Chapter 55

55

Linc stopped short, certain Cabrillo had spotted a trip wire or a mine detonator.

"Where is it?" Linc asked, scanning the ground.

"In my leg."

"What?"

Cabrillo dropped his pants, accessed the storage compartment in his combat leg, and fished out the Mini-Sniffer. He couldn't help but smile.

"The boys really came through," Juan said as he studied the Mini-Sniffer's display screen.

"Good news, I take it."

"Not only has the Mini-Sniffer decrypted the signals, it's also telling me what specific systems are connected to which channels." Juan scrolled down the list and read a few aloud. "Surveillance…strike…strike…strike…surveillance." There were two dozen more.

"That's a start," Linc said. "Now what are you going to do with all of that information?"

Juan's fingers and thumbs flew across the display.

"Looks like there's a central hub linked to all of the rest of the signals. It's located about two klicks from here—and it's moving."

"The Terminator termite?"

"That's my guess. If Rahul is being sold as a one-man army, he must be operating everything through that machine. Sort of like a mother ship. Probably AI-powered, too."

"Anything you can do about it?"

"You mean, like a kite?" Juan continued punching buttons like a crazed symphony conductor.

"Something better than a kite. You know. Plan C and all of that?"

Juan tapped a final toggle with a flourish.

"How about… this ?"

★

Rahul avoided stepping on dry leaves or snapping twigs as best he could while keeping his eyes glued to his tablet. He was no soldier, but he knew that moving quietly as possible was only to his advantage. Of course, the soft whir of the Mak?ī 's electric motors and the thumping of its eight rubberized feet made complete silence impossible. He would have to think about solutions to those relatively minor problems before the next test iteration.

Rahul wasn't particularly concerned about being discovered just yet. One of his other surveillance drones had caught a fleeting glimpse of the eight surviving mercenaries as they dashed out of what must have been a cache of supplies and into nearby cover. If they all kept moving in their respective directions, none of them would be approaching his position anytime soon.

Equally important, the surveillance drone circling overhead was fixed on him right now. It also gave his helmet's HUD a wide field of view of his immediate surroundings. Everything was clear.

Rahul stepped over a thick fallen log that marked the edge of a clearing. A few steps later he turned around and watched the Mak?ī navigate the hazard with ease. As he stepped into the clearing, his helmet vibrated.

His heart sank. The heads-up display—or worse, the entire system—was suffering a malfunction.

For some reason, a flashing yellow box surrounded the Mak?ī . Worse, all of the combat drones were flashing automated return to base commands. Some kind of false signal had triggered them.

Rahul's gloved hands virtually swiped open the helmet's programming screen to initiate an override command.

The giant Mak?ī stood patiently by his side, like a headless, loyal wolfhound.

The Indian national found the screen and virtually tapped the button to open it, but the screen was frozen. It was at that singular moment he realized what had happened. He couldn't believe it.

He flipped back to the first screen. The flashing yellow box surrounding the Mak?ī had turned to solid red.

Rahul tossed his helmet as he turned on his heel to bolt away. Three steps into his run the first Yari smashed into the Mak?ī . The resulting shrapnel cut across the Indian's lower back, severing his spine. His strings cut, he tumbled face down into the dirt, unable to move. Two more explosions quickly followed.

Rahul always thought his final moments on earth would be utterly terrifying. But the sheer genius on the other side of this exchange only elicited his admiration.

Moments later, both he and the Mak?ī were utterly ripped apart, their shattered remains scattered across the clearing.