“Which means he’s also encroaching ever near to your Mole Hole base entrance,” Jimmy inferred.
“Correct,” Briggs conceded.
“We can’t allow him to invade one centimeter nearer!” Tanner’s voice blasted. His eyes bulged in their wrinkled, sockets. “Can you imagine the damage if he were to discover our Mole Hole base!”
“If he discovers our base, he’ll discover Sandcastle’s Omega-seven station,” Briggs added. “That cannot happen.”
“Billions of dollars blown over the whim of some meddling erudite gone detective!” Tanner growled. “That station is critical to our assault on the HOPE underground facility. It is the gateway which will enable us to blast into the UCC (Umbilical Control Center) once the satellites have been launched.”
“And which you hastily assume can be penetrated,” Jimmy voiced, cynically.
“It soon will be, thanks to you.” Briggs broke in. “The station is nearly under our control now. ”
Jimmy chuckled, contemptuously. “Under your control,” he echoed with a click of his tongue. He shook his head slow and mockingly. “That is a dangerous assumption.”
“What do you mean?” Tanner demanded.
“This Professor Stephens is a moot point—a non-issue. He is a speck of dust to be wiped away. Your focus should be on the Omega-seven station,” Jimmy continued, eyeing the two men ruthlessly. “That station may be the most remote of all the HOPE underground collection-grids, and the only one to have been decommissioned by the Four, but rest assured, it can be put back into full service within hours if need be. Just because it was sealed and put on mothball status some twenty-two years ago, and is no longer patrolled, does not mean it is a forgotten outpost. There is even talk among the Four of reactivating it again once the HOPE satellites are in synchronous orbit. It is too near their main umbilical to be left derelict. Sandcastle’s droid sentinels will continue to monitor its tributary tunnels, and patrol the station’s perimeter with preemptive resolve.”
Tanner listened, but with a shallow ear.
“In the early days of the Project, “Jimmy continued, “when Omega-seven was used to gather energy from the atmosphere to power the complex, the Five generated the electrical storms at will by simply infusing the dry desert air with vast amounts of moisture. Controlled temperature fluctuations, ionization, and friction did the rest. They often collected enough energy in a single event to power a large metropolis for years.”
“Odd that they mothballed the gird when one considers the rapacious need Sandcastle must have for energy,” Tanner remarked.
“Not odd, Mr. Tanner, when you consider why Sandcastle chose to discontinue all collecting grids which enhance atmospheric characteristics,” countered Jimmy.
“The storms can now be detected and traced,” Briggs added, “it’s what nearly got my own team in trouble,” Briggs spoke up.
“Exactly,” rapt Jimmy. “And unlike Sandcastle, your team lost control of the process, and nearly got a couple of boys killed, not to mention instilling a veritable hoard of unwanted attention!”
The cooling fan on the overhead clicked off. The room went silent—an ugly, angry silence.
Briggs’ chin dropped slightly. His eyes remained fixed, yet unfocused. “The tests would have worked had it not been for the malfunction. We would have been undetected,” he spoke in a near whisper.
Jimmy snorted, exasperatingly. “But you were detected! You cannot control Sandcastle’s technology. I warned you of this! I told your military puppets that they were acting prematurely. The HOPE technology cannot be taken lightly. And now, we are paying the price. Half the meteorologists in the nation have their eyes focused on our salt desert.”
“The attention you are referring to has all but dwindled,” Tanner mediated. He stood to retrieve a freshened pot of coffee then sat and slid his chair irritatingly against the table. “The lack of data eventually stagnated their interest . . . except for this Stephens.”
“Yes,” Briggs acknowledged. “He is the last, and seemingly toughest of all the hound-dogs.
“One which may have already treed our lion, Colonel,” said Jimmy.
“Not yet he hasn’t,” Briggs glared back. “The problem is that our patrols can’t challenge him. He has the landowner’s permission to be on the property—thanks to your mother,” he emphasized. “And a military presence accosting him in such a location would provoke unwanted suspicion. It would be like kicking a sleeping viper.”
“He is formidable,” said Tanner, rapping his fingers rhythmically on the table. He stopped just long enough to take another sip of coffee.
“Apparently,” Jimmy mumbled.
“Well,” Tanner sighed decisively, clearing his throat and setting down his cup more firmly than he intended. “The wheels are in motion. We cannot wait any longer. To do so would jeopardize the entire EMS project. We must act now. The Red Ant Division is ready. Your Goliath AD’s are ready,” he eyed Jimmy. “In tandem, the two groups are prepped to move in. Using this Omega-seven station, they will be a formidable penetrating force. Through this gateway we can create our own access into the UCC. From there, we will move to the HOPE Complex and secure its science-substructure, then Avalon, and finally, the Estate above. They will all be infiltrated.”
Even before Tanner had finished his declaration, the sound of laughter erupted, overlaying his words with a rude harshness. He turned to the source.
Jimmy was shaking his head, still chuckling to himself. He finally raised to meet Tanner’s visual lock. “Forgive me, Mr. Tanner, but I thought you said that the Goliath’s were ready? I must have misunderstood you,” he said sarcastically.
“No. You did not,” returned Tanner, pointedly.
Jimmy face grew serious. “They are not ready,” he spoke, sharply. “They are a risk!”
“Perhaps, but we have full faith in your ability to smooth out the technical wrinkles, Doctor.”
“Do not tempt complacency!” Jimmy erupted, hammering a fist to the table. “The HOPE defenses are unlike any your team has yet encountered! You promised I would have another six months of testing and assimilation!”
“Things have changed.”
“Things have changed?” Jimmy threw his head back, laughing as though he’d gone mad.
Tanner and Briggs watched in silence. It was a ridiculous spectacle.
Jimmy’s paroxysm finally ended, and his composure was followed by an equally eerie silence. It was as though he had expelled all the emotion he had left.
The room fell silent as the visual exchange between the three men grew near consuming. The normally subtle sounds which filled the background seemed to amplify tenfold: the soft hum from the overhead’s fan now whined excessively; the slurp of sipping coffee between lips; the whistle of air moving through the ventilation system—all gathered in the cacophony of emotional rage.
“We have a plan, Doctor Reitman.” Tanner finally spoke, severing the collecting current. “One which will tie up all the loose ends.”
“We’ll be done, Jim,” added Briggs. “No more risk, no more incidents, we’ll be done. But,”—he paused as his eyes moved to Tanner—“it cannot succeed without some unpleasantness.”
Here it comes, Jimmy thought, and he braced mentally.
Tanner pushed his material to Briggs. “Perhaps you should continue, Colonel.”
Briggs nodded. “Very well.” He reached for the projector’s remote switch. The overhead beamed on full, the lights dimmed. “Again, keep in mind that this cannot be done without risk.”
An image filled the screen.
“Phase One,” Briggs started in. “We deal with Stephens. The man has accumulated an entire gamut of electrical equipment at his camp, all of which has been gathering data like a black hole for weeks.” Briggs pushed the remote. The screen image flipped, another appeared. It was a slightly out-of-focus rendering of a shuffled camp—taken from a distance and obviously from a concealed location. The picture showed a large canvas tent
set up in a small, dry ravine with requisite supplies scattered around the perimeter. Opposite the tent, several wide canopies sat side by side, their thick, wood supports anchored firmly to the ground. Each shaded stacks of equipment, carefully covered in tarps.
“Stephens has another week left of his hiatus, then he’s due back to begin teaching. We can’t risk any of the data he’s acquired getting back to his university,” Tanner acknowledged from the shadows, his boney finger tapping at the table.
“Nor can we afford to draw attention to the area by arranging another accident,” Jimmy emphasized, worriedly. “Send in a team to destroy his camp, steal his equipment, but another death? It will look too suspicious.”
“I agree,” Briggs concurred. A statement Jimmy was relieved to hear. But his reprieve was to last just seconds, for as the next slide beamed into focus—like headlights before impact—Jimmy’s eyes went wide and his blood was set into a pounding surge.
“Meet our team, Doctor.” Tanner expelled the words like a fat politician.
“Are you mad!” Jimmy cried, finding his legs. “I tell you they are not ready! They haven’t even been field-tested yet!”
“Really?” Tanner replied mockingly. “But the Colonel here claims you have already tested your metal wolf-pack on one of his own men? Your idea of”—he paused, rubbing his long fingers against a sharp chin—“a demonstration I believe were your words.” He eyed Briggs, then Jimmy, then back to Briggs. “Have I been misinformed?” His thick eyebrows rose in a disdainful sense of validation.
The room flowed in the heat of hatred.
Briggs exhaled a long regretful breath. His eyes drew down and remained so until he finally shook his head. “No, Mr. Tanner. You are not mistaken.” Then he turned to Jimmy, his gaze cold and accusing. “Did you think that your little incident would just seep into the sand like the blood of my man? He had a family!”
“I had a father!” Jimmy forced between clenched teeth, his eyes cold and vengeful.
“Enough!” Tanner ordered, slamming a fist to the table. “We have been through this! Get back on track, gentlemen! Stephens has to be dealt with. We’ll try it Reitman’s way first. We’ll target his camp while he is away. Hopefully, once his camp and equipment are obliterated, he will give up and leave. If not—”
“If not, he’ll have to be eliminated,” Briggs finished the sentence. Then he flipped to the next slide.
“Yes,” Tanner affirmed. “Now according to our team at Mole Hole, the newest prototypes are performing far beyond expectations. Which leads me to believe that they are ready, Doctor Reitman. Besides, my superiors have been salivating for more data on these babies. They want updates, field trials and more positive feedback. They want proof of performance in a real-life scenario. Turning the Goliaths loose on Stephen’s camp will be a perfect opportunity to test their abilities. We will kill two-birds with one stone.”
“You cannot be so credulous!” Jimmy refuted. “These AD’s are not some military upgrade. They are not some secret military prototype to inevitably find its way on the cover of the latest sci-fi magazine. Nor are they an experimental drone whose scheduled test flight got leaked and then suddenly showed up in every local town newspaper. These are AD’s! Goliath series attack droids! Thinking machines decades ahead of their time. We have circumvented the Four’s algorithms and modified an artificial intelligence technology, never intended to be aggressive! A technology which was supposed to be tested and analyzed for months before going online. And now your people want to turn these things loose in the desert and engage them in a full-out offensive?”
“Yes,” replied Tanner, not missing a beat. “Yes, because we know it can be done. You have proven this!”
“My demonstration, although arguably unorthodox, was effective because it was staged to be so. It was a simple command-response scenario; a rudimentary sequence of directives downloaded to a handful of Goliaths prepped for that one task: a performance of revenge. The location was clearly predefined, and I was onsite to manually control and direct each AD’s action. In order to accomplish what you are suggesting, the Goliath pack would have to be put in hive-mode, and given a directive which has not yet been fully tested. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Tanner didn’t reply. Instead, he continued in a callous glare; a characteristic which was becoming all too familiar.
Finally, after what seemed like an incessant amount of time, Tanner drew in a long breath and ground down with his jaw. “I understand your concerns, Doctor Reitman. But you must understand that I have my orders. Time is running out and my instructions are clear.” Then he turned to Briggs. “Get the Goliaths staged for an immediate offensive on Stephen’s camp.”
“Are you hearing me!” Jimmy exploded, his chair flying to the ground. “These attack droids are equipped with EMR devices! Do you know what a fully sampled EMR weapon can do!”
Tanner stood. “The decision has been made. We can monitor their every move from the Mole Hole Control Center. If anything should go wrong, we can shut them down remotely or—heaven forbid—initiate the fail-safe and blow them to kingdom come.”
Jimmy felt sick. He was near trembling in the wash of the projector’s lighting. He blinked unresponsive at the stupidity of their plan. He stared blindly at the image on the screen. The picture was obviously taken from the Mole Hole fortification depository. It showed line upon line of these fierce-looking creatures arrayed amongst the rest of the stockpile of armament and weaponry. There on that fluttering screen, Jimmy stared hopelessly at the Goliaths. How false their sense of dormancy; how deceiving their still and motionless frames. These things would awaken like demons, and upon command, rain unrestrained destruction upon their targets.
“We’re committed, Jim.” Briggs said, as if himself conceding to the inevitable.
Jimmy looked up under a wet brow. “Sandcastle won’t be fooled a second time. They will move to stop you. They are far more daunting than you, or Tanner”—he hesitated long enough to toss a detestable glance in the man’s direction—“can possibly know.”
“Yes. We quite agree,” Tanner spit out rather arrogantly. “Did you assume that Sandcastle would just turn HOPE over to us without a fight? Tell me Doctor, how do you foresee our penetration into the Omega-seven station? That is why we must act decisively, and get our Goliaths inside the tunnels.”
“Gaining access into the underground complex is not the issue,” Jimmy muttered in a beaten tone. “It is the obliteration of all that will follow.”
Tanner smirked. “Obliteration? What are you talking about? Our Goliaths can easily challenge the Sandcastle sentinels—you said so yourself. I don’t share your pessimism.”
Jimmy shook his head and allowed a knowing smile to form across his lips.
Briggs eyed the man carefully, then turned back to Tanner. “There is a failsafe at the HOPE complex, isn’t there, Jim.”
Tanner cocked his head like a bird, from one man to the other in an odd barrage of confusion.
Jimmy hesitated. He had regrettably said too much already, but it seemed he now had no choice. “I’ve been trying to tell you both. Gaining access through the Omega-seven corridor is not the concern. We will get inside.”
Tanner gnawed on each word, becoming very aware that crucial information had slipped past him. How dare a subordinate keep such vital information from him.
“The Goliaths will have a very small window,” Jimmy continued, clearing a very dry throat. “I can only give them minutes at best. If they fail in overrunning the perimeter sentinels, Sandcastle will detect the incursion and initiate its failsafe system.”
“Which is what, exactly.” Tanner demanded.
“EMR devices, Mr. Tanner, located on every sentinel and hidden throughout the complex. They are everywhere. And trust me, Mr. Tanner, there won’t be a single atom of the former material remaining once they’ve been initiated.”
“You’re talking about some kind of nuclear explosion?” Tanner sputtered, taking
a step backward.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Jimmy snapped.
“I’m not following you, Reitman.”
Jimmy paused a moment. “Do you know that I have my car washed every day when I’m staying at Sandcastle?”
Tanner scowled and grew annoyed. “I could care less about your car.”
“It’s because of the sand, you see. It gets everywhere.”
“Doctor Reitman. If your trying to be humorous, I am not amused.”
“Sand, Mr. Tanner. The EMR devices will turn everything to sand.” Then Jimmy’s eyebrows rose quizzically. “Oh, and not just any sand. The EMR sampling is programmed for sand atomically identical to the white stuff that already surrounds Sandcastle in all directions. My mother and her Four are environmentalists to a fault. They want to be neat. It will be as if the entire facility—the Estate, Avalon and the whole of the underground complex—never existed. The desert will return as it was before the word Sandcastle was ever conceived. And it will all happen in mere seconds.”
Tanner looked stunned. He stood stiff, like a dead tree, and remained that way for a lengthy, tense moment. Then with nothing more than the exhale of breath, he said, “well then. We will need to do things right the first time, won’t we.”
Jimmy was done. This was a battle he was not going to win.
“Since you were kind enough to reveal your little caveat,” Tanner taunted, “we will reveal ours.”
Briggs suddenly threw Tanner a look of hesitancy, his eyes wide and furious, but his glance was ignored.
“You may think that we haven’t been as thorough and well-prepared as you would like. But actually, we have. You see, Sandcastle’s Achilles Heel is Mrs. Reitman and her precious Four. Without their direction, the defense barrier will fall.”
A muscle twitched in Jimmy’s left cheek. “You’ve changed the plan then?” he questioned.
“We’ve changed the plan,” replied Tanner.
“Mrs. Reitman will be gone when we take Sandcastle, Jim,” Colonel Briggs declared. “And the Four will be so preoccupied with her wellbeing, they won’t be focused enough to see us coming. At least that’s the plan.”
Of Salt and Sand Page 45