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“For the Cerberus program.”
Suz heaved a sigh. “She certainly proved her valor.”
Gator leaned from his chair at the end of the table to scrub Tango’s back. “She’s the best of the best, huh, Princess Pancakes?”
“Why the heck would you call her that?” Ethan.
Gator sent Ethan a grin as he sat back up. “She’s so sweet, she could be covered in syrup.”
Suz laughed. “And anything Gator likes, he names after food. I eat for two. He eats for four.”
“Six,” Jack said. “But before Ukraine you were further south, right. How’d it work out that you left the ranks and ended up in Croatia?”
“Croatia?” Suz nestled back into Jack.
“You know the drill. My body took a beating. It’s hard for me to sit at a desk for any kind of time. I ache too bad. And my attention wanders when I’m pushing papers around. I want to be out in the field meeting new people, having new experiences, all while limiting the need to punch another shark.”
“I hear you, brother,” Gator said.
“The whole time I was sleeping on rocks—no water, eyeballs cut by the sand in the air—I fantasized about chilling somewhere lush and beautiful, and wet. So I went to Croatia and lived on a little catamaran I rented. I kept my feet mostly in the water, going out in the early mornings to use my metal detector and look for treasures that fell off tourists when they were body surfing. I’d try to get the items back to their owners, which was a fun puzzle. When that wasn’t possible, I sold it at a pawn shop.”
“The thing you got to know about that situation, Suz,” Creed said, “is Wiz there is scared to death of deep water and big fish. So he’s only talking about maybe going in knee-deep.”
“True. Though a little fishing off the wharf wasn’t a bad way to put dinner on my plate. A few months of that was enough. I headed north to Ukraine.” Ethan swiped a hand over his face. “I have family in the east, so I thought I'd head up and have a look around and see if I could be helpful in a non-combat role.”
“I was on a mission in Ukraine the day the Russians moved over the border,” Ares said. “What’s your takeaway? How are things looking on the ground?”
Ethan turned toward Suz, rolling his lips in.
She pulled out a chair to sit down with them. “I’m used to war talk. You’re fine.”
Ethan gave her a nod. “Drones overhead, mines on the ground, soldiers mole into the ruins. It was 3D chess, and that’s got me worried about the new normal. That war is shifting everything we know about modern combat. Nothing’s the same.” Ethan’s gaze traveled around the group. “All of our skill sets are perishable. They won’t hold up any more.”
“War is self-preservation,” Suz said. “Rocks to arrows, to guns, to cannon, to atomic weapons, we keep advancing our ways to kill each other. That’s expected with conflict.”
“You’re thinkin’ mainly about them drones?” Gator asked.
“I’m thinking about the innovation mindset. In special forces, we look at a problem, and we think of a way to hit our goals. Imagine an entire army doing that. Encouraged to do that. Everyone is an inventor, a tinkerer. And the fighting landscape changes daily. There are only two modern armies right now. Ukraine—the innovators, and Russia—the copiers. Everyone else is a spectator.”
The men shifted around as those words settled in.
“Give me an example, Ethan,” Suz said. “What kinds of things are happening that America can’t keep up with? We could innovate, too.”
Ethan looked down at Tango and thought about the house he’d lived in. “The Ukrainians don’t put their eggs in one basket. For example, there’s not really a single place that Russians can target to take out a drone plant. They have volunteers who go home from work, make dinner for their kids, and then sit down at their desk to pull orders from their inbox. Soldiers on the battlefield send the requests. My landlady did that, so I saw it firsthand. The different groups would send her their designs, and she’d print off whatever they needed on her 3D printer. In the morning on the way to work, she’d put it in the mail, and her drone parts would be delivered right to the battlefield the next day. The guys would add the explosives and fly them out to make the invaders and their supplies kaboom.”
“That collapses the timeline,” Ares said. “A Ukrainian soldier gets an idea, and it’s tested in the field within days. Whereas here we R&D it so innovation takes time.”
“Soldiering skills will always be needed,” Ethan said. “But rogue is just too easy now. So much so that it was a big reason I brought Tango home to get trained up by Cerberus, so I’d be on hand in America if I was needed.”
“In case people start using drones here?” Suz asked, tilting her head.
“Exactly. Drones and automatons. Granted, in Ukraine, they’re creating miracles every day, saving as many people as they can. But once learned, it’s tough to unlearn. Until now, nations had to weigh the blood and treasure war would destroy. That blood and its emotional component—the deaths and injuries of our family members—kept the diplomats up burning the midnight oil, trying to keep the world calm. Once it becomes a purely financial calculus, I think we have a whole new horizon. And that future isn’t about holding hands and singing kumbaya.” Ethan reached for a clementine and a napkin.
Ares sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve been running games at Iniquus.”
“And from that, we know Ethan’s right. As we’re set up now, we can’t protect with the same level of professionalism we once did,” Jack said, focusing out the window. “We’ve trained on drones for search and rescue and reconnaissance. But we can’t defend against them.” He turned back to Ethan. “Think of it, say we’re three years down the road. These protectees show up in their limos, and it’s our duty to protect them. Our principal is the target. The enemy is an angry executive that doesn’t want a contract to go through. He hires a guy—a single guy—who sends off a drone, and whenever the principal is visible, they can hunt him. Even if he’s not visible, if he’s in the car, or in the restaurant.”
“Collateral damage, be damned,” Gator said, picking his own clementine and peeling it with his thumb.
