I attack United States
military personnel.”
“You feel
you’re ready for combat?” Digby said. “I would have thought it to
be a little soon.”
“Yeah, tell me
about it. Way too soon. The pistol says that when the training for
the strike is complete, I will be ready. I sure wish I had the
pistol’s confidence.”
“Likely it’s
chosen your own people for the exercise because if you attack the
soldiers of any other nation it could be misinterpreted. Maybe it
doesn’t want to unnecessarily start a war,” Digby suggested.
“I always knew
where this was headed. It’s a little different when you get there.”
Tessa started sweating even thinking about it.
“You could pick
a different target. One that wouldn’t involve United States
military personnel or foreign soldiers.”
“Like?”
Digby reflected
for a moment, searching the ship’s database. “What about this?” He
gestured a screen into being. It zoomed in on a luxurious and
extensive hacienda set amongst lush vegetation. The hacienda was a
scene of intense activity. Trucks and 4WDs came and went. Heavily
armed men guarded the approaches. A large family was having lunch
in an elevated courtyard.
“This is the
home of Fabio Restrepo, a Colombian drug lord,” Digby continued. A
second screen detailed the murderous biography of Restrepo,
continuing on to the sickening biographies of his lieutenants and
some of the rank and file soldiers.
“Yeah,” Tessa
breathed, sitting up. “Those bastards are a waste of space.” Ideas
started to flow. She felt a tingle of excitement in her stomach. “I
don’t have to take them on in close combat. Maybe use a tiny
version of the shuttle to drop onto the mountainside and take a
couple of sniper’s shots. Then exit pronto in the shuttle. I’ll be
gone before they have time to react.” Although she knew it wouldn’t
be as simple as that, she felt she had to save face with the Amalfi
weapon and come up with an alternative plan. As she thought about
it, it did seem feasible. “I could maybe do this,” she said to
Digby. Seconds later, she started feeding data from the ship into
the pistol which, apparently, had no problems with the new
target.
“What do you
call this attack craft?” Tessa said, as they cruised down through
the stratosphere. Digby’s sphere ship didn’t use names for objects,
presenting its image instead.
Digby answered
with a long stream of musical language.
“I thought it
might be like that,” Tessa said. “I’m going to call it ‘Jazmine’
after our cat who was in the car with Mom and Dad when it happened.
They were going to the vet.”
Jazmine, whose
claws were probably the sharpest on the planet, arrived swiftly and
silently at Arlington Cemetery, depositing Tessa in a liquid
mercury swirl near her parents’ graves. Digby backed the craft up
100 metres to give her some privacy and it was a handy place to
keep watch from anyway. Tessa magicked up some flowers, placing a
bunch on each grave, before settling herself nearby on a rug.
Winter clad the cemetery. The day was cold and clear.
By now, two
Blackhawk helicopters hovered at a discrete distance and, sitting
up behind them, a couple of news helicopters, the occupants of
which felt terrifyingly like guinea pigs. Police units worked hard
to clear other visitors from the cemetery without making a fuss.
Everyone watched the jellyfish which, thankfully, stayed where they
were.
There was no
attempt to arrest Tessa.
On the way back
Tessa asked, “Why don’t you use the shuttle? Why do you use this?”
Tessa indicated around her at Jazmine.
“Efficient use
of the ship’s resources. Piloting Jazmine myself, fully controlling
it and its weapons, releases the ship to a role in monitoring only
the distant environment for threats to the craft. After it has
created Jazmine it doesn’t have to do much else. I could also say,”
he added, “that I plain just like flying it.”
Tessa grinned.
“I would to.” She thought
military personnel.”
“You feel
you’re ready for combat?” Digby said. “I would have thought it to
be a little soon.”
“Yeah, tell me
about it. Way too soon. The pistol says that when the training for
the strike is complete, I will be ready. I sure wish I had the
pistol’s confidence.”
“Likely it’s
chosen your own people for the exercise because if you attack the
soldiers of any other nation it could be misinterpreted. Maybe it
doesn’t want to unnecessarily start a war,” Digby suggested.
“I always knew
where this was headed. It’s a little different when you get there.”
Tessa started sweating even thinking about it.
“You could pick
a different target. One that wouldn’t involve United States
military personnel or foreign soldiers.”
“Like?”
Digby reflected
for a moment, searching the ship’s database. “What about this?” He
gestured a screen into being. It zoomed in on a luxurious and
extensive hacienda set amongst lush vegetation. The hacienda was a
scene of intense activity. Trucks and 4WDs came and went. Heavily
armed men guarded the approaches. A large family was having lunch
in an elevated courtyard.
“This is the
home of Fabio Restrepo, a Colombian drug lord,” Digby continued. A
second screen detailed the murderous biography of Restrepo,
continuing on to the sickening biographies of his lieutenants and
some of the rank and file soldiers.
“Yeah,” Tessa
breathed, sitting up. “Those bastards are a waste of space.” Ideas
started to flow. She felt a tingle of excitement in her stomach. “I
don’t have to take them on in close combat. Maybe use a tiny
version of the shuttle to drop onto the mountainside and take a
couple of sniper’s shots. Then exit pronto in the shuttle. I’ll be
gone before they have time to react.” Although she knew it wouldn’t
be as simple as that, she felt she had to save face with the Amalfi
weapon and come up with an alternative plan. As she thought about
it, it did seem feasible. “I could maybe do this,” she said to
Digby. Seconds later, she started feeding data from the ship into
the pistol which, apparently, had no problems with the new
target.
“What do you
call this attack craft?” Tessa said, as they cruised down through
the stratosphere. Digby’s sphere ship didn’t use names for objects,
presenting its image instead.
Digby answered
with a long stream of musical language.
“I thought it
might be like that,” Tessa said. “I’m going to call it ‘Jazmine’
after our cat who was in the car with Mom and Dad when it happened.
They were going to the vet.”
Jazmine, whose
claws were probably the sharpest on the planet, arrived swiftly and
silently at Arlington Cemetery, depositing Tessa in a liquid
mercury swirl near her parents’ graves. Digby backed the craft up
100 metres to give her some privacy and it was a handy place to
keep watch from anyway. Tessa magicked up some flowers, placing a
bunch on each grave, before settling herself nearby on a rug.
Winter clad the cemetery. The day was cold and clear.
By now, two
Blackhawk helicopters hovered at a discrete distance and, sitting
up behind them, a couple of news helicopters, the occupants of
which felt terrifyingly like guinea pigs. Police units worked hard
to clear other visitors from the cemetery without making a fuss.
Everyone watched the jellyfish which, thankfully, stayed where they
were.
There was no
attempt to arrest Tessa.
On the way back
Tessa asked, “Why don’t you use the shuttle? Why do you use this?”
Tessa indicated around her at Jazmine.
“Efficient use
of the ship’s resources. Piloting Jazmine myself, fully controlling
it and its weapons, releases the ship to a role in monitoring only
the distant environment for threats to the craft. After it has
created Jazmine it doesn’t have to do much else. I could also say,”
he added, “that I plain just like flying it.”
Tessa grinned.
“I would to.” She thought
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