Stephen Coonts - Combat

Recognizing the Lost in Space stare, Captain Brittany Kutter waited until Eric was almost right on top of her before she called out to him. “Specialist Bergeron?”

Startled, Eric stopped dead in his tracks and looked around. “Yes?”

When she was sure she had his attention, Kutter stepped up to the befuddled Cyberknight. Flashing the same engaging smile she used when she was about to ask someone a favor that was, in reality, an order, Kutter motioned with her right hand toward a rather forlorn figure who stood behind her. “I know you’ve just finished a long shift, Specialist Bergeron, but would it be possible to show a newly assigned member of the unit around the complex while I find out where he will be assigned?”

Eric made no effort to hide his feelings. He hated it when people like the captain before him assigned his tasks in this manner. Why in the hell, he thought, didn’t they just behave the way soldiers are supposed to, like the colonel, God bless his little black heart.

Stepping forward, the young man who had been following the female captain reached out, hesitantly, with his right hand. “My name is Hamud Mdilla. I am sorry to be of bother, but …”

Realizing what he had done, Eric managed to muster up a smile. “Oh, please. No bother at all.”

Taking advantage of the moment, Kutter broadened her smile as she stepped away. “Well, I’ll let you two go. When you’re finished, come by my office.”

Eric waited until he was sure that she was out of earshot before he spoke again. “You’d think,” he mumbled, “they’d drop all their phony pretenses once they’ve reeled in their latest catch and start acting like normal human beings.”

This comment offended Hamud. “I am sure that the young captain is more sincere than you give her credit for.”

Looking over at the newly recruited Cyberknight, Eric smirked. “Yeah, right.” Then, with a nod, the veteran stepped off. “Come on. I’ll give you a Q and D.”

New to the Army, Hamud hesitated. “Excuse me?”

“Q and D,” Eric explained. “Quick and dirty. I’ll show you around.”

Though the tour was an impromptu one, Eric executed his assignment using the same methodical approach he used when dealing with any issue. As he did so, he engaged the new Cyberknight in conversation. In part, this was to ease the tension that their awkward introduction had created. But Eric also took advantage of this opportunity to probe and take a measure of Hamud’s abilities. For even though the foes the Army wanted them to seek out and destroy were the ones lurking about in cyberspace, the Cyberknights engaged in an in-house competition that pitted one against another.

“So,” Eric chirped. “Where’d they find you?”

“MIT,” Hamud stated glumly. “I was in my third year there.”

“MIT! Wow. I am humbled in your presence.”

Glancing over at his rumpled guide, Hamud wasn’t sure if he was being mocked. “Yes, well, it sounds more impressive than it is.”

“The best I could do was a few years at Purdue before I reached the end of the line,” Eric countered. “The credit line, that is.”

Use of experienced Cyberknights to take newly assigned members of the unit was a practice that Colonel Shrewsbery had introduced. He figured that these soldiers, for all their shortcomings, were no different than any others in the Army. The old hand, he reasoned, would do more than show the ’cruit his way around. He would use the opportunity to lord it over the newbie, to demonstrate his superior knowledge as well as brag about his accomplishments. In this way the new man would have an opportunity to gain insights that a nontechno type could not hope to pass on.

“Not every assault on the Army’s network poses the same threat,” Eric explained as they wandered about the section of the Keep where the wizards of intelligence sorted through incoming material. “And not everyone who breaches security systems does so for the same reason. Most of the intruders are pretty much like us, young cyberpunks with more time and equipment on their hands than smarts.”

Nodding, Hamud listened, though he had never considered himself to be a cyberpunk and very much resented being lumped together with them.

“They utilize their personal high-speed computers and the World Wide Web to wreak havoc on unsuspecting sites for any number of reasons,” Bergeron continued. “The sociologists assigned to the unit say most of them are young people harboring feelings of being disenfranchised by whatever society they live in. They use their equipment, given to them by dear old Mom and Dad, to vandalize the very society which their parents so cherish. Of all the intruders that violate Army systems these hackers, known collectively as gremlins, are rated as being the lowest threat to the system as a whole, and generally rate a low priority when it comes to tracking them.”

“But they can still cause a great deal of damage, can’t they?” Hamud asked.

“Oh, of course,” Eric replied as he led Hamud to the next stop. “But nine times out of ten they have neither the expertise, the number-crunching power, or the persistence to crack the really tough security used to protect mission-essential systems.”

“The Vikings,” Eric stated with a wicked smile as he moved on to the next stop along the tour, “are a different story. They’re organized in bands. With their superior organization and, in the main, better equipment they can mount a serious and sustained offensive against the Army’s computers. Their ability to network, exchange information, refine techniques, and share insights coupled with an ability to strike along multiple routes using multiple systems simultaneously makes them far more lethal than gremlins. The more vicious bands of Vikings can crash all but the Army’s most secure sites.” Pausing, Eric turned and looked at Hamud. “But that doesn’t keep them from trying.”

“Are they all just vandals?” Hamud asked. “Or are some politically motivated?”

“If by political motivation,” Eric answered cautiously, “you are referring to terrorist groups, the answer is yes. Though the intel wizards seldom tell us everything, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why the people we are assigned to take down are making the hack.”

Pausing, Eric cocked his head as if mulling over a thought. “Of course, there have been instances where a band of relatively harmless Vikings has been hijacked by someone who was, as you say, politically motivated.”

Having no qualms about showing his ignorance, Hamud shrugged. “Hijacked?”

“Yes, hijacked,” Eric explained as he resumed his tour. “We refer to politically motivated hackers who work for foreign groups or nations as dark knights. Normally, they will operate out of their own facilities, some of which are probably not at all unlike this place. But on occasion a dark knight will search the web for an unattached band of Vikings. By various means of subterfuge or deception, these roaming dark knights, or DKs, work their way into the targeted band. Often, they use bribes such as techniques that he hasn’t observed the Viking band he’s been tracking use as a means of worming his way into the targeted band’s good graces.”

When he heard this, Hamud’s pace slowed. Turning, Eric saw a pained expression on the new recruit’s face. Knowing full well what that meant, the veteran Cyberknight smiled and waved his right hand in the air. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry. We’ve all been duped by some predatory sack of shit. Just make sure you don’t get sucked in here.”

Forcing a sickly smile, Hamud nodded. “Yes, I can appreciate that.”

“Now the DKs,” Eric went on as he picked up both his conversation and tour where he had left off, “can be quite vicious. Unlike the gremlins and lesser Viking bands, most DKs and the war bands they belong to have unlimited funds. That means they can not only buy the best that’s out there, but even when we fry their little brains, it’s only a matter of time before they come back, but only smarter and better prepared for battle.”