I Am Automaton 2: Kafka Rising Page 6

  ***

  Biggs Army Airfield

  Fort Bliss

  13:59 HRS

  Captain Peter Birdsall and Lieutenant Nolan Kettle sat in the debriefing room awaiting Colonel Betancourt.

  “So you went through Basic with Carl?” Peter asked.

  Nolan nodded. “He’s a good man, your brother.”

  “How did he handle Victory Tower? I mean really handle it?”

  “He actually handled it so well that he was made platoon leader by Maddox.”

  “Really.” Peter was impressed. Victory Tower was the bane of every cadet’s existence. So was Drill Sergeant Maddox for that matter. “And you were there at Tora Bora.”

  “Yes, sir. Your brother was my commanding officer. Permission to speak freely, sir.”

  “Go ahead, Kettle.”

  “Your brother is a real badass. The way he went into those caves with the drones. He tore through there and out the other side. I heard it took two squads to bring him in at Landi Kotal.”

  Peter was smiling. Apparently, his nerdy little brother had blossomed into quite the warrior while he was being held captive by the Navajas in Xcaret. He wasn’t used to hearing about Carl in these terms.

  “It’s a shame he was demoted to Sergeant,” Kettle added. “He is a hero. A true patriot.”

  “All right already. Jesus, I can’t handle this anymore. My little brother is a badass. Just remember, now this badass answers to me. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  When Betancourt entered the room, the men stood and saluted.

  “Be seated,” Betancourt said.

  They both sat.

  “Gentleman, it has come down by executive order by the President that the Infantry Drone Program be relegated to defense only. The President himself thought that it might be a good idea to use the drones as boots on the ground along the Mexican border.”

  Betancourt gestured for them to open their holo-desk panels and, as they did, three-dimensional tactical plans flashed on the screens.

  “You will be split up into squads,” Betancourt said, “with a twenty-klick spread. Camouflaged in your homeostasis suits, the drones will zero in on any other movement in the area. They will swarm any targets, and you will hit the Amydala Inhibitor switches before they can do any damage. You will then proceed to apprehend said subjects.”

  He pressed a holo-button, and images of a large, car-sized apparatus flickered on the screen. “The function of the Sweepers will be different. They will no longer be running alongside structures to scan for the neutralization of targets. We are defense now. So they will be miles out, using radar mounted on vehicles to scan the area and help direct your efforts. Any questions?”

  “So the point is not to let the drones actually eat the subjects,” Peter reiterated.

  “Yes, that is correct, Captain. Lieutenant Farrow in engineering has some new toys for you guys that should assist in your efforts.”

  Betancourt stood up and Peter and Nolan followed him out of the debriefing room. When they reached the airfield, Lieutenant Farrow was waiting for them. He saluted Betancourt and Peter. Peter had recently been promoted to captain and still wasn’t quite accustomed to the rank.

  “Lieutenant Farrow, would you like to show these men the new equipment they’ll be using?”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Farrow. “Remember that signal that the drones responded to that we used to help get them back into the crates?”

  Peter and Nolan nodded.

  “Well, I designed a tag that can be fired out of a rifle. And this tag,” Farrow picked it up off a table and held it up so they could see it, “emits the very same frequency. All you have to do is shoot the tag at a target and the drones will follow it. This will provide some order to the assaults.”

  Betancourt cleared his throat. “Ah-hem, you mean defensive maneuvers, Lieutenant.”

  Farrow looked a little flustered. “Yes, of course, sir.” He picked up a rifle, a sniper rifle with a large scope for long distance shots. “This ammo clip contains tags. Allow me to demonstrate. Sergeant Torres, the pig.”

  “Oh boy, here we go with pigs again,” Peter cracked. “What does the army have against pork?”

  Torres opened the door to a small crate, and a pig came waddling out. He applied an electrical prod to its rear end and it took off like greased lightning.

  “Sergeant Torres, release the drones,” Farrow commanded. As Torres opened the door to a second crate, Farrow raised the rifle, took aim, and fired a tag into the pig, which had slowed down to a trot. The tag caused it to run a little faster and further away.

  Several drones came shuffling out of the crate, sniffing the air. Peter and Nolan, who were only about thirty feet away from the crate and the drones, staggered backwards.

  “Don’t worry,” Farrow reassured them, “the tag’s signal is so strong they won’t even notice you.”

  Sure enough, the drones got wind of the signal and started staggering towards the pig. Deciding that it put enough distance between itself and danger, the pig came to a halt a half a klick away. The undead drones were in their relentless pursuit, driven by the call of the tag.

  As the drones drew close, Nolan started to shift back and forth on his feet.

  “Something wrong, Lieutenant?”

  “I was wondering if Lieutenant Farrow was going to stop the drones, sir. I mean, we’ve got the point. The tag works.”

  Peter shared a furtive smile with Farrow, who gave no indication that he was going to halt the drones. Nolan started to squirm as the hungry undead began to close in on the unsuspecting pig.

  Peter nodded, and Farrow hit the AI kill switch just as they began to reach out for the pig. The pig sidestepped the now frozen throng of killers.

  Nolan let out a sigh of relief.

  “And you were in Afghanistan with my brother?” Peter teased. “You’re a little green for such a mission.”

  “Your brother handpicked me, sir.”

  “Oh, relax, Lieutenant, I was only joking. You stay in this outfit and you’ll see your share of action soon enough.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, if by action, you mean bagging illegals crossing the border, Captain Birdsall,” Betancourt warned.

  “Yes, sir. That’s exactly what I meant.”

  “I know Major Lewis was your commanding officer. He ran a sloppy outfit. A bunch of goddamned cowboys. I run a tight operation. Either you adhere to my parameters or you’re dog meat. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Peter replied, his back rigid at attention. “Zero distortion.”

  “You’ll begin training with your platoon this afternoon, Captain. I’ll expect a full report on my digi-desk this evening detailing your progress. We go operational on the border in 48 hours. Your men have had prior training with the infantry drones. You will only be drilling modifications for border control.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh, and one other thing…”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Members of the press will be at your training today.”

  Peter’s eyes bugged out of his head, “Sir?”

  “You guys are an international sensation. The President thinks the ID Program is good press. He wants to make the most of it politically, both within and outside our borders. And your brother has become something of a lightning rod. Everyone wants to see the Man from Tora Bora…the Automaton.” He sniffled derisively at that last nickname.

  Kettle didn’t quite know how to process this latter detail. Peter straightened up, “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

  “Oh, go ahead, Captain Birdsall,” he said impatiently.

  “Sir, do you think it’s a good idea for the press to broadcast the images and…activities of the infantry drones? And what about our identities?”

  “You will all be wearing masks,” Betancourt explained. “I’m not crazy about this myself, Captain. If it were up to me, your brother would be cooling his heels in Gitmo for eternity for the stunt he pul
led in Tora Bora. But it’s not up to me, Captain. This comes straight down from the President himself. Am I clear?”

  “Crystal, sir.”

  Betancourt saluted, and Peter, Nolan, and Farrow all saluted him back. Then Betancourt strode off.

  “What a hard-on,” Peter murmured. It reminded him of how he learned Barack Obama used Seal Team Six for good PR, turning them into celebrities. The only problem was that it compromised their tactics and eventually rendered them less effective. “Hey, Farrow, these tags look cool. Does this mean no more dogs?”

  “Oh, no sir. The army zoo is still open,” Farrow quipped. “You’ll need them to herd the drones along the border fence.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  Peter saluted Farrow, who saluted back.

  “Let’s go, Lieutenant,” Peter said to Nolan. The two men headed back to the barracks.

  “Sir, I don’t know if we are going to need the dogs with your brother,” Nolan ventured.

  “Ah, yes,” Peter said, “Carl’s new ability. I haven’t seen it in action yet.”

  “It’s really quite remarkable, sir…Is it true?”

  “Is what true, Kettle?”

  “Is it true that he has a…chip in his brain? An amygdala inhibitor like the drones?”

  Peter hesitated for a moment. “Yes, it’s true, but it’s not an inhibitor. It’s more of a self-destruct measure. And I’m supposed to have my finger poised over the button.”

  “What effect will the button have on him, sir?”

  “It’ll fry his brain I suppose.”

  “I-I don’t think it’ll be necessary, sir. Carl isn’t…dangerous.” Nolan practically choked on the last word as if it were painful for him even to utter.

  The truth was that Carl’s mystique amongst the men turned to something of suspicion and caution. Word had it that his ability was no longer limited to subliminal communication with the drones. Rumor had it he had become faster and stronger.

  Peter had heard the rumors as well. Not only had his brother seen his whole platoon die in front of him and evolved into a hardened warrior, but there were these strange abilities. He hadn’t seen them in action yet, and since his brother returned to Fort Bliss, he didn’t have any real indication of these abilities.

  Peter smiled pensively. “I suppose it would make good television, seeing my brother’s brains fried, but don’t worry, I think he’ll put on a better show alive.”

  Peter would see these abilities in action soon enough if they were indeed real. He had been instructed privately by Betancourt to utilize Carl’s abilities to communicate with the drones, but not to rely on him. Betancourt seemed to believe that Carl’s abilities were real, and he must be concerned because he told Peter not to hesitate if Carl became dangerous.

  There was that word again. Carl’s psychological profile indicated profound resilience in the face of adversity and loss. His mood and behavior appeared stable, although Peter sensed that he was a bit miffed about his demotion and Peter’s own subsequent promotion.

  With everything that Carl had been through, Peter had earned his rank of Captain. He had been taken captive twice by the Navajas cartel and survived to tell the tale without compromising the program or his men. He had seen a lot of action and completed many successful missions.

  Carl had persevered through a lot, but he was still green. Then there was that stunt in the cave. Peter could not fathom why Carl had made the broadcast. He chalked it up to inexperience and bravado, but something nagged at him. He had an uneasy feeling in his gut that he couldn’t articulate.

  Betancourt handed him what amounted to a kill switch for his brother. It was a hell of a thing, to be given that kind of responsibility, but Peter told himself that he would never let things come to that. He would look after his brother as always.

  He thought of Fiona. She was gone. No record of her having been in the program. He could’ve used her insights in session right about now. She was replaced by some quack, but this one was very formal. He had a normal office, no therapeutic ambiance program. No folksy demeanor, no creature comforts. Peter was introduced to him briefly and had forgotten his name a few minutes later.

  Whatever her new role was, Fiona delivered on her promise to bring Carl back. Peter wasn’t exactly sure how safe his brother was walking around with a kill chip in his brain. He wondered about this tumor Carl supposedly had. Normally, when people had brain tumors, it made them weak and eventually killed them.

  There were so many things that didn’t add up.

  When he reached the barracks, Peter found Carl lying on his bunk with his eyes closed. He looked like he could’ve been sleeping, but Peter knew better.

  “Carl, assemble the men. Lieutenant Farrow has some new toys for us.”

  Carl opened his eyes and sat up, fingering the large scar on his left temple. “Yes, oh fearless leader.”

  Kettle looked at Carl and then at Peter uneasily. Then he nodded to Peter and moved on to assemble his gear. Peter shook his head at Carl.

  “Carl, when I give you an order, you carry it out.”

  “I see that you’ve got my men running around for you now.”

  “Carl, they are not your men, and I am not your brother here. I am your commanding officer.”

  Carl stood up. “Permission to speak freely, sir.” He said that last word with more sarcasm than Peter was comfortable with.

  Their reunion had been touching but short-lived, and Carl was bitter about Xcaret and his demotion. Peter wanted Carl to fall into line. The sooner they re-established some kind of order, the better. He knew that if they didn’t have it out now, at this very moment, it would only cause more problems.

  “Go ahead, Sergeant.”

  “I think that it’s wrong, given everything I have been through, that I have been stripped of my Captain status…and that it be given to you.”

  “Carl, first of all, it was Colonel Betancourt’s call. Secondly, you are still green. You can’t just expect to be given Captain’s status so quickly. Besides, you used coercion on Major Lewis to obtain it.”

  “Pete, I saw everyone die in Xcaret. I thought you were dead. Where the hell were you when I was running for my life?” The other men started to hear Carl’s voice gradually elevating and were beginning to clear out. “Where were you when I had to kill those monsters all by myself? Where were you when Lorenzo and Lockwood were ready to feed me to the drones?”

  “I did my best to keep you safe. It wasn’t like I was on goddamned holiday, Carl. I was taken by the Navajas. They wanted to coerce me into teaching them how to use the drones. They showed me a video of you and some drone in a wedding dress…Jesus, Carl. You heard the story.”

  Carl shook his head. “Just because you’re my older brother, does not mean that you are best at everything, Pete. I lead those drones into Tora Bora in a way only I could. We cleared the mountains. Maximum penetration. It had never been done before. Because of me, the attacks on our soil have stopped.”

  Peter put up his hands in exasperation. “But that’s exactly it, Carl. It’s not about you. It’s what’s best for your country. You have to take ego out of it.”

  Carl stood up and faced away from Peter. “Oh, this is rich, considering you have an ego the size of Texas. You always say you’re looking out for me, but you want to control me. For shit’s sake, you have a kill switch to take me out if I get too uppity.”

  “Carl, that’s not what it’s for, and I never asked for it.”

  “No, you never asked for any of this, right? But I don’t see you complaining either.”

  Peter stepped closer to Carl and put his hand on his shoulder. “Think of the men. You aren’t ready to lead yet. You completed the mission in Afghanistan, but then you made that broadcast. Why, Carl? You had to have known you’d get into trouble. You were never authorized—”

  “Given the situation, I didn’t need Lewis’ authorization,” Carl said defiantly.

  “Do you think that this was all
between you and Lewis? There are other people in this great big army. You, I, we are all blunt instruments, and our job is to carry out our orders. I heard about your little arrangement with Lewis. You did the best given the situation. Lewis was rotten. Because of him, many good men were sacrificed to the Navajas.” He thought of his best friend Delroy Apone.

  Carl turned around to face Peter and chortled, “Arrangement you say. That man was dangerous, Pete. The only way I could keep him at bay was with my control of the drones. Hell, it was the only way I got Afghanistan green lighted…and in the end, it was the only way to get rid of Lewis.”

  “I know, Carl. That whole scenario was wrong. Now, Betancourt is trying to re-establish proper order. You served as leader when you were needed; now, it’s time to step down. It’s not about you or me or me being your big brother or my enormous ego. We have a job to do. I need your gift, Carl. Your country needs your gift.”

  “It doesn’t feel much like a gift. I have the army poking at me like some kind of lab experiment.”

  “It’s keeping you alive, isn’t it?” Peter pointed out.

  “And your kill switch?”

  Peter looked down at the floor. “I have no intention of using it. But you need to show Betancourt that you are stable, Carl. You have to keep your temper in check, follow orders.”

  “Why do I feel like the enemy, Pete?”

  “You’re not the enemy. The brass is just not sure what to make of you and your emerging abilities. No one does. But if you start losing your shit in front of the men and start making people nervous, it may be back to Gitmo for you…or worse.”

  “Why the hell would they give you the kill switch anyway?” Carl asked. “You’re my big brother. Doesn’t that serve as a conflict of interest or something?”

  Peter had already thought of this. “They want me committed to keeping you functional. They don’t want you dead, Carl.”

  “I think that the late Major Lewis would disagree with that statement.”

  “Major Lewis was a traitor, Carl. So were Lorenzo and Lockwood. The country is a hot mess. Morale is low, but I think Betancourt is a good man.”

  “I hope you’re right, Pete.”