A Time for Patriots

“Make sure the airspace is closed down again, and fly the thing so it stays away from populated areas,” Chastain said. “We’ll have it orbit inside protected airspace until dark, then land it.” Jeff selected North Peak, about fifteen miles west of Battle Mountain and clear of all airways, to orbit the Sparrowhawk, and he was careful to turn on its transponder beacon to help air traffic control steer other aircraft away from it. Jon contacted air traffic control and advised them of the orbiting unmanned aircraft.

Time passed much as it had done the previous four days. With both Sparrowhawks flying, Charlie Turlock was able to use the interior of the hangar during the daytime to help Agent Randolph Savoy train in the Cybernetic Infantry Device robots, and as she expected, he was a very fast learner; at night, they trained outdoors. Wayne Macomber watched, but kept to himself most of the time, using rubber cables to keep up with his rehabilitation exercises. “Any questions, Randolph?” Charlie asked after their last session ended.

“None,” Savoy said. “You were right: it’s pretty intuitive and straightforward to learn how to pilot these things.” The other agents looked over and shook their heads at the sight of the two massive mechanical humanoids conversing in electronic voices, as if they were acquaintances who had just met on the street.

“The whole idea was to issue CID robots to young, qualified soldiers right out of basic training, so it had to be easy to learn,” Charlie said. “Combat training is a whole different story: the basic combat course is two months, and each weapon backpack is another two weeks, plus range time. But if we had the funding, we could field an army of CIDs.” She stepped over to the storage container, climbed out, then initiated the refolding and stowage sequences, and Savoy did likewise. “Now I guess we wait to see what they find at that Knight compound.”

The images from the second Sparrowhawk orbiting at the lower altitude were indeed much better, and now the federal agents crowded around the wide-screen laptop, studying the compound carefully. “Look at the heavy weapons those guys have in there,” the agent named Brady said, pointing at the screen. “There’s at least four machine-gun squads right there.”

“Looks like they’re getting ready for something,” Chastain said. “Looks like we might need the robots after…” Just then, the image went blank. “What happened?”

“I told you that might happen,” Jon Masters said. “The lower altitude means more interference.” They waited, but the image did not reappear.

“Jon, we might have a problem — I’m not getting flight data from Sparrowhawk Two,” Jeff said. “We might have lost satellite contact.”

“What the hell does that mean, Masters?” Chastain asked impatiently.

“It’s no big deal,” Jon said. “It’ll orbit the area until satellite contact is restored. If it’s not restored within two hours, it’s programmed to return to the airport.”

“Send the other drone back over the compound,” Chastain said. “The Knights looked like they’re getting ready for something — I need to know what’s going on.”

“It’ll have to fly higher than ten thousand.”

“But we were getting great shots at ten thousand,” Chastain said.

“We don’t know where the second Sparrowhawk is,” Jon said. “We can’t fly it at the same altitude as the first.”

“Then fly it at nine thousand.”

“That’s only four thousand feet aboveground!”

“I don’t care. Just do it.”

“It can’t stay on station for very long,” Jeff reminded them. “It’s already been airborne four days.”

“How long can it stay?”

Jeff turned to the first Sparrowhawk’s flight-data screen… and his mouth dropped open in surprise. “Uh, Jon…” Jon looked… and found the flight data on the first Sparrowhawk blank as well!

“What the hell happened?”

“Not now, Chastain,” Jon said, pushing Jeff out of the way and frantically typing instructions into the laptop. He waited for a few moments, then pounded the desk in frustration. “Get Bidwell and Henderson out there to check the satellite uplink and network connectivity, now, ” he shouted, jabbing a finger at Jeff. “If they don’t find anything wrong, have them hardwire the computer interfaces with the uplink and antenna instead of using the wireless routers. Reboot the computers and run the network and I-O diagnostics before reinitializing the software. Call Las Vegas and have the entire staff stand by — no, better yet, have them send the entire Sparrowhawk team up here.”

“Masters, what’s going on?”

“We’ve lost contact with both Sparrowhawks,” Jon said, staring at the blank data readouts in complete bewilderment. “Losing one is bad, but it happens — losing both at the same time is a freakin’ disaster.” He looked at his watch. “We’ve got two hours until they start heading back to base. Make sure the airspace is clear. I’ll talk to air traffic control and see if they have primary radar hits on either one of them.”