Skies Over Tomorrow: Constellation (3 page)

The process was comparable to that of a chameleon camouflaging itself, but because of the spectral nature in which the powersuits shifted in and out of sight, the Micro Refraction System had been dubbed the Specter System. The end result had more than met the Army's expectations.

After meticulous scrutiny and testing of the three powersuits, the Pentagon ordered from Japan an additional fifty-seven powersuits, all of which underwent alterations at Area 51. They were redefined as Powered Insecta Gun Suits to separate them from their original, “civilian” counterparts, but were later adopted as Hard Shells by the rank-and-file of the Predator program. Some joked about the use of alien technology, but Simone had known it made no difference if the wisecracks were true or not. The Army did not care; all they wanted was to see the Hard Shells in action.

The only demonstration came when, upon the Army's invitation, the president visited Area 51. Simone had approached him and his guards, as they stood engulfed by the entrance of an empty hangar. They did not see her until her suit phased, reshaping light to move from the unseen. His face had paled when the menacing presence of her Hard Shell appeared before him. The Secret Servicemen, hesitant, drew their weapons; fear had frozen them in place. Then the other members of her unit materialized into view, panicking one of the protectors. Shots echoed in the bay. He was subdued with a thudding blow to the back of the head. Though unintentional, the fatal killing of that Secret Serviceman, who died from brain hemorrhage, had brought a premature end to the demonstration.

Even so, the biocomputer had informed Simone of the damage her Hard Shell received from the gunshots, and how long it would take for it to regenerate. The defensive strength of the powersuit had revealed itself, as a display of its damaged areas appeared before her eyes; the Shell consumed the bullet material and used it to remold the dents. Simone had found herself with heavy breaths. Her attention then focused back to the fear on the president's face, as he cowered away, his image further distorted on the panoramic screen within the suit's head section. That was the last time she saw her Commander in Chief in person.

“It is now 18:20…” said Attila, breaking Simone's trance from the rustling sways of foliage along the roadside.

“What time is it?” Simone said, her eyes blinking and focusing from the daydream.

“18:20. It is time to file your second status report.”

“Get the LCAC,” she said with a deep yawn, “on line, audio only.”

“Obtaining satellite connection.”

During a mission, an Army Predator was required to call in two status reports. The initial call was made a few days after departure from base camp, to signal that arrival into the mission zone went with or without incident. The second call occurred a few days before retrieval in order to put the Marines' Landing Craft Air Cushion on standby.

“Connection obtained.”

“This is Alpha Road Kill Three,” said Simone.

“Read you loud and clear, Alpha Road Kill Three!” the voice said over the whooshing of skipping waves.

“Spider, is that you?” There was the murmuring of the LCAC's giant fan, and crackling that sounded like gunfire.

“How's it going, sweetheart? Don't tell me you're ready for pick up! We just got your boy, Carlston, and he's got the entire Red Army on our ass!”

“He actually made it?”

“EH, GET THAT SON-OF-A-BITCH ON PORT!”

“How about that? He actually made it.”

“Hold on! Hold on, here he is!”

“Simone? Simone, I fucking made it! I can't believe it! Told you I would!”

“You're one lucky hombre.”

“What can I say?”

“I guess you're the man, then.”

“Yeah, well, my ass was in a sling for a minute, but nothing to worry about now!”

“I bet Spider begs to differ.”

“Well, these Marines seem to be handling themselves! They'll get us home!”

“So how was your first mission?” she said. “I'm thinking some scout caught you taking a piss.”

“I don't want to talk about it over open channels!”

“Oh, really? With all the screaming you did?”

“You heard me screaming?”

“You know I wasn't the only one.”

“Well, it doesn't matter, I got my hundred!”

“What did you say—a hundred percent?”

“Yeah, that's right!”

“You liquidated your mission targets?”

“Hell, yeah! Capped the whole family!”

Background clamor beleaguered the communiqué.

“Simone?”

She was silent.

“Yo, Simone, you there?”

“Yeah, Carlston, I'm here.”

“Well, check it out: These fellas need my help, so I'll see you back at base!”

“All right.”

“Maintain!”

“Yeah, you do the same.”

“So when do you think you'll be ready for pick up?” said Spider, his voice blaring and startling Simone.

“I—I don't know,” she said. “I'm starting to second guess the intel report from the NRO.”

“I can understand!”

“I've been out here eight days, and I'm bored. I could have made some twenty-plus kills by now, counting ten China PIGS.”

“Well, be patient!” Spider said. “I'm sure the report is accurate! From my briefing, you can expect some action soon!”

“Hope so.”

“Just keep it cool! Just execu—EH, NUMB NUTS, LOOK OUT!” he said. “Simone, when you're ready, just get to the rendezvous point!”

“I will, and you better be on time for once.”

“Hey, this isn't a date, so I'll be there and on time! For now, we'll be sailing on home! They're starting to cut us off!”

“Roger that.”

“Good luck, Alpha Road Kill Three!”

Attila terminated the connection between the Hard Shell and the hovercraft.

The Army had decided the LCAC was ideal for extracting Predators. Quick and versatile, it made periodic runs in case a Predator's mission ended ahead of time, or took a turn for the worst. Lucky for Carlston.

The mission Simone intended to carry out as it was conceived by her Commander in Chief was a classified retaliation strike for China's devastating attack on the United States. How could anyone forget? Thirty electro-magnetic pulse missiles paralyzed the East Coast, causing a blackout which had spread across America like an infectious cancer. The resulting firestorms and anarchy and the hundreds of thousands of people that died in the wake of it all.

It was the day her brother went into surgery to remove his tonsils. What was to be a simple medical procedure ended in tragedy. The doctor and nurses tried to save him, but without power to see and use their tools, they failed miserably. She was told her kid brother drowned in his own blood. They tried to save him, but the crippling of technology had cascaded to the medical staff that was so dependent on technology; thus, they were just as useless as the tools they relied on. There was nothing the doctor and nurses could have done to save Douglas. The loss of her kid brother pained her.

She wanted to bury the memories, even the good times of walking down to the lake to fish where she would laugh at the goofy stories he had made up out of thin air while waiting for a bite. The memories became nightmares that null and voided her feelings. She tried hard to bury those memories because she was afraid they would cause her to lose a part of herself to grief, anger, and hate. The initial feelings after Douglas's death swayed her to accept the mission she was on, but with time to think it through, the only salvation she found was in her acknowledgement that she could—but should not—be like her enemy, ruthless and calculating.

Still, it was hard to forget the hell America had endured because of China's callousness. It was said the president had written in his diary that America shall never forgive China. How they had managed to conceal the development of a stealth submarine was anyone's guess. The Sea Dragon, as it had become known, had emerged off the coast of Virginia and fired the thirty short range Archangel missiles upon the land of the free. It marked China in history as the country to vanquish the imperial superpower that was the United States of America.

“Attila,” said Simone, “I think nuking Beijing would have been a better course of action than what we are doing now.”

“On the contrary. Countering China's assault with a nuclear strike would have been an illogical and detrimental decision on the part of the United States.”

“How do you figure?”

“Given the current level of globalization, if the United States had implemented its nuclear policy, a number of countries would have suffered major setbacks, especially America, which would have stood to lose more than what was lost after the initial preemptive strike against it.”

“You're right,” Simone said. “I'm beginning to understand President Louis's call for a conventional war and our role in all of this, but look at America now—what we're doing.”

“Does Lieutenant Carlston's mission success bother you?”

“Yeah, well, it's not just that, but this entire operation.”

“If you are uncertain about executing this assignment, then a call for immediate extraction will be made.”

“No,” she said. “I just don't see the point of killing families, especially the children. I don't understand why or how the president conceived the notion to kill families.”

“Children are highly valued in the Chinese social structure, especially male children, as many of China's leadership have sons.”

“Yeah, well, children are valued in just about every culture, I would think.”

“True,” said Attila, “however, the Chinese center the births of their children on a twelve-year calendar cycle. With each year representing a certain animal, a child born of a certain sex on a certain year can either bring a family good luck or bad luck. If the birth of a child is planned, then it would be in the year of the tiger, dragon, monkey, or mouse, as these animals typically represent good fortune—given the child is male and the parents were born in compatible years.”

“How does any of that justify this operation?”

“It can be surmised that President Louis wants to utterly destroy the resolve of the Chinese, ultimately making its leadership regret having attacked America. The manner in which America is exacting retribution just may make the Chinese feel unlucky, and even more, wish their children had not been born. What can be worse for parents than to have survived a war which claimed the lives of their children?”

“Great, they've paired me with a psychoanalytical AI,” said Simone, and she inhaled and released a breath with another yawn. Boredom held a comfortable grip on her as she contemplated the conversation.

She looked up and down the tranquil, empty freeway. It was too quiet, and the silence at times made her uncomfortable and wary. Moreover, though appealing, the mystical, unfamiliar land made her feel insignificant. The mountainous timberland of Guizhou reminded her of the supernatural atmosphere of Taiwan's forest regions. “Attila,” she said, “if my targets had a child, would there be a way to avoid killing the child?”

“The hypothetical question shall be ignored. If the mission is not executed properly, its probability of success will be less than 100 percent and will constitute mission failure. Thus the war may be prolonged if you are not 100 percent effective.”

“You're rationalizing killing as means to ending the war.”

“The only gains that can be had from the lives lost with this war are the lives that are lived after its end.”

“So now you're a philosopher?” said Simone.

“I am only interpreting your conscious thoughts.”

“So I might as well be talking to myself aloud, then?”

“More or less.”

Simone smiled and said, “Continue.”

“The fact will be when this war is over, those who will have survived shall view themselves as blessed—if not lucky—and life will go on. They will probably recognize that they reside on a planet in which technology has made it too small to sustain future global conflict. If humanity is to evolve, then coexistence—globalization—must be fully realized, and not just be rhetoric of utopian ideals or politics. Such a possibility may result from actions taken in this war.”

Simone was silent in thought.

“Warning: there is a procession approaching at 130 kilometers per hour, heading northeast.”

“About time,” said Simone, snapping to life. “Confirm targets.”

“Up-linking with Corona Seven.”

Attila acquired access to the spy of the National Reconnaissance Office monitoring the battlefield in Southern China from orbit. The internal visor displayed a tactical overlay map of the area's geographic definitions, as viewed from the satellite. The floating agent peered down through the clouds, past the defense of the Communist state, and pulled into view the hostile arena; Simone saw in detail the entourage of vehicles. Her breath quickened as her brown eyes studied her prey. The satellite showed her a stylish, stretched, heavily armored Lexus RS540 surrounded by four armed Hummers and an armored personnel vehicle. From the bird's eye view, she could see the gold wedding ring on the driver's left hand atop the stirring wheel of the Lexus. “Confirm primary targets,” she said.

The satellite penetrated the weighted limousine, showing X-ray silhouettes of the occupants in the back seats. Attila began confirmation by analyzing the visual data of the two bodyguards and the man and woman holding hands, by cross referencing it with the intelligence report stored in its memory bank.

“Confirmation of targets complete. Engage primary and secondary targets.”

“Initialize weapons check. Begin visual recording, and…”

“All weapons functional. Recording on 2017.06.06 at 18:43,” Attila said, manipulating the satellite, as Simone requested a profile study of the motorcade. “There are fifteen soldiers in the APV. Three soldiers per Hummer. The target and his wife and—”