Chapter 22

 

It wasn’t till I was in a self-driver, headed to the studio, that it occurred to me to wonder how Rikki got the window open. That thought fled as I arrived at the studios.

 

The studio gates were both automated and manned. Why? Jobs are important in today’s world, even if perhaps redundant. I had heard that the Flottercots insisted on keeping the human staff, even the old guy that manned the main entrance. He stepped gingerly out of his booth and peered at me through the window that the car helpfully lowered for him. The barrier had already opened, the security AI having already identified me and checked off my name against expected visitors.

 

“Ah, the new recruit. Good to see you back. That show desperately needs fresh blood,” the old-timer said.

 

“Well, that’s not fully decided yet, but who knows, right?”

 

“Oh, I do hope you come aboard. That was some exciting stuff you did. I’m sure the Johnsons are very thankful.”

 

I just nodded at him, not willing to explain that not all the Johnsons were fans of mine, no matter what I did.

 

My musings were pretty much confirmed as soon as I was ushered into the conference room by a male receptionist whose excessive good looks probably indicated a hungry actor hoping to break into the business from the inside.

 

Only two of the multitude of faces smiled at me, although most of them were just blank and only two looked potentially hostile.

 

Trinity hopped up from her seat at the head of the table. Astrid was seated on one side of the young producer and JJ on the other. At the far end of the table, Brad took the other dominant spot, Martin at his right hand. The other four people seemed to be production crew and staff members. Trinity grabbed my hand in a tight handshake, guiding me toward the empty seat next to Astrid. “Ajaya, great you could make it on short notice,” she said, patting my shoulder as I sat down. Across the table, JJ gave me a solid nod, while at the other end of the table, Martin sneered and Brad looked cold and unimpressed.

 

“So, Ajaya, we were just discussing the new episode—” Trinity said, but Brad interrupted her.

 

“Proposed episode. Not sure I even believe this drone stash you’re bragging about,” he growled.

 

When I was little, I was immensely impressed with Brad Johnson. He frowned a lot, looked super serious all the time, and talked in a deep, manly voice. He was rugged and muscular, every inch the modern warrior soldier. Now, grown up, I saw him a lot clearer.

 

“Really? Look, everyone. Here’s my surprised face—Brad Johnson doesn’t believe me. Oh dear,” I said, keeping my tone flat and low. Reaching into my daypack, I pulled out a little leather binder, a piece of salvage from a bookstore on Madison Avenue. I paged through it, making a show of it, letting it sit open so that everyone could see the pictures glued to the pages but not get a real good look.

 

I arrived at a picture of the inside of a room stacked with dead drones. Then I turned the page, finding a second picture of a different stack of metal and carbon fiber carcasses. “Here’s the one.” I pulled the picture and tossed it down the table at Brad.

 

“Are those Polaroids?” the woman on my left side asked.

 

“Yeah, digital is a bad idea inside. But Polaroid cameras and film are still around. Film’s getting old, so you sometimes have to use a whole roll to get one good picture,” I said.

 

Brad was looking at the photo, Martin leaning around his shoulder to see it too. Brad’s eyes flicked to my book, really fast, then up to me. “This just shows stacks of drones. Doesn’t prove they’re still there.”

 

“Nope. It doesn’t.”

 

He waited. I waited too.

 

“You want us to go after drones that might not even be there,” he finally said.

 

“And just where would they have gone? You think I backpacked out three Tigers? It’s why they’re there in the first place.”

 

“It’s your insurance for the eventual end of the Zone,” JJ said suddenly.

 

I nodded. “I tagged them all and filed the tags with Zone Defense. Can’t get paid till I present proof, but will still get paid if the Zone suddenly gets cleared and I can U-Haul them outta there.”

 

“You really have been shooting drones down, haven’t you?” Astrid asked.

 

“Yes. That’s the smaller of the two,” I said.

 

“Two what?” Trinity asked. “Wait… two containers of dead drones?”

 

“Yes. The smallest. Also the closest.”

 

“None of it is any good if we can’t depend on you,” Brad said. “You are your father’s son.”

 

I nodded. “And both of us have saved your ass.”

 

He leaned forward aggressively. “You didn’t save my ass, you saved hers!” he spat, finger pointing at his daughter.

 

“Too true, Brad. Too true,” I said. “Most fathers would appreciate that sort of thing, but you aren’t most or even much of a father, are you?”

 

“Shut the fuck up, you little bastard. My father is ten times the man yours was!” Martin suddenly interjected.

 

“Ah, there he is. Been waiting for your contribution, but then so has everyone else… for most of your life,” I said.

 

“Enough!” Trinity said, standing up abruptly. “So there’s bad blood and hard feelings. We knew this. Get over it. Be the professionals you say you are.”

 

“It’s about trust, Trinity,” I said.

 

She nodded, thinking about her next words. Another voice beat her to them.

 

“I trust you Ajaya,” JJ said. “I trust that you’ve got boatloads of dead drones because you hate them and I know how you shoot and how you were raised. I trust that you would do everything in your power to protect my sister. Thank you for that, by the way. So I have no issue riding into the Zone to a big old box of dead drones with you on overwatch, loading them in and hauling ass out. Be the easiest salvage ever… for us. You’re the one whose gonna have his ass hanging in the wind when the big guns show up, with just your .338 for company.”

 

“Thank you JJ. I appreciate that. But when did I ever say I was gonna just have a .338?” I asked with a smile. “You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff I’ve found. All those military and federal facilities all over the place. National Guard, Homeland Security, Counter Terrorism. This book only has two drone caches in it. The rest of the pages are stockpiles of weapons, explosives, safe houses, and more. Oh, and it’s all in code, Brad.”

 

His eyes snapped up from the book, the greedy little gleam changing to instant anger. His eyes flicked to Astrid, then back to me. Either he was remembering to act civil in front of her or he was wondering if she knew me well enough to decipher my code. Or both.

 

“JJ brings up good points,” he finally said. “Ajaya’s been in love with my daughter since he fumbled his first meeting with her on Drone Night. He may be hopelessly pathetic, but he’s at least consistent.”

 

“Dad!” Astrid said. He ignored her, looking at Trinity. “We’ll do it.”

 

“Ajaya?” Trinity asked, body tense as she waited for my answer.

 

“As long as my family is guaranteed payment if I don’t make it,” I said.

 

“I’ll sign a contract that says they can have my share if you don’t make it out,” JJ said.

 

“Me too!” Astrid said, flicking a glare at her father.

 

“I have no issue with that covenant,” Brad said.

 

“Okay. We have a mission and an episode to plan. Let’s get to it,” Trinity said, eyes gleaming with unfettered excitement.