“Ms. Collins, I’ve spent my whole life around drones. I’ve played with them as toys and I’ve operated them as weapons, so believe me when I say this: drones are not the problem. It’s the people operating them who are. Like all inanimate objects, it’s what a person does with it that determines its utility. Unfortunately, there are way too many sickos in the world that even toys are being weaponized and sent out to kill. But unless you ban all potential weapons — which can be anything in the hands of a madman — this is the world we live in.”
“It’s also the world we die in… and far too often. And now we have terrorists basically cornering the market on drone usage for evil,” Tiffany said. “And in most cases they’re not using surplus or homebuilt drones, but rather sophisticated machines specifically designed and built for combat. Warfare is evolving to a point where huge floating airports and intercontinental ballistic missiles are far too expensive to build and deploy, especially when you can build a million killer drones for the price of one aircraft carrier, and then spread your threat over a much wider area… and with no credible defense.”
“Is that the lead to the documentary you’re working on?” Xander asked, without his accompanying smile.
“Can you deny the truth?”
“No, I can’t, but that’s not the point. What you’re saying is that humanity is reaching the point where anyone — and everyone — can become a mass killer or an international superpower. He who controls the most killer drones rules the world, right?”
“Don’t get mad at me for cutting to the chase. It’s not my job to protect the public from information that might upset them. I have a duty to let people know what’s really happening, despite what the officials tell them.”
“Wholesale release of information just for the sake of sensationalism isn’t doing anyone any good. All it does it add to the paranoia. Is that what you want, a whole population scared to leave their homes for fear of a drone attack, or the latest disease outbreak, or that they might be hit by a piece of the space station falling from the sky? Is there any wonder we have so many crazy people these days doing crazy things?”
“It’s not my job to pick and choose the news, Mr. Moore.” Tiffany’s tone was as cold as the desert air outside the hovercopter. “When we start doing that, it’s called censorship. Most of the criticism of the news media over the past twenty years has come not from a misrepresentation of the facts, but rather from an omission of relevant data designed to mislead or to hide opposing views. And with the segmentation of the media we have today, it’s become possible for a person to read, watch and hear only one side of an issue, with no opposing or countering views. This has polarized our population like nothing before, and it hasn’t helped anything. How can people, operating on only half the information, make informed decisions? I’ll put your views in my report, just as I will the opposition’s, but then I’ll let my viewers make up their minds. That’s if you don’t throw me out of this flying egg beater first.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Xander glanced out the side of the canopy. “But from this altitude it might not kill you, and then I’d have whole other set of problems to deal with.”
Tiffany extended her hand. “Agree to disagree?”
Xander took the soft hand and held if for a moment longer than was necessary. “Just as long as you agree you’re wrong.”
“So if two wrongs make a right…”
“Then I guess we’re both right.”
Tiffany withdrew her hand and looked out the window. “Are we there yet?”
Xander had to smile. He liked to be challenged, both physically and intellectually, and Tiffany Collins — beyond the obvious reasons — was becoming more interesting by the moment.
Chapter 10
Under the cover of darkness, Xander piloted the hovercopter past the northern shore of the Salton Sea and then along the outskirts of Palm Springs before heading along Highway 111 toward the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway. He knew the small town of Idyllwild was located along the top ridge of the San Jacinto Mountains off Highway 245. Visitors to the Tram could catch rides from the top of the mountain to meet up with highway, so he figured his quickest path to the town would be to travel up the same canyon as the Tram and then skim the treetops until he came to the road.
It was nearing seven o’clock in the evening when they entered the canyon and began to climb to the summit at just over seven thousand feet. The Tram wasn’t operating at the time, even though he was sure there were workers around. Yet as the copter paralleled the long and steep cable line, he didn’t see a soul, either at the base or at the summit. Even the Peaks Restaurant — where he’d dined on half a dozen occasions before — was dark. He began to suspect that most public facilities in the area had shut down early as a precaution against further terrorist attacks now that it was known the RDC had been hit.
There was a decent snowpack at the top, and the starlit scene below was beautiful and deceiving, making it appear as if everything in the world was peaceful and pure. Xander knew better. The attack on the RDC was just the beginning. The terrorists hadn’t gone through this much trouble to take out the Center without having a much larger goal in mind. Now America’s eggs-in-one-basket defensive planning was coming back to haunt them. The civilian defense forces at the individual venues would do the best they could, yet for too long they’d been deferring their responsibility to the RDC, saving money in personnel and training, while even receiving a break on their insurance if they signed priority agreements with the RDC for the use of their drones.
Now these mostly inexperienced pilots were about to get a crash course in drone defensive tactics. The terrorists had been planning this for months — if not years — so it was a good bet their pilots and auto drones would come at America with skill and overwhelming force, a reversal of the Shock and Awe campaign from thirty years before.
It was going to be a slaughter.
At just over seven thousand feet, they began skimming along the treetops, and after a few minutes Xander spotted a windy road below and followed it south for another five minutes.
“So, where are we going?” he asked.
Tiffany had her head pressed against the plastic side of the dome, intently watching the ground below. “I’m not quite sure,” she said after a moment. “I’ve never had to find the place from the air before.”
“That’s Highway 243 down there. We’re just north of Idyllwild, I believe.”
“Good. When we get to the town center, I can find my way from there.”
A few minutes later they came to a sprinkling of commercial buildings lining SR 243—the Banning-Idyllwild Highway — with a couple of other roads splintering off from it. “Follow that one, it should be Pine Crest.” Thirty seconds later the road made a steep turn to the left. Tiffany pointed down. “There’s a dirt road — see it? My cabin’s up there. It’s rather steep going up that way… by car anyway.”
Xander obeyed, and soon the tiny copter was again riding the treetops, with very few roofs visible.