Daniel Suarez - Kill Decision

“For all I knew, they might have been involved with these drone attacks. If so, tipping them off would have given them a chance to scatter and cover their trails.”

“How can you be sure I’m not involved in these attacks? Oh, that’s right-I’m a white chick, so I must be innocent. I did grow up all over the world, you know. I could have been turned to the ‘dark side’ in some madrassa.”

“Are you finished?”

“I hope the rest of your mission has been more inspired than what you’ve told me so far.”

He eyed her with some irritation. “I made a mistake with the Stanford researchers, and I had to get to you before the drone builders did. I am responsible for getting the Stanford team killed. I know that. We’re doing the best we can, Professor, with incomplete information and very little time.”

McKinney sighed and held up her hands. “I didn’t mean to imply you don’t care about those people.” McKinney searched for some sense in what was going on. “But there are thousands of swarming algorithms around. Why would these people choose mine? I’m hardly the world expert on swarming intelligence.”

“Maybe it has something to do with weavers in particular. Aggression. Maybe they chose yours by chance, or convenience, or some connection we can’t see yet. But what matters is that they did take yours. If you know anything about the strategies of America’s geopolitical rivals, then you’d know that swarming is a central theme. Whoever used this visual intelligence software to give a drone eyes is also planning on using your software to make them into a cohesive military force. An anonymous swarm that will prevent us from bringing our firepower to bear on our real attackers.”

McKinney stopped short, then fixed her gaze on him. “Did you just say they were planning on using my swarming algorithm? I thought you said my weaver model had already been used?”

Odin showed no emotion. “I told you what was necessary to bring you under U.S. jurisdiction with as little drama as possible.”

McKinney felt the rage building. “Jesus!” She paced angrily. “I get it now. You pile the guilt of killing a hundred people onto my shoulders so I’ll meekly submit out of remorse for all the suffering I’ve caused. You manipulative asshole!”

“Professor, calm down. It doesn’t change the reality of the situation.”

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

“A great deal.”

“You admit it?”

“This is a life-and-death struggle. There’s no time for social niceties.”

“Like honesty. How convenient that must be for you. That’s the problem with all these wars you people keep getting us into.”

“As a biologist, you, of all people, know that conflict is a fact of life. Competition is the mechanism of evolution.”

“There is a great deal more to evolutionary biology than survival of the fittest-although that’s all anyone seems to remember. One of Darwin’s contemporaries was Alfred Russel Wallace, who had even more profound lessons about evolution-that humans are social creatures. That we coevolve with other species as part of a fabric of interwoven and interdependent life-forms. The world isn’t entirely about competition and dominance. And species that cooperate with others succeed better than those who do not. That’s what civilization is, cooperation.”

“And if there’s not enough for everyone, who gets to live? Who gets to reproduce? How is that decided in the wild?”

“We need to aspire to being more than just animals-because unlike animals humans have the capacity to destroy the earth. In fact, we’re already destroying it-and what you’re doing isn’t helping.”

Odin glowered at her. “It’s not necessary that you like me, Professor. But I can tell you from personal experience that every population has a criminal element-people who will do anything to gain and keep power. Whoever’s behind this, they are such people, and they’re building a robot army that will follow their every command. I’d like your help in stopping them.”

She stared at him, then finally turned away. It had felt good to vent, but that didn’t change the reality of her situation. “So what are you, then? CIA?”

“I told you, we can’t discuss what I am.”

“You’re asking that I blindly follow orders. I’m not allowed to know from whom-and you’ve already lied to me. What you’re asking is that I be an obedient machine. Isn’t that what you’re trying to stop?”

He gritted his teeth in frustration.

“This is a matter of trust. I don’t trust you, Odin. You’ve given me no reason to trust you. How do I even know you’re who you say you are?” She gestured to the office around her. “And as if the U.S. military has never done anything immoral or unethical. Convince me. Convince me, or throw me in prison-because I’m not going to help someone I don’t trust.”

He ran his hand through his long, unruly hair. “Christ, you’re a piece of work. The file said you’d be difficult.” He exhaled in irritation. “Fine. We’re an elite intelligence unit of the U.S. Army.”

“Special Forces.”

“No. Special Forces is publicly acknowledged to exist. We don’t officially exist.”

“Delta Force…”

“Look, no. Not Delta Force. That’s a counterterrorism unit. We go in before them. Alone and quietly. We uncover the reality on the ground. That’s all I’m trying to do, Professor.”

McKinney eyed him suspiciously. “What’s your rank?”

“What does it matter?”

“I want to know who I’m dealing with.”

“I’m a master sergeant.”

“They sent a sergeant? I would have thought that tracking down the drones attacking America would have rated at least a lieutenant.”

“What is this, a class thing?”

“No, but it occurs to me that officers go to officer training school, where they presumably learn how to manage groups of people and complex operations-where they learn ethics. I mean, I study bugs, and I went to school for half my life.”

“For your information, I gave up all possibility of promotion to serve in this unit. Everyone in my unit is a sergeant-and we’ll stay sergeants our entire career.”

She was confused.

“Commissioned officers receive their commission from the Congress. That means the civilian government is answerable for their conduct. Noncommissioned officers answer only to the military high command. Our rank has to do with government exposure.”

“Meaning you skip around the globe breaking laws, and they’ll disown you if you’re caught.”

“Meaning I’m the guy who has to solve problems whether there’s an international legal framework for them or not. And for drones, there is not.”

McKinney felt convinced he was telling the truth, if only because the answer made her mad. “No uniforms, apparently.”

“Blending in is what we do.”

“Did it ever occur to you that the presence of American units like yours in foreign countries is precisely what’s causing these drone attacks against us?”

“And you really think the world would be a peaceful place if we left it alone?”

“I wasn’t arguing that the world is filled with unicorns and rainbows. I’ve spent a decade in the Third World. I’m no stranger to corruption and lawlessness in places like Africa. In fact, I’m godmother to a boy whose father was murdered by ivory poachers. So, I get that civil society needs to be defended by people with guns-but those people cannot be above the law. And you just described to me why you’re a sergeant-in order to better skirt international laws.”

“Okay. You don’t trust your government. But if you think drones in American hands are frightening, imagine them controlled by North Korea, or Burma, or narco-traffickers, or Dominionists, or AT amp;T. If you want to lobby for some international legal framework for these machines, more power to you-but until you civilians sort this shit out, I and my team have to deal with it. It’s not a fucking theory with me, okay? I’m concerned about whether humans will be combatants on future battlefields, or just targets. It matters a whole goddamned lot to me, maybe even more than it does to you, so I’d appreciate you setting aside your objections and pitching the fuck in.”