State of War

29

Michaels scanned some files on his flatscreen as he walked down the hall on his way to grab a quick lunch. There was a time when he would have changed into spandex and a T-shirt and taken his recumbent trike to a local Chinese or Thai restaurant and burned off a few calories in the process. But not today. The weather forecasters were predicting temperatures near body heat, and humidity almost as high. On a day like that, the air-conditioned cafeteria didn’t sound so bad. Besides, the trike was at home for Toni to use, if she wanted.

And the food was usually pretty good.

He saw John Howard just ahead, also heading toward the cafeteria.

“John,” Michaels called.

“Commander.” Howard slowed for him to catch up.

“You see the new EHPA/HEL from DARPA?”

Howard shook his head. “No, can’t say as I have.”

Michaels passed his flatscreen over. “Check it out.”

EHPA stood for Exoskeletons for Human Performance Augmentation; HEL the Human Engineering Laboratory, at UC Berkeley; and DARPA was for the Defense Advanced Reasearch Projects Agency, which was funding the beast. The project had been around for ten or twelve years, and was finally to the stage where they had a full-strength product they thought worth field-testing.

Howard looked at the screen. It showed a soldier in chocolate-chip camo outfitted in the experimental exoskeleton. He was holding a barbell loaded with plates over his head in a military press.

Michaels hadn’t had time to do more than scan the article, but already knew quite a bit about the project. The basic unit was a blend of tightly wound carbon fiber, spider silk, and lightweight metals, securely strapped to the soldier’s limbs. The suit had articulated aircraft-aluminum and titanium joints at the shoulders, elbows, wrists, hands, waist, hips, knees, and ankles. It came with special boots and metal half “gloves,” too.

A series of hydraulic pistons attached to the geared joints were dual-powered. The bulk of the work was done by Nanomuscle’s revolutionary memory-metal actuators, like those found in cars and boats. These memory-metal “muscles” were backed by several standard electric motors clamped to the frame. Everything was run by a small backpack tank of hydrogen and a fuel cell, and operation was coordinated by an onboard computer chip with a built-in failsafe.

With sensors that picked up normal muscle movements, developed originally by medical technicians for artificial limbs for amputees, the exoskeleton would greatly augment a man’s abilities. A trooper who could bench press two hundred pounds without the suit could push five hundred with it. Any movement that the frame could handle was likewise augmented. One moment, a man could be standing at ease; the next, he could squat and lift a car’s rear end clear off the road, with the suit doing most of the work. They weren’t good for running faster, but using one you could climb longer, work harder, and even lock it so you could stand unmoving for hours. It would even let you sleep standing up.

The exoskeleton could make a small woman stronger than any man. A man would be almost as strong as a gorilla.

“We can get one for testing, if you want to try it out,” Michaels said. “The National Guard has six available, and I have the clout to snag us one.”

The general grinned, teeth flashing white against his dark skin. “That would be interesting. Not to mention it would be nice to have something to surprise Lieutenant Fernandez with for a change.” He passed the flatscreen back to Michaels.

“I’ll put in a requisition,” Alex said.

“Thank you, Commander.”

Michaels nodded. “Toni wanted me to tell you she’s still working on your gun grips,” he said, changing the subject.

Toni, who did scrimshaw, had decided to do a set of faux-ivory stocks for Howard’s sidearm, the Net Force logo on one side, and, unbeknownst to him, a portrait of his wife on the other panel.

“She doesn’t need to do that,” Howard said.

“She wants to. She’ll have a little time to play with them, since she’s going to be home for a few days.”

“Trouble?”

They reached the cafeteria, collected trays and flatware, and stood in the food line.

“Not for us,” Michaels said. “Guru’s great-grandson is sick, Phoenix or somewhere, and she’s gone to visit him.”

“Nothing serious, I hope?”

“Pneumonia, and she says the doctors aren’t too worried. Anyway, we’re without a sitter until she gets back.”

“You looking for one? A baby-sitter?”

Michaels arrived in front of the fried chicken. He took two pieces, then added a third. “You have somebody in mind?”

“Well, my son Tyrone could use some work. He missed out on a regular job because he had a class he wanted to do this summer. He’s on the fast track to graduate early. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind baby-sitting Alex. He’s been doing that kind of thing for the last year or so, mostly neighbors, and little Hoo — Lieutenant Fernandez’s son.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Only the Good Lord knows why, but he likes kids. If Toni wanted to work half-days or something, I imagine he’d be up for it. He has some new computer gear he wants to buy, and I told him I’d go half but that he had to earn the rest.”

Howard passed on the fried chicken, selecting a hamburger steak for himself.

“Well, that would be helpful. Let me ask Toni.”