Everyone turned to Brodie. He continued, “You were told these things were built to train you, and some of you suspected you were really here to train them. That isn’t too far from the truth. They are being developed as a quick reaction force to quell domestic insurrection. At the moment, they believe that insurrection is here at Camp Hayden, and their mission is to put it down by whatever means necessary. They are deploying counterinsurgency tactics to deplete us, demoralize us, and destroy us. Someone blew up the cell tower outside the base, which has disrupted their capacity to instantaneously communicate and geolocate each other. The enemy is compromised. They are not accustomed to working together without this capability. The surviving tin men will not know the extent of their losses here at the barracks, and we must use this to our advantage. I estimate there are, at most,twenty surviving units.” He gestured to one of the nearby bots on the ground, punctured by dozens of bullet holes. “As you can see, they are capable of operating without their hardware keys.”
Staff Sergeant O’Connor stepped forward and asked, “How the hell is that possible?”
Brodie said, “The details don’t matter right now. What does matter is that the only way to permanently incapacitate these things is to physically destroy them with explosive rounds or armor-piercing bullets.”
There was muttering among the troops, who seemed confused, and concerned, and possibly incredulous that this could be true.
Brodie added, “Many of your fellow Rangers have already made the ultimate sacrifice today. It’s not my place to speak to that, other than to say I’ve seen with my own eyes your courage and love of country. And make no mistake, your fight today is a fight in defense of your country, perhaps more than you know.” He found PFC Greer among the crowd. The man was holding an EMP rifle and appeared calm and determined. Brodie kept his eyes on the private as he added, “Whoever woke these bastards up and set them loose, blood is on their hands, and justice will come for them.” He looked at Howe. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Howe nodded, then looked at the assembled Rangers. “The enemy has destroyed our telecom equipment and our power supply. No one is coming with backup. There’s no cavalry. There’s no rescue. This is all on us.” She turned to Staff Sergeant O’Connor. “You are now the NCOIC. The armory is destroyed, so we must gather all the weapons from here that we can. Get that M2 on anything with wheels that still functions. Secure the perimeter to ensure that no D-17 escapes. And I want that Black Hawk back in the sky for surveillance and air support as soon as the weather allows.”
“Yes, ma’am.” O’Connor got to work coordinating with his men and gathering gear. Brodie saw two guys carry out the M2 machine gun, and Corporal Reyes rolled something into the road about the size of a mini fridge that Brodie assumed was his famed EMP bomb.
Brodie asked Howe, “Where’s Morgan?”
She shook her head. “He was with his wife, plus Eric Saltsberg and a couple of Rangers. We were all supposed to rendezvous here, but their vehicle must have gotten diverted in the storm.” She added, “Brodie, I want you in charge of getting the civilians and other noncombatants somewhere safe. I suggest one of the supply buildings. Bring along a couple of Rangers.”
Brodie replied, “I appreciate your trust, but a couple of Rangers can do that without me. What I need is a weapon so I can get back out there.”
“You are not combat infantry, Mr. Brodie.”
“Ma’am, despite this scrap heap around us, our odds are still terrible, and you need every warm body who can fight.” He looked at Dixon, who was using her good hand to assist a medic. “You should know that Ms. Dixon is injured. Mickey Mantle broke three of her fingers.”
Howe looked over at her. “Jesus…”
“She’s made of tougher stuff than a lot of soldiers I’ve fought with.”
Howe nodded, her gaze fixed on Dixon. “I’m not surprised.”
A Ranger drove up in an M113 armored personnel carrier, and some of the guys set to work mounting the M2. A minute later a Humvee arrived, and Reyes and a few others loaded the EMP bomb into the back. Then the M2-equipped APC rolled away toward the southern gate, accompanied by two squads on foot armed with RPGs and EMP rifles. Two more heavily armed squads headed east. The machinery was in motion now, and the Rangers were doing what they did best. Brodie just hoped it was enough.
He scanned the surrounding area. The storm had moved north now, and the thick grit was gradually dissipating, allowing for greater visibility. Brodie’s greatest fear was that the remaining D-17s would hit them now, when they were grouped together and vulnerable. He imagined that if the tin men’s transponders had still been working, that was precisely what they would have done.
Another Humvee pulled up with a Ranger behind the wheel. In the passenger seat beside him sat General Morgan, and up top behind a mounted M2 machine gun was Maggie Taylor. She locked eyes with Brodie and looked relieved to see him, but also anxious. She hopped down from the Humvee as Morgan got out, and they both approached Howe and Brodie.
Brodie looked Taylor over. She’d ditched her suit jacket along the way, and her white blouse, black pants, and wild mop of blond hair were caked in desert dust. He asked her, “You okay?”
She nodded. “You?”
“Yeah. Somehow. Was that you at the cell tower?”
General Morgan said, “It was. We can debrief later. Right now, there’s a hostage situation.”
Howe looked incredulous. “What are you talking about?”
Taylor said, “Five tin men are holed up in house number six with the general’s wife and Eric Saltsberg. They are demanding safe passage.”
Brodie asked, “Is this a joke?”
“If it is,” said Morgan, “it’s a horrible one. They say they want an Army pilot and a Black Hawk.”
“To go where?” asked Brodie. “A country that doesn’t extradite robots?”
Morgan replied, “They say they are fulfilling their secondary mission, which is to preserve the intellectual property stored within their neural networks.” He looked at Brodie. “They want to meet their maker. They want to return to Synotec.”
CHAPTER 54
BRODIE LET THAT SINK IN. Synotec. Of course, they had to fit into this mess somehow. In the long narrative of modern warfare, there were few authors as prolific and consequential as defense contractors.
