system. But that system required coordination back at Dreamland, as well as being in line of sight of the satellite — fine in some situations, not in others. Team members on the ground communicated through a discrete-mode unit that was also line-of-sight — again, fine in some situations but not in others.
“We have bowed to popular demand and added a standard radio link,” announced Annie. “I would caution you: The encryption is merely based on a 128-byte key on a random skip; it can be broken easily.”
“By anyone outside of the NSA and Dreamland?”
Annie smiled — slightly. “A simple beacon detector could be used to locate the transmissions, which, as requested, have a range of five miles. We are looking at a complementary-wave transmitter that would interfere with the transmissions beyond an operator-specified range, but alas, it remains to be perfected.”
“This’ll do,” said Danny. “It beats having to stand up under fire.”
“I imagine it would.”
Danny took the new helmet and fit it onto his head. it felt just like the old one — way too tight and far too heavy.
“Yes, I know,” said Klondike, sighing though Danny hadn’t said anything. “We balance function and utility. We are scientists of the possible, Captain. If we could shave off another pound while not giving up protection or functionality, we gladly would.”
“You’ll get it right, Annie,” he said.
“Hmmmph. The shape-recognition program is finally operational and so we have added it. It defaults to ‘on.’ I find it annoying myself, though the weapons detector is useful.”
“If we can trust it,” said Danny.
“Yes. Well, Captain, you’ve seen the tests yourself.” The device used pattern recognition to check shapes in the screen against a library of weapons and “suspicious polygons.” It was excellent against the obvious — like tanks and artillery pieces — but tended to be overly suspicious about things like bulges in pants and pockets. On IR mode, however, it could tell the difference between a toy gun and the real thing, which was potentially valuable in certain situations.
“Let’s go test the targeting screen,” said Annie. There was almost a suppressed cackle in her voice as she said that, and Danny knew he’d find a surprise in the weapons locked at the firing range. Sure enough, the weapons scientist presented him with a new gun.
“Silenced MP-5,” he said admiringly, taking it from her hands.
“Hardly,” said Annie. “Try it.”
Danny studied the stubby wire at the end. On the other systems that worked with the visor targeting system, a thin wire ran from the gun to his helmet.
“No, there’s no connection. Just point it at the target and shoot,” insisted Annie.
As Danny pointed the business end of the German submachine gun down the alley, crosshairs appeared in the middle of his visor.
“Please, I have work to do,” said Annie.
As Danny pressed the trigger, he unconsciously raised his shoulder to brace against the recoil. For a submachine gun, the MP-5 was famously easy to handle; unlike many predecessors that justly earned the moniker “spray guns,” this was a precision weapon in the hands of a trained and experienced professional. It was, however, still a submachine gun, and all the brilliant engineering in the world could not completely remove the barrel’s tendency under automatic fire to kick a bit.
Or could it? For the gun in Danny’s hands was not only exceedingly quiet — quieter by far than even the silenced versions of the MP-5 he’s used — but it spit through its fifteen-bullet magazine with less recoil than a water pistol.
And continued to do so. Though it appeared no larger than the standard box, somehow the magazine contained twenty bullets.
“Heh,” said Annie. She took another clip from her lab coat and gave it to him. Danny realized it was slightly longer and just a hair fatter than the standard box. The addition of five bullets didn’t sound like much — until you had to use them.
“You might try aiming this time,” added Annie.
“I hit the target square on, bull’s-eye.”
“You should have put all the bullets through the same hole.”
“You want to try?”
He’d been set up. She took the gun with a smile and pressed the button on the wall to send the paper target back another fifty feet. Without bothering to take his visor, she blew a rather narrow and perfectly round hole through the “100” at the center of the head area.
“It’s the bullets. Primarily,” she said. “Though I must say our German friends were quite ingenious with the improvements they suggested to the gun. We’re still working on them, of course. But we should have enough to outfit your entire team in a month.”
“That long?”
“My best advice, Captain, is not to let them try the weapon until then. That boy Powder especially; he’ll never give it up. Want to take another crack at the target? Best two out of three. You can use your visor if you want.”
Chen Lo Fann held the ideograms in his head as he scanned the horizon. The thick brush strokes and their stark ideas contrasted with the haze of the horizon, the fickle world flowing in its chaos. The words from the twenty-fifth chapter of the Tao Te Ching draped themselves across his consciousness, the old master’s voice as real in his thoughts as the shadows of the ships in the distance.
There was no more perfect statement of his mission, nor his desire in life.
Chen focused his binoculars on the closest shadow, a mere speck even at highest magnification. It was a destroyer, an escort for the largest ship in the squadron just over the horizon, the aircraft carrier
The Su-33’s were launched with the help of a special catapult system on a ramped deck, then recovered with the help or arrestor gear. It was an awkward system in some respects, still in need of refinement; even with the ramp, the heavy Sukhois dipped low over the bow on takeoff, and botched landings were particularly unforgiving. The maritime versions of the planes were fairly short-ranged, and the Dauphins’ ASW gear somewhat old. But the crews were well trained and dedicated.
And unlike the
Fann’s thought and gaze turned southward, in roughly the direction of the Spratly Islands. Another task force was making its way northward there, this one also centered around an aircraft carrier — the Indian
Ostensibly, both forces were sailing into the South China Sea to protect ships bound for their home ports. The reality was more complicated — and less so. On their present courses, it would take only a few days for them to meet.
Everything Chen did aimed at that moment of intersection.
