With the rise and proven effectiveness of drone assault technologies, the days of attack helicopters like this AH-64 Apache were already numbered when the arrival of the antithesis drastically changed the low-altitude assault environment. Helicopters proved to be too fragile when faced with nimbler and cheaper drones in kamikaze mode. Likewise, a single Model One was as effective as a goose at taking out any rotary aircraft and more intentional in its attacks. Add in the overwhelming threat of the Model Eleven, and it was abundantly clear that the helicopter was no longer a viable military aircraft.

  Fortunately, at the same time the new hovercar technologies were starting to come online, and the military leaped at the chance for an upgrade. Except their dreams of a flying tank were quickly squashed when the energy figures showed that while you could lift a seventy-ton tank, your flight time would be best measured in minutes and rarely get into double digits.

  Hovercars, however, have taken over most of the roles that used to be performed by a helicopter, including tactical transport, evacuation, air ambulance, and resupply. While not quite as vulnerable to antithesis attack, thanks to not having either the main rotor or control surfaces exposed, their use as an attack vehicle has been fully shifted to drones.

  --Display description sitting before an AH-64 Apache on display, Pima Air & Space Museum. 2045

  ***

  A chat box suddenly blocked half my visor, causing me to jump.

  Ginny: Weren’t you going to let us know when the battle was done?

  Me: Sorry, been busy with cleanup and now my patient.

  G: Anyway, I’ve been borrowing your access in CILS.

  G: The army can get Lars out of the area, but you’ll have to get them at least back to the company you were with.

  G: Once out of the battle area, Kaitlyn and I have rallied the viewers, and we have several offers to help them out.

  M: Thanks. Shouldn’t you be in bed?

  G: Shouldn’t you be?

  M: I will be, as soon as Lars and I are safe.

  While I was texting with Ginny, Lars had sent out their Dragonfly to search the local buildings. “Well, well. This place wasn’t as abandoned as it seems. I thought no one’s lived here for years, but the front porch is suspiciously clean.”

  “I’d wondered about that. It didn’t feel like there’s been enough time for the Anti’s to clear out this much space.”

  “Don’t underestimate their ability to clear an area. I’ve seen them scour several acres to bare earth in a couple of hours. But in this case, I agree. It’s grown up too much to have been cleared by antithesis, so someone’s been maintaining the grounds. Check the big garage. I can’t convince this idiot AI to go inside.”

  The building had several bay doors in a row, all closed except for the person door on the far right, which was busted inwards. I entered, rifle at the ready, but even the invisible ninjas stayed away. Some drag marks and scraps of straw indicated where hay bales had stood, but the large open building was clear of aliens.

  It did contain a large blue tractor and several other pieces of trailerish shaped machinery. The machinery looked farmyard chic to me: half rust and dented piles of torture devices that I was sure made complete sense to a farmer. In comparison, the tractor had sleek curved lines, a polished finish, and massive over-lugged tires.

  “There’s a tractor here,” I said, not sure if Lars could hear me or not. Judging by the lack of response, they could not. I checked the chat that we’d had going, and it was still running but showed a loss of connection on Laura’s part.

  I looked around and found the controls for the large doors, which had no power and no manual controls.

  I ducked out to find the Dragonfly floating nearby. After explaining the situation, we jiggered a mesh connection for my former driver. In their online persona, Laura identified the tractor, cursing up a storm. The brand was known for a strange control layout, but Laura could control it if they had access. I linked to the tractor and faked an access using my cyberwarfare suite. Soon I had control, which I passed on to Laura.

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  With control, we could start up the tractor and bash a way through the weakened corrugated door courtesy of my new tool upgrade’s claws.

  The slightly abused tractor lurched out and made its way to the combine’s remains with a never-ending stream of profane complaints. “And why they put the flacking gear control on the same band as the forks makes no flacking sense and just flacking ruins the flacking sensitivity to flack-flack.”

  “You going to be okay with driving this?” I asked again.

  “Sure, the only thing that the flacking designers did right is the autopilot’s road-following protocol. Once we get going, all I have to do is just make sure the flacking idiot piece of flack doesn’t forget where the flack we’re headed or think that a flacked driveway is a valid flacking shortcut.”

  I carefully lowered Lars onto a blanket from the porch, then carried them from the combine to the tractor. However, neither of us trusted the seatbelt to keep them in place.

  “Just fucking duct tape me in; it’ll be secure enough for road travel,” Lars said. “That box at the front end? That’s bound to be a tool and crap dump. If there isn’t a roll in there, I’ll see their farming license is revoked for incompetence.”

  Sure enough, there were three rolls in the box. Once my pilot was secure in the cab, I grabbed Junior, climbed on top, and we rolled out, leaving behind a couple of the enzyme foggers. Maybe due to the late hour, we only drew the attention of two M-3s on the way back.

  We found the bridge at Chandler Road well protected. The half company of foot troopers had been reinforced with armored personnel carriers, and they’d had plenty of time to dig in and prepare for the morning. Centurion Carlson was still awake but in a meeting under a truck’s lights. Even before we stopped, he waved us to one side without interrupting the string of orders he was passing out. Following his direction, I found a hover van waiting, with the engine hot and doors open.

  Several troopers with the red and white armbands of medics stood nearby and took over the job of getting Lars out of the tractor and into the vehicle. They shook their head at the duct tape but left most of it attached and used scissors to cut through it. Once Lars was in the van, one of the medics with a decurion’s tabs waved to me to get on board.

  “We’ve been tasked with bringing you back to HQ, sir,” the medic said. “The commander wants a debrief.”

  I hesitated and scanned the sky with all the spectra of my visor, all too aware of how deadly even a Model One could be to the unarmored ambulance. My sister ranted all the time about how careful she had to be when flying at low altitude or in mixed traffic because of how fragile the other vehicles were.

  The medic correctly read my hesitation and spoke up to reassure me. “We’re clear. There’s a skywatch radar set up both here and back at camp.”

  I climbed in and found a seat, with the EYRIE tucked in at my feet, laden by most of the Dragonfly and Chibat drones.

  The air-ambulance had sliding doors on both sides, which they kept open for the short flight. The wind rushing by the entrances made it hard to talk, but I could see Lars gritting his teeth.

  Me: Ease up there. You’ll crack a tooth.

  Laura: Sorry.

  M: It’s okay, we’re only going a couple kilometers.

  L: Big machines don’t fly well.

  L: I never thought I’d fly again.

  L: Not sure I like it.

  M: We’re almost there. Might be a little bump as we land.

  Below us, the forest had rushed by, followed by a small field that gave way to a sea of tents. The air-ambulance landed in a small cleared area with only the lightest of bumps, and the medics leaped into action.

  Lars was transferred to a wheelchair and readied to be wheeled into a tent. After a quick consult with Corie, I traded Lars’ loaned Dragonfly for a new drone before they rolled them away. Based on their reaction to flying, I thought they’d be more comfortable with a walker-style drone based on the SuperEye with night vision and extended battery life added.

  A corporal led me to the command tent and into the meeting room with Commander Khan and several other officers around a table with a map projected on it.

  The eight officers discussed and pointed to the map, which showed the contours of the valley and the gap. The farm where I’d been battling the Fifteens lay under an icon that flashed between an antithesis and a howitzer. One group stood on the opposite side of the table from Khan, and I caught a couple hostile looks from those members.