I watch his reaction as I lean back, slowly. He stares at me, a look of horror creeping over his face.
And now I understand. And I can’t help laughing.
“You want the job, don’t you, Miller? You want to be Lead Recruit?”
“I … maybe …”
“What did Bracken offer you? Did he say he would consider you for the promotion?”
I can’t keep the laughter out of my voice. Miller looks at the floor and his face flushes red with embarrassment.
“He said I was in the running,” he says, quietly.
I should stop. I should leave him alone, but this is too easy.
“He did? Okay. What did he think that you … you … could bring to the role?”
Miller stays quiet, shaking his head.
“Let me think. Did he promise you power and respect? Extra authority to use against the kids?”
Miller sits very still, eyes downcast. I lean towards him again.
“Here’s the thing, Miller. Bracken can’t give you that authority. He can’t decide who the kids respect. You have to earn that. If you can’t crush them with a word, they’ll eat you alive. They know when you’re weak, and they know what they can get away with. If you want to control them, you need to give them a reason to do what you tell them. You need them to be properly afraid of you.
“Can you do that, Miller? Can you make them afraid? Because if you can’t, you’re not the Lead Recruit, whatever Bracken says.”
Miller shakes his head, slowly.
“I can’t believe it’s that cruel,” he says, so quietly I have to strain to hear him over the noise of the computers and operators behind me.
“You think you can run Camp Bishop with hugs and campfire songs? You think you can get the kids to push themselves and throw themselves at the assault course and the morning run day after day with kind words? We’re not a holiday camp. We’re not a babysitting service. We have soldiers to train and send out onto the streets, and we have an insanely short time to get them ready.
“We can’t just scare them occasionally. We have to make sure they internalise the fear. They have to want to push themselves, because if they don’t, they have to deal with me.
“If I don’t scare them enough to train themselves, and push themselves, and keep themselves ahead of the pack, I’m not doing my job. They’ll be scared enough when they get out in public. If all they’ve had from us is encouragement, they won’t stand a chance against the terrorists.”
Plus the role is no fun if you try to be everyone’s mother. Let Ellman do that job. See where it gets her.
There’s a shout from behind us. Someone else needs our local knowledge. I leave Miller to think about what I’ve said, and walk over to help the drone operator.
Internalise some fear of your own, Miller. Understand that you can’t replace me. You don’t have the backbone.
Drones
We spend the next few hours going from operator to operator, guiding their placement of the drones and explaining the conditions on the ground at each of their target sites. The weapons need to be on hard, level surfaces, and this isn’t always possible at the pre-determined sites, so we are asked to find suitable locations nearby.
One of the aims of the test is to see how local people react to the weapons. The town isn’t too busy, but there are people on the streets, and there are witnesses to the drone placements.
“Why aren’t they freaking out?” I ask the woman I’m helping. “How come they’re just watching?”
“They’ve been told there’s a test today. They just haven’t been told what it is. This way we can see how disruptive the deployment is, without having to worry about people calling it in as an attack.”
I watch the people under the drone, staring up, shopping bags in their hands, as the weapon drops slowly to the ground in front of them. They watch, and point at it, and when it lands they walk round it and keep walking, as if this happens every day. The operator places the weapon on the ground, and disconnects it from the drone. She sends her drone back into the air, the view pulling out until we’re over the rooftops, and we can see other streets and other drones and other weapons.
*****
By three o’clock the weapons have all been placed. Anderson congratulates the drone operators, and explains that their role is now one of monitoring and filming the next stage of the test. The images will be seen in the command trailer, so they need to stay in the air over the town and follow what happens next.
“Remember. Everything you see here is classified, and everything we do today is done with permission.”
His radio crackles, and Commander Holden’s voice commands everyone on site to put their gas masks on.
“You heard the commander. Gas masks on!” There’s a rustling, as everyone in the trailer follows the command. I pick my mask up and pull it down over my head, adjusting my ponytail to make sure it fits. Miller and I look at each other, and he shrugs. There’s not much talking to be done with our voices blocked by the gas filters. We sit in silence and watch the screens.
*****
Nothing happens to begin with. The drone operators station their drones over the town, and we watch as people walk past the weapons, as cars drive along the roads, as people go about their Sunday lives.
Then there’s some action on one of the screens at the edge of town. An army truck driving along a road into town suddenly pulls what looks like a U-turn, and parks itself across both lanes. Six, seven soldiers jump out, and block the road completely, guns trained on the oncoming traffic. No one is allowed in, and no one is allowed to leave. The cars start to build up behind the truck, and the soldiers turn them back, one at a time.
I check the other screens, and this is happening on all the roads in and out of town. Trucks pull up, block the road, and soldiers in armour jump out. Within minutes, all the roads are blocked. Cars heading out of town are being sent back in, and cars heading in are being sent away.
Twenty minutes later, we’re watching the screens and suddenly buildings start to crumble. Trees wobble until they fall. Streetlamps draw white lines across pavements and roads. Cars run into each other.
I’m trying to be professional, but I can’t help raising an eyebrow under my gas mask.
What exactly do you have permission to do here, Holden?
And there are soldiers, in armour. More soldiers than I’ve ever seen in one place, running from building to building and vehicle to vehicle, rounding people up and evacuating them. The people seem happy to follow them, running along, keeping away from buildings that are tumbling into the streets, or collapsing into their own footprints.
People stumble, but the soldiers help them to their feet, and keep them moving. I’m watching several screens, and the drones are showing lines and crowds of people being led away by the soldiers. From where I’m sitting, I can’t see where they go.
So we’re testing an evacuation. Useful to know how long it takes to clear a town.
I focus on the screen closest to our table. It shows the industrial estate where we take the recruits every day on their run. The buildings are caving in, and the trees are lying on the floor. I can see two of the weapons, in the car parks of the buildings. I can’t see any more people, or any more soldiers.
The outline of the closest weapon starts to look hazy. Before long, a plume of smoke is blowing from the weapon across the car park and the buildings. The same thing happens to the second weapon, and the smoke begins to spread.
Testing the chemical delivery system. Good idea.
I wonder what they’re using to simulate the toxic gas. Something we can see clearly on the screens.
As we watch, a blanket of smoke drifts across the buildings. Within ten minutes, all the screens I can see from my seat show a blanket of fog. Zero visibility.
It takes nearly an hour for the smoke to clear. The view slowly returns, and we’re looking once again at broken buildings and fallen trees. The room is quiet.
A
nderson’s radio crackles again.
“Congratulations, everyone. That’s a successful test. Drone operators, please return your drones to HQ. Drone technicians, please be ready to receive them. Maintain NBC protocols – suits and gas masks on – until I give the all-clear.”
“You heard Holden!” Shouts Anderson through his mask. “Bring the drones home.”
The view on the screens I can see starts to draw back, as the drones move away from their monitoring locations and make their way across the town and the fields towards us.
After that, there’s nothing for us to do but sit and wait. We can’t take our masks off, so we can’t talk. We can’t go outside. The drone cameras are switched off one by one as they arrive back in the field outside. Miller plays with the Velcro seal of his suit.
I don’t know how long we sit there. It seems like hours, sweating in our masks and suits. Eventually Holden sounds the all-clear, and I pull my mask off and take deep gulps of the stale air in the trailer. I stand up and peel off my suit, along with everyone else, and almost forget to remove the radio from the waistband.
It’s dark outside when Anderson finally has permission to open the door. Holden bounds up the steps and into the drone control room, shaking hands with all the drone operators and thanking them for their hard work. He shakes our hands last, and thanks us as well.
Anderson joins us at the table.
“Thank you for your help today. You solved some sticky problems for us, and it looks as if everything worked fine.
“Are you hungry? We’ve got a meal arriving in ten minutes. Come and join us, and we’ll drive you back afterwards.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
We follow the drone operators out of the trailer, and across the field to the equipment tent. We drop our suits, masks, and radios in crates outside, and when we walk in the space has been transformed into dining area for everyone on site. One of the drone operators we worked with waves us over to a table, and we sit with the drone team as another lorry and trailer pulls up outside, and we’re sent out in groups to collect boxes of packaged hot meals and bottles of water.
“Takeaway service to a tent in a field? This might be the most impressive thing I’ve seen all day!”
The drone operators laugh, and agree with me. The food is good, and hot, and everyone seems happy with the day’s work. We talk about life at Camp Bishop, and the training we’re giving to the new recruits.
After dinner, as we’re leaving the tent, Brigadier Lee walks over to us and shakes our hands, Commander Holden at his side.
“Thank you for your work today, recruits. It’s good to have local knowledge for an operation like this.”
Holden waves a hand at the two of us. “These are Bracken’s candidates for Lead Recruit. The best of his senior team.” Miller can’t help smiling at that.
So we’re both in the running, are we? I’ll keep that in mind.
The brigadier nods. “I’ve been hoping to meet Commander Bracken’s people. If your work today is anything to judge by, you both have bright futures ahead of you.” He looks at me. “I hope we can work together again.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s not comfortable, being on the receiving end of that smile.
Holden thanks us again, and sends us back to camp with our driver. The roadblock is still in place on the bypass, but the driver shows the soldiers his badge, and they pull back and let him through.
We’re back before the tiny fighters, but the lights are on in the medical building and the kitchen, although the kitchen staff don’t seem to be having their usual evening party. Maybe they only do that when they’ve spent all day with the kids. I know how they feel.
Miller and I make our way to the senior dorm, and I head straight to grab a shower and a change of clothes. It is a relief to wash off the sweat from the suits and the masks.
I think about our conversation today. Miller might not be Lead Recruit material, but I can’t afford to ignore what he told me. If Holden thinks Bracken is considering him for the job, I need to make a move. I need to convince the commander to promote me again. I just need an excuse to show him how much he needs my help.
*****
“So! How was Birmingham? Did you give them hell?”
The coaches pulled in a few minutes ago, and Jackson is back in the senior dorm, fresh from supervising the unloading of crates of armour and guns from the luggage holds.
He smirks. “I was very responsible.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Anything I should know about?”
“I nearly made Ellman cry.” There’s a smug look on his face.
“Oh?”
“She doesn’t like the cameras. And she really doesn’t like being called a front-line doll. When they print her photo in the paper, I’m going to pin it up all over camp. She’ll cry then, for sure.”
“Good work, Recruit Jackson!”
“I taught Sleepy a new skill, too. Radio ninja!”
I shake my head. “He is not! I don’t believe you.”
“You’re right. He’s not. He’s hopeless, actually – but it kept him out of trouble.”
I reach over and pat him on the head. “You and your hopeless puppy!”
He scowls.
Power
“Ketty! You must have done something right yesterday. Holden wants you back this morning, on the clean-up crew. Miller, Jackson – you’re with Ketty. Pickup at the gate in 15 minutes.
“And remember – everything about this exercise is classified. You weren’t there, you know nothing about it. No one hears about it from you. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir!”
We’re standing in the Commander’s office, lining up for our instructions for the kids’ day off. There are assignments for all the Senior Recruits, but we’re the only ones heading off site. The others were given their jobs for the day in the dining room, but we’ve been summoned to the private office. Our involvement in the weapons test is not to be shared.
“You’ll need your armour and guns. Check your air canisters and contamination panels, and grab new ones from stores if you need them. Woods is authorised to let you have what you need.
“You’re to do whatever Holden and his team ask you to do. Your conduct today reflects directly on me, and the rest of my staff. Do not let me down.”
“No, Sir!”
“Dismissed.”
We hurry back to our dorms to collect our armour and guns, and meet at the gate. Yesterday’s driver pulls up, and helps us load our crates into the Land Rover. We climb in, and he drives us back through the roadblock to HQ’s field base.
Commander Holden is waiting in the briefing room. We introduce Jackson, and the commander waves us to the empty seats at the end of the table.
“Thank you for coming back – Smith, Miller: your assistance yesterday was invaluable, thank you.”
“Today I need you on the ground. You three have been recommended for your physical fitness, your discretion, and your ability to follow orders.
“Yesterday, we placed the weapons into the target zone. Today, we need to collect them again for analysis.”
He switches on the screen behind him. The diagram of the City Killer appears.
“The units will be disarmed before you reach them. You will scan them here,” he points to the barcode, high up on the weapon’s cone, “and ensure that they are safe to move. You will load them into your truck, and you will return them to a collection point in town.
“You will follow any and all orders given to you during the day. You will follow a pre-defined route. You will change that route only under instruction from me or my staff. You will consult your contamination panels, and you will keep your helmets on at all times.
“Remember: whatever you see, or think you see, in town – we have permission from the government to do whatever we need to do to test our weapon.
“You will not share with anybody anything that you see or hear in town today. This is a classified weapons system deployment tes
t. You are here as trusted recruits, and you will not discuss today’s activities with anyone. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Moreover, if you see any unauthorised personnel during your mission, you will inform HQ immediately. You will detain anyone you see, if it is safe to do so. You will hold them securely until a member of my team arrives to pick them up.
“You will not speak to them. You will not engage with them. You will not permit them to speak.
“Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Smith – I understand you have been trained to drive one of our all-terrain cargo vehicles?”
“I have, Sir.”
“You’re our driver, today. Miller – you’re our tech support. Scan the weapons, make a visual check, make sure they are safe for your team to pick up.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Jackson – you’re the muscle. The physical safety of the weapons is in your hands. Ensure that they are handled with care, and stowed safely in the vehicle.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Holden steps back to the screen, and brings up the aerial view showing the locations of the weapons. He waves his hand over the eastern side of the town.
“Your job for today is to pick up the weapons in this area. You will follow the trained bomb disposal teams, and you will pick up the weapons only after they have declared them to be safe. Your route is as shown.” A red line appears on the screen, joining the dots across our zone. “Changes to your route will be communicated to you via radio, and via this.”
He picks up a tablet, and slides it down the table towards us. “Miller: you’re also the navigator. Keep an eye on the route, and inform your driver if it changes.”
“Yes, Sir”, Miller says, picking up the tablet. There’s a map of the town on the screen, and the same route is picked out in red. They must have set up a local network to communicate with it on the move.
False Flag (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 2) Page 6