Living in Syn (33 page)

TERM
6

Independent synthetics agree to leave Earth and to
not return. Army agrees to support negotiations at Winwood Hotel. Army agrees
to pay damages from combat synthetics into escrow account.

Pioneer's
attorney said, "You call this equitable?  Where's the downside for Paradox? 
Are you sending them to bed without supper?"

Mission
said, "You're realizing a profit from your mining settlement.  The
synthetics of New Angeles are gaining their freedom and the ability to, in a
sense, reproduce.  The Army is getting the outpost they need to defend us
against invading alien sons of Elvis Presley.  Paradox is guaranteed a sale of
less than 1/2 % of their annual sales while holding a flagship model that can't
be sold anywhere else.  Why don't you ask them if this makes their day?"

Mission
clicked his com closed and said, "I look forward to reading any comments
supplied to me within 48 hours."

Mission
expanded his list of keywords for search through the city's information
sources.  He exhausted the newspapers, and other public record documents and
now broke into closed files like those of the city police.  Finding information
on Free Zone incidents of violence was difficult.  He knew the police and other
agencies sent their people into the Zone, but case file records like that only
found their way into the central database if charges were brought.

The
computer queried him for entry for two, Major Carson Pierce and Sergeant Pete
Wells.  Mission frowned and activated the security camera.  Okay, Pierce wasn't
under duress.

"Access
granted."

A minute
later Mission shook hands with Carson and then with Sergeant Wells, who was about
5'10" with a barrel chest and forearms the size of Mission's calves.  He
kept his sandy hair cut short, which exposed several scars at the hairline of
his forehead.  Mission got them each a beer and they sat.

Carson
said, "We need another person on the team or we will all die.  Pete here
is a weapons and tactical expert.  He trains and outfits small groups for
guerrilla maneuvers.  He worked with the team that rescued the nurses in Mexico
City."

Mission
nodded.  "Impressive.  That tells me you should be a Sergeant Major or in
Officer's Candidate School.  What's your problem Wells?"

Wells
never blinked as he put his beer down.  "The Army values me for what's in
my head instead of what I can do.  I don't like that."

"You're
saying the Army doesn't want to risk you in actual operations?"

"Yeah,
something like that."

"Then
I'm confused.  Are you here to outfit and train us or to be a member of the
team?"

Wells
smiled.  "Both.  My Major and Colonel wouldn't let me go, but General
Steele overruled them."

"Okay. 
Welcome aboard.  What's next?"

Carson
smiled.  "Ask us what we've been doing."

Mission
sighed.  "Okay, what have you been doing?"

Wells
said, "I've been planning ways to kill you."

"What?"

Now
Wells was in his element.  "The first part of planning a strike like this
is to take the enemy's perspective and figure out how to neutralize you most
easily.  Adding the syn's capabilities into the equation makes this more
difficult.  But I'd gas you.  There's plenty of nerve gasses floating on the
streets, especially in the Zone.  I'd box you in and kill you in fifteen
seconds.  Seventy-five if you're lucky enough to have caught a breath just
before the canister goes off.  They'll stand right over you and laugh while you
die."

Mission
grinned.  "You're right.  We need him.  What's the overall plan here?"

Carson
said, "We meet at Quantico tomorrow for weapons orientation.  Pete says we
can be operations ready in three days.  That means with a day's slack, we go in
on Sunday.  Sound good?"

"Yeah,
I'll let Montag know."

Carson
and Pete left and Mission stood in the middle of the apartment thinking that
perhaps he would live through all this.

Quantico
survived as the consummate Marine training base.  The discipline and attention
to detail was almost painful to watch.  A very serious looking Private escorted
Mission and Montag to a training room where Carson and Pete waited.

Pete
looked at his watch and said, "Three minutes late.  Let's get
started."

They
moved up to the table where they saw four neat stacks of weaponry including
some of their old friends like the ultrasonics grenades and the magnetic
interrupters.

Pete
said, "We've tried to integrate all the weapons and equipment needed into
a easy access rig we all can wear."

He
pointed to a clear plastic box.  "Nasal filters.  Insert deep into the
nasal cavities where they expand to form an airtight seal.  They'll filter
gasses from twenty to thirty minutes. Increasing difficulty in getting air
indicates the filters are nearing full."

He
pointed to a slim canister about four inches long in a pocket on the
vest/harness.  "Independent oxygen supply.  Oral clip can rest inside the
collar until you're ready to use it.  There's a stop you can hold between your
teeth.  You have to bite down slightly to release the oxygen.  That way you can
release, stop the flow and talk and then start the oxygen again.  Twenty minute
supply."

Pete
continued, "Now, we have elasticized flak suits with thermal shield and
grounding unit.  They’ll stop the majority of bullets fired, they provide
excellent insulating properties from the ionized burns of the blaster weapons,
and they attenuate electrical currents.  Bursts up to 100,000 volts or
sustained charges up to 800."

Mission
said, "Look, all this is first rate, but we need to think about how this will
look.  We can't go in there looking like tank commanders and then say we’re
here to negotiate a peace settlement. We have to avoid looking
threatening."

Pete
looked at Carson and said, "Right.  Now if you'll look over at ... "

Mission yelled,
"Hey!  I'm not talking just to hear my voice.  These are the conditions of
the assignment."

Pete got
right in Mission's face and said, "Carson told me you might back away
some, but he never said you were one of those
Momma's boy, talk it away
types."

Carson
said,  "Listen, you two have ... "

Mission
snapped, "Stay out of it Carson!  Listen, Wells.  This is my task to
lead.  You don't like the conditions, take your toys and go home.  We'll be the
ones in the middle of the action out there.  As for the Momma's boy, take your best
shot and let's see who cries."

Well's
face turned beyond purple and headed for black.  As his right arm started back
for an uppercut to the stomach, Mission's forearm caught him in the face and
slapped him down.  Before he even hit the ground,  Mission stomped his stomach
hard and Wells contracted into a fetal ball.  Mission walked away as Wells
rocked from side to side trying to catch his breath.

Almost
five minutes later, Wells regained enough breath to say, "You caught me
when I wasn't ready , but ... "

"Well,
it's all about being ready, isn’t it?  You ever had an enemy warn you to
prepare for attack?  The truth is, at best you have four hours real combat time
under your belt and several years of prep.  Me, I fought for my life almost
every day for fourteen years."

"Now,
we'll carry everything you laid out for us, provided it doesn't tip our hand. 
Are you in or out?"

Wells
wiped his face and said, "In."

"Good,
We're gonna need you.  Pick up where you left off."

Wells
stood up and slowly walked back to the table.  "Okay, in terms of weapons
we have these devices you're already familiar with, plus these guys." 

He
pointed to items about the size of a roll of quarters with a pull ring on top. "Wear
these inserted into the vest connected to the rings or not, it's your option. 
White are for flash charges and will blind a human for up to ten seconds.  We
don't yet know the effects on syns.  Reds are explosive charges that'll take
down the entire hotel.  Obviously a final option, don't attach these by the
pull ring.  Orange are explosive charges more in the range of taking out an
eight by eight foot room.  Black are smoke canisters.  The smoke doesn't significantly
affect breathing, although you won't like the smell.  It'll completely obscure
900 square feet for up to eight minutes depending on ventilation."

"In
terms of firearms.  Mission, I hear you carry a Glock Ion.  Fine gun.  Carson
and I carry Stilettos plus I carry a Winston Penetrator.  Those ionized charge
guns are fine, unless you're shielded.  The Winston can penetrate up to
3/8" of armor plating.  Montag?  What type of firearm do you carry?"

Montag
shook his head and said, "I will not carry a weapon designed to
kill."

Pete
threw down the vest he held and said, "Great!  Mission wants us to look
nice and a quarter of our team won't carry firearms.  These robots are going to
fucking kill us all!"

He
looked around the room, trembling with anger.  Mission said very quietly,
"At New Angeles, Montag took four ion shots when the ambush hit us.  He
gave us enough time to get to cover and get out alive.  He goes with us."

Pete
walked toward the door and yelled over his shoulder, "Fifteen minute
break" and left.

Mission
looked over at Carson and said, "Another one succumbs to the ole Mission
charm.  Let's think about what we can do for Montag.  Where's a vue screen?"

When
they resumed, Mission said, "Look Pete, with all these ion weapons, we're
going to have some fires if we scuffle.  I know we can breathe, but the smoke
will blind us."

Pete
grinned and said, "You've got that right.  We have these special two-part
contact lenses.  You apply them to the eyes and the sections separate to travel
far underneath the eye, providing complete protection from the environment.  As
a bonus, they give you night vision capabilities when the lights go out.  I'm
already used to them but you and Carson need to put them in at least twice a
day and get your wearing time up to between six and eight hours."

Two days
later, Mission dove underneath a shelter made of logs with dried mud in the
cracks.  He panted and wheezed so hard he wondered if a lung would come up. 
Too late, he realized that Wells approached. He dove into the shelter and
landed directly on Mission, knocking the wind out of him.  Wells rolled off him
into the corner and sprayed ion charges all over the southeast section of the
field.

Mission
sensed movement in the opposite direction and looked up in time to see Pierce
and Montag reach a knot of trees and spray the other side of the field.  Wells
clicked his watch and yelled, "Time!"

Then he
spoke into the transmitter on his collar and said, "Drill number seven is
ended.  Halt all fire.  Halt all fire.  Provide confirmation from all five
posts."

Once the
five
enemy
posts confirmed end of drill, Mission's team, or maybe it was
Well's team for the duration of the training, pulled out of their positions and
back into the field.  Wells turned around and said, "We are turning in
some outstanding results.  But you!"

He
pointed at Montag.  "You have a death wish.  It's fine to protect the
humans, but you need to consider this.  If you throw yourself in front of a
bullet, you are crippling yourself and robbing your team of the protection you're
charged to provide. 
Protect your teammates by securing positions and
providing covering fire
!”

Montag
nodded weakly.  Wells turned to Mission.  "And you.  You dove into the
shelter and rested.  You're lucky it was me and not the enemy.  And you're
lucky they didn't bomb the shelter immediately. 
Covering fire
!  Bullets
are cheap.  So are body bags!  Take your choice."

Mission
nodded again.  Wells was 100% right.  But he sure loved this drill sergeant
shtick.  They moved over to a modified firing range.  Wells said,
"Mission, why don't you explain to me what we're about to see."

"Okay,
for purposes of these drills, Montag will use the Scorpion automatic weapon
with rubber bullets like city cops use for crowd control.  He can be somewhat
effective with that gun.  If I see him blasting away, I put my head down and
probably never realize he's firing rubber.  But we have two more weapons for
him."

"The
first was developed by game hunters and zoo keepers.  It fires a cartridge that
upon discharge, opens into an eight by eight foot weighted net.  Eight out of
ten times it'll take a man down and knot him up for several minutes.  It works
like a single feed sawed off shotgun.  Montag will test it here."

"Second,
I got Elliot over at Paradox to modify and streamline the magnetic
interrupters.  Pretty cool, huh?"

He held
one up.  It was slightly larger than two stacked half dollars.  "The
magnetic field strength is compromised, so there is no guarantee of complete
paralysis, but if it touches them, it’ll mess them up."

Mission
held up a large pistol with a barrel opening that indicated the interrupters
were discharged like Frisbees.   "A clip holds twenty.  Effective range up
to forty yards."

He
turned back to the team.  "Paradox has provided us with a number of
synthetics being refurbished.  That is their brains are being rebuilt.  So they
can participate in these drills without suffering pain as even a syn knows it. 
Montag, take your weapons.  Who knows when or where the attack will
begin."

They stood
there for a few minutes and then Carson and Pete started talking weapons and
muzzle velocities.  Mission finally sat on the grass and lit a cigarette.  He
looked around and said, "So Montag, what were you doing before you got
recalled for duty with us?"

Montag
answered, "I worked as a domestic for an Iranian family fearing reprisals
from a rival faction back home.  I taught the children ... "

An
explosion echoed across the field and three syns from three different
directions closed quickly.  Montag took the closest one with the net gun and
then fell to ground, rolling and firing his magnetic interrupters.  Three
shots, three direct hits.  Each of them immobilized.  Montag sprang lightly to
his feet and sprinted for the cover of the trees.  He pulled out the Scorpion
and sprayed it into the woods.  Mission wondered what in the hell he was doing
until he saw a syn duck behind a huge oak.

Montag
took a spare interrupter clip and ejected a charge into his gloved hand (his
magnetically shielded hand).  He crept up on one of the syns and clamped it on
his spine in a lightning move.  Before the attack even got moving, Montag
immobilized all seven attackers.  Wells walked up to him and shook his hand. 
"I take it back.  I want you out there with us."