“Very encouraging,” says DARIA, “Now I need you to do some basic exercises so that we can get a sizing for the suit when you are using your muscles and are active. By the way what temperature do you like to operate at?”
“Well I like the heat frankly, “I say, “How does 25 degrees Celsius work for you?”
“Not a problem at all,” says DARIA, “The suit will cool and heat to hold your 25 degrees temperature regardless of exterior temperature or what you are doing.”
We begin the exercises, going from simple to more advanced, with the speed increasing faster and faster. It is like the suit is making me quicker, stronger, and faster.
“You will undoubtedly notice that the suit is augmenting your movements giving you more power and speed,” mentions DARIA.
“I did notice and it feels frickin great,” I say.
“The suit is smart and will continue to learn from you as you use it. Additionally it augments your particular style of movements, so this is not a once and done exercise.” says DARIA.
“Bringing the combat helmet online,” says Frosty.
“Holy shit,” I hiss as the view through the helmet visor gets very busy.
The data is displayed and scrolling across the top and bottom of the helmet face shield. The center area is clear.
“We have some basic combat simulations we would like to run you through,” says Frosty. “There is quite a bit of testing and tuning to do to get the helmet calibrated to you and how you operate.”
The combat simulations that I see from the inside of the helmet are a FPS (first person shooter) scenario. Very vivid and detailed and the view moves in sync with me. As I turn so does the view, look up, look down all move as I do, a complete Virtual Reality environment.
“Just use your fists for combat in these exercises,” says Frosty. “That and your augmented speed of movement of course.”
The three of us work at it for an hour or so. In retrospect I think that was the first point where I just stopped thinking of DARIA as just an AI system and more as a sentient person that was brilliant at what she does and damned good looking to boot. As weird as that may sound, but that’s how we humans roll.
We take a break and chat about the suit, the helmet. There are hundreds of questions I have and the more I get over being overwhelmed the more questions I have. We talk the philosophy of battle, when to make a big noise with plenty of destruction, and when to remain all but invisible and operate in stealth mode. I’m a big fan of stealth mode, no more firefights than absolutely necessary. The less the enemy sees and hears of you the better it is for everyone.
“Let’s show Matt our prototype Pulse rifle,” says Frosty. “We’ve put a lot of effort into this rifle and it is coming along very nicely. And one of the best points about the Pulse rifle is that it is quiet. Come on down to the basement as we have a shooting range set up.”
“What about DARIA?” I ask.
There is a series of chuckles and DARIA says, “Matt you just don’t grasp that I am everywhere you are as long as you are wearing the combat suit and helmet, if you are in the basement then I am too, you are my ears, eyes, and all my sensors.”
“Oh”, I say, thinking of potential embarrassing situations that may come up.
Behind a rusty steel sliding door is a well-lite 50 yard shooting range. On the bench in front of the range lays a profusion of gear and technical instrumentation. The item that grabs my attention is an evil short stubby rifle, resembling an Israeli Tavor Bull Pup assault rifle.
“Ok, listen up, here are the specs and how to use this weapon”, says DARIA. “This is a Pulse rifle, which fires, naturally, a pulse or bolt of energy. The weapon fires semi-auto or full auto, but heats up fast on full auto so the bursts have to be short, no continuous fire please. Single fire or three shot bursts are much better. The stock and the forearm are made of carbon fiber. There is little to no recoil so it can be fired as a large pistol if required. The receiver is made of titanium; the hand grip contains a power cell and is therefore a bit bulkier than a normal rifle. But the weight is still light at four lbs. The fore and aft balance is superior as the hand grip power cell is directly below the heaviest part of the receiver. The barrel is carbon fiber laminated over thin steel, as the energy pulse is held in the bore by magnetic force it never actually touches the barrel walls so it can be very light. The clips are fifty rounds each and as you can see they are solid not like traditional rifle clips. The receiver takes the appropriate amount of material as it needs it from the clip. An LCD display on the side of the receiver tells you how many rounds are left in the clip. The optics are a combination of red dot and 4-26 x variable power first focal plane scope. Just put the red dot on the target and you are good to go. There are no scope adjustments for windage or vertical as the ballistics path of the energy pulse is perfectly flat. Pretty damned uptown, eh?”
“With your shooting background and ability you are gonna be more than some dazzled with this little technical marvel,” smiles Frosty. “Pick it up and fire it a bit, it won’t bite you!”
“Oh by the way,” says DARIA. “The weapon requires an identity signature to fire. The combat suit provides the required digital code to activate the pulse rifle. That way if you drop the rifle, god forbid, and someone else grabs it they have nothing more useful than a light weight stick.”
“Jesus Christ you guys,” I mutter. “If I have to wrap my head around anything else today I am just gonna collapse from mental exhaustion. There is just way too much shit going on here that is well beyond what I am used to comprehending!”
“For someone that has not worked with it every day from concept to reality it is a serious leap. All of the stuff here is well beyond even the conceptual stage of DARPA. And we are justifiably proud of our efforts and results.” says DARIA.
I am some giddy with curious excitement as I slap the clip into the Pulse rifle and activate the off/on switch. The gun fits well against my shoulder and even with the helmet on the large scope clearly pops up the target view. I position the red dot on the first of five saucer sized steel plates sitting on stands at the end of the range and squeeze the trigger. Expecting recoil I brace for recoil that never happens; the rifle makes a quiet cough and the first steel plate flies of the stand with a resounding clang, then the second, third, fourth and fifth.
“You better check the plates when you go down range to reset them, you are in for a surprise.” grins Frosty around his cigarette.
Each plate has a quarter inch hole punched through the plate just like it had been drilled and the plates are hot to touch. I look at the earth backstop and I see it is covered with quarter inch holes.
“Not too damn shabby eh?” asks Frosty. “That’s three quarter inch AR500 hardened steel in those plates and the pulse rifle eats them like appetizers before burrowing another 6 feet or so into the backstop before the pulse runs out of energy.”
“Christ, that’s equivalent to a 338 Lapua magnum rifle,” I say in a shocked voice. “That is completely outstanding in a weapon so light and easily maneuverable. How can this be?”
“The concentrated pulse of energy is travelling at 12,000 feet per second, so it doesn’t have to be very large, the high velocity does all the work.” says DARIA
“Holy crap, 4300 fps is as fast a rifle as I have ever fired! So what the heck is the range on this beast?” I ask in awe.
“We expect it is somewhere beyond nine miles at the current power setting.” says Daria. “Of course we can adjust that up or down if we need to do some serious long range interdiction.”
“Mother of fucking God,” I hiss dumbfounded.
“Guffaw, well yeah something like that,” chuckles Frosty. “It’s a damned uptown rig that could never have been constructed without DARIA’s research and knowledge.”
“Mother of fucking God,” I repeat holding my head.
“Looks like that’s the end of Matt for today. We best tuck the boy into bed before he hurts himself.” chuckles DARIA.
Chapter 6: Crawford
A product of a drunken copulation between his Mexican cocktail waitress mother and a passing drifter, Crawford had anything but a normal life. He had nothing but occasional passing care by his mother. She had lost interest in him within a couple of years of birth when she found out it was much harder to attract lovers and rich sugar daddies when there was a child at home.
Public school was a nightmare and Crawford quit going after too many instances of fighting with fellow students and altercations with the teachers and principal. The school was very pleased to note that he had stopped showing up for classes. Crawford was happy to not go at all. There were so many more interesting criminal activities that he could get involved in. He did just fine until as a late teen when a break and enter went sideways and he got caught. The judge took one look at him, and his history, and offered him the option of jail time, or join the military. Crawford wisely chose the military.
He did ok there too, as it was not that much different to his gang experiences and taking orders from the bosses. Question the gang bosses or back talk them and the reprisal was swift and very painful. So he did good, learned a lot of weaponry skills, and became particularly adept at knife skills. Crawford liked to be up close and personal and see, feel, smell, the pain, agony, terror, urine and defecating as he cut his victims up. It empowered him made him feel alive vibrant, and caused him to have very powerful erections.
Several incidents while in the military involving hookers and bar girls while on R&R caused the military to be less than impressed. So they assigned him to a troop overseas in Afghanistan doing suspect collection and prisoner interrogation. Crawford was as close to heaven as he was ever gonna get. Hell, he had little or no rules, and could snatch whatever suspect he felt had info and cut them up until they screamed what he wanted to hear. Then they just died and got transported to the garbage dump and nobody ever gave a shit.
Crawford had a wonderful time until he snatched the wrong guy off the streets and by the time he found out who the hell it was he had grabbed he had no way of covering up the butchery that he had inflicted on the guy before he died. The Military was horrified, and needed a patsy to cover their asses, Crawford was it and he was dis-honorably discharged.
So he went back into gang life. It worked well for him, people to cut up, money, whores, liquor, and drugs. What was not to like about that. He got all the really nasty wet work and loved it. But the cops were watching him and a couple of the bar girls he knocked around had filed charges against him. Had they known what he really was they would have just disappeared and left town immediately.
About five foot 10 inches tall and 200 pounds Crawford was heavily muscled and tattooed. A very ugly knife scar on his face complimented his dark dead beady eyes. He wore his black greasy hair down to his shoulders. Favored a lot of black expensive leather clothes and was never without a handgun and several blades on his person. He loved his “blow” and good liquor. But never let it get out of hand. There were many ladies of a certain type that were drawn to him as he exuded a degree of danger they found exciting. Women, go figure!
Crawford lived in the upper floor of a three story warehouse that he had converted for his own purposes. The rumor was the previous owner had fallen in bad with the mob and Crawford had been dispatched to clean up the mess and collect what was due. The upshot of it all was the owner had disappeared and Crawford became the new owner of the warehouse. On the second story of the warehouse were gang member accommodations and on the first floor was a sort of club house/gang hang out where members could waste away the hours while waiting for assignments.
The building was heavily fortified, secured and had video surveillance to the nth degree. Crawford was a keen criminal and used all his military skills to ensure he was not surprised by visitors he did not want. When he travelled around the city he used three Chevy Suburban SUVs. They were heavily modified with big horsepower performance engines and running gear, run-flat tires, armor, and tinted bullet proof windows. It would take a full military tank or armored troop carrier to stop the Suburbans. There was no doubt that Crawford was not going to be captured in the warehouse and not likely when in the Suburbans. So the question became how to get at him at all.
Chapter 7: The Setup
I was talking to DARIA and asking her what she thought. After giving her a run down on Crawford and her asking questions from her database on this guy she says,
“You need to make this guy come out in the open.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of obvious,” I answer dryly, “And how might I do that?”
“Either offer him something he wants to come out, or drive him out into the open by making his building unlivable,” offers DARIA. “Perhaps a little smoke will motivate him to come out.”
“And how would I get smoke into his warehouse?”
“You could use a remote controlled drone to hover by the roof ventilation intake and release the smoke-gas into the air intake duct system in the building,”
“Ok, plausible idea, and what happens to the roof guards?”
“Well you can shoot them from a neighboring building, either killing them or tranq them, or distract them with a street disturbance.”
“I have no beef with the guards, so I like the tranquilizer option.” I reply. “Tell me about this drone,”
“Remote controlled, with four, six or eight electric motors depending on how much weight you need to lift. Four small engines will work fine for all the weight you need to lift for the smoke-gas,” says DARIA. “The drone has cameras on board along with GPS and I use them all the time for intelligence gathering on recon.”
“You fly them?” I echo. “Be serious!”
“Of course, are you always going to be this naïve?”
“You take quite a bit of getting used to frankly,”
“It will all be shiny, trust me,” offers DARIA.
“Ok DARIA, how do we keep Crawford from getting into his armored Suburbans and just driving away?”
“Christ Matt, we use an EMP charge to disable the electronics on the cars and building security,” says DARIA. “And speaking of taking quite a bit to get used to Matt, like good grief, can we please step it up a bit!”
“Relax DARIA, don’t get your chips in a frenzy, I’m just being cautious until we get to have a solid working arrangement.” I chuckle.
“Fine,” says DARIA, “Now we have Crawford outside in a stalled Suburban, you toss a powerful explosive charge under the second Suburban and it flips it over and generates mayhem and plenty of fire, smoke and confusion. You move in camouflaged by the smoke and the suit’s cloaking ability and hit Crawford with a stunner when he gets out of the first Suburban. Toss him over your shoulder and get out under cover of the smoke and confusion.”
“Yeah, that’s a reasonable snatch and grab plan, and if Crawford decides that he is not coming out of the building then I will go inside using infra-red vision and invisibility and work my way through the gang until I find him and drag him out that way.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to go inside to get him. I’ll cook up some toxic smoke that will drive everyone in the place outside in no time. The smoke and the explosion under the second Suburban is going to obscure any visibility so we are going to be on Infra-red vision when you grab him.”
“Ahh, there is nothing like field trials is there?” smiles Frosty, absently stroking the stubble on his chin.
“This is going to be so excellent.” I chuckle.
“A walk in the park,” says DARIA. “But only if, you listen close to my instructions!”
Chapter 8: Go Time
3:00 am, quiet time, even the drunks have gone home. I park a dark late model Ford sedan a block away from Crawford’s warehouse. Stepping out of the car I put the combat helmet on, run a systems check, all is in order, and turn on suit cloaking.
“Ok DARIA,” I report.
“You are clear and good to go. Move up the alley to the second building on
the left and use the back door under the security camera. The camera is dead and I have the door unlocked.” says DARIA. “Then use the stairs to the fourth floor and go to the window at the end of the hall.”
I hump down the alley, through the door and up the stairs as directed.
“In position,” I say as I use a glass cutter to etch a three inch circle on the glass. With a click the circle comes free attached to the suction cup in my hand. Carefully I place the snout of the tranq gun through the hole in the window.
“Ready with the tranq gun.”
“There are two guards circling the roof,” says DARIA. “Take them as they walk by your position.”
Guard one saunters by having a smoke. I sight in on his neck and touch the trigger. The tranq gun grunts as the compressed air drives the dart across the thirty yards. The guard stumbles and falls toward the edge of the roof and rolls over the edge. He lands in the dumpster below with a loud metallic thump and clang.
“Aw shit,” I mutter, as I shoot the approaching second guard. This one drops in his tracks and lays still.
“Did I tell you to drop one of the guards in the dumpster?” asks DARIA, “Now haul your ass downstairs and get ready to move with the explosive pack to the second Suburban when I give the signal.”
“Roger that, confirm, you did not request I put the first guard in a dumpster.”
I see the quad-copter drone with the smoke gas canister come up from the alley as I turn away from the window and run down the hall. Once outside and peeking around the corner from the warehouse entrance I can see the thick dark grey toxic smoke beginning to come out the building ventilators.
The front door to the warehouse slams open and two naked men stumble out coughing and retching followed by three naked women barely able to stand. The thick grey smoke obliterates them in seconds as it billows out the doorway. An overhead garage door clanks into movement and more smoke pours out under the rising door. I can hear excited voices and car doors slam as the motors turn over and the Suburbans surge out of the garage. They splutter and stop just as they hit the street, smoke billowing around them.
D.A.R.I.A Book One Page 3