I Am Automaton: A Military Science Fiction Novel (18 page)

“Think of the lives that will be saved. The lives of our soldiers who won’t have to be sent into foreign cave systems and mountains. Think of the victims that will be spared random terrorist attacks.”

“I guess it’s better than nukes. In this politically correct world
, we would never be allowed to use nukes,” he mused.

“Nukes would prevent reconstruction,” Fiona added, “because the land will be rendered useless. But with the ID, once the targets are eliminated, we can begin to rebuild. We can instill democracy in a chaotic world.”

“And profit off the reconstruction,” he added cynically.

“That, of course, is part of it. These wars don’t pay for themselves.”

“Thanks, Fiona. I think I’ll be alright.”

She smiled at him. “I think so, too. I mean, really, it’s like stem cell research. In the
beginning, it was thought by some to be morbid and unnatural. But we use it all the time now, and even the religious groups and Conservatives now recognize its value. Imagine if we let our squeamishness get the better of us back then.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Captain London looked at her desk clock. “Same time next week?”

Lorenzo nodded.

“Great. See you then.”

Lorenzo stood up, put on his headgear, and saluted. Then he left.

As Captain London activated her Cybernetic Digital Organizer to enter the session note, she became lost in thought. She was sure she believed in the Insidious Drone technology.

At one
point, stem cells were just considered discarded tissue, not just aborted fetus tissue. At one time, placental tissue was considered the body’s detritus, jettisoned as waste. Boy was that view wrong.

However,
the greater American public was still unaware of the existence of the Insidious Drones. The technology was still being developed, and it had not yet been applied in an actual combat situation.

The public didn’t hear much about a drug until it had passed clinical trials and obtained FDA approval. Until then it was rumor at
the most. She figured this was no different. Or was that just a rationalization?

Captain London had her hands full. It was a full-time job to manage the soldiers’ doubts and anxieties. A few had washed out entirely from abject terror. After sorting those with weak constitutions out, the remaining crew was solid.

However, they needed her help, even more than Major Lewis comprehended. She sometimes thought his expectations for the men were too high and his timelines for results too ambitious. She would do her balancing act of running interference for the men while keeping them sane enough to meet Major Lewis’ objectives.

She touched the screen of her Cybernetic Digital Organizer and began her entry on Sergeant Michael Lorenzo.

***

Carl Birdsall found himself fifty feet above the ground clinging on for dear life as he climbed rope ladders and traversed rope bridges in an exercise called Victory Tower.

He had not realized how afraid he was of heights until this moment, but Sergeant Maddox didn’t tolerate any lollygagging. As a result, Carl and the rest of his squad careened over the heads of the rest of his platoon to reach the end.

The rest would have their turn at it squad by squad. But at the moment, he was just trying not to fall to his death.

A private in front of him stumbled on the bridge and fell through, his groin stopping him from total free fall. In the process, he shook the whole bridge, causing Carl and the three men behind him to fall off the side.

They all held on.

Carl struggled to regain footing, but the recruit in front of him kept shaking the whole bridge. Carl called out to him. “Mendoza.”

The
terrified recruit was not listening. He clung to the rope, frozen.

“MENDOZA.”

He looked at Carl, eyes wide as platters. The other recruits were cursing at him for shaking the bridge.

“Mendoza, look at me. Don’t listen to them.”

Mendoza just stared at Carl in horror. Then he nodded like a terrified child to a parent trying to explain that there is nothing to fear in the dark.

“Mendoza, you’re okay. You’re not going to fall.”

“He’s going to make us all fall,” Koontz shouted from behind Carl.

Carl looked over his shoulder. “Shut up, Koontz. You’re not helping.” Then he turned back to Mendoza. “Mendoza, just look at me. You’re fine.”

Mendoza nodded. “I can’t move, Carl.”

“Listen, Jeremy,” Carl used his first name, “I want you to pull yourself up with your arms
, slowly.”

Mendoza nodded and began to pull himself up slowly.

“Great,” Carl coached, “now swing your leg around and put your foot against the rope.”

Mendoza did as Carl said and then awaited further instructions.

“Great. Now pull yourself up to a kneeling position and wait for me.”

Mendoza pulled himself up and knelt, clinging to the rope railing of the
bridge, but he was still shaking, preventing the others from regaining their footing.

“Mendoza, keep looking at me, and stay still. I’m coming to get you.”

Mendoza stared at Carl so intensely that he almost forgot to blink. Carl pulled himself up and regained his footing. The others behind him followed suit.

Carl began to inch his way, hand-over-hand, to where Mendoza was clinging to the railing. “Okay, Jeremy. I want you to stand up slowly and hold onto me.”

“Just pass him, Birdsall. We don’t have time,” Koontz jeered.

“Goddammit, shut up, Koontz,” Carl reprimanded, “or I’ll knock you off the bridge myself.” He turned back to Mendoza. “Okay, Jeremy. I got you.”

Mendoza pulled himself up slowly, grabbing onto Carl. Carl tensed his body so that they wouldn’t rock the rope bridge.

“Okay, now I’ll be right behind you. We have to make it to the zip line.”

Mendoza’s voice was trembling. “I can’t…”

“I’m right behind you, Jeremy. Now MOVE.”

He jabbed Mendoza in the ribs with his index and middle finger together, and Mendoza sprung forward. Carl made sure he was right behind him, jabbing him and speaking tough encouragement in his ear.

They made it to the zip line.

“Okay, Jeremy. Grab the handles.”

Mendoza was feeling better now that he was off the rope bridge.

“You can do it, Jeremy, just grab the handles.”

Mendoza nodded, his face screwed up in determination. He grabbed the handles, and Carl pushed him
off the platform.

Carl watched him slide down, legs dangling, and then took the handlebars on the zip chord to the left. He pushed off the platform and sailed above the rest of his platoon and Sergeant Maddox.

He met Mendoza on the platform on the other side. They were at the worst part. They had to repel down a fifty-foot wall backwards.

“Okay, Jeremy. We’ll do it together.”

Mendoza nodded.

They each grabbed the thick rope in their hands and turned
, putting their backs to the drop.

Carl braced himself. “MOVE IT
, MENDOZA.”

They both pushed off backwards. Carl landed with his feet to the wall. Mendoza was not so graceful. He slammed his body against the wall, but he regained his composure and pressed his feet against the wall. Carl nodded and they repelled down together, swinging out almost in unison until they reached the ground. Carl slapped Mendoza on the back supportively, and they backed away allowing the rest of their squad to follow.

When the last of their squad, Fromm, hit the ground, Maddox clicked his stopwatch. “God almighty that was the worst time I’ve ever seen. You ladies move slower than a group of pregnant cows.”

He looked at Carl. “Birdsall, step forward.”

Carl did as he was told.

“Explain to me what went wrong up there.”

Carl cleared his throat. “One of the squad lost his footing on the bridge, sir. We couldn’t pass until we helped him back up.”

“You could’ve passed him at any time.”

“Yes, sir, I suppose we could have.”

Maddox got right in Carl’s face. “So you’re telling me that you let one soldier interfere with your mission? Is that what you’re telling me, Birdsall?”

“I’m saying we leave no man behind, sir. And we completed the mission.”

Maddox smiled venomously in Carl’s face. Then he whirled around and addressed the rest of the platoon. “Do you see what we have here? Do you know what this is called?”

They all stared at Maddox silently, knowing the question was rhetorical. Carl swallowed hard. His throat was dry as a bone.

“This is called leadership. I expect this out of each and every one of you.”

Maddox then turned to Carl’s squad. “Fifty laps around the airfield. Now.”

They groaned from exhaustion, but they started to jog off.

“Not you, Birdsall.”

Carl turned around. “Pardon me, sir, but I believe my place is with my squad.”

Maddox smiled widely. “Good man, Birdsall. Good man.”

He nodded, and Carl ran off to catch up with his squad. He was weary from the exercise, but he felt good doing laps with his squad.

It just felt right. As they ran, Koontz glanced over at him. Carl expected some kind of wisecrack, but Koontz only smiled. Mendoza flashed him a brief look of gratitude.

They completed their laps together, as a unit, feeding off each other’s strength and company. Carl was beginning to understand what Basic Training was all about.

***

Peter was jogging along with his platoon in reverse
Vee formation as thunder rumbled in the distance. The airfield was dark from cloud cover, and the air was damp.

Lockwood arranged an obstacle course with barriers of varying heights. Their objective was to corral the ID through the course. It was supposed to simulate difficult terrain.

The ID were not known for their speed or their agility, but they had to coax them through the course, improving on the time from previous iterations.

The dogs raced along the insides of the
V, prodding the ID along while managing to stay out of arms reach. As they hit each obstacle, the ID in front tripped and fell, and the ones behind piled on top and crawled over.

It was messy and barely coordinated, but that was the nature of the ID. They progressed through the course slowly but surely, surmounting obstacle after obstacle. A few ID began to pile on and hump in front of a particularly tall
obstacle, but Peter waited as the others climbed over them and over the obstacle.

When all the ID made it over, Peter sent the dogs back to coax the humpers apart. After a few minutes, when he saw they were ignoring the dogs, Peter signaled to Lorenzo to send the dogs back up with the other ID to keep them moving forward.

When the dogs were clear, he triggered the Amygdala Inhibitors for the humpers. As a result, two of the three were immobilized. The one that was apparently not a member of the deactivated squad kept going.

Peter signaled Lorenzo to continue with the group, and Peter shot the remaining humper in the head. He then left the other two immobilized and rejoined the formation.

They progressed through the course, losing one or two ID who had to be put down while immobilizing a couple of more squads. When they reached the end of the course, Peter immobilized the rest and they waited while Lockwood counted the ID that made it through.

“Eighty-four percent.”

Major Lewis strode up to address Peter and Lorenzo. “We need to do better.”

Peter nodded.

They had broken the ID into squads, and each squad now had their own Amygdala Inhibitor switch. But the humpers didn’t necessarily break down by squad.

It was an improvement, but far from perfect. Not only did they have to plug a few in the head,
but they also had to immobilize several others, thus eliminating them from the exercise.

They were now fighting attrition, and something had to be done about the humpers. It was the rare exercise where there weren’t any, and it was holding them back from reaching what Major Lewis considered
acceptable levels of attrition.

In
debriefing, Peter voiced his frustration. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

Major Lewis nodded.

“We need to do something about these humpers.”

“Well, I thought the squad specific Amygdala Inhibitors would help.”

“They do, sir,” Lorenzo said, “but there’s still an ID or two that need to be put down.”

Major Lewis put up his hands in exasperation. “Well, any ideas?”

“What about electromagnets? Opposite polarities would force them apart,” Peter suggested.

“No,” Farrow responded, “it won’t work. Some ID would repel each other, but others would be attracted
, making matters worse.”