Fingers and Pain Sticks Have Things in Common

[Ethan Neufeld 0]

Ethan was tired. That he was nearing twelve unbroken, waking hours in his heightened state on top of another twelve waking hours before played only a small part. He was at a loss and, in a word, discouraged. Pher's lecture and threat had been irritating. Her account of their performances hadn’t been easy to choke down. Underscoring others' mistakes while minimizing those of your boyfriend and overrating yourself wasn't what Ethan called inspiring leadership. It was true that, next to their successes, he'd privately counted the individual mistakes that were made. It was impossible not to when every move had to be evaluated. And it was natural to feel frustrated in response. The people who had made those mistakes wouldn't forget them any time soon. Pher's pain stick couldn't match the gut check Ethan felt when faced with the very real possibility that he'd endangered the team.

 

 

"Sal, Zaph, Ethan... You three have ticked em off, while Chris and I haven't yet...

 

"You with me, Luv?" Pher had coaxed Chris.

 

"You're right," Ethan had remarked before Nickles could answer her. "The last contact was my fault: only rational explanation. I left my radio on." Preempting the things he was sure they'd say with raised his hands, he'd added; "I know; everything's off now. Won't happen again."

 

 

Discretion had kept Ethan's spoken observations to the team generalized, focusing on the we and solidarity of the group. Discretion had also kept him quiet when Pher singled them out. Recognizing mistakes was essential to survival, but faultfinding had no place in that environment. It did more harm to morale than help.

 

He was a confident individual, driven by some unquantifiable need to beat every odd and win every challenge. He wouldn't have become who he was or achieved what he had in life if he'd abandoned one goal or obstacle because it was hard. A little discouragement now wasn't about to end his confidence, but it was still a very real feeling. It'd driven him to pointlessly dwell on theories throughout the night, only to admit that he had no corroborating evidence and abandon them by morning. And to top it off, it'd knocked him fresh out of new ideas for a while.

 

They'd remained in the maintenance shed after sunrise. Not to Ethan's liking, but he was relying more on his teammates' judgment than his own after their second encounter. The drones soon swarmed the area as he'd expected. But, in the complete absence of electrical signatures, they'd carried on like the team was just part of the scenery. Pher's theory and his fault in the second encounter were as good as confirmed. And when Pher suggested they move on, Ethan had privately shrugged. Why not? From there it was no small leap or surprise that they were able to move from the shed unnoticed.

 

Well, almost unnoticed. Their patchwork friend from the previous evening – if really the same drone – had reappeared and apparently scanned their position. But it'd kept at a distance and its scan was short. Ethan chalked the incident it up to coincidence. Conducting area scans might have been its primary duty and they'd stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time, he'd reasoned.

 

That there were so few of their customized friends around hadn't escaped Ethan's notice. The document Sal Rosetto found claimed the drones were originally designed as common caretakers. But Ethan had thought the 'new' drone with its altered appearance, was evidence that the system was adapting to deal with the team. It'd appeared less than an hour after their first encounter and zeroed in on them instantly. He'd half-expected an army of them to come pouring from their maintenance sheds ready for battle after a full night. But, out of the dozens of busy caretakers they saw that morning, he counted only one or, maybe, two of the modified drones. What was keeping the system from rolling out hundreds like them; resources, uncertainty or overestimation? Why were those drones different?

 

Maybe the modified drone's reappearance wasn't a coincidence. He'd tucked the idea away, but the thought hadn't stayed far from his mind. The possibility that the team was perfectly visible – to the modified drones at any rate – would have far-reaching implications.

 

Historically, humans employed many technologies in warfare that emitted traceable signals; radios and networked computers, ancient sonar and radar, phasers and more. Use of these all carried some risk of detection. Many times this risk was mitigated by running silent or dark, being more clever and patient than the enemy or, in the case of a superior power, by being more advanced. But as technology became smaller and more available, tricorders multiplied that risk. Suddenly you could see much more from the palm of your hand and so could everyone else.

 

With some exceptions in Ethan's experience, opposing forces didn't employ active sensors on the battlefield at the ground unit level. Some units weren't even issued active-capable gear. Generally, ground units relied on communications with observation posts, air support and orbital platforms to provide greater situational awareness outside their physical senses. There was a mutual understanding among the advanced powers that active scans from the ground units were a liability, leading to exposure, stalemates and even massacre. It was no longer submarine Captains who were waiting for the enemy to make the mistake of going active first. But the drones didn't seem to understand the concept or care. It wasn't the first time an enemy hadn't got the memo.

 

Conventional training and skills alone didn’t stand much of a chance against unconstrained, active sensors. They were like all-seeing eyes. You couldn't hide and you wouldn't get far if you ran. There were ways around sensors, countermeasures designed to defeat them using one trick or another. Troy's space hats were one of those tricks. But what if they weren't working? What if the modified drones could see through them? What if delta radiation was a crucial part of their sensor packets and the sensor gaps were giving the team away? If the hats weren't concealing them, the fact one member or another was better skilled wouldn't matter. Chances were good conventional techniques wouldn't conceal or cover their presence any better. Their current approach would be ineffective. But they couldn't just turn around and act as carelessly as the drones.

 

Or could they? Maybe he was looking at it from the wrong angle, too deep in one frame of mind to see it for what it was. He hadn't been in a good position to see exactly how Rosetto had provoked one of the drones into firing at him. But the drone might have perceived a threat to its wellbeing and only fired out of self-defense. And once it believed the threat was gone, it stopped firing. It was the only incident in which a drone had fired. It was also the only time anyone had intentionally got their attention.

 

By extension, it seemed like Pher's speculation on drone reactions was right. Get too close to an artifact or protected property and get zapped. But it'd surprised Ethan that the drones hadn't done much after the team spent the night in one of their maintenance sheds. Assuming most of the drones couldn't see them; one modified drone still might have and told the others. And even the 'blind' drones were smart enough to track the team's presence if they'd tried. Maybe the drones didn't care.

 

Ethan couldn't help wondering what would happen if they met their modified friend again. A third scan would do more than stifle any false ideas that all of the drones couldn't see them. It'd blow everything they thought they knew out of the water, including persisting thoughts surrounding what was aggressive posturing and what was not.

 

It'd also mean he – his radio – wasn't responsible for drawing drone attention.