Techno Ranger

by Thomas Sewell

  Rangers and Green Beanies in PT gear dripped sweat together inside the palace. Black issue shorts and sweatshirts emblazoned with "75 RANGER STB" in imitation of our normal shoulder scroll distinguished the good guys from the rest.

  The hum of treadmill motors and the thump of running shoes kept time with their miles.

  Oh, don't get me wrong, there'd be a chance to ruck run on the chilly streets later, but for individual workouts, most of the Spec Ops dawn patrol avoided numbing their hands and feet in the brisk wind.

  A repetitive clacking sounded behind me. Light steps crunched across the parking lot. Both just sharp enough to hear over the clank of weights inside the gym. I looked back.

  Michelle carried her purse and the RFID antenna I'd asked to borrow.

  Her necklace clanged in time with every other step. Does the Agency still teach stealth in The Farm these days?

  My fault, I guess.

  "Here." She handed me the antenna. Nodded toward the glass. "We're on stage. This better work."

  Half the dudes on the other side of the gym's glass front wall didn't bother to disguise their stares. The other half were either oblivious or just better at covert surveillance.

  Likely wondered what I was doing with a handful of electronics and our cute CIA liaison officer.

  Didn't need people distractions and certainly didn't need to worry about how the operators in our company judged my actions.

  A radio frequency identification card (RFID) reader set into the wall, about the size and shape of a playing card, secured the fitness center's entrance. I cloned my valid access card using Michelle's portable scanner/transmitter connected via USB cable to my ruggedized military issue smartphone.

  Sending my RFID signal would trigger the bulbous retinal scanner at chest height.

  Shoulder height for most operators, who ran a little on the tall side, but I'm even a little taller than most.

  Either way, the South Korean contractors who'd installed the retinal scanner next to the glass door were likely shorter than anyone who would ever actually use it.

  The gym's retinal scanner is the same model used in the lab and countless other protected facilities around the world.

  Was also made by the lowest qualified bidder. Built to a spec sheet created by a bureaucrat who didn't understand the technology.

  I swiped the RFID transmitter's antenna across the embedded reader. That sent my ID. Triggered an eyeball check.

  The access LED turned yellow. Ready to go.

  I pressed the life-size infrared photo of my eye up to the optical sensor.

  The access light glared red, mocking my inability to pass the glass door's security.

  Wipe out.

  The scanner looked for an infrared image of the specific eyeball associated with the RFID number transmitted. Sounds foolproof, right? Well, to this fool it'd be epic to prove it wasn't.

  Leaning over holding my phone and the RFID transmitter in the air for the next half-hour was a good way to lose situational awareness. Not to mention gain a stiff neck and back.

  I knelt on the frigid concrete sidewalk. Let my equipment rest on the ground until needed.

  Fist-sized whitewashed rocks, spaced with military regularity, like pre-positioned glass-smashing ammo, edged the walkway; the only visible remains of an unlucky grunt's punishment detail.

  "Why didn't my eyeball photo do the trick? Should be a perfect size and infrared pattern match for my actual eye."

  The ruby red LED said I was sinking fast.

  "How would I know? You're supposed to be the techie around here." Michelle was always lots of help in these situations.

  "No worries." Yet. "Just the first try."

  I shifted on the rough concrete. Adjusted which knee froze faster.

  Swiped across the door's reader. Transmitted the cloned RFID signal again.

  Inhale and hold. Yellow light.

  Were there size and scale distortions from the way the infrared camera in the scanner worked? I switched to a slightly larger eyeball photo. Presented it instead.

  Red light. I exhaled. Another wipe out.

  Michelle pressed up against the Ranger Tab and Scroll on the left shoulder of my camouflage jacket. The jasmine and citrus shampoo from her amber brown hair arrived in a wave.

  She swayed over me. Stared at the photos I'd taken. At the retinal scanner. "How much longer? Will it work?"

  Getting this right was sketchy enough without olfactory interruptions. "Give me a minute. We'll see."

  I dug my fingernails into my palms. Why didn't this work?

  Took a deliberate breath. Triggered the badge reader.

  Yellow ready light.

  Held up a smaller photo for my third attempt.

  Another red LED stared at me in my real eye.

  No pressure, but definitely a flaw in my technique.

  The retinal scanner's little plastic protective dome contained a tiny infrared camera. That recorded blood vessels in the eye.

  A camera just like the one on my phone.

  Only one camera lens. Not stereo vision. A flat photo should look just the same as an eye to it, shouldn't it?

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Forget all that. Focus.

  Shook my head. "Gimme some space."

  Michelle swayed a little, but didn't break contact.

  Wanted to know if the issue retinal scanners were vulnerable almost as much as I did. Tens of millions of South Koreans would be vulnerable if the North Korean dictatorship got the lab's research.

  "Try again."

  Queen of tact. Already knew to try again. Muttered a phrase in Spanish I'd learned while working in a warehouse in response. Focused on getting the photo placement just right.

  Felt her breathing slowdown in synchronicity with mine. Put her out of my mind.

  Swipe. Yellow light.

  Next size eyeball photo up.

  Red light.

  Maybe I should've perfected this by myself. Without an audience.

  Kneeling here goofy-footed wouldn't endear me to 1LT Schnier, leader of the Ranger platoon working out in the gym. The platoon we'd evaded in San Diego.

  A former West Point linebacker, built for long ruck hikes over uneven terrain, he watched us from a pullup bar just inside the door. The lack of sweat in his abbreviated ginger hair showed how little effort he put into his slow chin-ups.

  Party dude.

  Nor would it endear me to First Sergeant Bishop, the RRC's black NCO.

  Bishop way too casually sat on a weight bench. He'd slowly mopped his brow with a puke green towel this whole time. His rest between sets never lasted anywhere near that long.

  Company's momma bear.

  My MI platoon's tasking to analyze sensitive installations for SOCKOR took me out of the direct chain of command for the shooters. We mostly fed them information.

  Typical localism led to inevitable friction between the support analysts in my platoon and the Ranger operators.

  Bringing Michelle to a gym full of soldiers was perhaps a mistake. I didn't totally fit in, so I guess my desire to finally impress someone with what I could do got the better of me.

  Lunch at the O Club was a great idea, wasn't it? The red access light above the scanner indicated otherwise.

  I hoped the operators enjoyed the show, because it was about to end, one way or another.

  Only two more photo sizes to try.

  After four failures to unlock the electromagnets holding the door shut, I worried about my technique. After all, I'd only read about it. Never actually done it.

  That's why I needed to test it. In front of Michelle. And the RRC's shooters. Brilliant decision making, 1LT Harper.

  The longer I fiddled with the door, the longer they all stared at me. Wondered about my actions.

  Last thing I needed was negative attention from the officers and noncoms I'd failed to impress in my first month here. I shivered from my knees to my shoulders.

  Why wasn't Michelle wearing an overcoat? Maybe
she just didn't expect to be out here this long. "Sorry this is so slow."

  Felt Michelle shake a little through my coat shoulder. "You've always been pretty slow compared to me."

  "Wow. Thanks."

  She chuckled.

  Maybe the first, actual size photo I'd tried was right. Just needed to be shaped more like an actual eyeball to match what the scanner expected.

  "Loan me one of your contact lenses."

  She'd known me long enough not to make me explain why. "Here's an extra."

  Rooted around her purse. Came up with a pair of small plastic circular containers, marked "L" and "R".

  Swiped across the RFID reader. Yellow light.

  Positioned the original photo of my eye.

  Delicately removed a contact from her case with my fingertip.

  Lined up the image with the damp contact lens. Double and triple-checked it. Ensured it stayed in a tiny half-bubble shape.

  Ideally, it'd mimic the curvature of a real eyeball.

  Held the photo and lens in front of the retinal scanner.

  The access LED turned a solid green.

  After an eternal split second, the door unlocked with a thunk. Success!

  Heart racing, I stood. Flung open the glass door.

  Maybe a little too hard. Nothing broke this time, though.

  The clank of steel bars slamming onto posts and weights rattling against spring collars halted. We became the center of attention.

  Now we were putting on a show.

  Let them rubberneck.

  I gave Michelle my best Korean head tilt. Swept my arm with a flourish. Pointed her toward the open doorway.

  She giggled. Took a step forward.

  Paused for me to gather my equipment off the ground.

  "Hey El-Tee, whatcha messing with?" I recognized Bishop's growl from the gym.

  His question didn't bother me. With almost 25 years as a noncom and the razor-wire scar on his cheek to prove it, he'd earned the right to be a little casual in garrison.

  Besides, everyone not a total grom knew to stay on the senior NCO's good side. If the commanding officer is a father figure, his top sergeant is the mother of the Company. Mopping up non-existent sweat from under his chin, he just spoke aloud the question most of the dudes in the gym thought.

  I grinned. "Just a security test, Bishop."

  Pretty boy Schnier stopped his slow-motion chin-ups. Stared at Michelle.

  His practiced voice cut through the rest of the chatter, "Babe, if you want a real Ranger to show you a few things instead of that Techno Ranger, come on over here."

  My jaw stiffened. Not cool, dude.

  Michelle reacted before I could compose a reply.

  Stepped through the doorway. Tilted her head back. Flung her right hand up to her forehead, palm facing Schnier. "Yes! Please! Take me NOW, you big strong man!"

  She paused long enough in her fake southern belle pose for the laughter to start among the other soldiers.

  "Will you SAVE me from my loneliness?"

  Michelle struck her pose for another heartbeat before she put her mock salute down and transformed her face into a glare.

  Schnier frowned. "Look, lady . . ."

  Michelle giggled again. "I'd look, but they don't make a powerful enough microscope for you to show me anything of yours. Besides, I'm not always a lady. Ask Sam."

  I already didn't fit in. As my guest, Michelle was charming and diplomatic. I groaned involuntarily.

  Now, if I'd been thinking straight, I'd have just let Michelle continue to take him down a few more pegs. I mean, her nickname was 'The Bruiser' after all. She was used to popping all the big egos around Camp Kim.

  Instead, fresh off the adrenaline rush of success from my bypass of the retinal scanner, I couldn't help myself. "What do you mean by 'Real Ranger' and 'Techno Ranger', Lieutenant?"

  "Everyone knows there's us shooters and nerds like your platoon, Harper. No offense, you desk geeks can be useful too, sitting behind the lines as the butt-of-the-spear. Filing reports while the real Rangers go out as the sharp tip." Schnier inflated his chest and grinned.

  Dealing with bullies wasn't new to me.

  Growing up, frequently they were older and bigger kids in the system. Occasionally they were temporary guardians whose own lives weren't under control.

  As a line officer, Schnier might be in tight with the other Rangers around Camp Kim, but he didn't impress me.

  Amped, I gestured toward the gym's unarmed combat mats, laid out ready for a fight.

  "Really, dude? Let's see what you've got."

  Chapter Five: Top Babysitter

  Doctor Yang Hyo-jin's breakthrough nuclear detector was just beyond her grasp. She scribbled green mathematical symbols as her hands flew across the three portable whiteboards stuffed into her private office.

  So close.

  The final design for a more practical conversion material to detect radiological materials using neutrons while eliminating the false positives from normal background gamma rays was there, if she could just bring it into her conscious thoughts.

  Hyo-jin tucked the thin dry-erase marker into the breast pocket of her white lab coat next to three others.

  Red, green, blue, black. A complete set.

  Now she just needed a complete theory.

  She stuck her hands into her coat's spacious side pockets. Technically, the elongated coat protected her conservative skirt and long-sleeved blouse from chemical stains and other minor damage, but really it was a symbol of her work and authority.

  The lab's Director of Advanced Metallurgy, she'd worked hard on the volleyball court in University to earn her coat. Unlike some of her subordinates, she preferred wearing it outside the lab's testing and fabrication areas.

  She stared at the board and reviewed each equation in turn. Had she missed a term? A connection between ideas to improve the materials involved?

  Maybe she should check the experimental data in her computer again.

  Thankfully, her office was isolated enough from the rest of the lab to allow for plenty of privacy.

  Part of a hallway of offices for the other scientists, its location tucked behind the top secret fabrication and testing labs meant few people who didn't actually work on a research team had access authorization.

  Promoted six months ago, she'd insisted on soft, padded walls. Their gray mesh material sucked up sound.

  She used her polished steel desk and laptop computer only when she had to.

  Preferred to stand or pace. To think and to write on a series of smart whiteboards for notes.

  A push of a button saved the contents of the boards into the lab's data storage.

  Hyo-jin did the work, but she wasn't in love with materials science. She could take or leave the chilled or boiling metal she worked with.

  She believed radioactivity a critical concept, but not the core of what genuinely interested her.

  Differential equations left her cold unless they solved one of her thermogenic passions.

  Raw theoretical physics, energy surging, solids reacting to the world around them, teasing apart the mysteries of reality. Those were the narcotics she partied with.

  Once in a mental state of flow, Hyo-jin could focus precisely for hours on a problem; make incredible progress as long as no one interrupted her.

  So of course Captain Rhee Yun-seok chose this moment of concentration to burst through her doorway in full Army uniform, the top of his short black hair bouncing.

  Why, in this massive lab and warehouse complex, did he choose to intrude on her little corner?

  He should stay in the security offices, where he belonged. Leave the scientists alone.

  Rhee gave her a perfunctory and disrespectful bow. Skipped over the small talk which builds relationships.

  "It's been decided at the highest levels. We must remove administrative access on the computers from you and the scientists in your section. I will personally see the access removed."

  Anoth
er one of his tirades? "This is why you interrupt my work?" Hyo-jin asked, "To deal with your bureaucratic nonsense?"

  "Merely thought you'd want to be informed of the change in procedures, as it affects your team. With the American security report, the entire lab's funding may be in jeopardy."

  A traditional Korean officer, stuck at Captain's rank far beyond the usual promotion timeline, Rhee clearly considered whatever he was doing at any given moment to be more important than anything a mere girl might be doing.

  As usual, he exaggerated his importance.

  "Without my work, the lab's funds are wasted. Do you know anything about the improved detectors we're creating? The advanced applications, both military and civilian, these materials will enable?"

  She pointed at the whiteboard she'd just written on, "If I can solve this last problem, it will unlock the next generation Miniature Nuclear Detection System. My administrative assistant in the front office will deal with your paperwork."

  Hyo-jin didn't have time for Rhee's dominance games today. She was so close. He just needed to go away. Perhaps she could recapture her mental state.

  Rhee looked up at her. Pretended to pick lint off the shoulders of his uniform. "Your Olympic gold medal may have gotten you this job, but you may not rely on your assistant to take care of these critical responsibilities. As Director of Security for the lab, I am required by policy to inform you of security changes which affect the scientists. What you do with the information is not my concern."

  Hyo-jin's ten inches of height advantage rendered his intimidation attempts ridiculous. "While I remain in charge of my department, you'll handle these administrative matters with my assistant."

  She purposely flipped her long black ponytail around abruptly as she turned her head away from the interruption and returned to stare at her previous writing.

  Rhee dodged back to avoid the ponytail whip. Turned away with a stomp. Muttered, "After I meet with the Americans, we'll see how long that remains the situation."

  Empty threats, trying to have the last word.

  She deliberately ignored his words. They were supposed to be on the same team.

  The slam of her office door told her she could finally return to work.

  Perhaps she'd stay late tonight. Get more work done without a horde of interlopers to break her concentration.