“Proceed.”
“Over here, we have our new tactical computer units, supposedly shockproof backpackers that will plug into the SIPEsuits. Seven pounds, more FlashMem, DRAM, and ROM than a high school computer lab and faster than greased lightning. Ceramic armor and spidersilk webbing, all bullet-resistant and waterproof and like that. I turned one on and dropped it on the floor from chest height, and it still ran fine. Twelve-hour batteries the size of D cells, so you can carry a few days’ backup without recharging, no problem.”
“Good, about time they came up with something that didn’t go down every time somebody sneezed. What else?”
“Right this way. This here is our emergency broadcast jammer, which will supposedly make any radio inside a ten-kilometer circle spew static and nothing else. Doesn’t work on LOS infra or ultra headcoms. They say it’d stop KAAY in Little Rock at its peak, but I haven’t tested it yet.”
“Bad guys use LOS, too.”
“What can I say? This is RA stuff. You know how they are.”
Howard nodded. Regular Army did have its own whys and wherefores. He’d been there, done that, and was much happier being the head of Net Force’s military arm, such as it was. He had expected it to be a lot more quiet than when he was a colonel in the RA, but in the last year or so, it sure had been anything but that. In fact, after his last fracas, he’d been thinking about retiring. He still ached from his wounds when it got chilly, and the idea of not being around to see his son grow up bothered him a lot.
Julio kept talking:
“And under this here cover, we have the toy of the week. Ta-da!” He pulled the lightweight tarp off, revealing what looked like a table with four jointed arms sticking up from it, two in the corners at one end, two more in the middle. The thing had wheels and a closed compartment under it.
“And what is this? A high-tech electric golf cart?”
“No, sir, this is Rocky Scram — that’s R-O-C–C-S-R-M, the acronym standing for Remote-Operated, Computer-Controlled Surgical Robotic Module.”
Howard frowned. “We talking about a doc-in-the-box?”
“Actually, a surgeon-in-the-box, only this is just the box. You’re gonna love this one, it actually might be useful.”
“Talk to me.”
“Here’s the deal. You need a surgical PA, couple nurses, and orderlies. They set this sucker up in a field hospital. Guy comes in, all shot up, needs fixin’. The PA — that’s physician’s assistant, for those of you who missed the medical personnel lecture — does a triage, examines the guy, and makes a quick diagnosis. They plunk him on the table, get him prepped, and dial up a first-class REMF surgeon, who can be up to a thousand miles away, give or take. He cranks up his unit — that part is over here, come look.”
They walked to another covered unit, and Julio removed a tarp from it. There was a chair, a computer screen mounted in front of it on a platform, and some odd-looking appendages on the arms of the chair.
“Your surgeon sits here and slips his fingers into the surgical controls, that’s these rings here. He uses his feet on pedals down on the floor, one each, with a freeze pedal in the middle, kind of like a brake.”
Julio sat in the chair and slipped his fingers into the jointed ring arrangements. The computer screen lit up. “These control the waldos, those are tools you can connect to those arms on the operating table. Left foot runs the endoscope, which holds your light and your camera. Right foot works various clamps and suction things. The hand tools will hold scalpels, hemostats, suture needles, scissors, and a bunch of other things.”
“You’re telling me a surgeon can operate on a patient from a thousand miles away using this gadget?”
“Yes, sir, that’s what the RA medicos say. The surgeons who qualify have to cut up a bunch of pigs and cadavers and RA soldiers before they let them work on real people. They’ve repaired bowels, done blood vessel grafts, stitched up torn hearts, all kinds of things. Nurses and the PA assist, just like in a regular OR. RA medicos say a guy good with this toy can pick up number-six BBs and never drop one.”
Julio waggled his fingers, and there was mechanical hum from the nearby table as the surgical arms moved around.
“It’s all self-contained, battery backup if you can’t get a generator going. Wheel it out there, slap’em on the table, and you cut and paste.”
“Good Lord.”
“Yessir, I expect He is impressed.”
“Downside?”
“Heavy, expensive — million and half a copy — and you need a repair tech who’s qualified to service’em if they break down. Still, RA figures it’s cheaper than training and replacing a surgeon who catches a stray round on the way to do his cutting.”
“Good point.”
“There’s a civilian model been around for a while, but it’s not so compact, and it ain’t portable.”
“Amazing.”
“Ain’t it, though? Now, if the general is through being impressed with modem hardware, I’d like to go catch a nap.”
“Go ahead, Sergeant. Oh. Wait. Hold up a second. I got something for you.” Howard grinned. He was going to like what he was about to do. He was going to like it a whole lot.
Julio paused, and Howard tossed the small plastic box at him. Julio caught it, started to open it. “Not my birthday. What’s the occasion?”
Howard didn’t say anything, just kept grinning.
When Julio got the box open, his eyes went wide. “Oh, shit. No!”
“Oh, shit, yes. And we’re skipping right over shavetail and going to right to first.
“Congratulations,
“You can’t do this, John. Gunny’ll never let me live it down.”
“Already done, Julio. Paperwork is signed, sealed, and delivered.”
“John—”
“More money, which you need with a new baby. Plus now you don’t have to take orders from your wife. Well, no more than any of the rest of us have to take orders from our wives.” Julio’s wife was Joanna Winthrop, and a lieutenant in Net Force herself, although she was on extended leave at the moment.
“But… but… who can you get to replace me?”
“Nobody will be able to replace you, Julio. But there are some new recruits who can manage a top’s chores if you show them how it is done.”
Julio shook his head. “I’ll be damned.”
“No doubt, but at least you can tell the devil you earned your money for part of your career before you got the free ride.”
Julio nodded slowly, then looked up. “All right. Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t look so sour, Julio. Welcome to the officer-and-a-gentleman club. Or at least the officer part of it.”
“Yeah, right.”
Under the bitching, Howard was pretty sure that Julio was pleased. They’d been working together for more than twenty years, first in the regular army, then in Net Force. Julio had known about Howard’s promotion to general before Howard himself had, and there were times when the two of them were practically telepathic. Julio didn’t have the educational background of a lot of officers, but when a situation went hot, he was the man you wanted covering your back. He had another few years before he was going to think about retiring, and the higher his grade, the bigger his pension. He was a married man with a baby; he needed it.
“Go take your nap, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Normally, at seven in the morning, Jay Gridley would be at Net Force HQ, plugged into his computer and making war on the bad guys. He’d be hunting lubefoots who’d dumped the latest ugly virus into the world’s e-mail, or searching for clues to some computer fraud, or trying to track down some sicko posting kiddie porn on church web sites. Now and then, there’d be a big shark cruising the virtual waters of the net, like the mad Russian or the
