RONAN I raised a finger to my lips and then pointed straight at the shoulder of the arm that still worked. The soldier adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger once. The round tore through the shoulder. It shattered the composite shell, wrecked the joint actuator, and ripped through the synthetic muscle inside. The drone was already forcing itself upright, trying to move again, when the damage caught up with it. The systems that made motion possible failed all at once. It dropped straight down. The arm locked hard, turning stiff and useless, forcing the shoulder up at a crooked angle. A thin ribbon of smoke curled from the ruined joint. No time was wasted. My wireless suite came online at once. Scans spread out through the air, searching for any signal tied to the machine. Hundreds appeared instantly. Many poured out of the conference room we had checked earlier. Others belonged to the building’s own network. A few came from nearby cellular towers. The robot gave off nothing. My lips pressed together. The scan continued, deeper this time, hunting for a hidden modem or a quiet handshake signal. A full minute passed in silence. Nguyen cleared his throat. “You going to do something?” A smirk pulled at my mouth. “Working on it. I’m trying to reach its wireless network, but whoever built this thing didn’t give it a beacon frame. That means it won’t announce itself. It has to hear from an approved source before it even admits it exists.” The receiver shifted again, climbing into higher bands. My eyebrows lifted. There it was. Right at the edge of what my gear could sense. Fast, sharp pulses of quantum-encrypted data. Clean. Precise. Hidden on purpose. A sneer formed before I could stop it. “Good news,” I said. “Found the frequency it’s using.” Nguyen leaned in slightly. “Can you get into it?” Back at the Fort, maybe. With full tools and time, definitely. Here? No chance. “If I were at the Fort, sure. And if I had about a month to let a system chew through it. The data is quantum encrypted.” Nguyen sighed. “Pretend I don’t know what that means.” “It means I have to rip the damn thing’s Atomic Memory out,” I said. Movement followed the words. I stepped behind the drone and started checking the access points along its casing. “Don’t stand directly behind it,” Nguyen warned. My head lifted. Eyes went from his face to the rifle in his hands. Understanding hit fast.A glance at the exit hole blown through the back of the shoulder confirmed it. One bad twitch and something ugly could still happen. I shifted to the side. The inspection continued. A body was dragged aside so I could kneel. The back plate came into view. Bolts held it in place. Each one had a round socket head. Contact lenses sharpened the image. Inside each socket, tiny depressions circled the edge. The tool meant to remove them was clear in my mind. Something custom. Spring-loaded ball bearings designed to bite into those holes. A sharp breath left my nose. “Goddamn it.” Nguyen glanced down as the drone tried and failed to turn its head. “What’s wrong?” “Didn’t happen to bring a toolbox, did you?” Footage streamed to his visor. Close-up. Clean. The strange bolt design in full detail. His fingers flexed on the handguard of his rifle. Focus flickered across his visor, then his grip tightened again.“Not much of a handyman,” he said. “Helped my dad with a cabin once or twice. Never seen a slot like that.” My tongue clicked against my gums. Short. Irritated. “Then we’re on plan B.” The pistol lay where I dropped it earlier. Bodies were stepped over to reach it. When I turned back, Nguyen’s face was tight. Hard. Watching me. I stopped in front of him and pointed at the large knife strapped to his leg. “Relax. I didn’t drop the pistol until the mag was empty. Mind lending me the combat knife?” “Go ahead.” He didn’t move to pass it over. Fine. The snap came undone under my fingers. The blade slid free. The weight surprised me. Solid. Balanced. Built for work, not looks. “What do you need it for?” Nguyen asked. “Leverage.” Steps carried me back to the drone. I stood beside it, near the damaged front plate where the bullet had punched through. The knife tip slid into the hole. My left hand locked on the hilt. The pistol went to the floor for half a second while my right hand grabbed its barrel. The first strike landed hard. The butt of the pistol slammed into the base of the knife hilt. Steel bit deeper. Cracks spread through the plating. Another hit followed. Then another. Each blow forced the fractures wider. Metal screamed. My arms burned. I didn’t slow down. A scream tore out of my throat. Raw. Uncontrolled. Everything I had lost poured into the motion. Every failure. Every death. Every moment that refused to leave me alone. The blade drove deeper with every strike.