The Red Phoenix 12: Strength Comes in Numbers (21 page)

“Back in college, we called that
letting off steam
,” Chris responded, moving to a stereo with a CD player and speakers, turning it on.

“Which kind of music do you like, Chris?” asked Seven, taking another bite of pancake.

“I actually enjoy playing ballads on my piano at home,” Chris answered. “However, when I want to turn things up a bit, I may put on some of this,” he added, selecting a CD track.

The song
Animal
by
Def Leppard
blasted on. Chris strummed his air guitar, putting on a show for the clones, mouthing the words,

A wild ride, over stony ground.

Such a lust for life,

The circus comes to town.

The clones sat back, watching his every move, enthralled by his behavior. Chris continued pretending to be a rock star with the music, showing off with his air concert singing,

I got the feeling in my blood, whoa-oh!

Two stood, watching him with a pleasant smile. Chris turned the music down, noticing all the clones were still staring at him, forming smiles.

“Well, what did you all think?” asked Chris.

The clones gave him a standing ovation.

“Why, thank you,” said Chris, bowing, playing along, and chuckling.

***

Later in the night, Chris sat at his desk, typing on his laptop, wearing his glasses. Two came to the corner of the office area, leaning against the wall, watching him. Chris noticed someone was nearby from the glimpse of his eye and turned, seeing Two standing there, staring at him.

“Two?” asked Chris. “You’re not asleep. Is everything okay?”

“I had a question of my own,” said Two, moving closer.

Chris removed his glasses as it approached.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I was doing some of my own studying on the Internet and I discovered a word called
touch
,” Two stated. “What is that exactly?” it asked. “I understand that one can be touched mentally, emotionally, or physically.”

“Hold up your palm,” said Chris in a soft voice, holding his palm in front of Two.

Two glanced at him then held up its palm. Chris placed his palm over Two’s.

“Do you feel that?” asked Chris.

“Yes,” Two answered.

“This is physical touch,” he responded.

“At what point does it become emotional touch?” Two asked in a quiet tone.

“When I do this,” Chris replied, interlocking his fingers with Two’s, staring into its eyes. “
And then I say, Two, you are my friend. I like you and I care about you
.”

“Why is that emotional?” Two asked.

“Because I’m conveying a warm feeling, a friendship,” he answered.

“And mental touch?” Two asked.

“
If I say, Two, you are a fantastic intelligence and are an example to the others
,” Chris answered.

“Why is that a mental touch?” asked Two.

“Because I caused your ego and self-esteem to rise,” Chris answered.

“Ego?” asked Two.

“It’s what gives one a sense of self-esteem or self-importance,” Chris responded. “It’s a psychological term.”

“You seem to know much about psychology,” Two stated.

“I got my degree at the University of Utah back in ninety-eight,” Chris responded. “It means I specialized in it.”

“Impressive,” Two stated, smiling.

***

On the drill course, Chris stood holding a bull horn, watching the two teams of A.I.s shoot at each other with paint guns from behind covered locations at the fake course he built. Number One’s team, Team A, used tactical procedures by shooting at the other team as the other members of the team worked their way toward Team B, drawing closer to them, until they were close enough to overpower them. Team A won as usual. Chris couldn’t help but feel an attachment to Number One, the consistent winner who possessed leadership qualities. He enjoyed watching Number One raising his weapon to the members of his team for their triumph over Team B.
If only I could have seen Kirk in his glory, having victories before the war took him
, he thought.

“Okay guys, that’s a wrap!” Chris said into the bull horn, adjusting his sunglasses. “Good job, Team A. Let’s get you guys back to the facility.”

He looked around for his clipboard, wondering where he set it down. The A.I.s grouped up near him for their usual pep talk like Chris was a football coach.

“Lose something, Chris?” asked One.

“I can’t find my damn clipboard,” Chris answered.

Two came up behind him, caressing his forearm with a soft touch, handing him the clipboard. Two’s touch struck Chris again with those tortuous feelings.

“Here you are, sir,” Two stated in a kind voice.

“Thank you,” Chris answered, noticing the A.I. giving him the eye as One led the other A.I.s towards the van.

Chris and Two stared at each other for a short time, maintaining alluring grins. Despite the A.I.’s features, it reminded him more of Kerry as time went on, especially its posture and when it smiled. Two turned its face from him and jogged towards the van with the others.

Get a hold of yourself, Chris. Two is an A.I. It’s not even a real person. Why does Two flirt with me like that?
he thought, rubbing his forehead, walking back to the van.

***

A couple of days later, Chris drove the van to a helicopter pad where an armed Blackhawk was parked.

“Well, there it is,” said Chris.

“Are you really going to teach us how to fly that?” asked One.

“It’s what they want,” Chris replied. “Bear in mind I haven’t been in one for a while. Not since Iraq and Pakistan anyway.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a lot of experience, Chris,” said Ten.

“When I was in Iraq, there was a team of Al-Qaeda insurgents hiding out in a multiple vacant building compound with mini-guns and rocket launchers. A platoon of fifty US troops was being chased through a field, heading toward the compound with no exit,” Chris explained.

“What happened to the troops?” asked Four.

“As I piloted around the compound’s buildings, my gunman took out maybe twenty-five or thirty targets on street level as well as through building windows of the compound,” Chris answered. “I doubled back and I wiped out the entire army of insurgents that chased our troops from behind.”

“How did you do that? The gunman?” asked Nine.

“I fired all sixteen of my Hellfire anti-armor missiles,” Chris answered. “There were maybe a hundred insurgents coming in vehicles and on foot, all blown to hell.”

“It sounds like you were a hero,” said Two.

“They gave me a Medal of Honor,” Chris replied. “That is, after the last insurgent fired a rocket and made us crash.”

“At least you survived,” Six stated.

“I did but my co-pilot and gunman died on impact,” Chris responded. “C’mon everybody, let’s get you trained on this thing.”

***

A week later, after the clones had been training daily on the helicopter, increasing their skills, Chris sat in the co-pilot seat as One flew over a vast desert region near the Border in an armed helicopter. The rest of the clones sat in the cabin, enjoying the ride, watching the ground below and the scenery in the distance.

“How does it feel?” asked Chris, speaking into his headset.

“Fine,” One replied, adjusting his headset mic.

“Just keep it steady,” said Chris.

“Will do,” One answered.

“Does it feel like you have control?” asked Chris.

“Yes,” Kirk answered.

“Good because we’re coming up to our first set of targets,” said Chris. “We’re going to use the bird’s gun turrets that are mounted below the cockpit. The fire button is there on your controls, you ready?”

“Absolutely,” One answered.

The helicopter flew over a wide open area where twenty-foot, ten-foot and five-foot targets made from plywood boards stood lined up, seventy-feet apart from each other.  The helicopter rained machine gun fire on the targets below, ripping holes through them, breaking up the plywood, casting shards of woodchips to the ground.

“Good job!” said Chris. “Now, pick up the speed and take us around those rocky hills and stay just above the summit. I want you guys to have a good feel for moving around large objects.”

“I copy,” One responded.

The helicopter flew over rough desert terrain, maneuvering around hills forty-seven feet above the surface.

“Okay, you’re looking good, looking good,” said Chris.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, see that boulder sticking off the peak of the hill?” asked Chris.

“Yes,” One answered.

“Fly toward it and launch a missile at it,” Chris stated.

One glanced at Chris for reassurance.

“Go ahead, nobody will see a thing,” Chris stated. “Thank goodness,” he added in a quiet voice.

The helicopter gained speed then launched a Hellfire missile toward the peak of the hilltop, leaving a streak of smoke in its wake as it raced to its target. On impact, the entire boulder exploded, casting up a curtain of rock, dirt and dust that poured over down the hillside.

The rest of the clones cheered out.

“Whoa, how was that?” asked Chris.

“Exhilarating,” One replied. “Can we do it again?”

“Sorry, one missile per clone, today,” Chris responded, patting One on the shoulder. “Go ahead and land in the basin. We’re going to give Two a turn.”

“Copy, sir,” One stated. “I do have a question, though.”

“Shoot,” Chris replied.

One glanced at him like he was confused, gripping his thigh-holstered sidearm.

“Not with a firearm, just tell me what’s on your mind,” Chris added.

“Why are we learning the war helicopter?” asked One. “Are we training to be soldiers?”

“All I can tell you is that they want you guys to have as many upgrades as possible,” Chris answered.

“Why?” asked One.

“Because for some people all that matters is a damn lump of money, that’s why,” Chris responded.

“The more we understand, the more we’re worth?” asked One.

“Exactly,” Chris answered.