Next History: The Girl Who Hacked Tomorrow (52 page)

Numbly, Exley follows duLac through the corridors, past two checkpoints of armored guards, through
the blast-proof doors into Reaper Six’s air-sealed command module. For thirty minutes they are busy verifying instrumentation and control. Relayed via geosynchronous satellite, commands from the control bunker reach the aircraft in under half a second. Twenty-two hundred miles distant, on the Andrews AFB tarmac in Maryland, the pilotless drone responds flawlessly to every control input.

The attending IT
officer and commlink crew give Exley and duLac a silent thumbs-up and exit the command booth. Although the blast door seals tight, privacy is an illusion. Both know that their every word, facial expression and control input are monitored by hidden eyes and recorded indelibly within the system.

T
he launch order comes. Exley guides the distant RPV onto the active runway, in his headset the calm voice of ground control at Andrews. The roll is longer than usual, requiring an extra quarter-mile for the 950-hp pusher engine to accelerate the loaded craft to takeoff speed. Soon their screens show Reaper Six airborne, Exley follows the broad Potomac northward in waning daylight, gaining altitude, circling higher into the loiter orbit specified in the briefing.

And then they see it. Where during the last week images
and rumors of a man, two women and a twenty-foot lizard came to be, now an enormous winged thing stands skyscraper-high, clawed feet rooted in the Pentagon courtyard. Exley’s mind wants to interpret the figure at human size, shrinking the building to a scale model. When he senses the Pentagon and its environment at actual size, his head spins. The grotesque form projects an eighth of a mile above rooftops.

When 6 PM EST arrives it is 3 PM at Creech.
Chatter on the commlink breaks off. A disturbance somewhere at the heavily-guarded base. A new voice comes on the link, female now, sounding just as clipped, just as professional as the male voice unaccountably silent. The mission continues without incident, on station, all systems nominal, waiting for the command. Cautiously, Exley and duLac, with eyes and gestures, the occasional turn of the head, begin their private conversation.

our monitor is new

she is

your wife, your boys?

with her folks – I told them to sleep

does she believe it?

partly – told her the smartest is to sleep

does she know what we’re doing?

just routine patrol

good

how are you?

as expected – you?

same – happy to be together for this

yes

yes

what about the sleep?

they said involuntary – I don’t feel sleepy

same
– it’s 6:20 out east

maybe we
will sleep when this is over

they say the roads will be dangerous

stay on the base?

not if we’re off duty

The look that flashes between them has a single meaning. After they release the bomb, they’ll bring their drone home, presuming it survives the blast. Until tomorrow afternoon they’ll be at their leisure. So much to explore. A momentary upward flicker of Veronica’s smooth lips.

Two hours go by. Routine calls from mission command
now infrequent. Chatter on the commlink dies away. A lengthy silence. Exley and duLac exchange glances. Veronica keys her mic.

“Reaper Six, Reaper
Command?”

Silence on the commlink.

“Reaper Six, Reaper Command, respond.”

Nothing
. Veronica gives William a searching look.

“This is o
ff-nominal,” Exley says under his breath, reaching for the radio selector. On his screens night has fallen, Reaper Six flies in darkness. Far below the orbiting drone, powerful searchlights illuminate the massive winged thing that stands in the Pentagon courtyard. On duLac’s targeting cluster, the overlay of Shackleford’s force field gradient holds precise synchrony with the live view in radar and optical frequencies. They can see their target.

Exley calls out
repeatedly. Nowhere in the chain of Reaper command do they find a responding voice. Breaking routine, Exley pulls out his cell phone and turns it on. Just what he expected inside the shielded bunker: no bars.

He looks directly at duLac.
“This could be serious.” Seeing her face, his pulse rises.

Faint hint of a smile crosses her lips, a smile for him
alone. “We have Nine. They lifted off behind us.” In their radar view floats a blip that squawks Reaper Nine’s transponder code, pacing their orbit opposite the target. Intercom calls to Reaper Nine’s command module, one hundred feet from where they sit, produce no response.

“Protocol
allows physical inspection of the premises.”

“I’ll go.”

“No it should be me,” Veronica tells him. “You’re best to fly the mission if I don’t come back.”

Exley says nothing, sees that Veronica is right. Watches her graceful body rise up as she disconnects herself from the command chair. Happy to feel his eyes on her, she looks him full in the face. Pausing beside his command chair, she gives his hand a squeeze
, forbidden. Dangerous.

“Back soon,”
says Veronica duLac. As she prepares to exit the module, she draws the 45-calibre service revolver at her waist.

Exley continues
his radio calls, across all bands. Occasionally hears faint scattered voices, one pleading, no idea who or where. After forty minutes alone in the command module Exley is wound so tight that the hiss of the compartment’s air seal causes him to jump. His head is turned full around, hand to his sidearm. Relief floods him.

“Ronnie!”

She stops, eyes wide. She’d dreamed one day he would use that nickname, sometime, when they felt themselves alone. She seals and secures the door.

“You were gone so long. What did they say?”

Quickly she assumes her command chair, with headset eyes and hands reconnects with the obedient drone.

“They didn’t say anything.”
Turns her head to look at him. In the light of screens her face as lovely as he’s ever imagined. “They are all asleep.”

Veronica takes her time explaining. Outside the command module
blast door she’d found four armed soldiers on the floor in peaceful slumber. She tried to check for pulse but there was a resistance, a resilient force that repelled her touch. The others were the same. In the crew quarters she’d found both of their relief teams dead asleep, untouchable.

Outside the RPV command center
was a staff car with three men in it, all sleeping. Something not visible prevented her from touching the vehicle. She could not get their attention. She found an unoccupied car and drove slowly a few kilometers through the base. She’d encountered no one. Veronica had walked into the base PX. All lights on, refrigerator cabinets humming, five people scattered asleep on the floor.

Their large command chairs
swivel now to face one another. There is no pretense of piloting the Reaper, the autopilot has full control. They sit completely relaxed, hold one another’s gaze. Shocked at this brazen act in the middle of their most critical mission, they watch one another openly. So forbidden, this thing most wanted. Exley smiles. Veronica, forgetting caution, lets go. Her face brims with radiance.

An automated notice flashes on their monitors
, the blare of a horn.

PREPARE TARGETING SEQUENCE

Their heads jerk around, chairs forward. Exley speaks into his headset. “Ah, Reaper Command, Reaper Six requesting lock code for target initiation.”

The commlink is silent. The launch sequence for heavy weapons is a combination of automated an
d manual processes. For the B63G nuclear device, a senior tactical commander must provide both voice and coded system keys. Exley repeats his call, there is no reply. He swings his chair to face Veronica.

She gazes at him thoughtfully,
finger strokes lightly her moist lips. From long habit they do not speak their deepest wish, continue to exchange coded signals, hand signs, mesmerized with the joy of being alone together.

The screens flash another
strident command.

INITIATE ARMING SEQUENCE

They exchange a look of shock. The sequence is telling them to proceed although the codes and voice commands have not been issued. Impossible. To the screens comes a command they have never seen, never trained for.

ROGUE OVERRIDE ARMING SEQUENCE
INITIATED

unreal

yes – a new software patch?

are we asleep?
in a dream?

we can’t do this

I can’t

can’t
let it happen – this is not debugged

They watch one another
, tracking every thought. Stern commands flash across their screens and are ignored. At a mutual signal Exley and duLac turn to their consoles, hands fly over the controls. The weapon is returned to operational unarmed status, the guidance system set to maintain orbit.

They
throw down their headsets and stand. They will leave this hellish nightmare behind. As in dream, they step together in the cramped space where lights flash screens flicker. On the main display, from the nose camera of Reaper Six, the overhead view of a scaly-skinned winged reptilian with taloned fingers, standing motionless, first hint of dawn behind it. Around the enormous figure in darkened countryside, fires burn. Entire swaths of populated areas lie in darkness.

In their fierce embrace,
soft words.

“We’ll be arrested.”

“Court martialed.”

“This is being recorded. We’ll be shot.”

“I have so longed for you.”

“And I for you.”

“What we’ve missed.”

“I can tell you of a thousand
wonderful days and nights we’ve spent together.”

“And I will hear.”

“Come.”

Exley leads Veronica by the hand through the security door.
They step over sleeping guards, make their way outside to the idling vehicle. At the main entrance, the gate is broken, twisted outwards. They drive past the lighted guard shack, seeing no one. Stopped at the main road, they look at one another.

“W
here?”

“The desert. That time we ran together.” The look they share in the darkness of that car
carries private knowing, sees the path they now embark on, sees that to turn back even now they will find prison, infamy, a lifetime of derision. Because they could not drop their bomb.

Exley turns left. As they drive, the road ahead takes on soft light, a lambent path between trees and bushes along the roadside, tropical ferns and
colorful gardens. They turn onto a dirt track that winds upward through night-scented hills. They leave the car and proceed on foot. Stars bright and crisp in pure black sky they move into a run, together in free air. The night is warm. Their clothing, their gear and guns, piece by piece fall behind.

After fifteen minutes with no control input, Reaper Six initia
tes an automated return to base. It banks for home, high above the Pentagon, where below the towering figure stands in silent meditation. Seven minutes later, Reaper Six touches down on the runways of Andrews AFB, taxis itself to the apron in front of a particular hangar, and shuts itself off. Reaper Nine is there, its engine cold. Bombs beneath the aircraft hang inert.

Exley glances over as Veronica shrugs out of her uniform shirt.
They run onward. The air is tropical, pungent with floral scents. Both perspire. Exley throws aside his shirt, stops to unlace his boots, removes his uniform slacks. Beside him, Veronica duLac does the same. Night air flowing over bare flesh, they run laughing for the hilltop.

Here, small flowering bushes grow. Far beneath, as it has for thousands of years, an underground pool of clea
r desert water waits in stillness. Arms enfolding one another, William and Veronica stand breathless. Far away the horizon glows red, above them in black sky the quiet of the universe sends back fierce love. A flame rises in them. He reaches below her knee, her hips lift into contact, both tremble. Arms behind his neck, her body slides upward, supported in his strong arms. Free of the ground, her sinuous dance of love begins. They join, in her angelic face he sees the silent wish, to cling herself to him for an eternity. He’ll do everything he can to grant it.

As a radiant dawn breaks over the smoky quiet of Arlington, Virginia. Lian’s eyes open. A tiny woodland fairy floats before him. Her hair is white, flowered garlands encircle feminine hips. Diaphanous wings stretch out, needing not to move as she floats before his huge toothed snout. His exhaled breath flutters her hair. Her coloring is the shimmer of sunlight on clear water. His Lylit.

It is done.

You did well.

I have so missed you. Please tell me we leave here soon.