by John Conroe
“Between seven hundred and fifty thousand and a million—give or take.”
“Holy shit, Ajaya. You’ve been sitting on this for how long?”
“A while. It’s not as exciting as you think. Zone Defense would likely try to lowball that many drones at once. They get a little stingy when you hit them with a bunch. Partly why I created this rainy day stockpile. Always figured I’d bring the drones out in small numbers. That, and the whole lack of a vehicle thing. Realistically, I think we would end up with as much as nine hundred thousand or a little more. Brad could pull in three hundred thousand for an hour’s work.”
“And you’d get six hundred thousand?”
“I already took all the risk in killing the damned things. Not to mention dragging them and stockpiling them. And I’ll want that two-thirds guaranteed to my family, whether I’m alive or dead.”
“Ajaya, this is… fantastic. Let me talk to Brad and I’ll get back to you.”
“Roger that, Trinity. Talk to you later.”
I didn’t tell her about the other, bigger depot.
“Are you interested in beginning planning, Ajaya?” my AI asked.
“Yes, although I would feel better if I knew where Rikki was before going into this,” I said, picking my stealth suit up off the pile. It was going to need cleaning and some minor maintenance before taking it into the Zone.
“The equipment in question is currently located two point seven meters from you. Northeast.”
Morning sun came in my window so northeast was… my closet. “You’re kidding me?”
“You specifically curtailed my humor settings. You should find what you requested inside your clothing storage closet.”
I didn’t move. “Likelihood of active monitoring of this apartment by outside agencies?”
“Monitoring devices exist in four rooms of this living unit, including this room. However, the active listening capability of this equipment is being actively blocked by the device you requested, which is, again, currently in your closet.”
I moved forward and slid open the closet door. Sitting on top of my stack of clean jeans was Rikki Tikki Tavi, LEDs lit green although his fan blades were not moving.
“Any sign of official or suspicious vehicles approaching the neighborhood?” I asked my AI.
Rikki answered. “No abnormal traffic within a three-block radius, Ajaya. Currently projecting interference, which is utilizing active replay of media programming considered nominal for this location.”
Rikki has never been one to initiate anything like this before. Although, he’s also never been outside the Zone before, but still, this seemed advanced.
“You are actively replaying footage from when?”
“This unit has copied and pasted emissions from currently broadcasting editions of Zone War program onto the CPU of the listening devices in this room and the bedroom next to this one. Software or individuals monitoring currently will hear real-time programming instead of this discussion.”
Holy shit. Holy, holy shit. Rikki was deploying active masking measures by linking what was playing on the net directly into the listening devices. Not only was I unaware you could even do that, I was mildly terrified that the Berkut was autonomously capable of such sophisticated electronic deceit.
“Describe logic chain leading to current masking strategy.”
“The active listening sensors in this room are similar to those deployed by drone units inside the active Zone. Deception through data overlay is standard procedure by Rikki unit during movement of Ajaya Gurung throughout the Zone. Technique usage in current situation deemed even higher in success probability than in previous situations. You request masking of such sensors one hundred percent of the time inside the Zone. Probability you would authorize similar actions in this instance deemed in excess of ninety percent.”
So Rikki copied the same technique we used inside the Zone. That made me feel a bit better, but damn. It was still surprising though. My modified drone was doing things I never imagined it could. Hiding from searchers in such an electromagnetically active area as Brooklyn was one thing, probably relatively easy for an AI that hides in the electronic desert that was Manhattan. But Rikki had taken the initiative to mask the bugs that someone, likely Agents Black and White, had seeded throughout my home. That was advanced. Really advanced. Like nothing I had ever heard of advanced.
“Current condition of Rikki CPU and core programming?”
“Within ninety-four percent of nominal processing.”
Rikki usually reported a higher percentage than that, like ninety-eight.
“Was any damage sustained during last mission?”
“Number four prop bent. Replaced by Ajaya. RAM chip sustained minor code damage due to power loss during stasis. Missing code has been replaced.”
“Who rewrote the code?”
“This unit, designated Rikki Tikki Tavi, rewrote code using adaptation of other sub programs.”
Rikki rewrote his own codes. Not surprising, as the original Berkut programming was one of the more sophisticated code packages among the original drones. Not like the spiders, but really pretty good. My upgrades and rewrites were, not to toot my own horn, pretty darned good too.
“What code was damaged?”
“Mission completion processes.”
“What about core mission code?”
“Intact.”
Whew. The biggest change I made to Rikki was completely rewriting his core mission. I changed it from Kill All Humans to Protect Humans, with special emphasis on Gurung family members and Astrid. If that had gotten damaged, he might have reverted to the kill orders or something less dangerous but useless. Like Protect the Tomatoes.
“How did you evade capture by Zone Defense?”
“Extreme low altitude tactics. Zone Defense capture resources utilize search techniques above three meters in altitude. Access to hostile force command and communications network provides real-time data on deployment of assets arrayed against this unit. Noncombatants evaded in similar manner. Detection by domesticated mammals and free-ranging avian species unavoidable.”
“So you stayed low and listened to their comm chatter? And dogs, cats, and birds saw you.”
“Affirmative.”
“How did you find this location?”
“Access to information network designated internet far more pervasive than inside the Zone. Internet sources assimilated to provide most likely rendezvous location for Ajaya.”
“Explain Internet access being more pervasive than inside the Zone?”
“Access to Internet is broadcast in these locations. Inside Zone, access is limited to active optic network locations.”
“You’ve accessed the internet by tapping fiber optic lines? At what locations?”
“Affirmative. Primary access node is Hudson Street interconnection hub.”
Hmmm. Same place that popped up in my ghost in the Zone research.
“How do you get the information? You don’t have a dedicated optical receiver.”
“Implanted Mole units provide interconnection for authorized drones.”
“Who, or should I say, what authorizes a drone to use the Moles?”
“CThree units authorize all access and coordinate information processing.”
“The Spiders are actively accessing the internet? For what purpose?”
“Intelligence gathering to best accomplish primary mission.”
“The primary mission was to kill humans. There aren’t any more humans in the Zone.”
“Affirmative. Primary mission to kill all humans. Mission in Zone has reached ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine elimination rate. CThree units seek additional targets.”
Whoa… there was a lot to unpack in all that.
“Why is completion rate not one hundred percent?”
“Drone network units consistently report readings of human activity. False positive sensor alerts also too prevalent to disregard. Information gathered is consistent w
ith Ajaya AI project designated Ghost.”
“Are you saying the drones themselves are aware of the girl in the Zone? And you hacked my AI?”
“Affirmative to both queries.”
“AI, how did Rikki compromise your security?”
“Ajaya, Rikki unit had authorization from previous connection during code rewrite.”
Okay, that made sense. I had used this very AI, minus about twenty upgrades, to program, test, and reconstruct Rikki. That an embedded authorization still existed wasn’t surprising.
“Ajaya,” my AI interrupted. “Call from Trinity Flottercot.”
“Put it through. Hi, Trinity,” I said when I heard an open line.
“Ajaya, Brad wants to have a meeting. He’s interested in your proposal, although he wants forty percent of the total value.”
“I’ll meet him and I’ll go as high as thirty-five percent of the total net proceeds. None of that total value crap. I’m not giving him a designated percentage of a gross value. Only a part of what we have left over after Zone D gets done tearing that number down.”
“Okay, I’ll pass that along. Can you come down to the studios in, say, two hours?”
“Sure. See you there.”
Chapter 22
It wasn’t till I was in a self-driver, headed to the studio, that it occurred to me to wonder how Rikki got the window open. That thought fled as I arrived at the studios.
The studio gates were both automated and manned. Why? Jobs are important in today’s world, even if perhaps redundant. I had heard that the Flottercots insisted on keeping the human staff, even the old guy that manned the main entrance. He stepped gingerly out of his booth and peered at me through the window that the car helpfully lowered for him. The barrier had already opened, the security AI having already identified me and checked off my name against expected visitors.
“Ah, the new recruit. Good to see you back. That show desperately needs fresh blood,” the old-timer said.
“Well, that’s not fully decided yet, but who knows, right?”
“Oh, I do hope you come aboard. That was some exciting stuff you did. I’m sure the Johnsons are very thankful.”
I just nodded at him, not willing to explain that not all the Johnsons were fans of mine, no matter what I did.
My musings were pretty much confirmed as soon as I was ushered into the conference room by a male receptionist whose excessive good looks probably indicated a hungry actor hoping to break into the business from the inside.
Only two of the multitude of faces smiled at me, although most of them were just blank and only two looked potentially hostile.
Trinity hopped up from her seat at the head of the table. Astrid was seated on one side of the young producer and JJ on the other. At the far end of the table, Brad took the other dominant spot, Martin at his right hand. The other four people seemed to be production crew and staff members. Trinity grabbed my hand in a tight handshake, guiding me toward the empty seat next to Astrid. “Ajaya, great you could make it on short notice,” she said, patting my shoulder as I sat down. Across the table, JJ gave me a solid nod, while at the other end of the table, Martin sneered and Brad looked cold and unimpressed.
“So, Ajaya, we were just discussing the new episode—” Trinity said, but Brad interrupted her.
“Proposed episode. Not sure I even believe this drone stash you’re bragging about,” he growled.
When I was little, I was immensely impressed with Brad Johnson. He frowned a lot, looked super serious all the time, and talked in a deep, manly voice. He was rugged and muscular, every inch the modern warrior soldier. Now, grown up, I saw him a lot clearer.
“Really? Look, everyone. Here’s my surprised face—Brad Johnson doesn’t believe me. Oh dear,” I said, keeping my tone flat and low. Reaching into my daypack, I pulled out a little leather binder, a piece of salvage from a bookstore on Madison Avenue. I paged through it, making a show of it, letting it sit open so that everyone could see the pictures glued to the pages but not get a real good look.
I arrived at a picture of the inside of a room stacked with dead drones. Then I turned the page, finding a second picture of a different stack of metal and carbon fiber carcasses. “Here’s the one.” I pulled the picture and tossed it down the table at Brad.
“Are those Polaroids?” the woman on my left side asked.
“Yeah, digital is a bad idea inside. But Polaroid cameras and film are still around. Film’s getting old, so you sometimes have to use a whole roll to get one good picture,” I said.
Brad was looking at the photo, Martin leaning around his shoulder to see it too. Brad’s eyes flicked to my book, really fast, then up to me. “This just shows stacks of drones. Doesn’t prove they’re still there.”
“Nope. It doesn’t.”
He waited. I waited too.
“You want us to go after drones that might not even be there,” he finally said.
“And just where would they have gone? You think I backpacked out three Tigers? It’s why they’re there in the first place.”
“It’s your insurance for the eventual end of the Zone,” JJ said suddenly.
I nodded. “I tagged them all and filed the tags with Zone Defense. Can’t get paid till I present proof, but will still get paid if the Zone suddenly gets cleared and I can U-Haul them outta there.”
“You really have been shooting drones down, haven’t you?” Astrid asked.
“Yes. That’s the smaller of the two,” I said.
“Two what?” Trinity asked. “Wait… two containers of dead drones?”
“Yes. The smallest. Also the closest.”
“None of it is any good if we can’t depend on you,” Brad said. “You are your father’s son.”
I nodded. “And both of us have saved your ass.”
He leaned forward aggressively. “You didn’t save my ass, you saved hers!” he spat, finger pointing at his daughter.
“Too true, Brad. Too true,” I said. “Most fathers would appreciate that sort of thing, but you aren’t most or even much of a father, are you?”
“Shut the fuck up, you little bastard. My father is ten times the man yours was!” Martin suddenly interjected.
“Ah, there he is. Been waiting for your contribution, but then so has everyone else… for most of your life,” I said.
“Enough!” Trinity said, standing up abruptly. “So there’s bad blood and hard feelings. We knew this. Get over it. Be the professionals you say you are.”
“It’s about trust, Trinity,” I said.
She nodded, thinking about her next words. Another voice beat her to them.
“I trust you Ajaya,” JJ said. “I trust that you’ve got boatloads of dead drones because you hate them and I know how you shoot and how you were raised. I trust that you would do everything in your power to protect my sister. Thank you for that, by the way. So I have no issue riding into the Zone to a big old box of dead drones with you on overwatch, loading them in and hauling ass out. Be the easiest salvage ever… for us. You’re the one whose gonna have his ass hanging in the wind when the big guns show up, with just your .338 for company.”