by Mark Harritt
“But, it is very necessary to keep them for a few weeks longer. They’re the best athletes we’ve ever had here. Their neuro-muscular development is something we only see on elite athletes. It is not like we can get elite athletes with the proper security clearances to work with us. These are the only soldiers that we could get with the proper clearances to bring in on this project. Besides, they understand what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Most of the ‘Army team’have science degrees in some academic fields that parallel the engineering team’s own expertise. The Department of Defense, if they did a study of all the people in the DoD, couldn’t have sent us better test subjects.”
Mitchem continued to protest, even though, deep inside, he knew that he wouldn’t win this argument. “I just had a Major General ream my ass because of them. And I have Jamison on the horn complaining about these yahoos! I just want to get rid of them. I won’t have these cowboys in this research any longer. They have no respect for what your team is trying to accomplish. They don’t treat your team with the respect it deserves. They don’t even use proper titles for the people on your team. Hell, they call Dr. Nachman, Dr. Ed,” he replied.
“Yes, but they call me Dr. Randall,” she thought to herself.
“Dr. Nachman doesn’t mind. He even has a bit of hero worship going for them,” she said. “Hell, most of the team is awed by these guys.” Dr. Randall continued, “Part of it is the fact that they’re an elite team of commandos, and part of it is that they know geek speak. They feel like part of the research team. Two of them went over to Luis’ house to play video games with some of the younger guys on the research team. The research team loves these guys.And, you can’t argue with the results we’re getting from the interface,” she finished.
She opened the folder on his desk to the relevant pages. She knew he wouldn’t be able to understand most of the results on the page, but he was able to grasp the charts that were trending up past the ninetieth towards the ninety-fifth percentiles.
He looked at the graphs before him, “How much longer will you need to keep them for this data to be complete?”
“I need them for at least four more weeks so that I can continue to monitor their integration into the mech neural net,” she replied. “The neural nets are learning from them as well.”
“And you can’t do this with in a shorter time frame?” he asked.
“Not if we want the necessary data to do this with other soldiers. I need this baseline to compare other soldiers’ rate of absorption into the neural net interface. With this data, we’ll be able to do a comparative study and see which soldiers will be able to interface, and which soldiers won’t be able to interface. We will save money by eliminating inferior soldiers that will never be able to interface with the suits. This will allow us to discriminate between the superior and inferior trainees. Plus, it will bring up the success rate for those that are interfacing correctly with the mech armor,” she answered.
“What is the rate we’re trying to achieve with the power suit integration?”
“Well, we want the suit and the wearer to interface at one hundred percent if possible. But that percentile may not be attainable with the current programming. If we can get an interface of ninety five percent across the board, I’ll consider that a success story. But, if we can get higher numbers on the interface, that will be a better conclusion to the study. The other plus is their capability to work with the fabrication team. They gave the engineers great ideas on additional storage for weapons, ammunition, explosives, and personal equipment. Those ideas have been incorporated into the armor. The only thing they couldn’t figure out with the fabrication team was how to store the .50 caliber Barrett.” She stopped, knowing that she had made her point.
He sat for a minute and considered what she was asking. He hated this infantry team. They were insubordinate, and to his thinking, unreliable. He couldn’t argue with the data in front of him, however. Worse yet, he couldn’t argue with Dr. Randall. Hopefully, the success of the program will distract from the problems between Director Jamison and the Spec Op team.
He could sense the closeness of her body to him. As she spoke, she leaned against him. He could feel the curve of her breast against his arm. His adrenaline surged,increasing his passion for her. He was becoming tumescent. He could barely resist taking her on his office desk. She was completely different from his wife, Marie. This difference was another part of his attraction for her.
He studied the charts, pretending that he hadn’t made a decision yet. He did this to extend the contact between them. Finally he nodded.“I’ll go talk to Jamison, and make sure that the team will be kept here longer. Jamison is going to have a fit. He’ll have to make some calls. I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to keep them here any longer after this weekend. This will have to go through several commands to figure out if they can stay here longer. It will be up to the Generals at the Pentagon.”
Dr. Randall made sure that the look of victory that she felt didn’t display on her face. She had won, and gotten what she wanted, but it didn’t do any good to gloat and goad him. To do so would erase the victory she had just won. If she gloated, then he would simply reverse his decision and ensure that Chief Duggins and his team were escorted off the base in record time.
To enforce the decision, she glanced at the door to make sure it was closed completely, then moved her hand to gentle stroke the back of his neck. She leaned over, and gave him a long, slow kiss. When she was done, she picked up the folder and walkedto the door. She was not moving as quickly as she did when she came in, exaggerating the movement of her hips. As she opened the door, she turned and smiled at him.“Thank you, LTC Mitchem. I appreciate your help in this matter,” she said before she disappeared from sight.
His eyes lingered for a moment on the door. He knew, at a basic level, that she was toying with him. At the moment, he really didn’t care. He could still smell her perfume lingering in the air. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, ensuring there was no lipstick on him. Then he looked down at his desk. There was a small note on his desk. It said, “Tonight, 8 PM.”
He looked at the note. He didn’t have to ask where, he already knew. He picked up the phone and called Jamison. Jamison was going to be pissed.
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It was Thursday. Mike was a happy man. Three weeks was up tomorrow. He was flying back to Colorado and into Jo’s arms for the weekend. He finished packing and had one set of clothes out for the trip. He and the team would leave the hotel early tomorrow to get the pallet loaded at Area 19 onto the truck. They finished strapping the pallet back together during the last hour of their work day, with most of the research team helping them to palletize everything. Dr. Randall was not there, of course, and Josh Weitz found something to keep him busy while everybody else was working on the pallet.
He really enjoyed the company of the scientist and engineers on the research team. Most of them were really good people, with a few exceptions. He always felt that Dr. Randall was evaluating his fitness as a human. Josh Weitz was such a kiss ass that it was never a pleasure to be around him. Still, every person on the engineering team was extremely competent at their jobs. If there was one thing he could appreciate, it was their professionalism. Jamison and Mitchem aside, he would look on this as one of the best jobs he had the privilege to do.
He would miss the rest of the engineers. Dr. Nachman and Dr. Humphreys were both great guys, and they got along famously with the team. Bob was Bob, enough said. The other engineerswere just as welcoming. Luis Garcia and John Smith were both avid gamers, and it had been a pleasure to kick their ass playing Gears of War. It was embarrassing when John took him out playing Call of Duty, though. John had bragging rights, and used them. Mike knew everybody’s screen names for online gaming and would stay in touch with some of them that way. For the rest, he friended online or got email addresses to stay in touch. Lunch was usually a big affair with the engineers spreading some
juicy gossip about Mitchem and Dr. Randall. Too bad about the Lieutenant Colonel’s wife. From what everybody told him, she was a great lady. Unfortunately, she had gotten involved with the wrong man.
His cell phone started ringing. He walked over and turned down the TV, and then looked at the name that was listed. He answered the cell phone.
“Major Salk, how is everything?” he asked.
“Mike, you know, you have a strange way of ingratiating yourself and your team with people, and at the same time, alienating people with significant clout,” Major Salk answered.
“Is this about LTC Mitchem, or Mr. Jamison? I don’t know what they said, but we’ve bent over backwards to keep out of their way this week.”
“Well, yes, in a roundabout way,” Major Salk said. “It seems that somebody at that facility wants to keep you around for four more weeks.”
Mike frowned at this information. He and the team were more than ready to leave. He and the team were getting on Mitchem’s nerves. Not that it took much to do so.Plus, Jamison was just psychotic, “How is that possible? I thought the head shed at Area 19 hated us.”
Salk answered, “So did we. After that stupid decision to pull your weekend and make you unload gear from trucks and put it into storage for them, I personally wanted to come up there and rip their heads off. You should have heard the Sergeant Major when he heard about it.”
“Is there any way that you can pull us, and get us back on mission?” Mike asked.
“Chief, there is nothing I can do about this. The request went through the highest levels of the Pentagon and came back down through SOCOM. There are more than a few stars, eagles, and oak leaf clusters that are involved with keeping you in place out there for another 4 weeks,” Major Salk responded.
Mike cursed. With that many generals and colonels involved, there was no way the team would be allowed to leave the research facility, no matter what kind of idiocy the local command team engaged in.
“Yeah, that is what my reaction was. Captain Bostak is pretty pissed off that they’re keeping you as well. He wants to get back into the training cycle with the entire team. So plan on you and your team staying out there for four more weeks. Hopefully you and your team will be finished by the time the fourth week finishes. We have some urgent situations that we need to get you onto when you get back,” Major Salk said. “
Mike started to apologize to the Major.
“No, don’t worry about it Mike. I know this wasn’t your idea, but it’s cutting into your training time, and it would really be good to have you back. Especially in light of what is happening around the world right now.”
After the phone call, Mike thought for a moment. He would have to call the team immediately and tell them to stop packing. But first, he needed to make an important call. He looked up the number, and pressed enter. The phone on the other end started ringing, and he held it up to his ear.“Hey honey, have you ever been to Montana?” he asked.
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Mike was pretty happy. Jo flew up for a week. She took some vacation time to come see him. Mike was happy as hell thatshe was able to come up, and to see her face when he came back to the BOQ. She brought him a copy of the ultra sound, and he spent an hour with his head resting on her stomach, talking to the baby. Jo thought that was the sweetest thing she had ever seen.
Mike rented a car so that they didn’t have to take one from the team to get around. On the last weekend she was there, Mike and Jo rented a cabin and went to Yellowstone for the weekend. He woke up to her on Monday, and she flew out to the east coast for some time with both Mike’s and Jo’s families. Due to her father’s busy schedule, she was stopping in Georgia first to visit Mike’s family.
So, now, Mike and the team were back at Area 19, and back to work in the mech armor. The team was armored up. The power armor was now second nature to them. Today’s exercise was to move as a team across the play room floor and use the internal map for tracking of each team member and to monitor team kill zones. They used a standard infantry wedge formation and watched the interlocking kill zones on the map to engage imaginary targets. After each engagement, they would move into a circle for three hundred and sixty degree security, and watch as the kill zones shifted to encompass the new reality.
Mike was very impressed with what he had seen in the mechs. With his team’s input to the software, and the sensor package in the suits, they came a long way to perfecting the capabilities of the power suits for future combat operations.
Red lights started flashing around the room.
“Hey, what the hell?” he asked, startled.
The rest of the team were looking at their displays, wondering what was going on. The engineering team looked concerned.
“What’s going on? Does anybody have an idea of what is going on?” he asked.
Lieutenant Pang was the only person in the room that understood what the red flashing lights meant. But she wasn’t going to announce it until she was sure that this wasn’t a test or malfunction in the system. Her money was on a malfunction.
“Hang on, let me call up to security,” she said, loud enough for everybody in the room to understand.
Mike and the team heard perfectly inside the mech armor. The suits could pick up the smallest noise and magnify it so that the team could hear what was going on.
Lieutenant Pang walked to the far side of the room where the desks were located and grabbed a phone and made a call. Mike turned up the sound so he could hear what she was saying.
“Yeah, I’m calling about a possible malfunction in the emergency system down here. All the lights are flashing.” She was quiet for a moment. “What?” she asked. “What do you mean it isn’t a malfunction? Is it a test?” She was quiet, simply listening to the information. The sensors were good, but Mike couldn’t hear what was being said from the other end of the conversation. She didn’t say anything and turned to walk back to the team. The look on her face was not a soothing look. She was alarmed.
“Folks, I don’t want to scare anybody, but there is an emergency situation. Security is aware of what is going on, but they don’t have time to explain everything to me. Evidently, there is an att-“
The world blinked.
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Dear Leader was coked up again, throwing breakable bottles around the room. He was partying with coke and alcohol, watching Disney movies, and having sex with several of the little girls from the North Korean gymnastics team.
General Som Bak Yip was not pleased with the situation. The new Dear Leader, Kim IL Don, was not exactly the most comforting presence. Since his supply of fat, young, Chinese girls was cut off, he had been rougher on the North Korean girls that he used. They were skinny. He didn’t like skinny. If the girls didn’t please, they and their families were executed. If they did please, Dear Leader kept them around until they didn’t please him, then he had the girl and their families executed. It was a no win situation for the girls, which explained the tears on their faces.
Kim IL Don had also been abrupt with the North Korean soldiers who had been careless, resulting in a cross border the fire fight with a Chinese army patrol. General Som Bak Yip was not sure if it was because they had been caught, had created an international incident, or had not delivered the three Chinese girls that Dear Leader had been anticipating. Their bodies had been left rotting in an open grave, food for the crows and dogs.
Luckily, the Chinese Government and the international community didn’t really understand how long this had been going on. There were only rumors about the boy’s tastes during the wait for his father to die, and few knew about his more extreme appetites. If his father had found out about them when he was still alive, well, he wouldn’t have really been upset. He would have just found a way to ensure that the girls were purchased quietly and efficiently for his son. What the father didn’t understand was that the suspense of stealing the girls led to the psycho-sexual adrenalin
rush in anticipation that his son felt.
Kim IL Don had a pistol in his hand and waved it around at the girls, shouting incomprehensibly, throwing empty liquor bottles at them. The girls were all crying, wondering if they were going to live through the night.
Kim IL Don cursed and turned his back on the girls. He used the pistol in his hand to point at one of the guards and started to say something. The pistol went off and barely missed the guard. The guard flinched, but knew better than to say anything, and stood very still while Dear Leader started laughing.
Kim IL Don grabbed one of the girls by the collar of her dress and started walking with her. He walked to the door, and out with his arm around the girl’s neck. The door slammed shut behind him. The General walked to one of the guards.
“Get servants in here to clean all this up. Make sure the girls are taken to the doctor to see to their needs. Send them to their rooms. Dear Leader may need their services later.”
The General walked from the room as the guard rounded up the girls with barked commands and started herding them out the door on the other side of the room. The girls were still crying and whimpering, knowing that, just because they survived this encounter, it didn’t mean that they were going to survive the next.
The General thought about the situation before him. He had gone into the room to tell Dear Leader that the UN General Counsel meeting moved to instill more sanctions on North Korea. This time, neither the Chinese or Russian government used their veto powers to stop the sanctions. It was not a good time to be in the military in North Korea.
The General had money stored away in several off shore accounts. He had squirrelledit away for many years. He did this when he saw the writing on the wall after the twin towers were destroyed. It was done very carefully, because if anyone else found out, he would be a very dead man.