Armada
Page 21I gazed down at the QComm. It was hinged along one side, like a flip phone, and it opened up into what looked like a portable gaming device, with another display screen on top and a game controller beneath it, with two thumb-pads and six lettered buttons.
“What, can I play Sonic the Hedgehog on this thing, too?”
“Actually, yes,” Foyle said. “Your QComm also doubles as a portable drone-control platform. In emergency situations, it can be used to control an Interceptor, an ATHID, or any of our other drones.” He lowered his voice, as if imparting a secret. “They’re a real bitch to use, though. Take a lot of practice.”
Still leaning forward conspiratorially, the corporal whispered, “Each one also has a built-in weirding module.” He raised his own QComm and crossed his wrists as he held it out in front of him. “By using sound and motion, you will be able to paralyze nerves, shatter bones, set fires, suffocate an enemy, or burst his organs.”
I laughed out loud.
“That’s the first weirding-module joke I’ve ever heard,” I said. “Bravo.”
“There were no weirding modules in the original Dune books, you know,” Ray muttered, shaking his head. “David Lynch made that shit up.”
“So what, Ray?” I said, feeling like we were back at the store. “They’re cool as hell. I’m not saying it makes up for that super-creepy heart-plug scene—”
Foyle was seemingly all business again. “You should be all set,” he said. “Your QComm’s laser is currently disabled, but your commanding officer will activate it after you enlist.”
“If I enlist,” I said. “They still haven’t even told me who or what is invading us.”
“Right,” he said, shooting Ray a surprised look. “Anyway, the laser will drain your battery after three or four shots, so if you have to use it, try to do so sparingly.”
“Got it,” I told the corporal. “So I’m all set?”
“Yes sir,” he replied. “Good to go.”
We all saluted each other again instead of waving goodbye; then the corporal remained at attention as we walked out of sight. I followed Ray through a pair of automatic doors into another downward-sloping hallway.
“Our scientists spent decades reverse-engineering all of this alien technology, but they’ve only managed to perfect it in the last few years,” he said. “I think the EDA would have gradually released it into the mainstream, if there’d been enough time.”
We passed through two more security checkpoints, then proceeded down a long tubular corridor with lots of smaller corridors branching off of it, each lined with numbered doors spaced just a few feet apart. I was just about to ask Ray what was behind them when one hissed open and a female EDA officer emerged. Before the door closed behind her, I caught a glimpse of a tiny closet-sized room. In its center was a rotating chair bolted to the floor, surrounded by an array of ergonomic control panels and game controllers, along with a wraparound monitor displaying a first-person cockpit view from inside a giant EDA Warmech. “Drone controller stations,” Ray said, following my gaze. “There are thousands of them located throughout the base. Each one can be used to remote-pilot an Interceptor, an ATHID, or any other drone in the EDA’s arsenal—with no lag and no range limitations.”
“You mean … real drones?”
“Real ones.” He pointed behind me. “Here come a few right now.” I turned to see a column of ten ATHIDs marching down the corridor toward us. I stood frozen as the robots lumbered by, joints clanking and servos whining. By the time they rounded the corner and vanished, Ray was already moving again and I hurried to catch up, still trying to get my bearings.
“Lieutenant Lightman?” a male voice called out.
Ray and I both stopped and turned around to confront the voice’s owner. He was just a kid, even younger than me, with dark brown skin, hair, and eyes. There were captain’s bars on his lapel and an Iranian flag was stitched onto the shoulder of his uniform. The young man held up a QComm and appeared to scan my face with it. Then an enormous smile appeared on his face when he saw my name appear on its display. He abruptly snapped to attention and saluted me.
“It’s such an honor to finally meet you in person!” he said. “Captain Arjang Dagh, at your service. I’m a huge fan of your work, Lieutenant!”
“My work?” I repeated, glancing over at Ray uncertainly. “Lieutenant?”
“Sorry, sir,” Ray said, returning Dagh’s salute. “Mr. Lightman here hasn’t been sworn in yet.”
“Of course!” he said. “I knew that!” He grinned apologetically. “Sorry for stalking you with my QComm, ‘Mr.’ Lightman, but I’ve always wanted to meet you.” He began to shake my hand and didn’t stop. “The two of us have flown dozens of missions together over the years, so you might recognize my call sign.” He put out his hand. I shook his hand as firmly as I could. “I’m Rostam.”
My smile faltered and I let go of his hand. I recognized the name, all right.
“Wow, really?” I said, trying to recover by mustering a fake grin. “It’s great to finally meet you, too. I always assumed I was the youngest pilot in the top ten.”
“That honor appears to be mine,” he replied, flashing me an infuriatingly humble smile. Then he turned to address Ray. “I’m currently ranked fifth,” he said. “The IronBeagle here is in sixth.” He smiled back at me. “But that’s a recent development. For a long time I was chasing your tail.”
“Very kind of you to say,” he replied. “That means a lot, coming from you.”
Ray cleared his throat impatiently and pointed to his nonexistent watch. Captain Dagh gave him a perturbed glare, then jerked a thumb at the captain’s bars on his lapel.
“Chillax, Sergeant,” Dagh said. “The grownups are talking.”
When Dagh turned back to face me, Ray reached out and mimed snapping his neck. “Yes, sir, Captain, sir.”
Dagh smiled at me again; then he produced a glossy eight-by-ten photo from a plastic folder stuffed under his arm. It was a photo of me—an enlarged version of the one they’d just taken for my ID badge. He held it out to me sheepishly, along with a black felt-tip pen.
“Would you mind terribly signing this?” he asked. “I’m trying to collect autographs from all of the other pilots in the top ten, and I figured this might be my only chance to get yours.”
I ignored the ominous subtext of what he’d just said and then used his pen to sign my first ever autograph. Then I handed the photo back to Dagh, wondering how many other Armada pilot autographs he’d collected so far today, and from whom.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Lightman,” Dagh said. “Like I said, it was an honor.”
He started to salute me again, then stuck out his hand instead. We shook.
“The honor was all mine, sir,” I said. “I hope we run into each other again.”
He reached out and touched his QComm to mine. Both devices beeped.
“I added my QComm number to your contact list,” he said. “Don’t hesitate to call me if I can help you with anything.”
“I won’t,” I said. “Thanks.”
“How old was that kid?”
“Who, Captain Dagh?” he said. “Seventeen. But he was only fifteen when the EDA first recruited him. He’s a prodigy, though.” He stopped walking and gave me a nervous glance. “Not to imply that you weren’t—or aren’t.”
I felt like I’d just been picked last for the world’s biggest game of kickball.
“I was ranked in the top ten, too,” I said. “Why wasn’t I recruited at age fifteen?”
He frowned and gave me an incredulous look.
“Your psych profile indicated you weren’t suitable for early recruitment.”
“Why not? Why wasn’t I suitable?”
“Don’t play dumb, ‘Zack Attack,’ ” he said. “You know why.”
Before I could respond, Ray turned his back on me and continued walking.
But before he could get out of sight, I swallowed my pride and hurried after him.
EVENTUALLY, WE ARRIVED in a circular lobby containing a large bank of elevators. There were already several other “Elite Recruit Candidates” milling around, waiting for the next car to arrive. I was about to walk over and join them when Ray tapped me on the shoulder.
“This is as far as I go,” he said. Then he looked me up and down, as if he were sending me off to my first day of school. He reached for my backpack, which was now mostly empty, and I handed it to him. Then before I could protest, he slipped my father’s jacket off of me and began to fold it up.