by Anne Fox
“Do you think it will make you hesitate if you have to shoot someone in the future?”
“I hope I always hesitate. But only long enough to know if squeezing the trigger is what I have to do.”
“Ok,” Voice began as the team met to go over recent developments and improvements to their techniques and technology. “Today, I’m going to be demonstrating our new and improved dragonfly drone.”
He opened a box in front of him and took out one of the small drones.
“The first improvement you probably noticed right away, and only has to do with how many of them we can carry. The wings now fold for storage.” He turned the drone over and pressed the small button on its underside that activated it with the tip of his pencil. The folded wings flipped out, and the drone adopted its appearance as a life-like dragonfly.
“For the next improvement, I have to give it a command. Hal, dragonfly 1, perimeter search of library.”
The tiny drone took off flying around the room, occasionally bobbing and weaving as it went.
“Notice that our drone now has a more life-like flight characteristic. I must have watched a hundred videos of dragonflies in flight to get our drone to act like a real one.”
He took out a second dragonfly.
“You might remember that I had a little issue with the dragonfly during the Roswell training exercise. I’d sent the dragonfly that was tracking Amigo off to assist the dragonfly that was searching for Hank after Amigo was apprehended. But after Hank disabled the dragonfly doing the grid search to find her, the second one just went into hover. And so, the search was over. Now watch what happens if I give the dragonfly flying the perimeter of the room the command to assist this dragonfly in a grid search.”
He held the dragonfly drone in his hand and activated it with a press of the tip of his pencil. Continuing to hold it immobile and upside down, he said, “Hal, dragonfly one, fly to position dragonfly 2, initiate joint grid search.”
The dragonfly flying the perimeter turned and headed toward the dragonfly in Voice’s hand. He then pressed on the one in his hand with the tip of his pencil, inactivating it and making its wings fold again for storage. The other dragonfly continued toward him, hovered briefly over the dragonfly in his hand, then commenced flying a grid pattern in widening spirals around his hand.
“And, last but not least, if I try to grab it...” He reached out and tried to snatch the searching dragonfly, which flitted away from his hand. “Evasion capability. It won’t be so easy for Hank to snatch one out of the air next time we do a ‘sniper versus snooper.’”
“Pretty impressive,” Edge said.
“Hal, dragonfly 1, tag suspect Hank,” Voice said.
The dragonfly flew to a point just out of Hank’s reach.
“I also reprogrammed things so the dragonfly won’t go directly to a tagged signal unless I ask it to. This will make it both harder for a suspect to disable and also less likely to be noticed.” He grinned. “But if I wanted... Hal, land Hank.”
The dragonfly approached Hank and landed in her hair.
“You’ve got something about putting these things in my hair,” Hank said, reaching up and gently pulling it from her head. She handed it over to him.
“Oh, and I almost forgot. Hal, dragonfly 1, observe suspect Hank.”
The dragonfly flew up and grasped the edge of the lighting fixture above Hank’s head. Voice then turned his tablet so the others could see it. On it was a video feed from the dragonfly, focused on Hank.
“Go ahead and walk around the room, Hank,” Voice said.
She got up and did so, the dragonfly periodically repositioning itself so that her image was always depicted on Voice’s tablet. Taking a peek at his tablet, she ducked under the table. The dragonfly repositioned itself, taking a spot over the seat of her empty chair, then turned clockwise until it reacquired her image. It then settled on the chair and continued to send Hank’s image back to Voice’s tablet.
“That capability is through a movement analysis routine programmed into Hal. Hal figures out from how Hank’s image disappeared her probable location and then directs the drone to take a position that will make that location visible. Basically, Hal is mapping the area as the drone flies. There’s still the possibility that if Hal doesn’t have enough mapping data from the dragonfly that a suspect could evade it, but by making the dragonfly bob and weave as it flies assists it in acquiring the mapping data as well.”
“How is it that the dragonfly can communicate with Hal in the field?” Amigo asked.
“Good question, and one with a simple answer.” Voice set a box up on the table and extended an antenna from it. “This is a booster. Basically, a bum ticker in a box. It’s programmed for the frequencies used by the dragonflies, takes the signal that the dragonfly produces, and boosts it so the satellites can pick it up and rebroadcast it to Hal. Hal returns the favor when it’s commanding the drones. Of course, I didn’t need it here, given Hal is right there,” he said, pointing at the mainframe bay door.
“Where’s the antenna on the dragonfly?” Cloud asked.
“In the wings. What you see that look like veins in the wings are actually the antenna.”
“Voice, we keep saying it. You’re a fucking genius,” Crow said.
“Yeah, I know,” Voice said, grinning.
“What else have we got?” Spud asked.
“If I can have another minute,” Voice said, “I decrypted a message from our local gunny here at the base. Evidently, he’s pretty impressed with Hank, and would like her promoted.”
“To what?”
“Gunnery sergeant.”
Spud took on his Secret Service ‘game face.’ “As long as he doesn’t want her promoted to E-9, I’m fine with it.”
“You’d still be my superior, with more years in rank than I’d have,” Hank said innocently.
“It would make it that much harder to control you.”
Hank laughed. “You don’t control me.”
“Unless he’s got you in handcuffs,” Amigo said, getting the team laughing.
“Let’s not go any further along that line,” Spud said with a grin. “Anyone else?”
“Hank and I will be working on handgun skills with Cloud and Crow tomorrow in the range here,” Amigo said. “Right now, they’re about the weakest team members when it comes to handgun. They can make airplanes fly accurately, but not bullets.”
“True,” Crow and Cloud said in unison.
“And on our front, Hank is ready for her instrument checkride, and once we can get Edge out for his instrument cross-country, he’ll be ready for his as well,” Crow said. “Then we start hammering on the multiengine, complex, and commercial tickets. They’re going to need a bit of cross-country time for the commercial, and will need to learn some new maneuvers and become a bit more exacting, though they’re both pretty good at landings and whatnot already.” He took a gulp of the coffee he had sitting on the table in front of him. “We’ve already notified our FAA gunny to expect a call any day now.”
“Doc Andy, anything new on the profiler work?” Spud asked.
“If you just read the literature, the depressing thing you discover is that there’s no clearly defining characteristic of who is prone to become an overt terrorist,” Doc Andy said. “There’s lots of theories that a person who is likely to be inclined to take up extremist views has suffered some sort of trauma in the past, but it’s difficult to determine if many of the terrorists we’ve seen have ever experienced any sort of trauma. From what I’m seeing, I think it more likely that the first step in someone becoming a terrorist is that the individual feels isolated, whether they are or not. They will then grasp onto an extremist view as a mechanism for ending that sense of isolation. That may prompt them to join an extremist group, or the sense they might have that somehow engaging in terrorist acts will make them justified and perhaps even glorified by future generations. A sense of future fame or acceptance, even if they engage in an act of suicide
, like a suicide bombing or shooting themselves at the end of a shooting spree, can be a motivating factor.
“The oddity is that these are the same sorts of processes we see in those who adopt more socially acceptable mechanisms for ending their perception of being isolated, like becoming a fervent believer in a religion, joining a hobby group, or being altruistic. So the question then remains: why does one person become a terrorist and another converts to Christianity, for example?” He shrugged. “So far, I’m at a loss to determine that, and from what I’m reading and Hank is reading, so are the so-called experts. So, unfortunately, we’re going to continue to be more reactionary to events that are currently occurring, and less predictive of where we might potentially see events occur in the future.”
“Ok, guys, come on down here.”
Hank was standing downrange in the unit’s underground range facility, next to a cardboard target set in a stand. Amigo stood nearby while Crow and Cloud made their way to where she was standing.
Hank smiled. “Unknown to the two of you, you’re our first guinea pigs.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Cloud muttered.
“What you see here is something a little new and different,” Hank began. “Typically, training consists of shooting static targets. The only problem with that is that our typical bad guy isn’t going to stand still, and if he’s got buddies around, they aren’t going to stand still, either. Furthermore, they’re going to be shooting back.”
She swung the target around so Crow and Cloud could see the back of it. “These,” she continued, pointing at small sensors placed around the perimeter of the back side of the target, “are shot sensors. They pick up the sound of a round as it passes between them. They’re nothing new, really. They’ve been using them in competitive shooting for some time. Paper targets, for instance, aren’t accurate enough for Olympic competitors, so they use these. In competitive shooting, they’re used simply to record the accuracy of the shot. But for us, they’re going to do something else.”
She pointed at a device attached to the edge of the target. “This is a simunitions gun. They’re nothing new, either. They’ve been used for shoot house training for some time. I’ve done a bit of shooting in shoot houses equipped with them. It’s a lot of fun, until you screw up and make a portion of your anatomy visible. Then you get a painful reminder of the need to maintain concealment and cover.”
She repositioned the target to the way it had originally been. “Here’s how Voice has these working for us. You’ll notice we have barricades set around the range. They go solidly from the floor to eight feet high for a very good reason. If these little cameras see your foot,” she pointed them out, mounted on either side of the target’s head, “then Hal is going to swing this simunitions gun and shoot you in the foot. You’ll know it. Amigo, show them.”
Amigo pulled up a pant leg to reveal a black and blue mark on his shin. “And they fucking hurt,” he said.
“So, basically, we have a target that has eyes, can see you, and can shoot you. Nice, huh?”
“Joy of joys,” Crow said sarcastically. “Was this your idea of suitable torture for us?”
Hank grinned and shrugged. “Remember, I have experience with these. If I stripped buck naked, you’d see I don’t have any bruises, even though I ran the course as well.”
“Prove it,” Crow said.
Hank gave him a look. “Want me to call Spud in here so you can repeat that request?”
“Forget it,” Crow said.
“Thought so. Now here’s the game. You have to try to take out this target before it takes you out. Notice that the barricades are numbered one through seven. One is the furthest from the target, seven is the closest. Your job is to take out the target. You’ll start at barricade one. You have two shots: a double-tap. If you miss, you have to make your way to barricade two, and try again. If you miss again, then it’s off to barricade three. Remember: the target is going to be watching and shooting at you every time you expose yourself. If you hit the target, the sensors will pick it up and Hal will declare either a fatal shot or a non-lethal one. If it’s non-lethal, you’ll need to continue until you get a fatal shot.”
Hank took note of how Crow and Cloud had their handguns holstered.
“Let me point out something else to you. Having those handguns in a strong-side holster isn’t a good thing if you’re sitting. It’s a lot tougher to get a handgun from a hip-mounted holster if you’re sitting. We’ll run this exercise today without changing anything, but get with Mike and have him fit you with either a shoulder holster or, better yet, a holster that will hold your handgun at the center of your chest. With a five-point seat harness in the Latitude, a chest-mounted handgun is readily accessible. So, say, you’re sitting in the Latitude on the ramp somewhere and someone decides to storm the plane, you can readily get that gun and defend yourself.”
“Never thought of that,” Crow mumbled.
“That’s ok. That’s what I’m here for,” Hank said. “Ready to run this thing?”
Cloud took out a quarter. “Call it, Crow.” He flipped it into the air.
“Heads.”
Slapping it on the back of his hand after catching it, he peeked and said, “Tails. Looks like I go first.”
“Amigo and I will have the two of you alternate running the course. The two of us will be following you downrange, assuming you can’t get a fatal shot on the first double-tap. The barricades and target, note, are all set up so that your round should go from muzzle to target and into the backstop. Try not to send one before you’re aimed in,” she admonished. “Neither Luigi nor I will be happy if you put a pock mark on the range walls, baffles, floor...”
“No pressure here,” Cloud said with a note of sarcasm.
She gave him a slow blink. “Ready?”
“Sure.”
“When you hear me say ‘gun,’ engage your target.”
“One question before I start,” Cloud asked. “What if I run out of ammunition?”
“Now, that’s showing confidence,” Hank said with a note of her own sarcasm. “You know how to do an emergency reload, yes? Because otherwise, if it were a real situation, your perp’s going to pin you down until he or she realizes you’re out of ammo. Then he’s going to come and kill you.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good,” Cloud remarked.
“Alright. Now are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Gun.”
Cloud dashed behind the first barricade. Leaning out to locate the target, he pulled himself back behind the barricade. Then he leaned out with his gun.
“Shit!”
Over the range PA, they heard Hal say, “Fatal shot recorded. Team member eliminated.”
Amigo laughed. “You didn’t even get a shot off.”
“At least I don’t get a bruise to embarrass me,” Cloud said. “The shot hit my goggles. How does Hal know where the shot hit?”
“Hal sees it,” Amigo said. “Through the same cameras that tell it where to aim.”
“What was your mistake?” Hank asked.
“Got me.”
Hank looked at him with narrowing eyes. “You leaned out twice,” she said. “If you’re going to lean out twice, make sure the second time you lean out in a different position. Duck. Or lean out on the other side. Your perp will expect you to do the same thing twice, so if you do something different, like kneel to take your two shots, you’ll have a better chance of success.
“Ok, Crow. You get the benefit of Cloud’s bad experience. You’re up. Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Gun.”
Crow dashed behind the first barricade as well. He knelt and swung around the barricade, sending two rounds down toward the target.
Over the range PA, Hal announced, “Nonfatal shot recorded. Suspect capable of returning fire.”
“Shit.” Crow looked for his next barricade. Seeing that he’d have to make a good run for it, he said, “Shit again.”
He ran for it, and making the next barricade, leaned and took two shots.
“No shot recorded,” Hal announced.
“Oh, fuck.” He took a look to find his next barricade.
“Shit!” He jumped back, rubbing his right shoulder.
“Nonfatal shot recorded. Right arm disabled.”
“You mean now I’ve got to go this left-handed?” he asked Hank incredulously.
“You heard Hal. You no longer have the use of your right arm,” Hank said, grinning. “Let me guess: you haven’t been practicing left-handed shooting, have you?”
Crow muttered something under his breath.
“Get to your next barricade,” she said. “And try not to die in the process.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He made a run for the next barricade. The target took a shot that hit him in the leg.
“Fuck!” He hopped on the leg that hadn’t been hit.
“Nonfatal shot recorded,” Hal announced, followed by another shot from the target that hit him in the chest.
“Fatal shot recorded. Team member eliminated,” Hal announced.
“Sonuvabitch!” Crow exclaimed. “Is there actually a way to get through this course without getting killed?”
“Sure. Amigo, show him how it’s done.”
Amigo took up a position at the start of the course, drawing and readying his handgun once Crow had cleared the downrange area.
“Gun,” Hank said.
Amigo ran to the first barricade, knelt, and took two shots.