Mechanical (12 page)

           
At least he has a family,
Tom thought.
At least he has someone to fight for. I have nobody
. Nevertheless, Tom was surprised to realize there was no ache in this thought. It was just … inventory.

            "So, Sir, did your pa send
you
to the army?"

            "Sergeant, my father was a hard-working man. He was never around, always coming home late at night and even working most weekends. Others got promotions around him, some even getting credit for his work. My sister and I almost never saw him. I remember two times going to the movies with him as a kid. Only twice! One was to see
Lethal Weapon
, and the other time, we saw
Jurassic Park
. I can even remember what we ate after the movie. I used to have fantasies about him coming to school and taking me away for a third movie, but he never had the time." Tom had never told this before to anyone, but now it didn't seem to hurt so much.

            "But I learned the value of freedom from him. He was always free—in his mind. He never let anything stop him from being free. He never let his troubles at work daunt him. He was always happy, always free. For the precious little time we did get to see him, he was always attentive, laughing and caring. He never let any care enter his mind. He and mom were caught in a bus in the Mississippi River Riots when the rioters threw petrol bombs at vehicles. They didn't get out in time."

            The sergeant said nothing.

            "I learnt the value of freedom from him. Even if you've become a slave for some company or other, keep your mind free."

            The two Serpents ran across the rugged terrain, their rhythmic footsteps thumping along on the dry earth. Naturally, the Serpents were fast, but Tom did not make a real effort to go faster though he knew their time was running out. Somehow, without quite knowing why, it didn’t seem so urgent.       

            "Sergeant, do you know what's different about our country?"

            "No, Sir."

            "It’s the people, Sergeant. We are all immigrants, all of us. This is a country of immigrants. Everybody came from another country, or his parents did or his grandparents, whatever. So what unites all the American citizens? Freedom! People came here to be free, to make a living the way they wanted to without governments and tyrants controlling and killing them. Before the Twelve Cities War, the United States even fought to bring freedom to other countries. Freedom is worth fighting for, Sergeant. Perhaps it is the only thing worth fighting for. That's the reason I enlisted. My father worked so hard to give my sister and me proper education so we would have a chance to be free. I owe this to him."

It's true I enlisted for a job that was supposed to be far away from the battlefield frontline, but things changed!
Tom shook his head, trying to drive away the memory of being down in the dirt while 20-millimeter cannon shells exploded all around him.

"I enlisted seven years ago, Sergeant. Even before this war started. I'd seen pictures from around the world, people killed because of their beliefs or just because a dictator wanted to. I've seen images and other intelligence data since the Twelve Cities War started. I am more convinced than ever that freedom is important, Sergeant. If we won't fight for it, who will?"

At least the sergeant has a family,
Tom thought
. He only had his sister now, and he didn't even know if she was alive.
Tom shook his head again.

            Whatever Sergeant Jebadiah was about to say was drowned out by the noise of a powerful, bright explosion dead ahead. Tom's sensors quickly scanned the area. A bright exhaust trail ended in a luminescent fireball that was expanding and growing like an obscene flower in the darkness of the night, lighting up the terrain in flickering, glowing colors that chased one another before the fire died out, leaving behind a deep crater glowing with heat.

            Lieutenant Ramirez was holding a long rectangular bin on his shoulder, the same way a human soldier would hold a hand held anti-tank missile. Lieutenant Ramirez turned towards Tom and Sergeant Jebadiah, and Tom could have sworn he could perceive a huge grin somehow plastered across Ramirez's otherwise immobile black, blank face.

            "Lieutenant Riley, Sergeant Jebadiah! Please take out your Serpent's individual heavy weapon bin from the ammo trucks," Captain Emerson said.

            Tom and the sergeant went to the truck, and each took a bin identical to the one Ramirez was holding. The bin was about seven feet long and four or five feet wide. It held four sealed missile canisters along with a complicated sight and firing mechanism.
The captain could have asked how we are doing,
thought Tom sourly while he easily lifted the five-hundred-pound missile bin onto his shoulder.
After all, we just got our butts kicked.

            "This is a Hellfire missile system, modified from the system used on our Apache attack helicopters. Each of us will carry one missile bin on the mission, which will serve as heavy weapons. We will each have three Hellfire missiles with anti-tank warheads and one special, mission warhead that is to be used only against our main objective."

            Captain Emerson pulled up one of the missile bins himself. "Pull out the sight display and switch the system on. Keep in mind that the infrared sighting system requires about thirty seconds to cool down to operational temperature. Now, select target, close the target gates around the target, and activate the laser in range-finder mode to receive target distance information. Encode the laser with the missile code to make sure the missile follows only your lasing command, and lase the target, making sure you are getting a good solid return."

            Tom followed the captain's instructions, checking the sight's transparent display in front of his Serpent's face. The sight's symbols and information were perfectly visible on the display, as were the missile's status. Tom focused on one of the targets the captain had assigned him. It was about two and a half miles away, according to the laser range finder.

            "Select one of your anti-tank missiles and activate it. Make sure its status is green, and then point its tracking sensor at your designated target. Make sure you get a missile-tracking confirmation, meaning that the missile is correctly identifying and tracking your laser spot on the target. Track the target and wait for my command. I'll authorize each launch."

            Tom held the missile bin, and the sight-tracking gates locked on his target. His missile was now locked on the lasing beam that his sight was painting on the target. Because, each of the missiles had a different code—a code the lasing system was transmitting—each missile tracked only that specific laser spot.

            "Sir, aren't we able to paint lasing targets for one another?" Tom asked.

            "Make sure the area is clear for thirty feet behind and forty feet in front. The Hellfire missile needs some space for a clean exit as it was designed for helicopter launch. Sergeant Jebadiah, fire!"

            The launch boom roared uncomfortably close to Tom, and a blinding flame arrowed into the night. The missile cleared the sergeant's missile bin and immediately banked, flying up at a steep angle. After a few seconds, it changed its course and started diving down, its exhaust flame burning powerfully behind it.

            Tom had a scant second to glimpse its target before the missile hit, vaporizing it in a bright orange fireball that lit the training grounds for a few seconds like a false dawn. The Hellfire missiles were supersonic, only needing a few seconds to fly out to their maximum effective range.

            "Lieutenant Riley, prepare to fire."

            The captain's even voice surprised Tom. The captain's Serpent stood behind Tom, peeping into Tom's missile sight, making sure Tom's target, aim and operating procedures were all correct. Then the captain moved away, clearing the area behind the missile bin.

            "Lieutenant Riley! Fire!"

            Tom's long Serpent finger gently depressed the firing trigger, and the Hellfire missile roared away into the cowering night. Tom held the missile bin tightly, expecting a powerful blow from the missile's launch, but there was only a slight short thrust that Tom was able to easily counteract.

            Tom wanted to follow the missile with the Serpent's sensors, but he kept his focus on his target, a large plastic tank down on the training range. The smoke from the Hellfire's exhaust momentarily blinded Tom, but it cleared a moment later, allowing him to continue lasing the target. It took less time than Tom expected for the brilliant spot to suddenly descend on his target and obliterate it in an angry fireball that roared a furious challenge against the night and anything it might hold.

            Tom lowered his missile bin and used his own sensors to focus on the fiery mayhem he had created. Nothing could have survived that inferno.

            "As you all know, the Hellfire is a supersonic anti-tank missile. It is fully capable of taking out every known vehicle on the battlefield, including every kind of main battle tank. I remind you that each of you will be carrying three missiles, so we will use them sparingly, only if we must."

            "What's the fourth missile?" Tom asked.

            "The fourth Hellfire missile carries a thermobaric warhead."

            This statement was met with complete silence. Arguably the most powerful conventional warhead in existence, thermobaric weapons created around them a powerful shockwave able to destroy anything within hundreds of feet around the detonation point.

            "The thermobaric weapon is to be used only against the enemy itself, not against its soldiers or vehicles. I, and I alone, will authorize its use. You will not use this weapon without my explicit order."

            "A thermobaric warhead in New York City," Ramirez whispered, and Tom shivered at the eagerness in that whisper.

            "Only on my command, Lieutenant Ramirez."

            "Yes, Sir," Ramirez said.
He's sneering inside,
Tom could not help thinking.

            "We'll now start the New York-mission briefing. Place the weapons back in the ammo truck and return to base."

            Just the faintest glimmerings of dawn started glowing in the east, visible only to the Serpent's enhanced vision sensors.

            "Sir, we're going out on the mission tomorrow?"

            "After the third and final combat exercise," the captain said.

            A launch exploded right next to them and Tom whipped around to see Ramirez's missile bin glowing with hot exhaust gasses. Tom tracked the Hellfire as it streaked across some five hundred yards of rugged terrain before it swooped down on the prone Bradley vehicle from their previous exercise.

            The armored vehicle literally disintegrated, red hot metal debris creating a shower of tiny, twisted vehicle fragments that smoked where they fell.

            Ramirez then went and put his weapon back into the truck before he started running towards the hangar.

Day Three, Fort Belvoir, Virginia

"Intelligence information about the New York enemy is sketchy at best. We are using mainly reconnaissance satellites and high-altitude unmanned drones, but we still lack good solid information."

            "And yet you're still sending us in, Sir," whispered Ramirez. The general met the Serpent's black gaze squarely, his back straight and his fierce eyes unblinking.

           
The Serpent can tear that little man in two in less time than it takes to think about it,
thought Tom. Then Tom could not help thinking that the general should have piloted a Serpent.
He no doubt knows the Serpent's capabilities best, has all the intelligence about the enemy, and undoubtedly is the toughest man here. Probably in the entire base.

            "Lieutenant Ramirez, I already told you we have little choice in the matter. The enemy's zone of control is about to expand again in five and a half days. This is the only chance we have to stop him before that happens. Besides, Lieutenant, we still know enough about the enemy to point you in the right direction. I have full trust in your abilities to find the enemy and destroy it," the general smiled tightly.

            Something in the symphony of sounds coming from the many engines and electric motors of Ramirez's Serpent created an angry mechanical tune, though the Serpent barely moved. However, some of the many spikes and antennas on the Serpent's back and body writhed slowly.

           
He's furious,
thought Tom.
Why did they select him for the mission, anyway?
Tom's sensors glanced once at Ramirez's Serpent, still unblemished after the two rough exercises they had had the previous two nights.
Well, he is good,
Tom had to concede.

            "As far as we can estimate, there are from four to five million people in New York City under the rule of the enemy. The zone the enemy rules extends from the Hudson River to Queens, including Brooklyn and the Bronx: about two hundred square miles. In addition to that, the enemy captured two divisions during the attempts to liberate the city, along with one National Guard division. They have at least one hundred M1A2 tanks and two or three hundred M2 Bradley armored personnel carriers. There are about fifty thousand soldiers trapped by the enemy inside the enemy's zone of control, and soldier-launched anti-tank missiles that could endanger your Serpents. We lost at least four predators above New York before we realized the soldiers controlled by the enemy were firing their Stinger anti-aircraft missiles at them."

            The general glared at the Serpents and made sure he had their full attention.

            "You know this from your service in the quarantine zones around the cities, but let me make this as clear as possible. These soldiers are completely under the enemy's control, and they
will
fire at you. Have no doubt about this."

            The general put his hands inside the pockets of his fatigues.

            "Remember, these are not the only ones that might resist your presence inside the city. NYPD has about thirty-five thousand armed police officers and they do have several SWAT teams with heavy weapons. Remember, the enemy has had the city for more than three years. The civilians there may also take up firearms against you. You must treat everyone inside the enemy's control zone as a confirmed hostile."

            The general's face was a rigid mask, as if he were also piloting a Serpent.

            "I know you've been fighting in the quarantine zone for years, but I want to make this clear. Everyone you encounter may be a hostile. There is no such thing as innocent bystanders on this mission. Collateral and civilian damage cannot be avoided. Is this clear?"

            The general paused for a brief moment.

            "However, the mission profile selected, in addition to the stealth capabilities of the Serpent, should minimize civilian deaths as much as possible. Now, let's review what we know of the enemy. We've seen about three or four raids outside the city every month since the enemy has taken the city. Those raids are mostly missions to acquire tools, food and other necessities the enemy decided the people held inside the city needed. After establishing the quarantine zones, the raids got larger and used firearms to break through the line around the cities. In all cases, although raiders have been killed, no raider has been captured, and no raider has defected from the enemy's service. This indicates that the enemy's control is absolute and that it extends beyond the enemy-controlled zone."

            The general brought up a large-scale aerial map of New York.

            "At first, the raiders used the Lincoln Tunnel and the George Washington Bridge to go out on raiding missions. When we strengthened the lines there, the enemy become more imaginative. On two occasions, the raids were conducted on boats on the East River. Then, the enemy started sending the raiders either at night or north through Yonkers. Even now, occasionally a raid goes through. One time, the enemy used fifteen tanks to blast through our troops to allow the raiders to leave the city and return. There's no doubt that every kind of military hardware inside New York City is fully operational."

            The general brought up another aerial shot of the city, this time a thermal imaging picture. He zoomed in on several major roads inside the city.

            "There's traffic inside the city, but it's very different to what moved there before the enemy occupation. First, the enemy has cleared the roads from whatever road accidents and damage its coming had created. Now, there are almost no private cars on the roads, only trucks and commercial vehicles. They are moving cargo across the city, but we don't know exactly what and why. As far as we can tell with our best satellite and drone images, the number of people on the streets has decreased significantly. We have no idea what the people under enemy control are doing, but we are seeing a lot less of them on the streets."

            A thought entered Tom's mind and refused to leave. A little hesitatingly, he activated his speakers.

            "General, did the enemy kill people in the cities?"

            The general turned to look at Tom's Serpent. His expression was not one of sympathy, Tom thought. The general seemed to be judging, calculating.

            "Lieutenant, we have no evidence of people being killed by the enemy except on the raids that the enemy put out from every one of the cities in its control. As far as we know, all the people are still there, living under the enemy's rule."

           
Should I feel happy? Should I feel relieved? I barely feel relieved,
Tom thought.
Is it because I'm afraid to hope my sister is still alive?
But he barely felt anything for her at all. Tom thought back, remembering one time they had gone to a mall with their mom, about fifteen years ago. His sister was three years old or so and they had somehow lost her favorite stuffed toy, a dog with big fluffy ears.

            She’d had many toys, but that dog was her favorite. She went to sleep with it and held it closely whenever she felt sad or alone. Whenever she met other children, she would show them that dog, as if sharing with them her greatest treasure. You knew she really liked you if she gave you her dog for a short time.

The memory of his sister when they tried to tell her that her dog was lost for good always made him feel so sad inside. She didn't want much out of life. She had no real use for the many toys she had. She just wanted her old stuffed dog with the fluffy ears, and they lost it. It had hurt him, the way she looked at their mom when she told her the dog was lost.

            Tom looked back on that memory now, seeing it clearly. He knew he had always felt so bad for her, but now, he believed that the experience had taught her the meaning of possessions and letting go, and that it had been a valuable lesson. He had never thought so in the past. He had never been able to think beyond his own ache.

            "We also tried monitoring the enemy's communications, but there were really none. The cellular phones in the city were all dead within a few days; coincidently, the Nokia phones held out the longest. All the cellular antennas in the city stopped transmitting within four to five weeks. After the enemy's conquest of the city, no one seemed to use a cellular phone, a land line phone, the internet, nor any other kind of communication we could monitor."

            The general sighed.

            "There were calls, but they were always incoming calls from outside the city, and all the callers ended up recording messages that were never heard. No one in the city has picked up a phone in more than three years. The enemy is no doubt controlling the people inside the city, but he's using neither land line phones, radio, nor cellular phones. We left the phone exchanges working even if we could have stopped them or just bombed them, because we wanted to eavesdrop on conversations, hoping to learn anything about the enemy and its plans. However, like I said, as far as we know, no one in the city picked up a phone or used the internet, or even used a simple walkie-talkie, in three years."

            "What about water supply? Electricity? Sewage?"

            "The army made sure all those continued working perfectly."

            "What? Why?"

            "Think, Lieutenant Riley. The enemy has millions of people held captive inside a major urban area in a small geographical zone. What would happen without water supply, working sewage and electricity?"

            Tom said nothing.

            "Disease, Lieutenant Riley. We need to keep the citizens as well as possible till we manage to defeat the enemy. We cannot let our citizens die."

            "What about food?"

            "The enemy takes care of that. Raids across the quarantine zone provide for some of the food, and we have some indications some of the buildings inside the city have been converted for growing food—some sort of urban farms. We don't know how well they supply themselves, but we have not seen any indications of mass death inside the city."

            "Tell us where the enemy is," Ramirez whispered, making everyone including Captain Emerson look at him.

            "I told you, Lieutenant, we don't really know."

            "So, you're sending us to search through the entire city of New York?" Ramirez's tone was steady and level, but the claws on his feet contracted, gauging deep grooves in the concrete floor.

            "Not really, lieutenant. We have been conducting a close survey of the city, and we managed to detect what we think the enemy is doing. It's gathering a large percentage of the population in the Financial District. We see people moving in, and we don't see people moving out. We see trucks with cargo and food going in, and we see empty trucks moving out. It's there, somewhere, hiding behind the people it brought in to protect itself."

            "So bomb the place," Ramirez said, unsurprisingly.

            "We cannot, Lieutenant. The President won't give the command. We estimate that a million to two million people are now crammed in there, in the skyscrapers. We can blow the whole place back to the Stone Age but the casualties will be horrendous. No political leader will take that risk. So this is where you come in," the general said and took a laser pointer.

            "Probably parachute into Central Park," Ramirez sneered, not too quietly.

            "We're going to drop you right into Central Park, near the lake. Or right into the lake, if we manage it. This will be a high altitude drop from a C-130 cargo plane using our standard cargo parachute system."

            "Sir, I've never jumped out of an airplane before."

            "Lieutenant, the cargo parachute system you'll use is completely computerized and automated. It's used to drop cargo crates and light armored combat vehicles. You just have to put it on and step out of the plane. Is this clear?"

            "Yes, Sir," Tom's voice was low and weak.

            "After the drop, we regroup, assess our situation and move out under cover of night," Captain Emerson said calmly.

            "Every one of our recon images shows us that Central Park is barely used now, just greenery going wild."

            "They will be expecting us," Ramirez said.

            "You've seen what the Serpents can do. Even if they expect us, the chances of our being detected are negligible. Even if we're detected, we evade the enemy and continue our mission," the captain said.

I'm not so calm even when I talk about my grocery list. How can he be so calm about dropping into an enemy-held city?
Tom thought, more than a little bit jealous.

            "From there, you'll move through the Upper East Side or even Midtown Center, according to circumstances in the field. Your objective is the FDR. You'll use the FDR Drive to circle around the most inhabited areas, moving at night as fast as possible—or slowly—as circumstances dictate."

            "Why the FDR Drive, General?" Tom asked.

            "Lieutenant Riley, the FDR Drive is barely used by the enemy. It will allow you to move right into the area of the Financial District with minimum chance of detection. In case of detection, you will be able to enter the city and seek shelter there or even enter the waters of the bay. Remember, your Serpents can function underwater, but they were not designed for swimming. Use this as a last resort."