Free Piranha by Jim DeFelice, Dale Brown Page B

were elaborate, and it was much easier all
around to put her up in a nice hotel for a few days.
                 Put
himself up too.
                 “Surprise
that she’s coming?” McNally asked.
                 “Not
a surprise, no,” Danny said. “You have a handle on things?”
                 “Boss,
you can take off for the next few months as far as I’m concerned. You earned
it.”
                 “Thanks,
Billy.” He tapped his radio and then his beeper, wordlessly telling his
lieutenant to call if needed, then headed toward the handheld-weapons lab.
                 Annie
Klondike sat hunched over a desk, starting at a small, liver-shaped piece of
metal. Her think white hair had been pulled back into a tight ball, enhancing
her school- marm look.
                 “Hey,
Annie, whatcha got going?” asked Danny.
                 “ Hmmmpphhhh ,” she said without looking up.
                 Danny
bent over and inspected the metal. “New explosive?”
                 “Hardly.”
She pushed herself up from the chair. “You’ll want your helmet, I suppose.”
                 “If
it’s convenient.”
                 “Convenient?
Captain, you’ve added a new word to your vocabulary.”
                 “I
even used it in a sentence,” said Freah.
                 “I’d
be curious as to your definition,” she said, beginning her shuffle toward one
of the back areas. “We took the liberty of adding upgrades,” said Annie,
opening the door to a storage closet. “Try the vest first.”
                 The
carbon-boron vest that Danny pulled over his chest was no thicker than a
good-quality goose-down ski vest, and weighed nearly the same. The side that
nestled against his ribs had a crinkly feel; pressing it against his side felt
a little like squishing the Styrofoam of a packing peanut.
                 “What’s
the cushion?”
                 “ Styrated aluminum,” said Klondike. “Actually a carbonized
alloy, but mostly aluminum.”
                 “Aluminum?”
                 “It
bears only a passing resemblance to the material used in soda cans, Captain,
not to worry,” said Annie. “I’m told a bullet from a M60E1 at five yards won’t
leave a bruise, though I haven’t found a volunteer willing to demonstrate.”
                 “Does
the next upgrade come with a built-in nurse?”
                 “Your
helmet is this way,” said the weapons expert tartly. “Have I ever told you, you
have a big head?”
                 “All
the time.”
                 Danny’s
smart helmet and its connected Combat Information Visor included a display
shield with Video, low-light, infrared, and radiation-detection modes. When
plugged into its com modules—these were generally carried in a small pack on
the wearer’s back or belt—it could tie into Dreamland’s secure satellite
communications system. But that system required coordination back at Dreamland,
as well as being in line of sight of the satellite—fine in some situations, not
in others. Team members on the ground communicated through a discrete-mode unit
that was also line-of-sight—again, fine in some situations but not in others.
                 “We
have bowed to popular demand and added a standard radio link,” announced Annie.
“I would caution you: The encryption is merely based on a 128-byte key on a
random skip; it can be broken easily.”
                 “By
anyone outside of the NSA and Dreamland?”
                 Annie
smiled—slightly. “A simple beacon detector could be used to locate the
transmissions, which, as requested, have a range of five miles. We are looking
at a complementary-wave transmitter that would interfere with the transmissions
beyond an