by A J McKeep
A long container hung from three large rotors and it lumbered unsteadily down toward the flat roof. A door was open at the front of the box. When the hulking transporter wavered a couple of feet above the surface of the roof, Keely urged Garrison aboard. “After you,” Garrison wanted to see it done first.
“In my section of the Corps,” Keely told him, “We have these things called ‘chains of command.’ Are you familiar with them?”
It looked like Keely really wanted Garrison to despise him. Garrison decided come what may that he wouldn’t give the smooth skinned fool his satisfaction. Instead he broke out a wide grin as he hauled himself onto the floor of the swaying box.
“I want to have Hershey and Coke come along with me, too.”
Keely grinned as he climbed aboard. The open section at the front was a bare space. Metal walls, a corrugated metal floor and no lights. He left the big door open and the box swayed as the transport veered away. There were no couches, chairs, or benches.
Keely stood as far inside the space as he could get. “You may be misunderstanding the nature of the mission, specialist Caine. This is not a red-carpet operation. I am about to deliver you deep into forward penetration in the core of a raging hot hostile zone.” Keely flattened himself against one wall of the bare, swaying box. “You’re not going to be holding doors open in luxury hotels. This isn’t about ushering celebrities past velvet ropes while you talk into communicators and finger concealed weapons.”
Garrison flattened himself against the wall by the wide-open door. He would rather have closed the door. The swaying ground was a long way below. He didn’t want to give Keely the satisfaction, of showing the slightest discomfort though.
Keely clung against the wall. Garrison was pleased to see the whiteness on the man’s knuckles. The way he jumped he faced straight and relaxed was something after all. Garrison could almost like him. If he ever got past the raging urge to throw him out of the open doorway. Keely said,
“We’re going into a live and active combat zone. The reason you are being assigned here is to protect an individual who the locals, some very fierce hostiles, are going to be eager, determined and energetic in wanting to kill.”
The transport plunged and swept low to the ground. Trees flashed by outside. Keely had to shout over the noise of the rotors. Garrison wondered how covert their insertion was going to be. He comforted himself with the idea that, even if they got in they’d have alerted enough devices that the odds of Keely’s getting out again were narrowing.
Below the ground was turning swampy and a thick mist hung over the greenery. Pillars of dense smoke rose nearer the horizon. Keely was saying, “You’re right to think that the assignment is in recognition of your courageous initiative,” and he leaned his head to one side as he smiled, “But we expect the reward to be of more benefit to your loved ones than to yourself.”
They both crouched against the walls as the transport lurched downward. Keely picked up his speech back up, probably, Garrison thought, to keep his mind off their immediate circumstance. Keely didn’t seem like a man accustomed to danger.
“We confidently expect that after you’ve provided distinguished service, we’ll be sending personnel in dress uniforms to your loved ones to convey USMilCorps’ sincere regrets, along with our gratitude for your service and a modest but useful juice credit in recognition.” The thin smile shoved dimples into his pudgy cheeks. “We expect you to do great work, and we believe that, as well as providing an essential service, your action in the highly energetic field of combat should provide us with invaluable data on the performance of your highly advanced replacement and enhancement therapies.”
Garrison chewed on the inside of his cheek. He’d rather have listened to the buzz of the rotors. Keely’s head tipped to one side. “We’re certain that you can do the job, but we don’t really expect you to come back. Protecting this individual presents a number of unique challenges.” Was the jerk really that insensitive of an ass or was he trying to provoke a response? Garrison badly wanted to give him an authentic reaction to find out, but he knew how badly that could end. Keely went on, “A number of specialists have been assigned to this particular detail. Nobody has lived very long. Not yet. That’s why you’ve got the job. Maybe you can buck the trend.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s unlikely, though, obviously.”
Garrison balled his fists as Keely stood and braced against the wall of the swinging box. “Your comrades would be unlikely to thank you for dragging them into what is almost certain to be a one-way mission assignment.” Briefly, Keely’s eyes bulged. He has motion sickness. Garrison drew some satisfaction from that and resisted the temptation again resisted the temptation to answer him.
Keely said, “And, anyway, this is an ultra high security operation. Vital eyes only. No-one else is to know.”
“You know.”
“See, that means that I’m vital.” Keely’s grin was all the way up to full smug. Whatever Keely was, Garrison doubted he had ever been vital.
“The container here has an exo-frame and a ground transport. I’ll be honest with you. This is the one part of your mission that makes me envy you.”
“I’m open to negotiating a swap.”
“Yeah, I don’t have your skill-set, Caine.” He laughed. “I also have too good of a life expectancy.” Garrison saw that the man’s eyes avoided the open door. He was terrified.
Changing gear, Keely read from his tablet to brief Garrison. “The armed and armored exo is like most of the battleskins you’ve driven before, only this is a ninja version. Way smaller and sleeker, but faster and a whole lot more powerful. Incredible weapons systems. It can elevate for up forty minutes, travel parallel to the ground, submerge. It’s pretty cool.”
Keely’s eyes glistened and gleamed. “The vehicle is operated like a bike with forward-leaning, low handlebars. It’s powered with micro aerospike jets. It has an armored inner refuge pod, equipped with an automated emergency medical, surgical and full life-support system. Of course, the EHVI in your care shouldn’t require any of that.” Keely chuckled, “Because they’ll have you there to make certain that the need doesn’t arise.”
The transport dropped vertically at a sickening rate. Garrison’s spine jarred as the container dropped onto the ground. Keely ushered Garrison out and followed him onto the unnervingly soft ground. The rotorframe had dropped them and the box at the edge of a wide clearing in what looked like a misty swamp surrounded by dense forest.
A shuttered door covered the rear of the container and a lit green button was on the side of the frame. The fastenings on the container snapped and the rotorfame lifted away. Then it lowered a harness and swung low in front of Keely. Confidently and with a sigh, Keely climbed into the harness and strapped himself in. The rotorframe rose and lifted him away. Keely called down, “Get into the exo right now, Garrison. Don’t waste time. It would be a shame if you don’t make it to your first rendezvous.”
As the rotorframe hauled him away, dangling below the blades, Keely looked pretty exposed himself.
Garrison shrugged and hit the button to open the container. He stepped into the echoes inside the dark box. A vehicle sat at the back, a large, smooth egg with a seat high on the front and controls on a pair of steering bars. It had a tracked skid at the front and two more behind. Low on either side, two long micro jet engines narrowed to flat blades at the rear.
In front of the vehicle the exo lay in a long, wide chest. The box housed a power supply and maintenance bay for the exo. At the feet end was a red button. Garrison pressed the button. A soft, smooth AI voice said, “Register your hand prints and your DNA.” And a panel glowed green. After Garrison flattened his hand on the panel it flashed and shut off. A ring of tiny spikes jabbed his hand before he pulled it away.
“Garrison Caine,” the AI said, “You are registered and authorized for the use of one USMilCorps development prototype XXT-0015X armed exo motion aid, and one EVCTA-229Z high-security Ground and Low Altitude Prot
ection, Exfil, and Emergency Medevac pod.”
The exo rose like a monster’s clothes getting up from a coffin on their own. Garrison stepped back. The exo climbed out of the trunk. It walked so smoothly it seemed alive. It stepped over to Garrison, following him as his reflex made him back away. It stood in front of him. Lights on the visor flickered and the limbs adjusted, lengthening to Garrisons exact size.
Then it turned and spread its limbs for him to step in. He hesitated. The sinuous strength of the machine could have been sculpted by a Renaissance master. Tentatively, Garrison set one foot into a boot, then the other. The shin guards slipped closer to fit themselves against him. Then the thigh pads, abdominal armor and the rest of the exo fitted itself to him until it formed perfectly around his body.
While the cheek pads closed over his face and the lenses in the visor adjusted to his sight, he slipped his hands into the armored gloves. Garrison flexed his fingers and the platinum, kevlec and carbon fiber armor slid to enclose him in a perfect fitting. Buds dripped into his ears. The sole rose swiftly to lift him then lowers again. Replicas of his hands telescoped out of his palms on flexible extensions.
The frame jumped backward, covering about ten feet. Then it jumped forward. In his ear, the AI asked him with an easy intimacy, “Before we cover the operation of the GLAPEEM pod, would you like a demo run of the suit for familiarization?”
As he nodded he realized he should speak his response clearly. But the exo said, “Okay, Garrison. Anything you want to do, you just do it. I’ll help. For the demo, you can relax and take it as a spectator, or you can be as active as you like. Would you like me to start?”
Exo
SPRINGING OUT THROUGH THE open container door, the exo carried Garrison as it leaped into the air and bounded straight across the clearing. Garrison stayed loose. He was a passenger as the frame ran in huge jumps. It took single steps twelve or fifteen feet at a time. At the far side of the clearing it turned back.
The soft voice in his earphones said, “Autonomous travel is set by your objectives. By your eyeline, the angles of your musculo-skeletal attitude, and, if clarity is needed, you can issue plain English voice command.” Garrison nodded. The exo said, “Or, you can simply do the thing you want. All assist should be intuitive.”
Garrison asked, “Should I familiarize myself with the vehicle first?”
The suit ran around the edge of the clearing. It was fast. As it ran, it told him, “The GLAPEEM operates more or less like a cross between a motorcycle and a snowcat. You are experienced in both kinds of vehicle, so you should have no difficulty in operating it. Defensive and attack arms can self activate and target, although the operator can override, naturally.”
“Does the vehicle have infranet access?”
“The GALPEEM pod has connectivity through fat datapipe with multiple redundant satellite locations and stealth near-neighbor radio-frequency hackcess. Recreational features also include ex-certified music and video libraries.”
Garrison didn’t catch that. “Ex-certified? Is that music and video that was formerly certified?”
“The GLAPEEM is a certification exempt secure zone for data access.”
The exo took him on a series of fast eight-foot jumps.
“As well as walking and running, we can climb and swim, we have thrusters that convert to miniature turbines in water. Clear air jumps are possible up to one point two one four miles at a time, or we can clear approximately one hundred and fourteen feet in a vertical spring. Would you like a demonstration run?”
“Sure. First, tell me about the weapons systems.” Icons and schematics on the outer sides of Garrison’s visor displayed guns, rockets, grenades, and microwave beams.
The voice abruptly halted and changed. “Threat detected. Microbot swarm. Two o’clock. Approaching nine point five degrees, North North East.” A red line flashed in the visor, though he couldn’t see anything inside it. An enlargement appeared above. It was still hard to see, but a regular pattern of gray flex was moving in a regular path toward him. “Technology, type, and origin unknown. Weapons unknown. Threat assessment unavailable.”
“Is this a training exercise? A drill?”
“Negative.”
He watched the display. “They’re coming this way, though.” Garrison realized he was conversing with a machine. “Are they heading for me or for the container?”
“Plotting course…” He watched as the swarm swelled and contracted like a single, breathing entity on its course. It was hard to tell but it looked like it was made up of about three dozen very small airborne bots. They seemed fuzzy at the edges and he couldn’t make their shapes.
The exo said, “Vehicle approaching.” The visor alerted him to a shape emerging from the woods behind him.
The vehicle was a slow-moving anonymous rectangular charcoal pod. “Microbot swarm approaching current location. Vehicle identified. Carrying subject of mission.”
The bot swarm accelerated. He wouldn’t be able to do anything to such tiny targets with any of the conventional ballistic weapons. Instinctively he engaged the microwave by selecting it with a finger gesture. The display showed the beam source located in the palm of his right hand. As he extended his arm toward the swarm, a second hand stretched out on a flexible telescopic tentacle out from his palm and snaked toward the target.
He flexed his fingers. The remote hand echoed the gesture and he felt the buzz of the powerful microwave. The visor display showed the beam in a luminous blue. The beam appeared solid in the display as it stretched to the botswarm. Drifting slowly apart without changing their course, the microbots parted just enough for the beam to pass harmlessly between them.
The exo’s AI said, “Fan beam.” An icon like a spread-out fan lit in the display. Garrison selected it with a finger. The far end of the beam spread in a wide arc. Garrison turned his hand. Half of the microbots buzzed away. The bean passed through the other half and they dropped out of the air like shale.
He tried to sweep the beam at the wider cloud, but the bots evaded him. When he tried again they changed course.
The exo told him, “Swarm retargeting against subject of mission,” but he had figured it out, too. The swarm had moved beyond the range of his beam and were headed for the charcoal pod. When he ran, the suit jumped. He reached the pod and the suit leaped, clearing the top of the vehicle. As he was landing in a crouch, he swept the beam wide at the swarm of bots, forward, them back. He caught about a third of them. The others spread wide and they rose high.
He jumped backward, landing on the roof of the charcoal pod, above the side door. He fanned the beam down in front of the door. Four bots buzzed toward his face. He swung the beam up slowly, but let them approach him. He guessed that the rest would attack the pod. When they did he caught them all but one. It joined the others to attack him. He somersaulted off the van.
Standing in front of the door, Garrison swatted at the remaining five bots. As they came at him, one at a time or two from opposite directions, he tried to get a close look at them. All he could see was a blur, like they were dark, fuzzy insects. He swept the beam across his chest and he last two bots fell.
Picking one up he found a soft bean, draped in a fine, sheer fabric.
The exo told him, “Bot threat cleared.”
Behind him the pod door slowly slid slowly open.
A thin, pale youth cowered in the shadows. His sunken eyes darted from side to side and he shrank from the light. He clearly was unwilling to leave the shelter of the pod.
Runes
“COME IN HERE.” THE teenager peered out of the doorway from side to side. His eyes were wide like a frightened rabbit and he actually jumped when he saw Garrison. The boy shrank back into the darkness of his capsule, beckoned hastily to Garrison to follow him inside.
Whoever he was, this youth was not what Garrison was expecting as the subject of a close protection mission. This kid looked like he needed protection from himself. As soon as Garrison stepped into the
pod the kid shut the door. Garrison was uncomfortably cramped. The pod was only high enough for his frame to crouch in the exo. He should probably have clambered out of the exo first. When he crouched to sit, though, the exo frame supported him as comfortably as a high-end ergonomic chair.
Inside, the sparsely furnished pod was dark and the warm, thick air smelled of occupation without the comfort of ventilation. The space was like a student dorm or a convenience motel room. There was a bed, a chair, a screen, a sink, a fridge, and a bathroom and shower cabinet. Garrison wondered how long the kid had kept himself cooped up in here.
He asked the kid, “So, you’re my client for bodyguarding.”
“Hell, no,” the kid laughed nervously. “I will be, or at least my body will be the one that you guard.” He laughed again. “But not with me in it. Obviously.”
“Obviously.” So, he thought, I have a close-protection bodyguarding mission for a deranged and hysterical agoraphobic teenager. Deep in enemy territory. In Great China. What could possibly go wrong?
“So, do you have an itinerary, or should I just follow you around, or is there somewhere you would like me to take you now?”
“No!” the kid said. “I won’t be in charge of any of that.”
“Okay,” That’s a relief, at least, Garrison thought. “So, who will be in charge?”
The kid laughed again. “You don’t know? You really don’t know who’s coming? Seriously?”
“No.”
“Oh. Get ready for a surprise.”
“I think I’m adapting to an even state of surprise more than a series of surprise events.”
The kid nodded. The haunted look on his face made Garrison nervous. He said, “I have a pretty neat high-security vehicle to transport you in. You want to see it?”
