from the base, beyond the tree line. Getting ready to activate, advise when Violet is ready.
“I’m here,” I said into the headset’s mic, smiling despite myself as I heard his voice.
Good, came Viggo’s reply. We’ll power up the drone now.
“Go ahead.” I clicked on the remote and looked up at the drone’s view screen, which Thomas had wired to also display on the television across from me. The screen flickered, filled with darkness; I turned on the camera on the drone’s belly and flipped the switch to night vision. Immediately, green and black filled the screen, and I found myself looking at tree trunks and grass. “Back away from the drone,” I ordered as I slid my fingers into the metal tubes.
We’re clear, announced Owen, and I immediately moved my middle finger up, causing the drone to rise up into the air. I kept the speed slow, remembering the drone’s engines would be stiff until they warmed up. A small red proximity alarm flashed on the screen, and I used my thumb to quickly switch the view to the nose camera, adjusting the drone until it was pointed upward. A large branch cut across my path, so I adjusted the course, weaving slowly in and out of the forest canopy until I cleared the tops of the trees.
Reading the compass on the display, I manipulated the tubes again, angling the drone toward the labor camp. A series of bright white lights began to appear, set on tall, thin poles barely visible in their own light—I blinked, momentarily turning away from the screen and switching to the drone’s low-level light setting as the camera flared with green, the night vision setting taking in far too much light. Recovered, I moved toward the bright balls, knowing those were the lights that illuminated the camp.
I kept the drone fifty feet off the ground, and as I approached the chain link fence, away from low-hanging trees, I switched over to the belly camera, knowing the proximity sensors would pick anything up before I hit it, provided I wasn’t moving too fast. At this height, the airspace above the camp would be clear enough, anyway. We had almost the whole night before daylight made the mission infeasible, so I was confident we could get through our recon.
Angling for the closest corner of the fence, I positioned the drone, hovered it, and looked over at Thomas. Sitting next to him in the farmhouse felt surreal; my eyes already strayed back to the screen, as though what was happening out there was more real than this room. “Ready for recon,” I informed the small man, and everybody in my company. He nodded, his fingers flying over the computer.
“Ready,” he replied.
The plan was simple. I would fly the drone in concentric circles, first around the fence and then moving inward, noting guard positions, movements, and weapons if possible. Thomas would input the data as I moved in, hopefully mapping out likely movement patterns so we could make it easier for Viggo and Owen to get in and out undetected. It was frustrating that we couldn’t send them the map directly, but the handhelds continued to have their limitations, one of which being that we couldn’t give them a live feed. We all knew it was a painstakingly slow process, but were also confident we could get the whole thing done in under an hour, two tops. If the drone was spotted, I would fly it out of there, and we would abort.
I began my circuit, announcing guards as I came across them. So far there were only four wardens walking the perimeter, but as I drew inward, I could see several more in what seemed to be stationary positions around the camp—all around the tents, all standing. The tents were tall enough to obscure some angles of approach from view of the stationary guards on the inside, but the initial approach would definitely be tight.
Rows and rows of tents filled the camera as I circled around them, so many it was difficult to count how many I had passed after a while. After some time flying in mind-numbing circles, with only my display readings to guide me, and Thomas to notify me of course corrections, I finally spotted the break that constituted the open space around the trailers in the center.
“Thomas, how many rows of tents are we up to?” I asked as I flew the drone around another line of them.
Thomas clicked something on, and I heard his chair squeak as he nodded. “Ten deep and ten wide. Each tent can hold two to four people, so… it’s possible there’s over three hundred men in the camp, and we could give or take a hundred or so.”
“There are no mass burial sites,” commented Ms. Dale, who was prowling the room behind us, closely watching the screens Thomas and I were working on. “Definitely no sign this is a death camp.”
What do you think it might be? Viggo articulated through the line. I had to admire his patience—he and Owen had been sitting on standby the entire time, still on the eroded car track in the forest, probably itching to move, but unable to start their stage of the mission until we had finished ours.
Ms. Dale pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she admitted after a pause. “It’s a mystery—but I’m honestly considering letting go of it for the time being and sending you guys home. We presumed this was some sort of execution camp, and without any evidence of it, it’s making me reconsider what might be going on here. I’m questioning what kind of evidence we’ll find.”
I wanted to argue with her. There could be some sign of Tim in the camp! I bit the impulse back, recognizing my motivations were purely selfish. I had to trust Ms. Dale had our best interests in mind and not let my personal feelings get in the way of the mission. That would definitely give my team members justifiable cause to exclude me from future missions. I also knew acting recklessly now could put Owen and Viggo’s lives in danger, and I could not risk their lives, no matter how much I wanted to know about my brother.
Why don’t you let Violet use thermal scanning on the trailers first? Owen suggested. That way we’ll have a better idea how many guards there are, and whether it’s worth taking the risk. I smiled, silently cheering him on.
Let’s also not forget that any information they have on the computers there is worth the risk, added Viggo. I would find it hard to believe if they had three hundred men in the camp and no filing system.
Ms. Dale released a heavy sigh and nodded at me. I didn’t need to be told twice. I flew the drone over to the trailers using the low-light vision, then clicked over to the thermal scanner. Immediately, the picture changed to a complex, mottled image of black, blues, and purples, a few yellows and greens in between.
On the screen, the trailer beneath the drone showed a very dark blue, indicating a low level of heat next to the cold, black outside around it. I carefully piloted the drone over the top, noting the hotter, brighter bodies inside. This trailer had four individuals inside, their bodies glowing a complex, almost beautiful mosaic of blue, green, and yellow that phased to orange, just a bit of red, at the centers. Unlike the other trailer, I could make out individual limbs that indicated they were lying down, but beyond that, they weren’t moving.
“Southwest trailer has four bodies inside, not moving. Possible sleeping quarters,” I informed everyone. I piloted to the next one and repeated the procedure—this one had only two people inside. On the third trailer, I paused as I took in the three people in the box, painstakingly pushing my mic’s off button with my right hand so I could conference with Ms. Dale and Thomas without bothering Owen and Viggo.
“Before I tell them anything is wrong—Thomas, why would two of the thre
e people in this room be showing up as way redder than the other one?” I asked.
Ms. Dale and Thomas both turned off their mics. Thomas glanced over at my screen and frowned, perusing the screen, then gave a little shrug. “It could be an area set up for first aid,” he announced. “Those two might be running a fever.”
“Should I count them as guards? Do you think they are some of the Patrian males?”
Ms. Dale answered for him. “Until we know better, they are guards. If they’re running fevers, that might be to our advantage, but I would prefer not to test that theory. Let’s report three hostiles to Viggo, but warn him that two could be sick.”
Decided, we patched back into Viggo and Owen’s line, and I informed Viggo, who acknowledged me tersely. Then I piloted the drone to the last trailer, relieved when I saw it was empty. “Northeast trailer is empty—I recommend it as a first stop.”
Only if we get the go-ahead from Ms. Dale, Viggo replied.
Ms. Dale moved over to Thomas, studying his map closely. “Do you see a point of ingress?” she asked the pudgy man.
Thomas shook his head, his fingers flying. “If they approach from the same direction as the trailer, fifteen feet from the corner, they’ll have a minute-and-a-half window to get through the gate and into the tents. It’ll be tight, but it’s doable.”
Ms. Dale nodded. “All right,” she transmitted. “You get that, boys?”
Started moving five seconds ago, came Viggo’s dry response.
I suppressed a smile and transitioned the camera back to low-light vision, using it and Thomas’s directions to help pilot the drone over to the point Thomas had indicated on the screen. Then I waited for Viggo and Owen to come into sight, that one spark of humor bleeding away into tension as the seconds slowly clicked by.
The Gender Fall Page 16
