PART 4
The drone stuttered first.
It jerked left.
Corrected.
Jerked again.
Then began circling like a drunk mosquito.
A voice barked below.
“Control, confirm telemetry.”
Static.
“Control, bird is not responding.”
The drone dropped into the sand with a dusty thud.
The men froze.
Then their radios died one by one.
Not all at once.
That would have been too kind.
Screens blinked.
Antennas twitched.
Diagnostics insisted everything was fine while nothing worked.
My favorite kind of military comedy.
The scout raised one hand.
Lost comms.
The commander stared at the dead drone.
Then at the empty desert.
That was when I moved.
They were looking for a stranded woman.
I was already behind them.
I didn’t need to kill anyone.
That would have been Webb’s story.
Unstable female NCO attacked unidentified patrol after equipment failure.
No.
I needed witnesses.
I needed names.
I needed proof.
I slid behind the third vehicle, pulled the rear camera module, and jammed a transmitter spike into the system port.
Their dash recorder woke up and began copying everything it had seen that morning.
Plates.
Faces.
Route data.
Encrypted handoff codes.
Webb’s empire had just started talking.
One guard turned too late.
I caught his wrist, folded it against his own chest, and put him face-first into the sand.
May you like
He gasped.
“Easy,” I whispered. “I’m the nice part of your afternoon.”
