When a drone operator follows a strike order that kills 13 Afghans, he comes undone. Sounds like a plot from ‘Homeland’ or ’24.’
Since antiquity, storytellers have cautioned us about the hazards of men using technology to trespass into realms where only the gods are allowed. For giving man fire, Zeus condemned Prometheus to an eternity chained to a rock with an eagle pecking at his liver. Daedalus’s clever wings melted when his son Icarus flew too close to the sun.
Dan Fesperman’s excellent and timely ninth thriller, “Unmanned,” isn’t quite so archetypal, but it does explore the ethical conundrums of the most potent new weapon in the American arsenal: the unmanned aerial drone. Watching our enemy from the sky is one thing, but what if those same eyes are looking down at us? And who is watching the watchers? “Unmanned” is a smart and thoughtful exploration of the unintended consequences of waging war by remote control.
While the technical details of this exhaustively researched book certainly contribute to its authenticity—the author is a former reporter for the Baltimore Sun—it is his sharply drawn characters that make the novel tick. Capt. Darwin Cole’s transition from F-16 fighter jock to Predator drone operator is going smoothly: He conducts missions against terrorists thousands of miles away from behind a screen in the Nevada desert. “Each twitch of his hand,” Mr. Fesperman writes of Cole’s work, “flings a signal of war across the nation’s night owls as they make love, make a sandwich, make a mess of things, or click the remote.”
Everything changes when Cole receives a command via Internet chat from his mysterious J-TAC, or joint terminal attack controller, whom he has never met, to fire at a target in Afghanistan. The result is 13 civilian deaths, among them several children that he has become familiar with while monitoring the village of Sandar Khosh. Cole is especially haunted by the pixilated image of a young girl whose arm is severed at the shoulder yet who manages to survive the strike. She is, in the grim vernacular of drone warfare, a “squirter,” a person who has escaped the strike and is “so called because on infrared they display as squibs of light, streaming from the action like raindrops across a windshield.”