Techno Ranger

by Thomas Sewell

  Have to make sure that didn't happen. His job as part of the military deterrent south of the DMZ wouldn't do itself, even if today it was mostly getting ahead of paperwork.

  Lieutenant Schnier plopped onto the red leather sofa next to his desk and in front of the Major's door with a huff. "You believe Harper last night?"

  Bishop frowned. Stalled for time by twisting the top off a bottle of Cherry 7-UP from his desk drawer. "Don't know what you mean, sir. Officer matters are above my pay grade."

  "Gimme a break, Bishop. Just us here on Saturday mornin'. Loosen up."

  Bishop leaned back in his office chair. "Yes, sir. Loosening up, lieutenant, sir." He smiled so Schnier would know he meant it as a joke. "The MI platoon's report about the lab being vulnerable was righteous. Harper got kinetic with a Spec Ops team by his lonesome. Sure, made a mess bigger than a green beanie's head for us to cleanup, but none of the good guys got killed and the taxpayers will cough up the money to help pay for the damage."

  "So, you agree he's fixin' to be a hotshot loner who don't deserve to wear the scroll on his shoulder?"

  Bishop interlaced his hands behind his head. "That what you think? And which part of you is doing the thinking, sir?"

  "Doncha? Dumb luck he ran into those guys. Edjumacate me, oh wise one."

  "Say we can get Harper singin' in the same choir as the rest of us. With his demonstrated capabilities, wouldn't you want him on our side?"

  Schnier shrugged. "Sure, but that's the question, ain't it? Is he in our posse, or way out on his own, the lonesome cowpoke in the middle of nowhere?"

  "Texans, always with the cowboys. The Army is the largest posse of them all. Kid has potential. Obviously capable of leading a team, or there's no way he could've passed RASP. Wouldn't hurt you to reach out and show a little appreciation to the MI guys once in a while. Might improve your platoon's intelligence."

  Schnier laughed. "That's mean, Top."

  "If the boot fits, sir."

  Sergeant Lee banged open the door into the deserted Company HQ. Looked around. Made a beeline for Bishop's desk.

  Bishop nodded toward the door. "Speaking of intelligence . . ."

  Lee panted for two extra breaths once he arrived in front of Bishop's desk. "Found it!"

  Schnier leaned forward on the sofa. "It?"

  "The truck from last night. Metro Police spotted it near the scene of a traffic accident before the incident and while cordoning off the area afterward. Using the city's license plate trackers and traffic cam footage, traced it back from the first sighting and forward from the lab. The MPD cordon let the truck pass outside the lab, but some kid's parents complained to the police about it stopping at their neighborhood park. Thought it an unusual spot for the Army. Both routes converge on the same place, an old rice farm near the DMZ."

  Bishop grinned. "Good work. Might be long gone by now, but I'll send the MPs over to secure the area."

  The weekend might could hold a bit of excitement after all.

  * * *

  Jin-sun's Mother decided the half-breed Toby Howell must be an idiot, kept around to amuse the real embassy bureaucrats. He'd abruptly cut off their last meeting and insisted she return first thing Monday morning to tell her story again.

  Government officials were petty and capricious everywhere.

  She'd sat down again in the uncomfortable metal chair at his desk and repeated what she'd told him before, this time in front of the new woman listening in his dis-harmonic office. He called her the Military Attaché.

  Some sort of army expert, she supposed, although what that had to do with her she didn't know. Definitely a western whore, though, that she was sure of. Jin-sun would never marry a woman like that.

  She'd make sure of it.

  The woman stood and leaned against the wall, listening. Her fabric textures were all wrong, mixing silk on top with cotton on the bottom. Tall shoes and tight clothing emphasized her long legs, small belly, and high breasts.

  That's how Jin-sun's Mother knew she was a whore, whatever Toby Howell called her. No respectable woman would dress so provocatively at her place of employment.

  And her jewelry, shells bouncing and clacking like a beach drum. Really! Every woman knew that only precious metals and gemstones were suitable for wearing as portable wealth.

  Was she a Pacific island castaway, her wealth tied up in shells she'd found at low tide, which the locals used for currency?

  Jin-sun's Mother shook her head, her own red chima skirt fluffed over baji pants were perhaps too formal for these two, but also modest. "No, husband didn't react well to news of how received black market radio. Knew it outside our reach, despite relative wealth in the North. Naïve at how things worked."

  The new woman interrupted, "And this was Meon Lon-chun who raped you?"

  Foreigners were all rude. No respect for their elders at all. Slow in the head, too. "Yes, what I already said. Was better sort. Felt bad enough after to give presents. Convinced we liked attention of government leader. Ran Party in village by himself. No one speak against him, but husband tried."

  "Go on."

  "I will, if you done interrupting."

  The whore nodded, but said nothing further, not even to apologize for her disruption. What a mother will go through for her only child. "At first, husband intent on killing Party Secretary. Make it look like accident. Told him it no use. Even if wasn't caught, just appoint another. Behave same. Maybe worse. We spent enough time married together in farmhouse didn't matter."

  "Didn't matter?"

  "Month pregnant when moved into village apartment. Party Secretary's attentions not keep us from own child. Tire of me when condition clear.

  "Husband determined go to factory manager. Complain. Manager high rank. Husband disagree with me. Say manager can speak to Party Secretary. Tell him leave worker family alone.

  "Men like Party Secretary not like be told give up pleasure, but husband not listen. Say he valuable worker. Manager get credit for improvement to yoke making. Not want him unhappy at home.

  "Yelled until red in face. Husband only settle down when he plan to complain to manager. Even then only after fed him last of rice wine. Quarter bottle we saved for baby celebration. Just as well. Never get to drink later, anyway.

  "He right about manager, but husband wrong about Party Secretary reaction."

  "Meon?"

  "Yes. That night heard yelling downstairs. Never good. Factory manager tell Secretary Meon leave workers alone. Meon say he take care of problem. Brought manager upstairs to apartment."

  "To apologize?"

  Really? How ignorant of the North can this harlot be?

  Party officials don't apologize to anyone not their superior in the Party. "To find radio. Brought manager as witness our apartment have forbidden thing. Send message who really in charge in village.

  "Dumped stuff on floor. Pointed at radio. Told didn't deserve manager help. Were traitors bound for work camp. Work camps places people go die slow. If not pregnant, husband might kept calm. Attempted apologize. Offer gifts to Party Secretary."

  "Instead?" Couldn't this whore just remain quiet and let her finish what happened?

  Painful enough to recount the details without the constant disrespect.

  "Hit him. Slug him in jaw. Knock him to floor. Factory manager throw hand over his face. Mumble. I need take charge. Grabbed husband hand. Run down stairs.

  "Owe husband much. First person chose me as family after already know me."

  She refused to cry in front of these Americans. "Fastest way leave village in Party Secretary's car. Only car in village, but not good idea to take."

  "Why not?"

  Wasn't it obvious? Dense foreigners. "Neither of us can drive. I never even ride before. Husband drove truck once in factory yard, but not exactly same. Because we have car, Meon not let us go easily. Commandeered truck from local Army post. Came after us.

  "Village close to South. Chinese border easier. Ways there to cross river. No on
e shoot you if bribe guards. Not like DMZ.

  "Meon caught up near border crossing. We stopped short, in clearing by old rice fields, to decide how to cross. Make plan. Husband always big plans. Now I plan for family.

  "He came after us alone. Get help from border guards. Not want to lose respect of village by chase once husband knock him down and steal car.

  "Big headlights appear behind us. Army truck pull into clearing. Block us in. Knew instantly meant our death. Leapt from car. Ran across muddy fields in dark for border. Cross DMZ only hope.

  "Meon follow on foot. Splash in the puddles. Shout. Shoot pistol. Ran back to truck. Sped past us down road. Reached DMZ before us. We hid there, near border. Found old ditch with scratchy bushes. Thought maybe wouldn't find us in dark.

  "Patrol of border soldiers search along the DMZ with Meon. Spotlights too powerful for darkness we thought protect us. Instead of cloak by night, naked to rays. Ran again, straight across DMZ. Dodge and duck behind bushes and hills. Slid through little valleys. Jump creek beds.

  "Escape foot race. Came close again at border. Husband ran behind, tell me faster."

  "Obviously, you made it, Yeo Min-jung, or you wouldn't be here."

  "Didn't catch me, but Meon shot husband in back. Last time saw body, lay face-down in mud. Meon stood over him. Held pistol pointed at him. Stop and make sure he die. Gave me enough time cross border. Soldiers from South kind to me, young muddy lady bawling like child who lost best toy.

  "Gave birth to son seven months later. No living father, but has father's surname. Name him Kwon Jin-sun."

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Vampires

  Michelle returned to her embassy office. Typed up a contact report on her meeting with that idiot Howell and the local woman. What was the Korean deal with referring to people by their relationships to someone else, anyway?

  Bad enough couples here didn't adopt the same last name.

  She sent an encrypted message to Metcalf in D.C. "Intelligence on Meon Lon-chun confirmed by credible source. Blackmail viable option." Attached her report.

  Late at night on the east coast, but he replied quickly, "How will lab event affect plans? Why didn't we have advance notice?"

  Ouch. Maybe she could do damage control. "Unexpected complication, but will work to our advantage. Partial failure puts additional pressure on Meon."

  "Better be correct in your analysis."

  Not like her career depended on it.

  * * *

  The bloodsuckers didn't get enough patients at a hospital designed for a war. Suffered for customers in relative peace time.

  Made various disapproving comments on my shoulder self-treatment, then told me to stay 48 hours for observation in a sterile bedroom with curtains for walls.

  Hyo-jin visited me twice.

  The male nurses got annoyed when I called her Doc. Seemed more angry about the damage to her lab the second time. Guess she'd gone back and looked at the mess in the daylight on Saturday.

  Still smiled a lot at me, though.

  The humorless military nurses confiscated my phone while I was in the hospital room. Some regulation or other.

  Didn't see Lee, Bishop, nor Schnier.

  Too busy, I guess.

  The other guys in the hospital were mostly Spec 4s from the Big Army with too much time on their hands and too little natural caution. Never underestimate the destructive capabilities of a bored soldier.

  Captain Grant stopped by to take my official initial statement, once I had a lucid period off mind-altering drugs. A tall, solidly built guy, ready to take down those bored soldiers if they got out of line, but a tough read. Apparently, nobody messes with the Special Investigators.

  Wasn't sure if he approved of my actions, or was ready to have me taken out back and shot. He'd just nod and ask, "And then what happened?"

  Sounded like one of the counselors they made me see every time they bounced me to a new foster home. Really wanted to ask him, "What could I have done differently?"

  After his last question, he told me an Army CID investigator should be in touch later, so I could tell the whole story all over again. Maybe an investigator from the Koreans, as well.

  They all have their own separate sets of paperwork, I guess.

  Whenever the nurses left me alone, I played the events in the lab repeatedly in my mind.

  What could I have done differently? Done to avoid so much damage?

  Did I really have to take them out, or could I have just left with Hyo-jin and called in the professionals?

  The Army trains every Ranger to handle close quarters combat, so wasn't I one of the professionals, just not assigned that way right now?

  If the shot that grazed my shoulder flew six inches to the left, it would've caught the center of my throat and I wouldn't be here to obsess about it.

  Needed to put the men I'd killed out of my mind. They'd been doing their best to kill me and destroy the lab.

  Guess I assisted a little in that last part.

  What could I have done differently? Nobody's perfect, but not much that I could think of, and I tried for days.

  Didn't blame Hyo-jin for being mad at me.

  At least, not much.

  Still needed to figure out a way to make it up to her.

  Times of tragedy become opportunities for loneliness and introspection. Like when I lost my parents. At least Hyo-jin survived.

  Her life was a victory I could savor.

  Major Williams visited me on Sunday.

  I remained on his naughty list, but officially released by the medical staff for light duties.

  Told me to come into HQ on Monday morning ready to do office work. Help clear up the mess I'd made.

  All I could say was, "Roger that."

  By the time I crashed back at the BOQ Sunday night, my knee had mostly stopped complaining and my shoulder was reduced to a dull roar.

  The knee stiffened up on Monday.

  Continued cold weather didn't help, nor did the iced up sidewalk to Suseo subway station. On thin ice, I walked with shorter steps than usual. Kept my center of gravity over my good leg.

  Still made it to Camp Kim early to hang out near Bishop's desk and get the scoop on the progress they'd made.

  Bishop looked fresh, even though he must've worked through the weekend. Guess being married has advantages over doing everything yourself.

  "Major left a list. You get all the technical stuff. Lee needs help trying to figure out how to get the lab's data back. The lab and the spooks are each sending a representative over at 1430 to meet. Discuss what the strategic ramifications are of the DPRK having the lab's data. Guess which light-duty lieutenant our major has assigned to take charge of entertaining the civilians?"

  "Sounds like I have my work cut-out for me. Get the lab's data back and then stop the North from taking advantage of the copy they stole. Got it."

  "Lee tracked the truck that got away to a rice paddy near the Dorasan Peace Park. MPs found the truck parked in front of an old hothouse. Used a pulley and cart system to cross under the DMZ. Captain Grant posted a guard, but they'all won't come back that way again."

  I shook my head. Amazing what people will do with virtually unlimited slave labor. "They'll close off the tunnel at the other end as soon as the guy who got away reports in. Might've done it already, unless they think we haven't discovered it yet."

  "I know the MP sergeant tasked with the tunnel guard detail. I'll ask him to tell us if they hear anything from the other end." Bishop made a note.

  Not allowed to command my MI platoon, I didn't go back to my desk.

  Instead, pleading knee injury, I called Lee and asked him to bring over my laptop. Made myself at home in the lone conference room at HQ.

  The scratchy coyote tan walls matched my boots, even if they contrasted with the beat up army green table made from metal.

  Between the Company's colors and awards, a quote from the Ranger Creed hung on the wall, Never shall I fail my comrades.

 
The room had power, Ethernet and metal folding chairs, so it'd do as a temporary office. Plugged my phone into a miniature set of MP3 speakers.

  Home sweet home.

  Lee came by as soon as he could grab my ruggedized laptop from my desk and walk over. He'd somehow wrinkled his jacket. Probably been on base all weekend. "How's the shoulder?"

  I flexed my left arm and winced. "Usable. What's going on with the lab's data backups?"

  "Hardware problem with the tape drive heads. We flagged it in our report. They never tried to restore from their backups to see if they worked. To keep their stuff off the .mil network, they did their own backups locally. When the guys responsible checked after the theft, they discovered only the most recent incremental backup was readable. Only has the files which were changed that day, so it's mostly useless. Most recent full backup and the rest of the incremental backups might as well be garbage."

  "Heard of that before. Magnetic heads on the tape drive get loose and drift over time. The alignment has to be consistent with what it was when they wrote the data to tape."

  "So what can we do about it?"

  "See if you can measure how much the heads drift for each new tape, then shift them back a little at a time to match up with the previous tapes. If you reverse the direction of drift for each tape they may get a full restore done. Somebody needs to get their government credit card and buy a bunch of drives and drive shelves to restore data back to, though."

  Lee nodded. "Roger that. Should work. They make the hard drives in Seoul. Lab won't have to wait for shipping. I'll get 'em going on trying to re-calibrate the tape drive head."

  "Sounds good. Hey, anything on unusual activity on the other side of the DMZ? Any visiting brass or a new unit?"

  Lee shrugged. "I'll ask around."

  "Whoever that spec ops unit was at the lab, somebody is running them from the other side of the DMZ. That's where they'll take the data. Be nice to have a few potential targets. Check on their chatter and their labs as well, see if there's been any unusual activity."

  "Sure. Let you know if I have anything at our 1430 meeting."

  My laptop beeped. Low on power.

  I plugged it securely into the outlet set into the floor under the table.