DEVIL ON YOUR HEELS

  Will crashed hard against the side of the transporter, banging his shoulder painfully into one of the metal bracings. Wincing, he scrambled toward the controls.

  "Will, what's happening?" Remy’s panicked voice crackled over the comms.

  “It’s trying to drag me off the pillar!” Will wheezed, wrestling with the controls. The metallic arms of the repair drone clamped down harder around the transporter, denting the shell. “It thinks the transporter is a dead bot!”

  Remy groaned in frustration. “We don’t have time for this. Just strobe it!”

  Will’s fingers were already flying over the keypad, and the LED strobes installed on the transporter lit up in a blinding burst, flooding the repair bot with chaotic, strobing light.

  The VDoS attack worked as intended. Even though it looked random, there were specific patterns in the flashes meant to confuse the bot. The repair drone crashed to a halt as its visual sensors struggled to process the images flooding its systems. It released its grip on the transporter and began to rock back and forth, dodging imaginary obstacles popping up in its visual feed.

  “Not good,” Will gasped, his heart pounding in his chest as the repair drone continued to sway unsteadily. The relentless strobe lights had it drifting closer, and the drone crashed into Will’s transporter once again. “Damn it!”

  “We’re in deep now,” Remy said grimly. “That thing’s gonna reboot in ten minutes and broadcast a distress signal. We need to move now. There’s no time.”

  Will glanced at the other bots patrolling in the distance. They seemed innocuous now, but if even one picked up the distress signal, hundreds would swarm.

  “Guys,” Will whispered, swallowing hard. “I don’t feel like getting ripped apart for spare parts today. So, give me something—how do we get out of this?”

  “The plan was to wait for Von-Bron to go to bed,” Becca said nervously.

  “Like I said, no time,” Remy cut in. “It has to be now or never.”

  “So, any ideas?” asked Will.

  “Can’t we do the same thing with the cat like the bots?” asked Becca.

  “Use the LEDs to crash it?” Will asked, confused.

  “We can’t,” Remy interjected. “The crawler doesn’t have any strobes, and even if it did, it’s too small. Not enough spread.”

  “Hold on,” Will said slowly. “There’s something to that idea.”

  He skimmed through the cat drone’s manual, taking stock of the gear they had on hand. Countless plans came to mind, only to be noted and discarded. In the end, after running through the scenario, he arrived at one conclusion.

  “We need to use the gun,” said Will.

  “What?!” Becca gasped. “Have you gone crazy? You said this has to be covert, and that’s the worst way to go about it.”

  “I don’t need the gun, just its laser sights,” said Will. “Look at the manual—check under the interactive play features.”

  Rapid typing came through the earpiece as Remy scanned the document. “Interactive play features… Fetch, pounce, swat… Chase laser dots?”

  “That’s right,” said Will. “Do you have the rifle on hand?”

  “I’m holding it right now,” said Becca.

  “Will it even reach the building?” Remy muttered.

  “One way to find out,” said Will. “Becca?”

  “Yes?” she replied, still uncertain.

  “Do it,” said Will.

  Becca gave the affirmative, and Will held his breath as she positioned the rifle. The transporter shook again, and a quick glance at the external camera confirmed the repair drone was still stuck in its reboot loop, faint wisps of smoke curling from its vents. Time was running out, and Will could feel sweat beading on his forehead.

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  "Ready," Becca said firmly, and Will switched his view to the crawler. He could feel her concentration over the comms. Becca had a very low margin for error, given the distances involved. Even a minor misalignment could cause her to miss the target by meters.

  Mittens, who had been grooming lazily, froze as a red laser dot appeared on the far wall. Its glowing eyes was glued to the moving dot, which Becca maneuvered in slow, deliberate figure eights. Unable to contain itself, Mittens pounced, batting at the elusive dot.

  “Yes!” Remy crowed with delight.

  “Go, Will!” Becca urged, her voice tight with focus.

  Will didn’t need telling twice. His fingers flew over the controls, and the crawler scurried through the cover plate, following the coaxial cable toward the modem. Its tiny claws clicked on the modem’s surface, and several open ports appeared on Will’s screen. A few quick commands, and the crawler connected to the LAN, finally utilizing the data cable it had dragged across the complex. The cable locked into place with a decisive click.

  “Remy, status?”

  "Almost there," Remy muttered, fingers flying over his keyboard. “It’s connecting.”

  Will exhaled in relief as he glanced back at the cat drone. Mittens had lost interest in the laser and was now calmly curled up on its charging mat. Its glowing eyes flicked once toward the wall socket and the new trailing wire but quickly dismissed it as unimportant. Perhaps it only cared about things that moved.

  Satisfied, Will boosted the crawler’s audio feed to listen for any signs of trouble. From deep within the apartment, the sound of running water continued. Von-Bron was still occupied in the shower.

  “I’m in,” said Remy finally.

  “Good. Five minutes, tops,” Will replied, watching Mittens twitch in its sleep. “I can’t keep the repair drone distracted forever.”

  “Heads up!” Becca’s urgent voice cut through the comms. “Check the drone—it’s acting weird!”

  Will quickly switched to the external camera and felt a spike of panic. The repair bot had stopped rocking and was now drifting slowly away from the transporter, stuttering as it gradually regained control.

  "It’s going to reboot," Will muttered, panic rising. "Remy!"

  "I know," Remy snapped, his fingers hammering the keys. "I just need a little more—"

  “Just grab what you can on Crowley! Don’t bother with anything else!”

  “Got it.”

  Seconds stretched into what felt like hours as Will focused on the drone, watching it drift, stuttering to a stop every so often. His heart pounded with every lurch, and just when his nerves couldn’t take it anymore, Remy’s triumphant voice crackled through the earpiece.

  “Download at 95%! Get ready to pull out!”

  “Roger,” Will gasped, glancing at the screen. The repair drone was still drifting—until it suddenly stilled, completely motionless, like it had died. Then he realized: it was out of the strobe light’s coverage.

  Will’s stomach dropped as he saw the drone rebooting. Moments later, he received a ping. The hail wasn’t just directed at him—it was on an open channel, and all bots within a fifty-foot radius froze. Beeps and clicks came from the machines as they stood still, processing.

  “Crap! The drones are alerted,” said Will, his hands flying to the controls. “We have to leave!”

  “Wait! Don’t move!” Becca’s urgent voice stopped him cold.

  Will froze, breath caught in his throat. Apart from the thudding in his ears, he heard no other sound and realized the constant stream of running water he’d been keeping track of in the apartment had finally stopped.

  Von-Bron was done with his shower.

  As the bots amassed outside, Von-Bron stepped into the living room, a towel draped over his head, wearing only a loose bathrobe.

  Ice filled Will's veins; a choked gasp escaped Becca, and Remy cursed under his breath. They collectively held their breath as Von-Bron walked past the dangling data cable attached to the modem.

  His vision half-obscured by the towel, Von-Bron ignored the cable and strode towards the switchboard, with the cat drone trailing at his heels. Yawning, he switched off the lights. As the room plunged into darkness, sounds of retreating footsteps crackled through the earpiece, and a few seconds later, the bedroom door slammed shut.

  “Go, go, go!” Remy shouted over the comms.

  Will didn’t need to be told twice. He yanked the crawler back through the wall socket, hastily sealing the hole with quick-acting adhesive before shoving the removed section back in. What followed was a mad dash back to the surface. The crawler bolted through the ducts, hauling the data line behind it. Reaching the facade floors, Will pushed the crawler full throttle, not even bothering to be quiet—the crawler clattered through the narrow duct passageways, racing back to the transporter.

  The crawler came flying out of the duct, and Will yanked it back into the transporter. He switched to the external feed, and his heart plummeted—hundreds of repair bots were converging on the downed drone, responding to its distress signal. They swarmed from all directions, closing in fast.

  “Get out of there!” yelled Becca. Will took the controls, and the transporter shot down the rails, narrowly dodging incoming bots by switching tracks. The swarm was focused on the disabled drone, and Will threaded through the crowd of drones, zipping in between them and charging out of the chaos.

  He didn’t stop until they were far enough from the mayhem. Only then did he slump back in his seat, tension melting from his body.

  Becca let out a relieved laugh, and Remy’s triumphant whoop filled the comms. “And that’s how you end a mission! That was fun!”

  Will let out a tired snort, his heart still racing. He set the transporter on autopilot and watched the cityscape drift by. They had pulled it off, and now they were only one step away from reaching the Bishop. They were so close to ending all of this.

  Will’s hands tightened around the crawler as he watched the Cardinal fade away in the distance.

  “All that trouble better be worth it.”

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