Techno Ranger

by Thomas Sewell

  Maybe she joked, but she sure looked serious all of a sudden. "Sam, why'd you join the Army in the first place?"

  Women play dirty. Why'd she brought that up?

  She knew today was the 20th anniversary. "Don't remind me. What happened to my parents shouldn't happen to anyone, that's all. Besides, I heard the Army was one big happy family, even if like a group home you usually get assigned your new siblings instead of choosing them."

  "Trust me, this is an opportunity to choose your path. You can protect a lot more families leading a special operations platoon in Korea, technically at war with the DPRK across the DMZ, than you ever will playing with your toys in an engineering lab, even a military engineering lab."

  For a lady who'd graduated from Berkeley in political science, she made a lot of sense. I considered it for a minute.

  Did she understand the paperwork required for an officer to switch his MOS? A change away from engineering for sure, but intelligence work?

  Maybe they'd let me do fieldwork, infiltrate places, as well.

  A Ranger and a SEAL grabbed a log together and tossed it on the bonfire.

  A shadow from the flare-up crossed her face. "It's the smart thing to do."

  I pressed my chin into my palm. Pondered for another minute. "Perhaps."

  The firelight flickered onto her face again. She slipped her finger into the corner of her mouth. Smiled at me. "And we'll have fun in Seoul."

  There were obstacles. "They don't take Second Lieutenants as platoon leaders in the Regiment, so I'll have to get my promotion by then, plus get through RASP 2. That's no joke."

  I waved around at the beach near WARCOM. "It's like BUD/S, but you test for the Rangers instead of the SEALs. All these Ranger dudes have been through it."

  "You already have a TOP SECRET clearance for your current job. Could probably teach the Combat Water Survival Test. I know you can run, unless you stopped after high school. Maybe you need more ruck hikes after this desk job, but you'll pass.

  "If you fail, what's the worst that happens, you go back to your current assignment, right?"

  I nodded. "But also probably get stuck for a while after that. No more preferred assignment choices if I wipe out that way. Drop me to the bottom of the promotion list for Captain; force me to start over. Not many pass RASP. It's a big risk." I sighed. "I'll consider it."

  She put her hands on her slender hips. Frowned. More cute than intimidating. "Do more than that. I want to see you in Seoul. Need a friend out there. It's a big assignment. Need your support. You going to leave me alone with those Rangers?"

  Shook my head, more at her ploy than in real disagreement.

  "Have I ever steered you wrong? I mean, I came up with that backup controller today, didn't I? Right now you're sort of playing with house money, in terms of your career."

  I maybe owed her one. I'd have thought of the backup controller, eventually. Maybe even before the dudes chasing us arrived.

  Time to stall so I could think it over. "Speaking of owing you."

  I reached into a cargo pocket. Pulled out a large, flat jewelry box.

  My heartbeat accelerated. "Here."

  Her eyes widened, but she took the velvet box. Opened it to reveal the striated shell necklace I'd made for her.

  Black and white alternated in the shells, like yin and yang, good and evil. She picked it up, dangled the clacking shells in front of the fire reflected in her eyes, and examined their curved patterns.

  Smiled and pressed it against her chest. "Beautiful."

  Don't know why I worried. "Collected them from low tide while we prepped for this acceptance test. It's to say thanks for you arranging to come play my HVT to escort. Otherwise, I would've been stuck with some engineering dude who can't jump nor swim."

  "Oh, Sam. You're impossible. I can't take this. Not if you won't come to Korea."

  Korea. A big risk, but life on another continent might be fun. A Ranger Major had to be a better boss than a Pentagon Colonel, right?

  At least they have advanced technology there. I'd already gambled on my friend using my skills once today and won the jackpot.

  Half of Ranger candidates pass RASP and qualify to join the 75th Regiment. I've never finished in the bottom half of anything in my life, except maybe when they handed out family histories. I wouldn't fail now.

  At least I could trust Michelle to look after me in Seoul.

  Argh! "Fine, I'll come, I'll come. With you on board, I can snag any wave they toss at me."

  Maybe. If I pass the Ranger Assessment and Selection Program. Less paperwork to do at Fort Benning, anyway.

  "Put it on already!"

  She jumped up and gave me a bear hug. I didn't think the necklace was that great.

  Ranger Selection and then Korea, here I come.

  PART II: Red Team

  Chapter Four: The Unexamined Life

  Just a normal day at work in Special Operations Command - Korea, right? The North Korean People's Army were all tucked away safely on their side of the DMZ.

  SOCKOR, pronounced sock-core, assigned my Military Intelligence platoon half of an ancient red brick building, topped with a Japanese-style roof leftover from World War II, in Camp Kim. I leaned back in my utilitarian office chair.

  Logistics had stuffed my desk into a coyote tan cubicle. Matched my Ranger boots and beret. Don't ask me how the Army pulled that one off.

  Officially, Michelle was a military attaché with the American Embassy in Seoul, but her real duties were an open secret in the Special Operations community.

  She wore her State-Department-chic outfit, adding an over-engineered shell necklace and sensible black shoes to hike the subway. Must have a meeting at the embassy later.

  No glasses today; probably wearing contacts.

  She draped one black-skirted thigh on the edge of my desk. Leaned against the tan cubicle partition.

  I poked the hosiery keeping her otherwise exposed knee warm. "Make yourself at home."

  "Su casa es mi casa."

  "That's not exactly how it's supposed to work."

  We chatted while waiting for my platoon sergeant to arrive for our usual Friday morning intelligence update. I'd hopefully get back to studying the disassembled electronics on my desk later, after they both left.

  Michelle played with the necklace I'd given her in San Diego, letting each shell rattle against the next one like a diamondback snake.

  "When will you get to surf?"

  Not that I'd admit it to her, but in the month I'd worked here, sometimes I wished I hadn't let Michelle talk me into this two-year tour of duty away from the Big Army.

  Change is tough.

  "Unless I want to illegally surf a river tidal bore in China, or wait for a typhoon to hit, my wave-riding days are over for a while."

  Not sure this change was worth the pain.

  "Yellow Sea isn't so far."

  "Could ride some storm surge there, but the waves would take me north across the international border into North Korea. That's a no-go.

  "Nope, Seoul is my self-imposed punishment detail."

  She flashed me a bright smile. "Seoul isn't so bad. I'm here. We just need to hang out more after work.

  "The Agency gives me an expense account so I can spend it, after all."

  I shook my head, "Dense cities away from the ocean are places for me to visit sparingly, not live in. Too many people equals too many potential threats. The crowded sight-lines make situational awareness impossible in peacetime."

  "Don't tell me you'd rather be in Seoul during a firefight?"

  "Don't want anyone hurt, but in an urban battle you can keep friendlies segregated. Perform reconnaissance by fire everywhere else."

  I grinned. "For some reason, the Army prefers Rangers avoid those destructive tactics within friendly cities, especially when not actually fighting anyone.

  "Rules of Engagement suck, dude."

  She let go of her necklace. "Well, I love the city. All the people, the exotic
food, the checkerboard of lights on the night skyline."

  "Kimchi? Ten million people, spread across forever?

  "Drives me crazy. No good escape routes. Those glass skyscrapers will collapse in a heap of dust and broken concrete if North Korea ever opens up with all the artillery they've pointed across the DMZ.

  "Overkill, if you ask me."

  "You must love Kim and Yongsan, then."

  Camp Kim is part of the 630 acre Garrison Yongsan, aka Dragon Mountain. Stuck like a target in the center of Seoul, it's within one of the few depopulated areas downtown.

  "There's a thousand sniper perches overlooking every part of the city, including Yongsan's perimeter walls. Not exactly the safest location for a military base."

  Michelle just shook her head.

  "That nearby double-hill with a stiletto tower on top is about the only nearby open space. Mostly they cram people into those block-sized multi-story apartment buildings."

  I mock shuddered.

  She leaned back. "Hey, I live up in one of those apartment buildings, which you'd know, if you ever bothered to visit me in the month since you've been here.

  "It's not so bad."

  "Probably better than the BOQ at the air base."

  She winked. "You'll have to show me sometime."

  Women.

  Sergeant First Class (SFC) Lee Dong-geon walked up, distracted by the most recent reports on his issue phone. He wore the South Korean black-and-green digital equivalent of my own camouflage uniform.

  Michelle straightened up at his approach. Glanced at a pretend watch on her wrist.

  Wasn't like him to be late.

  The Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA) embedded Lee as my platoon's senior NCO. Nice to have help from a local, but naturally he and Michelle rarely saw eye-to-eye.

  She was almost six inches taller than Lee, so she mostly admired his thick black hair from above. That's an issue I encountered in most of my dealings with the locals; they tended to be much-shorter-than-tall-Americans. I deliberately sat at my desk for our morning briefings.

  I blanked my face. Didn't pay to take sides between them. "Let's get started."

  As usual, Michelle had the latest skinny from the Korea Mission Center in D.C.

  With half a world of time zone differences, thirteen hours apart, our stateside counterparts worked their daytime while we slept. We worked while they slept.

  Intelligence frequently got lost in temporal translation.

  "Sam, Lee, the most critical issue is from the Air Force's Cybersecurity Center. They report a massive increase in hacking attempts against the ROK's top secret metallurgical lab."

  Lee shook his head at us, "That's unconfirmed intelligence. Wouldn't put too much credence in it, sir."

  He liked to read the raw reports and form his own opinions, which sometimes contradicted the summaries the CIA sent us.

  As part of our work attached to the Ranger Reconnaissance Company (RRC) to support the South Koreans, my MI platoon filed a preliminary report about the lab two days ago. We found eight critical and high vulnerabilities, plus dozens of less serious issues with their security.

  Not good.

  Michelle tugged on her shell necklace. "It's not unconfirmed that distributed network traffic maxed out the lab's inbound links. The traffic's source shifted as fast as the Cyber guys could squash it, but the DPRK is the obvious originator.

  "Who else would care?"

  "Scuttlebutt says the lab's ROK Army security guards aren't happy about our report." Lee sighed, "Respect and embarrassment are more important in Korea than in America. We've made them look incompetent. The network attack could be a misguided attempt to show us up."

  Lee tutored me daily on Korean language skills, but he seemed happiest when he explained cultural issues.

  For example, Koreans write names the opposite of Americans. Their family name is first, followed by a two-part given name. The first given name can be shared by everyone of the same generation in the family. The second is that individual's specific name.

  So Lee, his very common family name, plus Dong, his shared generational name, plus Geon. Sergeant Lee Dong-geon.

  To complicate names, Koreans habitually referred to people using a relationship title, like Uncle, Mother, or Teacher.

  Took serious work to decode who a Korean was talking about, but I liked the formal informality of it all.

  "Well, if the shoe fits . . . Fortunately, our report didn't find any vulnerabilities from the network side. The lab isolates top secret data on a separate network. In fact, it's too isolated.

  "They need to improve their off-site backup plans.

  "Really, the lab's security needs to worry about physical access to the facility. Lee, what's the most serious vulnerability in our report?"

  "The retinal scanner. Protects the heart of the lab, the experiments, where the scientists work and keep their data. Unless you pass the mantrap with the retinal scanner, you can't get past the routine administrative areas."

  I nodded, now that he mentioned it, I recalled the theoretical article we'd based our analysis on.

  "Then I'll prove that vulnerability out today."

  Michelle shook her head. "Shouldn't we wait to get lab security's feedback on your preliminary report? I hate to say it, but Lee is right, you need to show them you're part of the team."

  "We should prove the worst vulnerability exists before one of the locals calls it unconfirmed speculation and ignores it.

  "The glass door into the gym SOCKOR just built has the same retinal scanner. If I crack that, it proves we're right."

  Major Williams, the commanding officer of the RRC, my current boss, authorized me to test the weaknesses listed in our most recent report.

  At least, he didn't say no to my emailed request when I submitted the report, which I took as authorization.

  Lee messaged me and Michelle the link to our report from his phone. "Do you want me and an analyst to assist?"

  A convenient excuse to work outside, get away from my desk, wasn't an opportunity I'd miss.

  "Thanks for the offer, but no need for the whole Red Team. It's just one door. It'll look less unusual to the operators who work out in the fitness center if I go alone. Just need an RFID scanner/transmitter. I can take care of the rest."

  Michelle leaned forward. "The CIA has one in the Embassy. Our facilities are vulnerable if the retinal scanner isn't secure."

  She laughed. "That'd embarrass a few people. I'll let you borrow it, if I can watch and write up my own report."

  I'd been here a month and she and I hadn't had a good opportunity to connect. Of course she could come along.

  I stayed casual, "Sure, won't take long. If you take the subway to your office to pick up the scanner, we can do lunch at the Officer's Club afterward."

  "Sounds like a date."

  * * *

  Paperwork always takes longer than expected, especially when you're single and new to town with a hot date planned. Or at least, some semblance thereof, with our ancient history.

  Call it a working relationship for now.

  After signing off on a million forms, I had Lee snap a set of infrared photos of my eye using my military issue phone camera. Printed the closeups at actual size, plus a few two-percent larger and smaller.

  During ROTC our instructors drilled into us the necessity of contingency planning.

  Our building opened up onto one of Camp Kim's internal streets, cleaved out of Seoul by an Army-green block wall topped by concertina wire.

  To comply with a base design pattern stored in the Pentagon somewhere, a baseball field hibernated across the street; its brown grass maintained in razor-sharp rows by the local cadre.

  I'd read in Seoul Survivor that the Spouses Club scheduled weekend tournaments when it was warmer, but otherwise SOCKOR mostly used the outfield as an ad-hoc soccer pitch.

  No point in shipping a personal vehicle from base to base, but the gym was within easy walking distance. Michell
e would meet me there for our date.

  The iced-up sidewalk conspired against my desire to be on time. Leaning forward to preserve my balance, I strode out.

  Rapidly advanced on the objective.

  Today was my best opportunity for a little fun since San Diego. Like everything else before suffering past RASP, that seemed a lifetime ago.

  Michelle must've pulled plenty of strings to get me into Korea this fast, but I guess the 75th Regimental Special Troops Battalion (RSTB) really wanted a new MI platoon leader with a technical engineering background.

  My tan Ranger beret didn't protect my ears and neck from the cold. Frozen rain rattled down at me like long-range machine-gun fire, bullets spent by the distance, but with a bit of sting remaining.

  Should've brought more gear than just my uniform coat and issue cargo pants.

  Numbness crept into my hands. Maybe I could find a gap in the weather for my attempt.

  I dodged from building to building. Sought cover from the hailstorm under their ample eaves.

  Toughened by decades of coal soot, most of Camp Kim's red brick buildings suffered beneath steep Japanese roofs.

  Nuking Hiroshima and Nagasaki ultimately liberated Korea. Ended the Japanese occupation the older locals eternally refuse to forgive.

  After America smashed the Empire of the Rising Sun, the Koreans assigned us Japan's leftover buildings.

  Recently, the Army has sprouted some newer buildings, like the gym just ahead; a sparkling diamond buried in red charcoal.

  Who spends thousands of dollars to secure a glass door into an exercise room full of Special Joes with a retinal scanner, anyway?

  The Army, that's who.

  Specifically, SOCKOR, determined to keep the nearby Big Army riffraff out of Camp Kim's new exercise facilities.

  Sure, they built the floor to ceiling windows and the door from tempered glass, but that's nothing a rock or an elbow wouldn't solve, if anyone actually tried to break in.

  Erection of the fitness center had nothing to do with the SOCKOR Commander wanting a finer gym than the grunts used in the rest of Yongsan.

  Nope, not at all.

  I blew on my hands to recover some feeling. Fast walking kept the rest of me warm.