Kill Decision

by Daniel Suarez

  She shook the canister. “Not much. Maybe an inch left on the bottom, but at our consumption rate that should be plenty.”

  The quadracopter drones were even then starting to investigate their human breath again. McKinney depressed the nozzle to spray another dose on them.

  But nothing came out.

  She shook it and tried the nozzle several more times.

  He noticed her efforts. “What’s wrong?”

  “Propellant. There’s no more damned propellant.”

  They exchanged deadly serious looks and looked out at the thousands and thousands of drones around them. McKinney could see a quadracopter edging up over the windowsill of the control room, headed straight toward them.

  Odin aimed the pistol and shot once, knocking it out of the air where it disappeared below the window. “Dammit!”

  They could both see jagged rocks foaming in waves several kilometers ahead. He picked up a pair of range-finding binoculars in a holder on the console. He focused them on the rocks. “Two and a half kilometers. We just need to stay alive for about four more minutes.”

  McKinney pointed as a dozen quadracopter drones in two sizes started gathering around the bridge. She turned back the way they had come, to see that direction being closed off by twice as many more.

  Odin grabbed the canister and threw it onto the console. “Stand back!” He aimed the pistol obliquely at the metal and fired several shots in succession, finally causing the canister to rattle across the floor.

  McKinney grabbed it, only to find the dents hadn’t penetrated.

  Odin leaned down next to her. “Lean it against the wall.”

  McKinney carefully placed it and glanced around to see now six or seven dozen quadracopter drones gathering around the control tower. “Odin!”

  He was busy aiming at the nozzle tip of the canister. He fired a shot that sent it rolling across the floor again. He scrambled after it, only to pick it up and find the nozzle pinched completely closed. He swung it around, trying to drain anything out of it. But nothing came.

  He pointed at her backpack. “Anything at all?”

  She unzipped it to show the detector—which showed fairly high levels of perfluorocarbon—and the metal canister of oleoresin capsicum. “This just induces the attack signal.” She glanced around them as the quadracopters closed in. “And there’s about to be plenty of that around here already.”

  He took it from her, then keyed the radio. “Foxy. If you don’t hear from us in two minutes, launch the boat.”

  There was a pause of static, then: “Fuck you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Foxy, listen to me.”

  “You’re breaking up.”

  He sighed and looked to McKinney.

  They couldn’t help but notice the solid wall of drones closing in around them. Their path to the stairwell was already blocked.

  McKinney moved toward him, watching the drones move in.

  Odin held her. They stood with their faces just an inch apart. The horrendous sound of the drone engines still hummed deafeningly all around them. A glance forward and she could see the rocks looming larger. “We did it. We stopped them—for now, at least.”

  Odin nodded and kissed her.

  McKinney felt tears welling up as he kissed them away. “I wanted a chance to know you, David.”

  He nodded. “Then know this about me.” Odin hefted the canister of capsicum. “I don’t ever give up.”

  He kissed her quickly, then turned and smashed the nozzle end of the capsicum canister against the console, breaking off the tip. With the full canister under pressure it started hissing madly.

  “What the hell are you doing? That’ll enrage them!”

  “I’m counting on it.” He turned and hurled the canister out the window on the opposite side of the ship from the rescue boat. The canister tumbled end over end, falling ten stories into the canyons of the shipping containers below—gathering a swarm of drones in its wake, even as it fell. The unprecedented concentration must have been like a beacon, because the power of the attack signal spread quickly and the entire host around the ship’s bridge plunged down after it, creating a dense, mad crowd that jostled each other in pursuit.

  Odin grabbed her by the arm. “Run like hell!”

  McKinney smiled in surprise even as he pulled her along. Odin shot two small lingering drones out of the air near the stairwell and motioned for her to take the lead as he covered their rear. As they descended the stairs, McKinney could see through the portholes as hundreds of drones streamed past outside the bridge tower in pursuit of the canister. McKinney couldn’t wipe the grin off her face as she circled down the stairwell. “Very clever, mammal!”

  “Just keep moving.”

  At deck level they pushed through the watertight door and sprinted across the crimson-painted deck. The roar of drone engines coming from the far side of the control tower had risen to a crescendo by now. The air there was black with drones. They dashed across the decking and up to the sealed door of the rescue boat. There was a round porthole above the door near the words 38 Persons. Odin undid the latch and opened the door to reveal Foxy staring at him from the pilot’s seat.

  “You’re such a drama queen. . . .”

  Odin helped McKinney inside. “Careful, it’s steep.” He held her hand as she climbed in.

  She had never seen such a boat. The seats were heavily padded and facing backward like a theme park ride. Only Foxy’s seat faced forward, looking through what appeared to be a reinforced pilot’s window. Otherwise there was only one other forward-facing window to let light in. The thing resembled a big orange torpedo angled downward at forty-five degrees.

  Odin glanced toward the bow of the ship, and then ducked inside, slamming the hatch shut and throwing the bolts.

  Foxy peered through the narrow side window. “If I’m not mistaken, those are rocks up ahead. Get seated, people!”

  McKinney was already strapping herself in as Odin climbed into a seat across the aisle from her. He raced through the fasteners, and then shouted, “Hit it, Foxy!”

  Foxy pounded a release button, and they dropped in free fall for a second or two before plunging into the sea, fully submerging. The impact knocked the wind out of her. The rescue boat rolled and bobbed like a cork and finally surfaced, as the roar of drones and something even deeper came to them.

  Then she heard a water jet engine kick to life and saw Foxy push the throttle lever forward. “I don’t give us much chance of outrunning them.”

  Odin unbuckled from his seat. “I do. They’re otherwise occupied.”

  McKinney unbuckled as well and joined him to look out the narrow porthole above the rear entry door. She held her breath as the massive container ship, swarming with drones, thundered past behind them—a wall of blue steel the size of a shopping mall.

  She craned her neck to look ahead, toward rocks rising ten meters out of the sea in a swirl of crashing waves.

  And then the bow of the ship crumpled and ripped apart as it steamed full speed over itself along the line of jagged rocks. The water reverberated with the horrendous shrieking of metal, but the momentum of two hundred thousand tons of ship and cargo going twenty miles an hour just kept it plunging forward, rippling the bowline and spilling thousands and thousands of forty-foot shipping containers into the sea and over the shoals.

  The cloud of drones dispersed, while many were caught in the collapsing towers of containers. The ship was already grounded up to its center tower when it started to break in half, flames erupting as the crash continued for nearly a minute more before the wreckage finally came to a stop.

  The whole time Foxy roared away at full speed from the scene, increasing their view of the wreck.

  The stern of the ship settled back against the shallows, and the bow remained buried under a ridgeline of multicolored shipping containers crawling with thousands of agitated and completely disorganized drones—some now flying around on fire. Billowing clouds of black smoke climbed i
nto the sky, marking the spot.

  McKinney nodded to herself. “Looks like colony cohesion has collapsed. That’s not precisely how it works in the real world. I’ll have to look at the model.”

  Odin just glared at her. “The hell you will. . . .”

  CHAPTER 31

  Reap the Whirlwind

  Henry Clarke stood in front of his Reston, Virginia, office looking up at a crescent of ghostly white moon in the daytime sky of early spring. He’d never noticed that this place was actually beautiful.

  A powerful V-8 engine rolled up somewhere behind him, followed by a few taps on a horn. He kept gazing at the woods just beyond the business park. How far did they go? Funny that he’d never wondered about that.

  The whine of an electric window rolling down came to his ears, and he heard a familiar woman’s voice shout, “Get in the car, Henry. We’ve got a disaster on our hands.”

  Clarke turned to see Marta peering out from the rear passenger seat of a black Cadillac Escalade. Steamlike emissions trailed from the tailpipe as the driver stood by, idling. Clarke walked toward the SUV as Marta’s fingers drummed impatiently on the window frame.

  She didn’t look happy. “Why haven’t you been returning messages? You’re not even carrying your phone. I’ve been trying to find you all morning.”

  Clarke just stood silently at her window.

  “What the hell is going on with you?” She grabbed her sunglasses from her purse and put them on with exaggerated irritation. “Get in the car!”

  Clarke shook his head and looked around the parking lot. “I’m not coming.”

  She frowned and leaned forward. “Get in the damned car. I can’t believe you aren’t already scrambling to deal with this.”

  He gave her a blank look that must have spoken volumes.

  She looked horrified. “Are you telling me you have no idea what’s just happened?”

  He shrugged. “I sure don’t. And you know what? It’s kind of nice not to know what’s going on.”

  “I hope you’re not still freaking out over your midnight visitor.”

  “He could just as easily have killed me, Marta. And what would have happened to him? Nothing. You and I both know it.”

  “Probably, but that’s not the way it—”

  “I had no idea I was signing on for that. I’m not a soldier.”

  “This is how the world works. Power comes at a price. Maybe now you’ll realize there are one or two things I can still teach you.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve learned everything I want to know already. This isn’t fun anymore. I need to get busy finding out what I want from life.”

  “Get in the damned car.”

  Clarke shook his head again. “I’m not getting in the car, Marta.”

  “This isn’t a request.” She pulled off her sunglasses again, her eyes boring into him. “There’s a news story about to break in media outlets we have no control over. We’ve got to get out in front of this—disarm the opposition before our support in the House and Senate crumbles. There are hundreds of billions of dollars at stake, Henry. We need a full-court press, and it’s going to take all of our resources to contain the damage. So get your ass in the car.”

  Clarke looked into her hazel eyes. He could see the unhappiness there. He’d never realized that before. It seemed a dismal prospect to think that this was all he could aspire to. “I’m done.”

  “You’re done when I say you’re done. There is the slight technical detail that you have a contract.”

  Clarke could smell her fear. “My company has a contract with your company. Remember, you didn’t think enough of me at first to require my personal involvement. All you’ve got over me is a three-year noncompete clause.” Clarke laughed ruefully. “And I won’t be remaining in the profession.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “If you leave now, in the middle of this crisis, we will blackball you. You don’t want to know what we can do to marginalize you, to discredit you—oh, but then again, maybe you do know.”

  He couldn’t help but grin as he looked at her with something amounting to pity. “Who acts like this, Marta?” Clarke started walking along the horseshoe drive.

  The black SUV rolled alongside him, keeping up. “You’re like a mental patient.”

  He laughed, feeling lighter and happier with every step. “You know, I actually feel more sane than I’ve ever felt.”

  Her cell phone started warbling. “Last chance, Henry. If you don’t get in this car immediately, you’ll regret it.”

  At that he doubled his walking pace. It really was a beautiful spring day. He heard the electric window whine closed behind him, as the SUV’s engine thrummed. It accelerated past him, the blacked-out windows sparing him her disdainful look.

  Clarke smiled to himself—as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He’d been dreading that conversation, and now it was over.

  He watched her SUV halt at the entrance to the business park, signaling a right turn, heading to the centers of power.

  Let them fight over it. He was done.

  Suddenly a dark object streaked in silently from above—moving so fast he could barely perceive it. It impacted the black Escalade, waiting at the intersection, instantly detonating into a shock wave that sent metal parts, glass, hurtling into the air, followed quickly by a rolling fireball and a deafening BOOM that broke windows in the nearest office building. Car alarms started wailing all over the parking lot.

  “Jesus!” Clarke was frozen in place on the sidewalk, watching the roiling flames as they consumed the twisted remains of Marta’s SUV. People abandoned nearby cars and ran for safety. Others came out of nearby office lobbies to watch the vehicle burn. As spectators began to gather, Clarke pushed through them, passing dozens of people holding up their smartphones as they tried to take video of the wreckage.

  CHAPTER 32

  Prodigal Son

  Professor Linda McKinney descended the folding steps of an unmarked Gulfstream V jet on the military side of Standiford Field in Louisville, Kentucky. It was early afternoon and a bright spring day, though a tad breezy. Cumulonimbus clouds dotted the sky like floating mountains. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air. She was actually home—or at least where her parents had settled after her father retired.

  She turned to see Odin in khaki slacks and a button-down blue shirt carrying a rucksack as he descended the steps behind her. A hard-faced Special Forces colonel stood waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. She recognized him from the video screen in Colorado—only this time he was real.

  He extended his hand to Odin and gripped it firmly. “Congratulations, Master Sergeant. I knew if anyone could wreck their system, it would be you.” He grimaced. “But did you really have to use a ship filled with BMWs to stop these things? That was quite a bill.”

  “I had to improvise, Colonel.”

  Odin stood alongside McKinney as the colonel nodded to her in turn. “Remember the terms of your debriefing, Professor. Until we locate the people behind this plot, you’re still in danger. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She nodded. “I need to.”

  He nodded back. “Very well. Odin here will accompany you.” He extended his thick, scarred hand to her. “Professor McKinney, the United States is grateful for your service.”

  She accepted his crushing grip.

  “We might have reason to call on your expertise in the future. I hope you’ll be willing to help us.”

  McKinney raised her eyebrows.

  Odin stepped forward. “We can talk about that later, Colonel.” They moved away across the tarmac.

  The colonel called after him. “Take your time, Master Sergeant. Take all the time you need.”

  With that the colonel climbed into the jet, and a uniformed crewman pulled up the steps behind him, closing the door. The plane’s engines whined to life as McKinney and Odin walked to a nearby hangar and a waiting civilian passenger van. It all seemed surreal as she look
ed around her. So normal.

  After a few minutes of travel in silence, the van stopped near a public terminal. They disembarked, and Odin led them through a restricted access door, where two customs officials in uniform with IDs on lanyards waited for them.

  Both men were in their fifties. One was pear-shaped and balding, with an extra chin; the other was thin and fit with a clean-cut appearance, despite his graying hair. He smiled to them both.

  “Welcome back to the United States, Mr. Shaw. Ms. McKinney.” He handed them both new, unstamped American passports. “You two have a nice day.”

  McKinney opened the passport, relieved to see her familiar, terrible photo. To have her identity back.

  The other man entered a code on a keypad that unlocked a nearby steel door. He opened it to reveal a stairwell that led up.

  Odin nodded to them both, and he and McKinney headed upstairs to a push door marked with warning signs that it must remain locked at all times. They pushed through and found themselves on the other side of the customs station and in the public air terminal among aircraft gates. Travelers walked past them.

  People crowded around the many flat-screen televisions bolted at intervals along the length of the terminal. Cable news was on, and as they walked past, McKinney could see video images of a massive, smoking wreck viewed from the air—a colossal ship burning on shoals in the South China Sea.

  McKinney slowed and craned her neck to look up at the screen along with fellow passengers.

  The news anchor narrated the video. “. . . felt the scope and sophistication of the plot presents a grave threat to UN member states. In the wake of the discovery both China and the U.S. have expressed support for an international robot arms control agreement to establish an international legal framework on the proliferation and use of lethally autonomous robots.”

  McKinney turned to Odin. She knew he could feel her gaze on him. A smile creased her lips.

  “It’s not over, you know.” He nodded at the screen. “We set them back a year, maybe two.”

  “I’ll take it.” McKinney tugged at his arm and started them walking again. “It’ll buy us civilians some time to sort things out. To let the law catch up with technology.”