The moment we learned of the girls and young women trafficked through the hellhole that is Maximus Angelo’s villa, there was no question as to our next move. Carmen, or no Carmen, we’re on task. There’s a mission to plan and lives to save. My only fear is Carmen will get lost in the shuffle.
“Explain how this EMP Mitzy’s dreamed up lands us in a tech blackout.” Hayes runs his hand down his face and pinches his eyes.
We’ve been at this most of the night and my focus is shot wondering what Carmen’s doing. At least, I hope, she’s getting a good night’s rest. I scrub at my eyes, trying to dislodge the sleep crusting them. They burn from the all-night planning session. That itchy burn feels as if someone went crazy with sandpaper, leaving behind grit I can’t seem to shake.
Overly dramatic, but I’ve spent the last twelve hours trying to focus on mission planning while Carmen is God knows where, with God knows who, doing God knows what. Granted, the list of subjects is exceptionally short—Mitzy—but anyone who’s not me, doesn’t deserve time with Carmen. She’s mine. That’s the beginning and end of it.
As far as mission planning goes, Forest wants to execute within the week. I scrub at my hair, trying to think through a fog of exhaustion.
Honestly, my participation in the all-night planning session has been less than my usual, but that’s only because I’m trying to figure out the best way to help Carmen.
“Call me crazy…” Hayes holds out his hand, palms up, “but I don’t get the need for a tech blackout.”
“What’s not to understand?” CJ runs his hand down his face and pulls at his jaw. He’s as tired as the rest of us. Not because we’re pulling an all-nighter. It’s because all the plans we’ve come up with so far make no bloody sense. We’re going to get our asses handed to us if we don’t figure something out.
“I get the EMP.” Hayes leans against the wall. He got out of his seat hours ago, choosing to stand rather than sit as the night wore on. “And I’m definitely not claiming to be an expert, but doesn’t that shit have a range? Why can’t we use Mitzy’s drones or the Rufi?”
Looks like we’ve settled on Rufi as the plural form of RUFUS for the robotic dogs. He’s right about the Rufi and drones. We could use one of Mitzy’s dragonfly drones or one of the Rufi. The EMP would take it out, but we could recover the tech, which solves the problem of leaving them behind.
“It needs to be strategically inserted…” CJ pulls at his jaw, biting back whatever it is he wants to say. He’s frustrated that none of us are on board with this part of the plan.
Hayes glances my way once again. “Why not drop it ourselves?” Hayes is on a roll and I love every word he says. “If we infil by air, we’re right on top of them. Set Charlie team outside the walls, provide a distraction while Bravo swoops in from the sky. As we close in, we release the EMP. Our gear will get fried, but we’re not planning on bringing any electronics, so it doesn’t matter to us. Charlie team isn’t either, but they can. How far is the EMPs effective range?”
Hayes is pretty fucking phenomenal. An off-the-grid kind of guy, his outlook on humanity is rather doom and gloom, but it makes him unstoppable on the ground. He doesn’t look at shit the way the rest of us do. He’s training for the ultimate test of humankind, preparing for the zombie apocalypse during his spare time, while the rest of us are trying to figure out what fast food crap we want to feed our bodies.
“Anyone know how fast the Rufi run?” Hayes glances around the room.
Part of our job as Guardians is to test out the tech Mitzy’s team develops. From getting our asses handed to us by the robots while trying to extract prisoners, we’ve been involved in all phases of research and development.
“Fucking fast.” Zeb, the quiet one of the bunch, sits, leaning far back in his chair, heels propped on the conference table. “Mitzy’s little pets run circles around us. I’d say they can run at least fifty miles an hour. Probably faster. So, twenty minutes, plus or minus?”
“We don’t need them on the ground when we arrive.” I glance at my team. “Don’t you see?”
Brady pushes back from the table. “All I want to see are the insides of my eyelids. You got something to say, get to it quickly. Don’t got all fucking day with twenty questions.”
“All I’m saying is Bravo infils from the sky. At some predetermined altitude, whatever Mitzy and her team decides, we set off the EMP and knock out their systems. Bravo lands on their bloody rooftop. Charlie team stays outside, providing cover. Let them draw the army out. Once we’re inside, Mitzy releases the Rufi. Heck, she can send in her dragonflies. We can have an entire pack of the robotic menaces charging into position.”
“How do we protect them from the EMP.” CJ rubs at his eyes.
“That’s the beauty of EMP.” I glance around the table.
“Okay, Encyclopedia, care to share?” Brady calls me out, but for good reason.
I’m an encyclopedia of useless facts.
“EMPs destroy unprotected data, which is basically every computer system on earth. A nuclear blast over Europe will create an EMP field over all of Western Europe, including London. That blast basically wipes clean all unprotected data on all electronic devices rendering them useless. Our vulnerability is growing when it comes to EMP. We’re talking data storage, virtual reality, driverless cars, electrical power grids, watches, cell phones, facial recognition, wireless devices—everything we take for granted. One EMP basically wipes the slate clean.”
I glance around the conference room, looking to see if they get it.
“That’s just for nuclear blasts. It’s undifferentiated, but there is also intentional EMI, or IEMI.”
“Wait.” Zeb lifts a finger. “I thought we were talking EMP? What the fuck is IEMI?”
“Intentional Electromagnetic Interference. It’s basically tactical EMP. Just what Mitzy’s looking to employ. We’re talking about a portable, battery-powered EMP burst that takes out all servers and electronics within a designated radius. Position the Rufi outside that barrier, shield them with a Faraday cage for good measure, set off the EMP, then deploy the Rufi. We get the best of both worlds.”
“Rafe, I think you’re onto something.” CJ seems to perk up, energized by a new set of data. “I need Mitzy.” He snaps his fingers and points to Hayes.
Hayes jumps and heads to the phone hanging on the wall. It’s not a typical phone; more of a Guardian HQ walkie-talkie, but it does the job.
“Let’s look at this again.” CJ draws the rest of us in while Hayes talks on the phone. “We need projections. How long? How far? And if this goes for the Rufi, what about Mitzy’s dragonflies? If we can arm them with tranqs…” CJ continues on, talking about arming not only the Rufi, but Mitzy’s dragonflies.
The autonomous AI embedded in their programming is scary tech, but as long as they’re on our side, I’m all for exploiting technology. Especially since we’re going to be parachuting into what’s essentially an active zone where we’re outnumbered twenty to one.
The only easy day was yesterday. That saying remains as solid today as it did back in my Navy days with the teams. The briefing wears on until Brady finally calls it.
“Time to wrap things up.” Brady places his hands on his lower back and stretches.
“Good session. Still lots to chew on, but making progress.” CJ pushes back his seat and raps his knuckles on the table. “Take a break. Get some food. You’ve got until 1300hrs to take care of whatever it is you need to take care of.”
Call me crazy, but CJ looks directly at me when he says that.