Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of the Blackberry Ranch cafeteria, casting bright patches across the long tables.
Maggie finished the last spoonful of stew. It really did taste good, with meat, beans, and even a faint hint of herbs.
"Glenn and Lori just finished talking to the prison this morning," Maggie said, setting down her spoon and mentioning it to Calista, who sat across from her.
"They reinforced the east side of the prison wall again. Rick is organizing people to clear a buffer zone farther out. Carol noticed a little girl whose mental state seems off, and she's planning to talk to her father."
"Mm." Calista answered casually and took a sip from her cup.
Maggie pushed the last few beans around her plate with her fork, her tone carrying the kind of helplessness everyone knew in the apocalypse.
"It's just... every time, all we can hear from them is 'we're fine,' 'nothing happened,' 'same as usual.' T-Dog and Tyreese said the walkers outside have been acting a little strange lately.
Small groups of walkers keep gathering at the corners of the wall, but it's hard to explain exactly why or how many there are just by talking about it. If only we could see it for ourselves."
As she spoke, she shook her head first, feeling that the thought was far too unrealistic.
"But in this world, the internet's been gone for ages, and phones are just scrap metal. Being able to use a radio here and hear their voices is already something to be grateful for."
Calista's chewing paused as a thought suddenly lit up in her mind.
[What if... it didn't have to be just voices?]
Calista swallowed her food and picked up a napkin to wipe the corner of her mouth.
"I'm done," she said, standing and nodding to Maggie. "I have a coordination meeting this afternoon. See you later."
Maggie did not suspect anything. She took it as ordinary conversation and stood to clear her tray. "All right. I should go check on Lori too."
Calista drove back to Rock Fortress. Without explaining much, she grabbed a Defense Force soldier on the way. "Tell Bossie and Allen Miller to come to the command room immediately."
Ten minutes later, in the command room.
Bossie and Allen Miller stood together in front of the large map of the southeastern region.
Calista traced an imaginary line across the map with her fingertip, starting from the marker for Rock Fortress, heading southwest across the Tennessee state line, deep into Georgia, and finally stopping near Atlanta.
"What is the current maximum mission radius of our Night Hawk drone? Can it fly there, capture real time footage, and return safely?"
Bossie and Allen exchanged a look, both seeing the surprise in the other's eyes.
"Calista, are you sure?" Allen spoke first. He was cautious and technically minded.
"The Night Hawk's maintenance and launch procedures are complicated. Every time we've used it, it's been for deterrent patrols around our area. We've never carried out targeted reconnaissance at such a long distance.
Fuel, route planning, communication relays, continuous operation of the ground control station... the risks are high."
"I know the risks," Calista interrupted. "I'm asking one thing. Based on its design specifications, is it technically possible?"
Bossie walked to the map, took out a scale and a plotting pen, and quickly began calculating.
"From here to the prison in Griffin, the straight line distance is about 395 kilometers.
The Night Hawk is last year's new strategic drone, the military model. At optimal cruising altitude and speed, its maximum mission radius exceeds a thousand kilometers."
He gave a number far beyond that distance. "In terms of endurance and range alone, it's more than enough. It could even circle above the target area for several hours of reconnaissance."
"What about the communication link?" Calista pressed the key issue. "What happens once it flies beyond line of sight?"
"That's the crucial part," Allen said. "The Night Hawk is equipped with the most advanced two way satellite data link from before the apocalypse.
In theory, as long as the satellites are still in orbit overhead, and as long as we can maintain the ground control station's uplink to the satellite, beyond line of sight control is possible.
But the problem is that we don't know the condition of the satellites after the apocalypse. We also don't know whether any other force is listening in on or jamming the relevant frequencies.
Once the drone's satellite link is cut..."
"The drone does have a preset automatic return program," Bossie added.
"If contact is lost beyond the set time, it will automatically return along its original route and circle near the last known communication point while attempting to reconnect.
If fuel runs low and communication still cannot be restored, it will automatically execute a preset crash procedure and try to destroy key components."
Calista listened silently, her fingers tapping unconsciously on the tabletop.
"If we activate it, and assuming preparation goes smoothly, how long will it take?" Calista asked.
"A full inspection, refueling with special fuel, loading the mission route, initiating the satellite link handshake... at least four hours," Bossie gave a cautious estimate.
"How long can our ground control station sustain continuous high intensity operation?"
"Our power reserves and backup generators can support more than twenty four hours. But the operators will need to rotate. Staying highly focused for too long will reduce efficiency and increase the risk of mistakes," Allen answered.
Calista thought for a moment.
There was some risk, but this flight was not really because of Maggie's casual remark. It was more of a strategic test. Rock Fortress's eye in the sky had not yet been tested on a flight this far.
"Do it," she finally decided. "Bossie, you're responsible for overall mission planning and flight monitoring.
Allen, make sure the communication link is as secure as possible. I want real time video transmission, and the delay must be minimized."
The next four hours passed quickly in tense but orderly preparation.
Calista stood behind the drone control console, arms crossed, waiting.
"All systems have passed self checks. Fueling complete. Satellite communication link established. Signal strength is good, and latency is within acceptable range." Bossie looked up at Calista. "Requesting takeoff clearance."
"Takeoff authorized," Calista ordered.
On the ground control station screen, the icon representing "Night Hawk One" began moving across the map.
It automatically took off from an extremely concealed short runway in the back mountain of Rock Fortress, climbing quickly. Its flight parameters shifted steadily, with altitude, speed, and heading all normal.
"One has entered cruise mode and is turning to target heading. Estimated arrival over the prison area in one and a half hours," Bossie reported.
What followed was the long wait.
An hour and a half later, the positioning display showed that Night Hawk One had entered Georgia airspace.
"It has reached the preset cruising altitude. Speed stable. The satellite communication link currently has good signal strength, but there are periodic slight fluctuations," Allen Miller said, monitoring the unstable waves.
"Is it a problem with the drone itself?" Calista asked, eyes fixed on the screen.
"Possibly high altitude ionospheric disturbance... still within acceptable limits for now." Allen tapped the keyboard a few times, pulled up another set of spectrum graphs, and glanced over them. "Nothing major."
Bossie sat at the main control station, monitoring flight attitude and sensor status. "Calista, Night Hawk has entered the target state's airspace. Beginning descent to reconnaissance altitude."
Calista leaned forward slightly.
The most important moment was about to arrive.