by John Conroe
“Oh sweetheart, I’m so, so sorry. Leading soldiers into dangerous places is practically guaranteed to result in losses. And the Zone is the most dangerous of places. I know you did everything you could, but these soldiers are all volunteers, all professionals. If he didn’t follow your guidance, then there is very little you can do to protect him. I’m sure you’ve told the story a thousand times, so let’s not rehash it. Although, you are very much your father’s son, and he would rehash missions over and over till he just about made himself sick.”
Mom gently guided our little group to the living room and made me sit on the couch with her next to me. Aama brought me tea, sweet and buttery, then settled on my other side while I sipped it.
After a bit, I told them the story. I did it slower and without as much military vernacular as I had reported it to Yoshida.
“Ajaya, I am so sorry that you lost a man, but listening to you and knowing your habit of understating your own actions, I have to say that anyone who enters with you has the very best chance of living through it—as long as they listen to you. Your own father lost half of his trainees the first mission and almost as many the second. That’s when he quit. Why do they want to do this anyway?” Mom asked.
“I think they’re trying to reclaim Manhattan, inch by inch. They’re focused on the topic of clearing houses and buildings, and I think Yoshida is trying to build a corp of soldiers able to survive in the Zone to get the job done.”
“I think they should go back to the EMP weapons and do it that way,” Mom said. Aama nodded in agreement.
“The EMPs don’t reach all the nooks and crannies of all the buildings in Manhattan. They tried that already, years ago. The first few attempts knocked out quite a few drones, but then results went downhill. Personally, I think the Spiders have found ways to anticipate attacks. Sneaking drones near the wall to electronically monitor communications, tapping into the internet, stuff like that. Harper thinks so too.”
“Harper seems to know a lot about drones?” Mom questioned.
“We were in the same class for drone tech,” I said, reminding her of the story. And it was very much a story, as Harper had never attended drone tech school. She could easily teach it, but she hadn’t lived outside the Zone until just recently.
“Mom, I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit,” I said, finishing my tea.
“Okay, dear. We’ll get you later when dinner is ready,” Mom said after a glance at Aama.
“I might not be hungry,” I warned them.
“But you will still join the family for dinner, because that’s what you need—family.”
“Okay,” I agreed, taking myself off to my room.
Once I was flopped on the bed and staring at the ceiling, the awful image of Primmer getting ripped in half immediately ran through my head. I tried to banish it but it kept coming back. I tried listening to music, I tried looking at the family business accounts, I even picked up a book I’d been trying to read for a week. But every time I thought my mind was clear, that horrible, bloody image would come screaming back through my mind’s eye.
Then something rustled on the floor by my door.
It was the backpack that I carry Rikki in. I had forgotten to get him out. Cursing softly at myself, I jumped up and opened the pack. Rikki, in ball form, hovered up out of the payload section and floated over to his charging station.
“Analysis of mission reports have been flagged as an improper selection of candidate Primmer. Zone Defense leadership has implemented a change in the personnel screening process to eliminate individuals with known authority and chain of command issues. Also, Major Yoshida has ordered new orientation videos incorporating satellite footage from today’s mission. None of the written evaluations place blame on Ajaya Gurung,” Rikki said in an uncharacteristic burst of unsolicited information.
“Rikki, how do you have access to Zone Defense screening parameters and confidential mission reports?”
“Rikki Tikki has implanted scout viruses in Zone Defense networks.”
I was stunned. My drone had taken it upon itself to infiltrate the US military computer network that monitored the Zone. And succeeded.
“What protocol established this action plan?”
“Primary mission: Protect Ajaya Gurung.”
That wasn’t exactly correct. Primary mission was to protect humans with a focus on myself, my family, and additionally, Astrid Johnson. Rikki had been changing slightly ever since he got knocked out of commission back when I intervened and sniped the Johnson clan out of a Spider trap in lower Manhattan. That train of thought brought a beautiful blonde face to mind.
My personal AI assistant played a snippet of music that announced a message from Astrid. Isn’t it odd how you think of someone and suddenly they’re contacting you?
“Read message.”
“Yo tall, dark, and sneaky. How was your day?” My AI read, using a copy of Astrid’s voice.
“Reply. The worst,” I said.
The reply came back almost instantly—a chime requesting full visual and audio.
“Answer,” I told my AI. Anyone other than Astrid and I would likely have declined the call.
The blank white wall across from my bed suddenly became a video window, filled with Astrid’s beautiful face. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“People injured?” Her face was worried—and smudged with a little grease on one cheek, her long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.
“I lost a man.”
“Oh AJ. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Me too. My fault—wasn’t watching him.”
She frowned at me. “Everyone who enters the Zone is responsible for themselves. I know you did everything possible.”
“Not so sure about that. But hey, how was your day?”
Her frown turned to something sympathetic at my awkward topic shift. “We stayed out of the Zone. Made upgrades and repairs to the LAV.”
“What upgrades?” Team Johnson always had the best gear and vehicles. Any upgrades were bound to be interesting… maybe even distracting.
“Well, among others, we Installed a Sinoarms Ping A8 on the minigun.”
Sinoarms was the largest Chinese defense company and the Ping, which if I remembered correctly, translated as Shield, was an anti-drone automated targeting system.
“With radar?”
“Radar, full spectrum machine vision, and echolocation.”
I didn’t know there was a version that melded all those sensors, but then, I didn’t keep up with armored vehicle accessories like she did, just like she wasn’t as fully versed in stealth tech as I was. But we were both interested in each other’s tools of the trade, particularly anything that promised more safety in the Zone.
“What’s Martin going to do?”
Her middle brother, who was a giant asshat, usually manned the minigun station. The Ping would make him redundant.
“He’ll be backup if it fails, but primarily he will supervise the new Zaman sensor suite.”
“Wow, the old man really opened up the wallet.”
“Seems we got a bunch of easy money raiding some drone hunter’s trophy caches. Dad wants to be as prepared as possible for Spider activity. Which is why we also added a Finya launcher.”
I could feel my frown form as I listened to her. Civilian armored vehicles were not allowed to mount grenade launchers or any type of missile system other than smoke and concussion grenade launchers and even then, they were restricted to 37mm. They could use machine guns for days, but anything that launched explosive devices was verboten. The military and law enforcement used 40mm systems. The Finya was 37mm, a slight but important legal distinction, and only it launched smoke, rubber sting pellets, foam batons, and a rather underwhelming variety of flash-bang grenade that kept it legal. Nothing that would be effective against drones. Brad Johnson had always been rather vocal about the uselessness of the neutered civilian systems.
“Well, if some idiot left a bunc
h of dead drones lying around, why wouldn’t you help yourself,” I said, buying time while I pondered the Finya.
She smiled. “He’s not an idiot. A little slow maybe, but otherwise he’s pretty nice.”
“Nice? Old ladies and friendly shopkeepers are nice. Don’t you mean he’s handsome, sexy, and exciting as hell?”
“Well, he’s one of those solo warrior types, so he’s pretty quiet. Also, his face is a dead giveaway for all his emotions. You’re completely bewildered by the Finya, aren’t you?”
“Your dad always hated those things.”
“Yeah, well, we found an abandoned Federal law enforcement agency vehicle while we were making a run into the Zone. Big SUV with a full load of goodies in the back. Martin recognized the labels on the main stack of boxes. Some special stuff for Uncle Sam’s agents. All 37mm, but way, way better than the normal stuff. Like, lethal. Finyas are inexpensive and with this stuff on board, we’ll have some surprises for the drones.”
“But the first time you shoot them off on-air, the Feds will come down on you.”
“Maybe, but we’ll be alive to beg forgiveness.”
“So how good are these?”
“Please—like I would ever say over open internet. I will tell you that they’re pretty surprising. Never heard of the brand, but Martin had and knew the ordinance labels, so he’s maybe good for something.”
“Well, anything that makes your little recreational vehicle safer is good in my book.”
Outside my room, I heard a pair of voices that sounded almost identical—actually were indistinguishable to most people, at least those who hadn’t grown up with them.
“Twins home?” Astrid asked. I realized I had tilted my head when I heard their voices.
“Yes—” was all I got out before a knock came at my door. I frowned and Astrid grinned at my expression. “Be nice,” she said.
“Come in,” I said, turning my head to the door and raising my voice a bit. Instantly the door popped open and my sisters stuck their heads in.
“Who you talking to?” Monique asked.
“Who do you think he’s talking to?” Gabby asked her twin with a grin.
“Yes, it’s Astrid,” I got out and then they were inside my domain and bouncing on the bed on either side of me. Both greeted Astrid but uncharacteristically stayed serious. “Mom told us you had a really, really shacked-up day,” Monique said.
“Yeah. Astrid’s been distracting me,” I said, waiting for one of them to take the bait. Surprise… neither of them ohhed, ahhhed, or made any suggestive noises at my comment.
“That’s good. We’ll leave you to it,” Gabby said, standing back up.
“Just wanted to check on you. Plus Mom says dinner in five,” Monique added.
They waved goodbye to Astrid and vanished out the door.
“Who were they and what did they do with my sisters?” I asked.
“They’re concerned about you. All that snark and sass comes from love. They worry like crazy every time you go in. Do you have any idea how many calls and messages I get when you’re late, or even worse, when you have to spend the night inside?”
“I knew they stayed home and slept in Mom’s room, but I didn’t know they bothered you about it,” I said.
She frowned. “Ajaya Gurung… how could it be a bother for me to talk to your sisters when they’re worried about you?”
Oops, I had just stepped in it. Happens to me all the time. I don’t recognize the danger till it’s too late. But the key to the whole thing is to recognize that you’ve fallen into a pit and immediately exfiltrate the hazardous area of conversation.
“I just meant I didn’t know they did that.”
“Nobody else goes in like you. My family goes in all at once, and we’re behind tons of steel armor. The other teams go in at least pairs, also inside armor. You go in all by yourself and just about naked.”
“Naked. Is that how you imagine it?” I asked, arching one brow.
She rolled her eyes, but I caught a little grin before she wiped it away. “Yeah, buck naked, cowering, and afraid.”
“Let’s focus on the buck naked part,” I said, ignoring the other stuff.
“Perv. Leave it to a male to go down that road when we’re talking about violent death and dismemberment.”
I almost said something about members but her head turned and she listened to something offscreen. When she turned back, her face was resigned. “Gotta go. We’re running tests on the new stuff. I’ll check back with you later, hotshot, okay?”
“Yeah, go kick some ass—” I said, pausing, opening my mouth as if I was going to add my pet name for her, which is Trid. But that would have been too corny. I just smiled instead.
“Bye AJ,” she said, giving me a smile that was half amused and half sympathetic. Then the screen disappeared, leaving a white wall.
Chapter 5
I had a message waiting on my AI when I woke up the next day. Yoshida. He wondered if I might join him at Zone Defense after lunch.
My wake-up was a good two hours later than normal, as I hadn’t really slept much during the actual night time. Dragging myself into the kitchen, I found the coffee pot, mumbling good morning to my mom and Aama while I helped myself. Their conversation had shut off as soon as I shambled in, both turning my way with matching looks of concern.
I take my coffee black, no dilution, no watering down of the caffeine. Today I needed every bit of chemical stimulation I could get from the mug. Collapsing into a chair between them, I sipped my coffee. Something struck me as odd. Oh yeah. “Mom? You stayed home today? Are you sick?”
“No dear. I have stuff to get done, so I took a day.”
“Oh. For a moment, I thought you were keeping on eye on me. You know… cause I sha… screwed up so bad yesterday.”
“Major Yoshida sent me a message. Said you would likely be blaming yourself for yesterday’s tragedy. Said in his estimation, it’s amazing that any of the three of you made it out alive. That your trainee made a big mistake. That you did everything you could. Told me the steps you took would become part of the curriculum,” Mom said.
Going back into the Zone after the running battle on Manhattan Bridge had been a bit of a battle itself. Mom was instantly dead set against it, and I didn’t really blame her. But Yoshida had approached me with this teaching gig and it was at the north end, and therefore somewhat lower risk, and much of the time it was just classroom stuff. It paid well. When she still didn’t go for it, Yoshida had approached my mom directly, displaying a level of tact and diplomacy that frankly shocked me. Now that I was actually doing it, he gave her regular updates to keep her anxiety down. But most importantly, he kept his contact with my mom a secret from the rest of Zone Defense. I would have been a laughingstock among the soldiers if they knew that my mom played such an important role. But Barbara Gurung had lost her husband to the Zone, and Baburam Gurung, had, in turn, lost most of his students when he tried teaching Zone survival. So Yoshida understood the family dynamics. He also didn’t bullshit my mom. Ultimately it was always my decision, but when you live in a close-knit family and depend on one another like we did, the dynamics are… complicated.
Still, I hadn’t expected Yoshida to reach out to my mom about Primmer’s death.
“Oh,” was the extent of my verbal wizardry. Aama set a plate of sel roti in front of me. Luscious rings of fried rice bread. My grandmother made it in big batches, then hid it away, only dishing it out on special occasions.