very fashion-conscious. That and they have a locator in them. If you get lost I can find you.”
A car passed on the highway nearby. Dean watched the vehicle move past, its headlights making a long arc across the empty
lot and the building.
“Another hour they usually send a guard around,” said Karr. “But we should be inside by then.”
“What are we waiting for?” Dean asked.
“Just waiting. You a big coffee drinker?”
“Cup or two a day. Why?”
“You ought to give it up. Makes you too jittery.” Karr walked over to the van and got in, emerging a short time later wearing
a vest similar to Dean’s. As Karr walked toward him, something sparkled in the northern sky.
Dean stared up at it. “Shooting star,” he said.
“Nope,” said Karr. “Not even close.”
Karr stretched his arms and put them behind his head, staring in the direction of the meteor. Dean decided that he must be
listening to something over the complicated com system that was partially implanted in his head.
He couldn’t imagine working with something like that. You’d feel like a psycho, hearing voices.
It was a damn good thing they didn’t have that in Vietnam, he realized. There was no telling what the people back at headquarters
would try. He imagined being on patrol and having Dick Nixon whispering in his ear.
Dean laughed. Karr turned around, gave his own laugh, then went back to staring into the night.
The next step would be using pure robots, thought Dean. Maybe that was a good thing—better a machine got broken than a man
killed. Still, it didn’t feel entirely right.
Could’ve used this vest in Nam, though. Lightweight sucker.
Karr turned abruptly and walked toward him. As he did, he put his fingers to his mouth and whistled very loudly.
“They hate when I do that,” he told Dean, tapping him and heading back to the van.
“They had some problems putting out the sensor net, but we’re good to go,” Karr said, opening the door. “Hop in. Princess
can ride in the back.”
He started the motor, then took a small handheld computer from inside his shirt. He clicked a switch and a grid map appeared;
another flick and a white-and-black diagram filled the screen.
“Are we going or what?” said Lia, opening up the back.
“Keep your shirt on.” Karr slid the van into drive and they started rumbling toward the highway. “Here’s the layout,” he told
Dean, handing him the handheld computer. “This part here is a set of pumps and piping for underground oil tanks; don’t worry
about it. We go through this fence, down through this storage yard to this compound. It’s like an auto salvage place, a junkyard.
Except the cars are hot, and generally new. That’s where our parts are. If they’re ours. We don’t think there’s guards, but
we’ll know in a minute or two.”
“How?”
“That flash of light was a space-launched plane self-destructing. Before it did that, it dropped a bunch of little sound and
motion detectors, okay? They’re on the ground, and our people back home are using them to augment the other data they have.
We wait until they’re sure they have all the players set, then we move out.”
“They can see what’s going on in there?” asked Dean.
“Not exactly. There wasn’t time to move the optical satellite that covers this region, and besides, it’s night, right? Can’t
see in the dark. You’re going to ask me about infrared, right?”
“Not really,” said Dean.
“Not precise enough, not for this. This’ll do; don’t worry.”
Karr cranked onto the highway.
“You can shoot, right?” said Lia from the back. “I mean, you are a sniper.”
Dean turned to find Lia holding a submachine gun on him.
“Take it,” she said. “I know it’s a piece of shit. Just take it.”
“Nah. Solid gun,” said Karr. “Just old. Like Dean. He’s not a piece of shit.”
“Remains to be seen,” said Lia.
The gun looked like a shortened AK-74, with a
A car passed on the highway nearby. Dean watched the vehicle move past, its headlights making a long arc across the empty
lot and the building.
“Another hour they usually send a guard around,” said Karr. “But we should be inside by then.”
“What are we waiting for?” Dean asked.
“Just waiting. You a big coffee drinker?”
“Cup or two a day. Why?”
“You ought to give it up. Makes you too jittery.” Karr walked over to the van and got in, emerging a short time later wearing
a vest similar to Dean’s. As Karr walked toward him, something sparkled in the northern sky.
Dean stared up at it. “Shooting star,” he said.
“Nope,” said Karr. “Not even close.”
Karr stretched his arms and put them behind his head, staring in the direction of the meteor. Dean decided that he must be
listening to something over the complicated com system that was partially implanted in his head.
He couldn’t imagine working with something like that. You’d feel like a psycho, hearing voices.
It was a damn good thing they didn’t have that in Vietnam, he realized. There was no telling what the people back at headquarters
would try. He imagined being on patrol and having Dick Nixon whispering in his ear.
Dean laughed. Karr turned around, gave his own laugh, then went back to staring into the night.
The next step would be using pure robots, thought Dean. Maybe that was a good thing—better a machine got broken than a man
killed. Still, it didn’t feel entirely right.
Could’ve used this vest in Nam, though. Lightweight sucker.
Karr turned abruptly and walked toward him. As he did, he put his fingers to his mouth and whistled very loudly.
“They hate when I do that,” he told Dean, tapping him and heading back to the van.
“They had some problems putting out the sensor net, but we’re good to go,” Karr said, opening the door. “Hop in. Princess
can ride in the back.”
He started the motor, then took a small handheld computer from inside his shirt. He clicked a switch and a grid map appeared;
another flick and a white-and-black diagram filled the screen.
“Are we going or what?” said Lia, opening up the back.
“Keep your shirt on.” Karr slid the van into drive and they started rumbling toward the highway. “Here’s the layout,” he told
Dean, handing him the handheld computer. “This part here is a set of pumps and piping for underground oil tanks; don’t worry
about it. We go through this fence, down through this storage yard to this compound. It’s like an auto salvage place, a junkyard.
Except the cars are hot, and generally new. That’s where our parts are. If they’re ours. We don’t think there’s guards, but
we’ll know in a minute or two.”
“How?”
“That flash of light was a space-launched plane self-destructing. Before it did that, it dropped a bunch of little sound and
motion detectors, okay? They’re on the ground, and our people back home are using them to augment the other data they have.
We wait until they’re sure they have all the players set, then we move out.”
“They can see what’s going on in there?” asked Dean.
“Not exactly. There wasn’t time to move the optical satellite that covers this region, and besides, it’s night, right? Can’t
see in the dark. You’re going to ask me about infrared, right?”
“Not really,” said Dean.
“Not precise enough, not for this. This’ll do; don’t worry.”
Karr cranked onto the highway.
“You can shoot, right?” said Lia from the back. “I mean, you are a sniper.”
Dean turned to find Lia holding a submachine gun on him.
“Take it,” she said. “I know it’s a piece of shit. Just take it.”
“Nah. Solid gun,” said Karr. “Just old. Like Dean. He’s not a piece of shit.”
“Remains to be seen,” said Lia.
The gun looked like a shortened AK-74, with a
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