Drone Wars 1: Day of the Drone

by T. R. Harris

  The woman brushed white dust off her ripped and bloodied outfit. “Oh, except for a couple of cracked ribs, I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” she said.

  Xander leaned back against the back wall behind the desk. “I wasn’t expecting to land on someone. So sue me.”

  The swoosh of the missile came a split second later. Reacting instantly, Xander dove for the reporter and pressed her flat against the floor. She yelped, but was instantly overcome by the explosion that struck the stone edifice directly above them. A shower of debris fell down, including baseball-size pieces of granite. They were nearly buried in the aftermath of the explosion, which was soon followed by three more, just not in such close proximity to their hiding place.

  Through the din of battle, Xander could hear the frantic bursts of automatic gunfire, along with the grunts and screams of Marines being cut to shreds by missiles and gunfire. The air filled with the gut-wrenching sound of whirling propellers seeming to whiz by from all directions.

  Then the scene grew quiet as the buzzing moved further down the corridor, broken occasionally by sporadic bursts of gunfire or the release of small, solid-propellant missiles, followed by rumbling explosions.

  Xander attempted to move, shedding a pile of rubble from his back. That’s when he noticed he was face to face with Tiffany Collins. Gone was the even complexion and perfect hair. The woman was now caked in white dust and her hair was a mass of mangled yellow, infused with a variety of objects which defied identification.

  “I think they’ve moved on,” she whispered.

  Xander blinked several times before comprehending her words. “Oh yeah, of course.” He pulled away, and more debris fell from his back.

  Tiffany sat up and fluffed her hair, sending a cloud of dust into the air around her head, forming a halo effect. Xander had to smile at the vision.

  “So we meet again,” he said. And then without waiting for comment, he continued, “What are you doing here? What happened to the sergeant?”

  “Oh, him? He was taking me to some sort of safe room when the drones attacked. Next thing I knew, he’d pulled his gun and was running down the corridor yelling like a banshee, leaving me to fend for myself. After that everything started falling on me—literally—you included!”

  “Thanks for breaking my fall. That could’ve hurt.”

  “Don’t mention it. But what do we do now? Hopefully you’re not going to run off and leave me too.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He stood up and looked over the reception desk. It was what he expected, a horrific scene of dead Marines and utter devastation where the access tunnel met the R&D building. Tiffany now stood next to him.

  “What’s going on, Mister Smith … I mean Xander? There’s some major shit happening here.”

  He nodded. “No argument there.”

  “So who’s doing all this?”

  “It could be one of a dozen organizations with a grudge against the RDC, or even a coalition of them. This took a lot of coordination, money and manpower.”

  “What do they hope to gain, except bragging rights?” Tiffany asked. “Taking out one facility doesn’t kill the program.”

  Xander looked at her with a smirk.

  She noticed his expression. “You told me there were backups to the backups. Was that not true?”

  “Unfortunately, we’re victims of our own success. But I believe that’s a conversation for later. If you listen carefully, you’ll notice the buzzing is growing louder.”

  “They’re coming back!” Tiffany yelled.

  “Probably prowling for survivors. And one other thing: these units have microphone pickups, so they can hear when you yell like that.”

  “Screw you!”

  “Perhaps another time, Ms. Collins, but right now we have to get out of the facility. By my estimation, these drones still have over an hour of flight time left.”

  Tiffany gritted her teeth. “Fine, smartass, this is your neighborhood. How do we make our exit?”

  Xander looked behind him at the main entrance to the R&D underground facilities. There had been a number of powerful explosions from deep within the subterranean labyrinth, yet he held out a glimmer of hope for a plan that was percolating in his mind.

  “Follow me … and remain quiet. There may be some sentry units sitting idle just waiting for someone to wander by.”

  ********

  Taking point, Xander led the pair out of the reception area and into the main part of the R&D building—what was left of it. The corridors here were wide and the ceilings high, designed to accommodate the fleet of golf cart-like vehicles that frequented the building, transporting huge UAVs and ground units from one section to the other. At the end of this particular corridor was the entrance to the testing labs where the prototypes were put through their paces. A battle had taken place here, too, with the damage mirroring that found throughout the rest of the facility.

  There were bodies, too, which didn’t seem to faze Tiffany Collins. For Xander, that was a plus in her column. Probably covered a number of wars and terrorist strikes during her tenure, he thought. That would condition a person to the horrors mankind inflicted upon itself, much better than Xander’s first experience with death in the flesh.

  Unfortunately, the research labs were much like the rest of the base, and Xander’s spirits sank when he saw several of the larger prototypes twisted in shambles throughout the room. He moved to a large steel door set to one side of the testing area. There was evidence of an explosion near the door; the control panel now dangled from the wall, held only by a few orphan wires.

  “Dammit!” he said. “This is just great.”

  “What’s inside?” Tiffany asked.

  “This is where they keep all the really neat gizmos. There used to be an advanced hoverbike inside, along with some of the deadlier drones. Even if my access card worked, the controls are shot to shit.” He turned to survey what was left in the large testing area. “There’s nothing out here I can use. We’re going to have to hoof it. It’s only a mile to the other side of the access tunnel.”

  “Or you could help me open the door. This thing is made of six-inch thick steel, and it weighs a ton.”

  Confused, Xander turned back to the reporter. She was standing at the left side of the heavy vault door, where he could clearly see now that it was open slightly.

  “So much for high-tech locking mechanisms,” Tiffany remarked with a smile.

  “Let’s hope the drones didn’t get inside first.”

  The pair struggled against the heavy weight of the door until it began to open more freely. Then at one point it was wide enough for Xander to get behind it and put all his weight into the effort, using the doorjamb for added leverage. The door eventually swung all the way open.

  It was dark inside the vast vault room, but after a moment his eyes adjusted enough that the filtered light from outside allowed him to see. The room was undamaged, and placed haphazardly on the floor were a number of strange looking objects. Most were drones, either quadcopters or octocopters, some oversized and measuring as much as twelve feet across. These were the next generation of attack drones being developed for the military. They were capable of carrying up to a ton of weapons, ammo and sensing equipment.

  An MQ-3 Predator—the P3—was in the room as well. Unlike its now outdated namesake, this was a nearly-autonomous octocopter with an effective range of one hundred miles from its operator or relay station. This craft was of a true drone design, deviating from the aircraft configuration of its predecessor. The P3 would have the ability to operate in a target zone for several hours, defending itself against counterattack, while expanding its mission to eliminate multiple targets during its time on station.

  Unfortunately, several of the earlier versions of the P3 had found their way to Iran and other terrorist host nations, where crude yet effective knock-offs were being manufactured. A hotel in London had been attacked by one of these units six months ago. The entire building wa
s brought down before enough firepower could be brought in to take it out.

  Open-source technology, financed by rogue nations, was proving to be a deadly combination. If an American location was targeted by one of these killer drones, even the assets of the RDC would be inadequate to bring it down, at least until the P3’s were deployed to the rapid-response bunkers—if any bunkers remained after today.

  As impressive as the arsenal of next-generation drones might have been, that wasn’t what Xander was looking for. His gave out an audible sigh of relief when he found the prize.

  He ran toward the back of the room.

  “What the hell is that?” Tiffany asked.

  “It’s our ticket out of here.”

  The object sat on the floor of the vault, and wasn’t more than a foot thick in its forward and aft sections. It had four overlapping rings of metal, with propellers contained in each of them, two in front and two in back, plus a small dual arrangement of small ringed propellers in the rear. Between the large double rings was a narrow platform with two padded seats placed in a row, and under the platform was a long, narrow black box which the apparatus sat on.

  “This is the Mallory Systems H-59 Hoverbike,” Xander explained.

  “That thing can fly?” Tiffany voice conveyed her lack of confidence in the vehicle.

  “Not really fly, per se. The max altitude is about forty-five feet, and only for brief periods. But it can scoot along the ground at close to a hundred miles per hour, and can even jump over small canyons and cross rivers.”

  “Groovy,” Tiffany said as she jumped on the odd-looking vehicle and straddled the rear seat. Xander was taken aback, thinking it would take a lot more convincing to get her on board. “What are we waiting for?” she asked. Seeing his quizzical look, she continued: “Kentucky-bred farm girl, been riding horses since I was five. This is nothing I can’t handle. So hurry, your playmates may come back at any time.”

  Xander sat in the driver’s seat. “Buckle in,” he said over his shoulder. “I may have to do some radical maneuvers before this is all over.”

  With a flick of a switch, the quad rotors began to spin, producing a low-pitched hum much quieter than even the tiny drones that had attacked the base. Dust and loose papers swirled in the vault, causing both driver and passenger to cough and cover their eyes. But then the strange craft lifted off the floor. “There are pitch and yaw controls, but it’s mainly steered by shifting your weight,” Xander called out over the sound of the wind from the propellers. “It’s just like on a motorcycle— lean into the turns and we’ll do fine.”

  Xander felt Tiffany’s arms wrap around his midsection. “Just give me a little warning before you do any really fancy moves.”

  “I’ll try. Now hold on, we’re heading out.”

  Xander leaned to his right and the craft spun around, aiming at the door to the vault. The movement of the hoverbike was smooth, with only minimal bounce. He remembered the first time he’d tried one of these contraptions—a more primitive version than this one—and how the ride was like running the rapids on the Colorado River. Since then the technology had been refined to the point where you could thread a needle while riding on one.

  With the tail rotors providing the forward thrust, the hoverbike proceeded out of the vault and down the long chamber toward the exterior doors set in a false façade of what appeared to be long-closed down mining operation a mile through the mountain.

  Since the RDC was an arm of the U.S. military, the Mallory Hoverbike wasn’t built simply for transportation. It hosted a full arsenal of both offensive and defensive weapons, including dual .60’s submachine guns mounted to either side of the lower battery box. The standard load would be two hundred rounds for each. These were real killer rounds, much heavier than could carried aboard a standard combat drone.

  He also had at his disposal six miniature Talon missiles, which could be set either for heat-seeking or line-of-sight targeting. Since most attack drones operated on battery power, heat-seeking wasn’t that effective against them. If need be, he would use the joystick at the center of his steering column to find and capture an enemy target on the tiny monitor set just forward of the joystick. Once locked in, the missile was effective for up to twenty miles and at a speed of six hundred miles per hour.

  The arsenal at his disposal should make him nearly invincible against the smaller quads and octs roaming the Center. At least that was the theory. In reality, this was only the third time he’d ever been on this particular model of hoverbike, and never had he been allowed to play with the weaponry aboard. He had no illusions that the desert outside the base would be clear of hostiles. In fact, as he neared the hidden entrance doors to the testing chambers, he found them to be open to the outside world, allowing free access to the base.

  Xander squinted against the bright desert sunlight pouring through the gaping entrance, yet his eyes grew wide when he spotted four large Maverick quadcopters resting on the floor near the doorway. These were RPAs, connected to the outside world and their pilots by portable relay stations, often dropped by other drones or helicopters within an operational area. To Xander’s relief, their propellers were still, so he hoped the pilots were off doing something other than guarding the entrance. With the main battle for the RDC winding down, he wouldn’t be surprised if a number of other RPAs were now entering the base, allowing live operators to assess the damage and engage in specific mop-up duties, including gaining access to the vault with all the top-secret prototypes.

  He slowed the hovercar while simultaneously flicking open the end cap on the center joystick. He toggled the switch inside until the monitor located between the handlebars came to life. There was a circle at the center of the screen, and Xander manipulated the toggle until the circle was positioned on the first quadcopter.

  “What are you doing?” Tiffany asked. “They’re asleep. Maybe we should leave them alone.”

  “They won’t be quiet all the time. Their pilots could come back and then use them to kill more of my friends. Besides, I need the practice.”

  He pressed the center button under his thumb and a short burst of .60 caliber slugs rang out. The first drone shattered into a thousand pieces, even as the burst raked the second drone behind it. Xander then moved the circle over to the drones on the other side of the runway—just as they both came to life and shot into the air.

  The two menacing drones climbed to the ceiling of the chamber and spun around until their weapons aimed at the hovercar.

  “Hold on!”

  Xander leaned to his left and gunned the rotors, causing their ride to turn at an almost ninety degree angle to the floor. A series of bullets ricocheted off the metal deck directly along the path that the hovercraft had just traveled. Now the left side of the chamber was zooming up in front of them, and it took another radical lean to the right to change course enough to avoid a head-on collision. The hovercar turned nearly on its side, appearing to ride along the side wall until it swung back to the horizontal.

  The two enemy drones dove for the deck, coming up behind the hoverbike. Xander began to rock the vehicle back and forth as another series of bullets sped past. And then suddenly they burst out into the bright desert sunlight.

  Outside, Xander had maneuvering room, except for one issue: the car was not designed to fly, and now it was shooting out the entrance at over sixty miles per hour, and the short level ground outside the false mine entrance was only about a hundred yards wide, a distance they traversed in a matter of seconds. Beyond that was a nearly vertical drop off to the base of a canyon a thousand feet below. Without any solid surface to push against, the force of the propellers wasn’t strong enough to keep the hoverbike aloft.

  And so they dropped—maybe not like a rock, but like a very heavy feather.

  With the air being pulled from their lungs by the sudden freefall, Xander managed to point the craft nose-down to follow the natural contour of the hillside, a maneuver that caused them to pick up even more speed. The gro
und rushed up below them, until he leveled off and gunned the motors. A blinding cloud of sand and dust was thrown up around them as the wind from the props finally found something to push against. Yet still the hovercraft bounced, causing Tiffany to slip to the left and nearly out of her seat. Only the safety belt kept her on the craft. She clawed at Xander’s left arm, trying to regain her balance.

  Xander wasn’t expecting this, and his arm gripping the steering column was pulled to the left, sending the craft into a violent and rapid spin. It twisted into three full circles, stirring up a mushrooming cloud of sand before Xander could right the craft.

  “Dammit, Tiffany, you almost killed us!”

  “Me? You’re the one who flew us off the edge of a cliff.”

  Once the dust had settled, Xander aimed the hoverbike down the remaining slope at a more reasonable angle, looking to the monitor screen for any signs of the two remaining enemy drones. They were still following, even though they could only go about forty-five miles per hour. The hoverbike was just outside their firing range, but that wouldn’t keep the drones from reporting their position and calling for backup.

  “Hold on, we’re turning around.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Just do it!”

  Xander leaned hard to his right and the hoverbike performed a tilting turn and lined up on a course aimed directly at the pursuing drones. He fingered the toggle for missiles. Two foot-long projectiles dropped from the base of the hovercraft before lighting off, then they streaked away leaving a trail of puffy white smoke behind.

  Xander had line-of-sight control of the missiles, and he manipulated his thumb on the top toggle switch on the joystick with minute movements. The enemy drones were pilot-guided and they darted off to each side to avoid the incoming missiles. Xander sent the left missile into a sharp turn that cut off the angle of the nearest Maverick drone. A split second later a relatively small explosion off in the distance signified a kill.

  The second drone had managed to spin away and was now lining up on their right side. Tiny puffs of gunfire erupted from the craft, and an instant later Xander and Tiffany heard the high-pitched zing of bullets streaking by. Two of the bullets hit the side of the hoverbike just behind Tiffany’s legs. She lifted them up and wrapped her legs around Xander’s waist in a movement that was a little too late. Luckily, nothing vital was struck, even as the bike was twisted toward the right from the impacts.