After a walk around the facility, Joe and I ended up back by the vehicles. We saw Commander Pacheco sitting in the front seat of the truck, looking over some paperwork. He had one door propped open with his foot, letting the breeze blow through the shaded interior of the vehicle. It looked like a good time to take care of the customary courtesies, so we went over and introduced ourselves.
“Good evening, sir. Mind if we join you for a few minutes?” I asked.
“Not at all,” he replied, nodding at the door on the other side of the truck. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, anyway.”
We walked around to the other side of the truck, and got in. Joe sat in the back, watching us as we talked.
“Sir, since I’ve been assigned to your unit, I thought I’d brief you on what Joe and I bring to the team. Prime wasn’t very clear on what you need, only that we were to report to you and replace a recent combat loss.”
“It’s good to have you on the team,” he said with a smile, then sighed. “We suffered a casualty fighting a Mexican Army unit a couple months ago. We were busting CA-1, a science unit, out of the Huntington Beach area south of Los Angeles. We went up against a Mechanized unit, in difficult terrain.” He frowned at the memories, then sighed again. “You can read the reports on that, later. Go ahead and tell me about yourself.”
“Basically, I’m a cop,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.”I worked as a Game Warden in South Florida, doing mounted patrols of the Everglades. Chasing poachers, locating lost hikers, that sort of thing. Joined the Army, got assigned to the Provost Marshal. I did three tours in Vietnam, 68 through 71, all of them as a dog handler in the MPs. First tour as a scout, clearing tunnels and bunkers in the field. Next two tours with CID and counter intelligence, mostly rear area work – investigations in drug smuggling, homicide, and sabotage. Eight months of that, I worked as an interpreter and interrogator. After the I got out of the service, I worked for the DEA as a dog handler, searching for smugglers and pot farmers. It was a lot like Nam, in some respects.”
“I hope you don’t have problems with drugs these days,” he cautioned.”Since it seems to be a part of the normal economy.”
“I’ve never had a personal problem with them, sir, only a professional one – it was my job to find them.” I did have a problem with people too stoned to do their job, but that didn’t need to be brought up at this point, since I hadn’t seen anything like that yet.
“I don’t do them personally,” he assured me, pulling a small metal flask out of a cargo pocket and offering me a sip. “This is my chosen poison.” I politely declined the offer, and went on with my briefing.
“I was recruited by the Project in September of 77. Trained for two years with a new dog – that’s Joe, here – who was provided by the Project.” Joe grinned at Vod, wagging his tail several times. He loves the attention. “We were originally slotted for assignment to the Frozen Watch as a replacement member for a MARS team, since we’re a security team. Went into the freezer at the end of 1979. Woke up a few days ago, and got new orders from Prime. They changed their mind, I guess, and sent us to your RECON team instead of a MARS unit.”
I rubbed the stubble on my chin and frowned. I should have shaved before approaching the CO, but it was too late now.
“Let’s see,” I said, gathering my thoughts. “I’m 30 years old. I’m fluent in English and Tagalog – my dad is Filipino, my mom was from Tennessee. I also speak Vietnamese and Spanish. That’s Latin American style Spanish, though, not Castillan. I can pass for Columbian, Puerto Rican, something like that, but not as a Spaniard.”
“That may be very useful,” he noted. “There’s a strong Hispanic presence in California, and of course the Mexican Army is trying to move into the neighborhood.” He took another small sip from the flask and motioned for me to continue.
“I can drive pretty much anything you need driven,” I said. “I’ve had the basic training on heavy weapons, but frankly I’m probably the last choice you’d make for that. I’m a close quarters combat specialist.” I ticked off weapons on his fingers as I expanded on the topic. “I’m good with a pistol, shotgun, submachinegun, knife, stick, and empty hands. I’ve been studying Pekiti Tirsia Kali since I was a kid. PTK is a Filipino martial art that focuses on the use of edged weapons. It’s come in handy a few times when I’ve been undercover.” I showed him the little PTK medallion I wear around my neck, then tucked it back into my T-shirt.
“Outside of combat,” I went on, “I’m can do all of the things you’d expect a policeman to do – investigating crime scenes, talking to witnesses and suspects, handling prisoners. I’m good with dogs and horses – I’ve worked with them most of my life, and I enjoy it.”
“Good to have the animal handling skills,” he said, nodding his head. “Down near our base we have an extensive horse unit. The Circle-Lazy-8 ranch has been keeping up general training with their own type of recruits, and with the establishment of the High Desert command, we’re expanding as fast as we can. But good vehicles are at a premium, so even CA-4 uses horseback to get around sometimes.” He shifted in his seat, and stretched his leg against the door a little. He looked at the flask, then put it away and waited for me to continue. I chose my next words carefully.
“That just about covers me, so let me tell you a little about him,” waving a hand at Joe, who sat up straighter. “He’s been my partner since the Project recruited me – he’s actually a product of a selective breeding and enhancement program.” When the Commander didn’t blink at that phrase, I relaxed a little. “He’s trained as a detector dog, dual rated – drugs and explosives. He’s also had the Project’s version of SAR training, among other things. He’s the smartest dog you ever saw, sir. You ever see the old Lassie TV show? He’s smarter than Lassie – a lot smarter.”
“I noticed your little game of who sits in front,” Vod replied agreeably. “Got a giggle out of how it seemed Joe knew exactly what was going on. Does he get along with Cats?”
Joe snorted, which made Vod stop and look directly at the dog. Vod glanced at me, but I kept my face carefully neutral. “Joe’s not really a cat person, but he’s got nothing against them in general.”
Vod looked back and forth at the two of us, then raised an eyebrow and settled his gaze on Joe.
“We have a sort of…well, ‘intelligent’ cat back at the base. It’s bonded with the team’s resident Jedi, our medic, Tim.” Vod paused, as Joe cocked his head to one side and twitched an ear. “Er…you didn’t hear me call him a Jedi, OK? He’s been developing some sort of sensitivity, psychic abilities, and he’s a little unhappy about the whole thing.”
“No problem, sir,” I said. “We understand, no Star Wars jokes about Tim, and the cat is on our side.”
Vod looked at Joe, who promptly chuffed, wagging his tail a few times, then sat up straight again with a serious look. The commander started to open his mouth to say something, then closed it again and nodded slowly. There was an awkward moment of silence, so I pulled out my notebook and pencil.
“Well, sir, I guess we just need to know where you want us, and what you want us to do. Duty assignment and standing orders, if any.”
Pacheco scratched the back of his neck with one hand, and then drummed his fingers on the dash.
“You may be wondering how a lowly RECON commander like myself ended up in charge of this convoy,” he began. “CA-4 awoke about 5 months ago or so, all alone. We actually ran into Fred and his wife about a hour after leaving our bolt hole. And that was just the beginning of our whirlwind tour. Our team is more of a Combat Recon, than Scout recon. Sort of a Recon Light… or a MARS unit with a recon mission.”
“I am currently the 2nd in command of the High Desert Command.” He gestured at the MARS vehicles. “AZ-3 came in about a month or so ago, so they are either still finding their way around, or deciding if they are going to stay. I need to have a talk with Patrick, the AZ-3 OIC about what is going on in his team. Since the awakenings have been so randomly spaced, some teams seem to have more loyalty to their teams than to the project as a whole.” He frowned at that, then went on, “That is something we are trying to change. We managed to wake up the CA-2 command team, and subsequently 4 other teams all at the same time.” He tapped the papers he had been reading when we walked up.
“So the High Desert Command is a little more integrated as each team hasn’t had as much time feeling like they’re all alone, like CA-7 and AZ-3 did.” He borrowed my PDA and connected it to his, then transferred some files across as he talked. “Here is some light reading for you, it’ll help you pass the time and get a feel for our group.” He disconnected the PDA and handed it back to me.
“Fred is very rough around the edges in some respects, but amazingly refined in others. He’s probably the biggest believer in bringing back democracy, freedom and security that I have met so far. His passion outshines a lot of people who “knew” the old world. I guess a lot of us took what we had for granted, and Fred can just dream about what it was like,” he said, then added, “or what it could be like.”
“I’ve learned to cut him a lot of slack, and respect much of what he says about how to relate to people and things nowadays. The Project down south has less than a hundred ‘down time’ personnel. Even less than that, now that many of them were shipped to Prime Base to assist in it’s reactivation and renovation. A lot of our reconstruction projects have been put on hold until that’s accomplished.”
Pacheco looked around at the convoy, then pursed his lips for a second as he thought.
“Hmm…assignments and duties?” he mused to himself, then turned in the seat to point out various parts of the convoy. “Fred drives usually, and for this trek we actually flew his truck up here to act as a ‘contact vehicle’ so we wouldn’t scare the locals on sight. Tim is our medic, and Keshawn is a crack shot who fills the sniper role for us.”
“As far as duty assignments go, for this trip we’re using the Jeep and the Commando Scout as the lead elements. You and Joe will join Fred and I in the Jeep, since there’s no way you’re going to fit Joe in the Scout, unless he can operate the 20mm.” He looked at Joe, raising an eyebrow. Joe looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact. Vod smiled and turned back to me.
“So stick close and cover my back. I’m usually the pointy end of the stick, and I’ve been known to get in pretty deep. Fred is usually right there in it, too.” He emphasized his next sentence carefully, “Try to get used to Fred, he will learn to trust you soon enough.”
He glanced at his watch, then at the sun low in the sky to our west.
“We’ve been running a rotating night watch, with one person sleeping thru the night. We’ll add you into rotation starting tonight.” He looked sharply at me again. “I know all this seems pretty crazy to you. You’re twenty five years behind the rest of us in technology advancement, and even that has crumbled to almost nothing around us. You know your capabilities more than I do at this point, so if you see a shortcoming in plans, or feel you have something to contribute, then speak up. If you don’t ask a question, you can’t have an answer.”
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“As members of the Frozen Watch, Joe and I were only given standard individual loads, and I’ve used up about 10% of my ammo and 25% of my rations since we left the bolt hole. I’ve also got a short list of items that will be useful in my duties. What’s the procedure for requisition and resupply?
“If you need supply we have umpteen tons of it in the trucks,” he waved at the convoy. “Mostly TOW-II missiles, Armbursts, and LAW rockets, as we are trying to blunt off an armored attack by Mexico s forces into the High Desert. Thus the urgency of the trip. We do have ample crates of small arms ammo, and once we do get south, a well stocked supply base of just about everything except ammo. The bottom floor of the base was under water when we activated it, and that is where the ammo was stored.” I made a note of which trucks he pointed to, and flipped the page on my notebook to the next topic.
“I’ve gotten some of the background on SYRN and Crimson King from Fred, but I’d sure like a little more information on the whole situation. I’m still trying to figure out who’s who, and why we had to shoot our way through that town today.”
“AIs, right,” he nodded.”They’re thinking machines. But barely thinking, and very restricted in how they think and what they can do. The first one we ran into was called Morgana. She’s sort of a “law and order, democracy” advocate. Then there’s Crimson King, who works mostly through biological improvements and combat. They have their own set of rules, and sort of treat us like pieces on a game board. Morgana has decided to ally with the Project, specifically the High Desert Command since we haven’t told her about Prime Base yet.” He shook his head at some unspoken thought.
“Prime Base also has an AI, which assists in running that base as well. Morgana is really helping us to get the most out of our efforts in reorganizing and upgrading the High Desert Region. They each have varying resources. Morgana has robotic vehicles, both on the ground and in the air. Crimson King has proven he has some too, but mostly he works thru…well…organic operatives, like the SYRN. The fight today started because one of the SYRN agents tried to read Tim’s mind, possibly trying to get information about Prime Base. We can get more into it later, and you can find some info in our mission files as well.” He pointed to my PDA, indicating the files he had transferred earlier. “The kids, and the woman we rescued earlier, may or may not be SYRN agents, but they certainly have been in extensive contact with Crimson King, so we can’t take a lot of chances.”
“Well, sir,” I told him, “if you need someone to talk to the kids, to try to get some intel out of them without threats, I’m probably one of your better candidates. I’ve got a lot of experience talking to people in a non-threatening way. Joe is handy when dealing with kids, too. Usually, they love dogs. And since I’ve got no idea at all where Prime Base is located, I’m probably the lowest risk option at the moment. If they can somehow read my mind, all they’re going to get is information that’s 180 years out of date, plus the last three days of me wandering through the desert.”
Pacheco considered this for a moment, then nodded his head.
“You have a very good point,” he said. “When we wake them up, we can have you talk to them while some of the truckers cover you. The truck drivers know it exists, like you, but we brought them in and out of it in secret, so they don’t know the exact location.”
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