I Am Automaton: A Military Science Fiction Novel (23 page)

“Shit, Pete. This is it,” Lorenzo said excitedly.

“I know. Hard to
believe, but this day had to come sometime. And Navajas and Order for International Liberation in the same location. It’s like Christmas in August.”

“We do this right and we’ll change the face of the war on terror,” Lockwood said with no small degree of import.

***

20:00

The whirring of the blades spun by twin GE T700-GE-701C engines chopping through the night air had a calming effect on Peter, like white noise.

They were almost at the drop-off point, and he was going over all of his training in his head. It was like the locker room right before the championship game, and he was reviewing all of their plays.

He wondered how Carl was doing in another Black Hawk with the two other SWEEPERS and two squads. He was proud that he was able to arrange his brother’s assignment to this unit.

It sure beat urban combat in Pakistan or Afghanistan. All Carl had to do was track the ID from above the cenote under the cover of his own squad.

Peter thought of his friend, Delroy Apone and his men that were slaughtered at the hands of the ruthless Navajas. He wondered what Apone would have thought about the ID and their first mission.

He knew he would make Apone proud. He wished he could have told Molly. He wished he could have told her that he was going to hunt down and kill the sons-of-bitches who murdered her husband in cold blood.

However,
the mission and all of the activities of the ID Program were strictly classified. Cold, undead justice was coming to those Navajas bastards, and for the moment, that was enough.

Carl sat next to the other two SWEEPERS in his Black Hawk. He was admiring the instruments of the gun ship: the threat warning system, the infrared jammers, and the radar warning receiver.

He never thought he would one day be sitting in a Black Hawk helicopter on the way to Mexico. His parents never went anywhere exotic. Who could afford it in this economy?

His thoughts predictably and invariably drifted to his mother. His poor mother. Although he knew she’d disapprove, he was proud that he was going to neutralize a security detail of O.I.L. He didn’t have to wait for the Middle East after all. Those bastards came to him and he had something for them.

He thought back to his second day at Fort Bliss. He and his brother were in the barracks talking. Peter had told him about Tijuana.

‘Carl, somebody tipped the Navajas off that we were coming.’

‘What happened, Pete?’

‘We stormed a storefront at dawn. It was a damned trap. Snipers drove us into the store. They bottlenecked us inside using the aisles. There were a few of us left. I did what I could to stall for time. They took us to the outskirts and they executed my men in front of me. My friend, Delroy Apone, they shot him in the head like he was nothing.’

‘How did you get out?’

‘I was lucky, Carl. Very lucky. I managed to fight off the Navajas. I crossed into town, and they pursued me. I stumbled into an alley, and a prostitute took me in. A prostitute of all people. I don’t know why, but she protected me. Her name was Lucita.’

‘And that’s why you joined the ID Program?’

‘Major Lewis and Captain London thought I should get back on the horse. That I would be no good at all if I didn’t get back in the game.’

Carl remembered the conversation. He saw the look in his big brother’s eye. He knew how he felt. They both had vengeance on their mind, and if all went well, they would get it.

The helicopters stopped in a clearing and the platoon hopped out. The copters quickly flew away, and Peter looked at his watch. They had a little less than twenty-two hours.

He called Lorenzo over. “Vee formation. Tell the flanks to look alive. We make our way over to the ID drop coordinates.”

Lorenzo nodded. He turned to the men and barked the orders. They got into formation, the SWEEPERS in the rear, and they began to make their way to the ID drop coordinates.

They crossed the terrain, cutting through dense vegetation. It was around eighty degrees, but there was a breeze. The suits functioned well to keep them cool, but the air was humid and electric with the approach of the massive hurricane careening in their direction.

They crept through the lush flora at a steady pace. Deer lurked stealthily, and iguanas rested under rocks absorbing the heat from the day as they slumbered.

Large trees with tangles of exposed roots like thick fingers probing the soil loomed over them, as palms gently brushed their arms and shins.

Peter halted by a pile of limestone and put up a closed fist, signaling for the platoon to halt. He consulted his Multi-tasker, which indicated that they were right by the drop zone.

It was almost dawn, and in the near distance, the hum of the Chinooks came. But to Peter’s surprise, they remained in the distance.

“What’s wrong?” Lorenzo whispered to Peter.

Peter was looking at his Multi-tasker. “The drop coordinates changed.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But they were definitely modified.”

The map on his Multi-tasker indicated that one shipping crate was deposited nearby, only a few clicks away, but the other two were dropped at quite a distance away.

“This drop site may have been compromised,” Peter whispered. “Instruct the men to fall back.”

Lorenzo ordered the men, and they receded back into the flora. Peter received satellite pictures on his Multi-tasker. There was a squad of O.I.L. patrolling in the vicinity.

Lorenzo saw the satellite maps and the location of the squad. Peter had to make a quick decision. He signaled to Lockwood to come over.

“Lockwood, take two squads and a SWEEPER to locate the most distant two crates. When you’ve located them, send the coordinates back to HQ for extraction. Then establish a perimeter and wait.”

Lockwood nodded.

“We’re only using one crate?” Lorenzo asked. “That’s only thirty ID.”

“There’s no time,” Peter stated. “The other two crates are too far away. The thirty ID will have to do. The targets are only a squad of O.I.L. and several Navajas.”

Lorenzo nodded. As Lockwood took his squads and SWEEPER, Lorenzo ordered the troops into formation, and they made for the closest crate.

And just in time. The Order for International Liberation security detail passed close to the original drop coordinates, which would have ensured traditional engagement. The ruckus would have alerted the nearby Navajas, and they would have missed their opportunity.

Dawn broke and the temperature was beginning to rise. As they trekked silently toward the closest crate, Peter noticed the silence. It was as if the wildlife knew a storm was coming and had taken refuge. The dogs were even getting antsy.

The relocation of the drop coordinates and the separation of the drops cost them valuable time, as did their evasion of the roving security detail.

As they grew close to the coordinates of the new crate, Peter received regular updates on his Multi-tasker via satellite on the position of the squad of unfriendlies.

The SWEEPERS, being primarily field technicians, were in the center of the formation. Carl crept through the vegetation with his squad, feeling particularly vulnerable given his role.

He didn’t expect to be running from the enemy. He was supposed to track them as they were being eaten to confirm the kills.
However, it appeared that, for the moment,
they
were the ones being tracked.

There was no evidence that the enemy had detected their presence at all.
Nevertheless, if they weren’t careful in evading detection, the tables would be turned.

After some time they came upon the nearest crate. They cleared the area.
Fortunately, the crate hadn’t been discovered. They set up a reverse Vee formation in front of the crate doors.

Peter had to move fast, because the roving patrol was in the vicinity. This forced him to make another decision. If he pushed toward the cenote, the roving patrol might discover the crate and raise the alarm. But if he dealt with the patrol
, it would likely involve combat, which would once again raise the alarm.

He called Lorenzo over.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m concerned about this patrol.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“I have an idea…”

The patrol came to the edge of a clearing and saw a large, rectangular metal crate sitting in the center. The leader radioed in what they found. They scanned the area and saw nothing. They spread out around the edge of the clearing, surrounding the metal box.

The leader gave a signal, and they closed in. The surrounding area was silent. The leader banged on the crate with the butt of his AK-47. It sounded somewhat hollow.

They spoke to each other, as if debating what to do. After some conversation, the leader opened up the doors of the crate.

They looked inside and raised their weapons. They shouted commands into the box. One of the men made a sour face.

Suddenly, from out of the surrounding brush came two
dogs and they attacked the men. But before the men could defend themselves, people from within the box emerged and began to fall upon them, biting into them.

The assailed squad was torn between the
dogs and the biters and fell into disorganization. In the scuffle, not one shot was fired.

As the men were overcome by the people from the box, the dogs backed off. The silence was interrupted by screams of terror and pain as flesh was torn from bone with jagged teeth.

Insidious Drones 1, Bad Guys 0.

In
minutes, the screaming ceased and the ID finished their meal in savage bloodlust. Then Peter, a master of field craft, emerged from his camouflage with the environment and hit the Amygdala Inhibitor master kill switch.

The platoon reemerged and formed their reverse
Vee formation, and Peter reactivated the ID. Having dealt with the patrol, they resumed their mission, making their way to the cenote unfettered.

The passage of time breathed down Peter’s neck like an unrelenting predator. It was just past noon, and their little diversion cost them time. Besides, they didn’t have much time before the Navajas realized that their scouts had not checked back in.

All they knew at the moment was that their scouts found an abandoned shipping crate in the middle of the wilderness. He prayed they didn’t get spooked and run.

They traversed more difficult terrain, slowly but steadily, as the ID staggered through underbrush and over exposed roots, the dogs running alongside and nipping at their heels.

There were a couple of instances of humpers separating from the group, but Peter flicked the AI kill switches on and off by squads, and they reset and rejoined the group.

By
03:00, they reached the vicinity of the target cenote. Peter signaled for the platoon to halt, and he hit the AI kill switch. The ID were immobilized.

Peter consulted his Multi-tasker and received satellite pictures of the cenote. It was definitely occupied, probably being used as a relay station for cocaine from Columbia. What better place to hide it than a large hole in the ground in a protected nature preserve?

Peter scanned the immediate vicinity for some time. No other patrols emerged from the cenote, and none returned. Peter made the signal to resume their approach, and he reactivated the ID.

As the mouth of the funnel came within fifty feet of the cenote
, they must have tripped an alarm, because shouts came from inside the cenote.

Peter signaled for them to move faster and the formation pushed up to the edge of the hole, which had to have been about 100 feet across.

The ID walked right up to the edge and dropped right in like paratroopers stepping out of a plane. They fell like lemmings, one after another, without any regard for their own safety. But that was, of course, unnecessary.

Lorenzo called for the SWEEPERS. Carl leapt forward with the other, and they each swept along the side of the hole. There were many red blips and about as many blue blips, but the blue blips were vanishing quickly.

Shrieks and panicked gunshots emanated from the cenote as the Insidious Drones took to their ghastly work. The flanks of the formation, without the ID right next to them, were able to focus entirely on their surroundings.

Peter couldn’t believe it. It was all working exactly as they trained. And none of them had to venture into the cenote itself. No matter how far the Navajas receded into the limestone bowels, the ID would pursue them.

Carl watched the screen of his MR.UD as the blue blips vanished before his very eyes. After about twenty minutes, the last blue blip extinguished, and he gave the signal to Lorenzo. The other SWEEPER confirmed.

The hole was now silent
, save the shuffling around of hungry ID crunching down on tibias and fibulas. Peter hit the master AI kill switch. The hole was still.