Mecrats

by C J Klinger

  General Emerson broke his reputation for being cool under fire by saying, “Holy shit!”

  Excited pandemonium followed his comment. To say that everyone, including the Mecrats were surprised and pleased at how well the first test flight had gone was a Mecrats-sized understatement. Cathy was almost overwhelmed by Angelina’s raw emotions. She pulled off the headband and rubbed her forehead. Angelina saw her and put her big hand on Cathy’s shoulder. “Sorry about that, Cathy, but that was as good as the last time I had sex.”

  Cathy smiled broadly. “I’m glad it was, Angelina. Are we supposed to smoke now?”

  The assembled Rats had overheard the conversation and roared their approval. The ground shook when they stamped their feet. The gathered military and base personnel looked in curiosity at what was going on, but it would remain a private joke among them. The humans, as they had started calling the scientists and base personnel didn’t need to know every little thing that went on in the Mecrats’ world.

  Chapter 6

  By one in the morning every Mecrat had made their first flight. A few minor hitches had occurred, mostly with the landings, but it was nothing that couldn’t be corrected with a few more practice sessions on the simulator.

  When the exercise was over, the Rats headed toward their racks to juice up and get some rest. Randy asked Cathy to accompany them, explaining that they had something they wanted to talk to her about. She got the impression the Mecrats wanted to keep whatever they wanted to talk about confidential. On the way to the hanger she imagined what it must look like to an observer, ten huge behemoths surrounding one small woman. She was probably as safe as she would ever be in her life.

  The Mecrats climbed into their racks. The two rows of five faced each other with a ten foot separation. Cathy was beginning to wonder why they had asked her here when Randy motioned for her to put on her head band. Understanding dawned on her. The hanger was monitored visually and audibly twenty-four seven. Whatever Randy and the group wanted to say, they didn’t want anyone else to overhear it. She took the head band out of her smock and handed the cord to Randy. After the usual shock of entering each other’s thought process, Randy connected her vision to his view. The Mecrat turned his head and looked at each of the nine other Mecrats in turn. All nine of them made an almost imperceptible nodding motion with their head signaling their agreement with whatever Randy was going to say.

  “We want to be connected mind-to-mind instead of communicating by radio. Is that possible?”

  Cathy was not surprised at the request. She knew from having had close mental connections with each of the Mecrats how much those contacts had eased the complete sense of isolation they experienced from time to time. It was natural that they wanted to have that same connection to each other.

  She had always been honest with them and decided to share her concerns about such a connection with them. “It is possible. All we have to do is have a double ended cord, but before you try it, I want to caution you about some of the dangers.”

  Randy nodded his head and the other nine followed suit, apparently having nominated him as their spokesperson.

  Cathy plunged in. “You have been a Mecrat for less than a year, Randy and you know how isolated you feel at times.”

  Randy didn’t nod his head this time. He spoke for her hearing only. “Yes, it is very hard at times. That’s why I enjoy our connection sessions so much. That, plus the fact you’re a really hot chick. ”

  Cathy smiled in genuine warmth at the compliment she would have ignored from a two legged male. She wanted to make sure the Mecrats understood the danger she was talking about. “Some of your fellow Mecrats have been isolated for years. What do you think is going to happen when you connect to 1Rat, Corporal Stueben?”

  “I don’t know, Dr. W. What’s going to happen?”

  “He’s going to dump six years of isolation on you, Randy. You may not even understand him. He could overwhelm you with his need for a mental friend. Every time I connect to him it almost makes me ill to have to break the connection.”

  Randy stirred in his rack, a sign of his agitation. “We need something, Cathy. The idea of living this isolated is the scariest thing I’ve ever faced in my life.”

  Cathy shared his concern. The physiological needs of her patients had begun to outweigh their neurological and physiological needs. The fact that all ten Mecrats had asked for help told her the issue was critical. . “I agree, Randy, you need to be connected, but I want the ten of you to set some ground rules for the initial exchange of emotions and information. I’ll get the cords made and will join you in the initial connections to make sure nothing goes wrong. When all of you agree that your emotions have leveled out between you, I’ll talk to Dr. Zimmerman about finding a way to make the connections wireless and permanent.

  Randy’s gratitude was palatable. “Thank you, Cathy. You may have saved our lives. We owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything except a promise to be careful and come back.” Cathy took her headband off without waiting for an answer and watched as Randy unplugged the cord from his chest and handed it to her. She grabbed one of his big fingers and held on to it for a second before releasing it and leaving the hanger. She was careful not to look back. Her own emotions were threatening to overwhelm her.

  It was past ten the next morning before Cathy opened her eyes. The events of the previous evening rushed in on her and brought her awake. The mission briefing was scheduled for eleven and she would have to hurry not to be late. If he was nothing else, General Emerson was punctual.

  When she arrived at the hanger, the Mecrats were gathered around a ten by ten raised platform with a diorama of what she supposed was going to be their first mission. Right at Eleven, General Emerson brought the group to order and started speaking.

  “We have learned that two American aid workers, both women are being held by The Islamic State. Both are volunteers with the World Aid Fund.” The General paused for a second and added, “One of the women is a Catholic nun.” A murmur ran the assembled scientists and military personnel, which the general did not attempt to stop. When silence returned he used an old fashioned, long wood pointer to mark a building surrounded by a tall mud brick wall. It was on the northwest edge of a town labeled Al Bukamal. The Iraqi-Syrian border split the town. “We have good intelligence that this is where the two women are being held prior to their public execution.” This brought another wave of comments

  For eight years, Islamic radicals had ruled most of northern Syrian and northwestern Iraq. The string of towns and villages along the banks of the Euphrates River from Aleppo to Falluja and on the Tigris River from Mosul to the northern edges of Bagdad had been their strong hold and their bread basket. Surrounding them were hundreds of miles of inhospitable landscape that made it difficult for an enemy to approach them without ample warning. None of the western powers and certainly none of the local powers with the exception of Syria and Iraq had any interest in invading the area. Most western powers were still more concerned about Iran flexing its muscles to become the region’s military powerhouse than they were of the Islamic State gaining power.

  Whenever the radicals got too ambitious and tried to stretch their borders, the western powers bombed their expansion efforts, but other than a group of advisers, no American or European combat personnel had been committed to any ground operations for years. Recently, perhaps in an effort to keep their captive population in control, the radical leadership had resumed public beheadings of people they deemed to be an affront to their brand of Islam. Their favorite targets were any westerner they could capture, even if they had to go outside their borders to kidnap them. The two aid workers they had recently kidnapped where the first western females to be threatened with execution. One of the journalists covering the kidnapping had suggested the radicals seemed bent on provoking a fight, especially with the United States. Another journalist had suggested it was because the leader, Abdullah Al Sadad, who was rumored to be an expat Ameri
can, wanted a confrontation with his old homeland to settle some kind of score. The western intelligence services had not been able to come to a definitive conclusion on the reasons for his recent actions.

  “The plan is simple,” the general continued. “A C5 will land tonight and five of the Mecrats will load up for a long jump to Israel. Before you arrive, it will be necessary for you to be put into crates so our nosey friends in the Mossad will not know what we’re transferring to a waiting C130. The Israelis won’t be too curious since we regularly deliver arms and ammunition to the Kurdish forces who are keeping the Islamic rebels at bay in the north. ”

  When the general said that five Mecrats had been selected, instinct told Cathy that Randy would be one of them. He had proven to be a natural leader and had the most extensive combat experience among the ten Mecrats. Her suspicions were confirmed when General Emerson read off the list of those who had been selected to go, Rucker, Boyer, McKinsey, Welkins and Escobedo.

  “It’s over seven thousand miles to our destination in Israel and another four hundred miles from Israel to the final destination. The C130 will be accompanied by Israeli fighter planes part of the way, but the last one hundred miles we will be on our own and down on the deck. Thirty miles from our destination the C130 will climb to five thousand feet and offload the Mecrats.” He paused and looked around, letting the reality of what lay ahead of them sink in. “Two of you will land in the compound and provide protective fire. The other three will land on top of the building holding the captives. Our intelligence services advise us that your weight will be enough to collapse the roof. We don’t know where the two women are being held, but logic says it will not be in an exterior room, so I suggest you focus your initial efforts on neutralizing any combatants in the parameter rooms of the building and then move toward the interior of the building.”

  The Mecrats and the assembled personnel were silent and motionless while the general methodically described the world’s first mechanical/human military action. It would literally be one for the history books. The general was not taking any questions until he had laid out the entire program. “You are authorized to use any force required to recover the women. After you have recovered them, you are to make your way directly west. The two women will have to be cradled in your arms as you run toward the rendezvous point. Because of your self-leveling systems, they should not feel any discomfort other than fright. You may reassure them that you are not an apparition from hell. Between you and the open desert you will encounter a few isolated farm houses, but they should not represent a threat. If everything goes as planned you should be in and out of the compound in fifteen minutes or less. At your average running speed you will reach the rendezvous point in thirty minutes where the C130 will be waiting. They will land when you are within three miles and the pilot will not shut down the engines, so run right on to the ramp. As soon as the loadmaster gives the thumbs up, you’re out of there. Any questions?”

  None of the Mecrats had any questions and theirs were the only questions that mattered. They stood around looking at the diorama where half of their numbers would be going and pointed out several terrain features to each other. All of them were combat veterans and this is what they understood, plan a mission, execute the mission and pick up the casualties. Randy was paying extra attention to the configuration of the only building in the compound. He pointed out the windows to Corporal Masters and then made a circular motion around the parameter of the building. Cathy could not imagine what was going through his mind, but she knew it was something he was familiar with, a combat operation.

  The crowd broke up and Cathy and her colleagues headed to the cafeteria for lunch. They were excited and animated. Everything they had been working for was now going to be tested in a real life combat situation. For some, it would mean international recognition and peer prestige. Cathy, who had achieved the most significant breakthrough with her neural interface design, was probably a future candidate for a Nobel Prize, especially if her work could be applied to people who had suffered a spinal injury. She shrugged off the suggestion from George Zimmerman and ate her lunch in silence while listening to the exchange between her comrades. She was thirty five years old and had worked at Groom Lake for almost eight years. Her work had been her entire focus and that focus had gradually changed from developing a super soldier to creating a livable habitat for a dying soldier. It was a polar shift and it had colored her enthusiasm for the program’s success.

  The rest of the day was spent checking and rechecking the Mecrats systems, mostly by the mechanical engineering side of the team. It was very likely the Mecrats would be subjected to small arms fire. Their one inch thick, combination Kevlar-carbon fiber skin would stop most rounds from hand-held weapons, but it wouldn’t stop 50-caliber, armor piercing bullets. On the plus side, it was highly unlikely they would encounter such a weapon. To further protect the Mecrats, the engineering team had designed their creations with additional armored around critical internal parts. A Mecrat could take a lot of punishment so long as one of these mechanical “organs” was not crippled or put out of action. The biggest danger was losing a leg and being unable to run. Two Mecrats could carry an injured comrade, but not at a run. These last minutes worries kept the science and engineering team busy the rest of the day.

  Cathy went to her lab and spent an hour wiring up ten sets of double plug, mental connector cords. She settled on a ten foot length. It would fit easily in the Mecrats storage cavity. There wouldn’t be any time to try them out with the five Mecrats going on the mission, but it would give her ample opportunity to work with the five left behind. She had just finished with the last cord when Captain Broker knocked and came into the lab.

  “General Emerson would like to see you, Dr. Williamson.”

  Cathy was surprised. After the initial development period, she had had little contact with the general other than the regular review meetings. Judging from the captain’s tone, it was not a request, it was an order.

  “Do you know what he wants?” It was childish of her to ask, but a sense of apprehension had settled in her. The general was a single minded individual and not given to casual conversation with one of his scientists.

  Captain Broker was evasive, but smooth. “I’m sure he’ll explain it to you, Ma’am.”

  She set aside the box with the ten cords in it and followed the Captain out of her lab. She paused to lock the door, something she had not felt compelled to do for several years. Together they walked in silence across the paved area to the general’s conference room. The random thought of someone in a dark bunker somewhere in Russia watching them walk across the tarmac via one of the many satellites that covered Area 51 made her smile. Maybe if she gave them the finger it would start an international incident, anything to take her mind off the danger her Mecrats were going into.

  General Emerson didn’t get up from his chair when Captain Broker escorted her in. It was a discourtesy and added to her discomfort. She decided to take the initiative and sit down without waiting for an invitation. “You wanted to see me, General Emerson.” The use of his full title was her way of letting him know she considered this meeting a formal one.

  The general didn’t waste any time with amenities. “Miss Williamson.”

  “Dr. Williamson,” Cathy corrected him.

  A flash of red appeared around General Emerson’s collar and was gone as soon as it appeared. “Dr. Williamson, last night, or early this morning after the flight tests, you accompanied the Mecrats back to their hanger.” He handed her a black and white picture showing her standing in front of Randy with her headband on. “Can you tell me what you and the Mecrats were discussing?”

  It was Cathy’s turn to blush. The fact that the general had asked her why she had been talking to all the Mecrats implied he was aware, or had seen the silent nods of consent between the team members.

  “Can I ask what this is all about, General? Why my conversation with the Mecrats is suddenly important enough for you
to question me about what I say or do in my work?” She wanted more information before sharing with the military what she had discussed with Randy and by proxy, the other Mecrats.

  General Emerson didn’t say or do anything for a moment. He made a slight waving motion with one hand. “Forgive me, Dr. Williamson. I have no intension of questioning the incredible work you have done here, but I’m in a difficult position.”

  Cathy was confused. “Why? What position?”

  “The Mecrats have requested, no they have insisted that you accompany them on this mission. Not on the incursion part, but as far as Israel. When we questioned them why they wanted you to accompany them, Sergeant Rucker said we should talk to you.”

  Relief flooded Cathy. The general’s summons had not been an invitation to an inquisition. He was trying to solve a problem. Her natural distrust of all things military had led her to misunderstand his question.

  She decided to lay her cards on the table. “One of the problems we have encountered with the Mecrats is the extreme isolation they experience. Have you ever been in an isolation tank, General?” Without waiting for an answer she continued. “I have and it is the most frightening thing I have ever experienced. It is a total depravation of all your senses. The only thing you have is your thoughts. That’s what our Mecrats experience almost every day.”

  The general’s military nature prompted his next question. “Will this sense of isolation influence their performance?”

  “I believe it will. I believe it has already had an impact on Corp. Stueben, the first Mecrat.”

  Captain Brokers spoke up. “That coincides with our assessment, Sir.”

  General Emerson nodded his understanding. “Is that the reason they want you along, to relieve their isolation since you can talk to them mentally?”

  Because of her responsibility for the care of the minds being grafted into a machine, Cathy had been the only one who had taken the step to be directly connected to the Mecrats before, during and after the operation. All the other team members had relied on their computer readouts to get their data. It probably explained why she was emotionally attached to the men and women buried inside the nine foot tall machines.