The audio was crystal clear. “Yes,” he answered.
“The radio in the VISOR is good for about 10 clicks. We want you to head out west, through the bomb craters.”
“What bomb craters?”
“Activate the night vision,” Eric said, “and you’ll see.”
He concentrated and the valley floor opened in front of him. He saw the pockmarks in the distance, some large enough to swallow a car, some large enough to swallow a house. “Oh, those craters.”
“Yeah,” Eric said, “this used to be a bomb range during World War Two. The desert floor looks like the surface of the moon.”
Dr. Elliot’s voice came through the VISOR. “John, we’re getting excellent readings back in the command center. We’ve got a drone overhead, relaying the telemetry. The HUD will combine this with the terrain info and you’ll get a sense of what the VISOR can really do.”
He was already impressed by the VISOR, but now he was amazed. The screen shifted and the world appeared in hyper detail. Ghostly blue outlines appeared in the HUD, suspended in front of him. Numbers showed the ambient air temperature and humidity, GPS coordinates, and compass.
A split screen appeared on the right side of the HUD, an overhead display showing him as a small speck standing next to a truck, Eric and Deion lounging against it.
He looked to the distance at a large crater and a number in the display appeared. Six hundred and twenty seven meters. He stepped toward the crater and the number decremented by one meter. He stepped back and the number incremented by one meter. He turned his head back to Eric and Deion, watching the compass spin to the east. “Whoa.”
“Take it easy,” Eric said. “You might suffer from sensory overload. If it’s too much, just close your eyes and take a deep breath. Now, get hiking.” He pointed to the west.
John moved, his boots stepping lightly over the rock. He found himself picking up speed until soon he was running. For the first time he felt the effects of the enhancement drugs, the resistance training, and the cardio workouts. His feet floated over the hardscrabble dirt and rock, his body surging through the night, effortless.
He was halfway to the distant crater when Dr. Elliot called for him to stop. “John, turn back and see if you can spot the truck.”
He turned and saw the vehicle in the distance. “Yeah, I see it.”
“Good. Now concentrate. Think of increased magnification.”
He did and the display zoomed in. He concentrated harder and the display zoomed in farther, until the truck appeared just yards away, Deion and Eric still leaning against it. He focused and the image zoomed back out.
“Good,” Dr. Elliot said. “Very good. I’m impressed. You’ve got it. Eric, give him a show.”
He watched as Eric pulled a large rifle from the back of the pickup, loaded it, then turned at an angle and shot off into the distance. The rifle’s laser range finder blazed as a visible thread of light projected upward. The path of the bullet glowed, trailing off into the distance, its paths diverging from the laser as gravity inevitably pulled the round back to earth. “Is that a tracer?”
“No,” Dr. Elliot responded. “That’s a standard round. What you’re seeing is the heat signature overlaid with the night vision.”
“This thing is incredible.”
Dr. Elliot laughed. “Thanks, but remember, this isn’t for your enjoyment. This technology is designed to help you accomplish your mission.”
He spent several hours tromping across the desert, practicing with the VISOR. At times he became overloaded with data, but gradually learned to manage the VISOR’s output until the night held no surprises. He was both exhilarated and exhausted as dawn approached, when Eric finally drove them back to the tunnel entrance.
John met Eric and Deion the next morning in the training room and found them standing around a dummy wearing a suit of black fabric and plastic panels. He was still giddy from the night before, but quickly sobered at the site of the flat-black gear.
“Are you ready for the Battlesuit?” Eric asked.
He paced around the plastic dummy, inspecting it. “Is this like the body armor I wore in Iraq? Because I hated that. It was hot as hell and I always felt like I was smothering.”
Eric shook his head. “Nothing like that. The fabric has been treated with chemicals that will help regulate your body temperature. It’ll keep you warm when you’re cold and cool when you’re warm. Don’t ask me how it works because I don’t know. It’s soft and breathable and will stretch to fit your body. The panels are liquid body armor. When a bullet strikes the gel, it instantly crystallizes and spreads the kinetic energy across the entire surface area. It’ll stop a 7.62 round at ten yards. It’ll stop .45 handgun ammo at point-blank range. Each panel can take several hits before you lose structural integrity.”
Deion laughed. “Try not to get hit more than once, man. Otherwise, you’ve fucked up.”
“Good point,” Eric agreed. “This isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card. This might mean the difference between living and dying, but whatever is shooting at you, you damn well better shoot back.”
He pointed at the webbing that crossed at the chest. “What’s with the straps?”
“That’s your gear harness. You strap your rifle to it when you HALO jump, it’ll keep your weapon from ripping away from your body.” Eric pointed to a plastic bump on the back. “This is your backpack. Notice the small size. It’s designed to keep your body profile to a minimum. There’s room for a basic ration pack, and a water pouch with integrated nipple. You don’t even have to stop for a drink when you’re on the move. There’s an emergency medical kit and a survival pack.” He pointed to the plastic bumps on each side of the hips. “These are your integrated holsters, one for each hand. When they lock in place, you can run full speed.”
“And the ankle sheathe?”
Eric smiled. “There’s always room for a Ka-Bar knife. What do you think?”
He eyed the sleek and menacing Battlesuit. “I can’t wait to try it on.”
Eric was filling out electronic forms when Smith entered. He glanced up and then back down at his monitor. “You’d think a top secret organization would generate a lot less paperwork.”
“A good organization runs on paperwork,” Smith said. “I thought you’d been in the regular Army.” He took a seat across from Eric’s desk, lowering himself gently to the padded seat. “These old bones bother me now and then, something I’m sure a young man like yourself hasn’t encountered yet.”
He smiled ruefully. “I’m beginning to understand. After training with Frist all day and reviewing paperwork all night, I feel ten years older.”
There was a soft knock at the door and Nancy entered. She patted her father on the shoulder and he took her wrist and held it to his cheek. She pulled away slowly, then took the seat beside him.
Eric tried not to notice how well the blue skirt and white shirt framed her lithe body.
She squinted at him, then turned to her father. “Did I interrupt?”
Smith smiled at her. “No, dear. Eric was just informing me that he was feeling his age.”
Nancy turned back to Eric. “Heh. You don’t say?”
“Frist is a handful,” he said. That was an understatement. His combat tours left fewer bruises than he now sported. “I’m introducing him to weapons tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” Smith said. “Dr. Elliot is quite pleased with the progress, as is Dr. Oshensker. The Implant functions well?”
“It’s remarkable. Freeman and I put him through the wringer, a twenty mile jog with a weighted pack. He was totally spent. We activated the Implant and he went another twenty. Doc Barnwell wasn’t too pleased about it, though.”