“Beacon to Ghost Four, rise. On your feet.” Brunell stood up. “Proceed forward.”
The assistant in the lab coat escorted Brunell forward to the VR OmniTrainer. “Step up to the surface.” Brunell took a big step onto the metal floor of the trainer. Disposable shoe covers kept his feet from gripping the aluminum surface. The handler in the lab coat put the VR headgear on him, cinching it down tight. “Load Fuzhou sim.”
“Roger that. Loading.” Baldo replied. Fuzhou bay appeared on the monitor from high above in rough computer graphics.
“Pause for drop,” McCreary said, watching Baldo and waiting. Baldo hit a button and the graphics display was now visible in 3D on Ghost Four’s VR headset.
“Dropping now,” McCreary said to Brunell. “Look for the target, Ghost Four.” They watched CG lights and harbor enlarge on screen as the program plummeted, simulating a parachute fall. The drop zone target flashed with an icon, but Ghost Four was motionless. His head failing to turn and look for the target.
“Repeat,” McCreary said. “Find the target, the drop zone.”
The target — a highlighted area on the beach slowly enlarged on screen, but off center. Brunell was drifting way off target.
“Look for the target!” McCreary commanded. Lean your body toward it.” Brunell shook off the stupor and noticed the target. He assumed a parachuting stance and shifted his weight, leaning toward it. There were no controls on the chute cables and the only way to guide it was to lean. The city and shiny obsidian bay zoomed up as he parachuted in the direction of the target. Getting back on track.
“Avoid the water. Lean to the target.” Brunell did as McCreary commanded, guiding his chute toward the beach.
“Well done. Land at the drop zone.” The virtual world rushed upward and Brunell simulated a landing. The VR animation seamlessly continued after the jolt of the landing, and now showed Fuzhou from Brunell’s eye level. “Good.” McCreary said. “Now stand still for chute retraction.”
“Auto retraction,” Baldo said, simulating the time it took for the chute to reel up into the backpack.
“Look for the escort vehicle.”
An SUV appeared. Its bright headlights raking across the screen as it turned and pulled up next to Ghost Four. “Proceed to vehicle and enter.” A CG figure emerged from the computer graphics van, opening the back doors wide. Brunell climbed in. “Good. Now, sit down and wait.” Brunell sat down on the OmniTrainer. Following orders.
The sim skipped ahead as the car pulled into an urban area with tall buildings.
“Beacon to Ghost Four. Exit the vehicle. You’re on your own. Place your back against the wall and stay there. Hold still for the duration of the checklist.
McCreary and Baldo methodically went down each item on the check list. Ending with the final one — Activate. “Ghost Four, proceed to the target building,” McCreary said.” A red highlight flashed in the distance, glowing through the computer-generated buildings — skyscrapers in downtown Fuzhou.
Brunell slogged toward the flashing target on the VR OmniTrainer. His hospital shoe covers slipping on the metal floor enabled him to walk in place.
A search light appeared, shining down from the right. McCreary expected it. Part of the test to see how Ghost Four would respond. “Avoid the light.” McCreary commanded. Brunell continued toward it. “Avoid the light! Avoid bright light!” Ghost Four stepped into the light for a moment then changed direction toward the target. McCreary looked at Trest, shaking his head. Ghost Four wasn’t working out.
“Proceed around the building, to the west side. Look at your compass. Follow the marker.” A digital compass swiveled in the lower left of the HMD, one of the permanent interface widgets. Brunell marched toward the flashing target. He rounded the corner of a building and a Chinese security guard appeared into view. “Avoid the guard. He can’t see you, but stay away from him.” Brunell continued toward the guard. “Beacon to Ghost Four. Avoid the guard. Move to the building.” He bumped square into the computer-generated guard, who instinctively drew his sidearm and radioed for backup. The screen froze and went black. Bold red letters appeared — MISSION FAILURE.
Brunell kept walking on the treadmill. He seemed lost. His head looking all around, trying to see around his black screen.
“That’s enough,” Trest said. “Shut it down!”
Baldo turned the computer off and restored the overhead lights in the hangar. The lab assistant quickly removed the VR headgear from Brunell. He stood motionless on the OmniTrainer. Still asleep.
“What the hell was that?” Trest asked Elm.
“He’s not ready, sir. He needs more training.”
“I can see that! What does it mean?”
“He’s not accustomed to the SomnControl commands yet, sir. We have to work with him more, until he’s more responsive.”
“How long will that take?”
“It depends on the individual. Everyone is different.”
“And what if he never gets it? What if he’s never responsive?!” Trest asked.
“That’s a possibility, sir.”
“We can’t have any more delays. This op has to happen NOW. Bring in Sheridan. Tomorrow night. Prep for full sim workup.”
“But sir—” Elm said.
“—Do it!” Trest barked to McCreary.
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Elm insisted on being there for the simulation training of Ghost One, which began the following night and continued for two weeks. It was the most complex mission to date and Trest would have asked Elm to be there, had Elm not demanded it.
Hal was responding well to the new medications. He was being closely observed around the clock, and had not exhibited any new signs of visions or nightmares.
Ghost One picked up the training like an SF pro. Much more responsive than the failed training of Ghost Four. Elm’s confidence in his readiness for the mission grew day by day. He marveled at Hal’s abilities. Wondering if he could respond at a level this high fully conscious — where the concept of fear wasn’t chemically sanitized from his mind.
Trest ordered Elm’s team to continue working with Ghost One — and to begin the process of finding new ghost candidates.
Fuzhou H-hour had finally arrived. Trest called Dr. Elm in to Hangar 302 while Ghost One was en route to China. Elm observed the entire mission, from the Aurora flying Ghost One inside the MQ-10S at speeds of over Mach 6 to the detachment of the drone and release of Ghost One, where he parachuted over the bay of Fuzhou.
The drop zone was the Xianqi Jiaoshan Park. Just inland of the Fuzhou Bay and near the S1531 Airport Expressway. Their route from the bay to downtown Fuzhou. Local time was 10 p.m. Ghost One parachuted safely near a side road where a green delivery van waited. It had markings in English and Chinese that read China Post. The driver, an undercover asset of Chinese decent, fit the bill — looking like a humble, chain-smoking newspaper delivery man. A cigarette fell from his lip as Ghost One marched toward him through the thick smog and haze of Fuzhou. The asset knew he would be receiving a Special Forces operator, but had no idea the operator would look like this. He was expecting a Navy SEAL — not someone dressed head to toe in black, wearing fatigues made of a material that he could only describe as “other-worldly.”
“What are you waiting for?” Trest’s voice barked over the asset’s hidden earpiece. The CIA agent snapped out of it and quickly opened the rear double doors of the newspaper van. Ghost One stepped in amid stacks of China Post newspapers. Robotically using a large stack as a stool. Eyes straight on the opposite wall of the van as the asset closed the doors.