Page 10 of Craze

The hoverdrone’s guns point at me and glow as the front claws open. Based on its low and flat profile, it’s a standard model with one important limitation—it’s hovering capability.

Macabre>>Craze: This is lunacy!

Desperation, my angry friend!I correct.

I sprint over the uneven, rocky ground toward the drone as it lights up the sky with rapid fire. Green bullets rip by me, trailingthreads of scorching heat. I have to stop the drone before it shoots up my defenseless brothers.

Impact ETA: Three, Two, One—

Hoverdrones can’t pass ten meters off the ground without a full thruster array, so as the drone approaches, I jump. As my body drifts over it, I scan the system, isolate the rotary guns on either side, and slam down on its flat top.

It bobs with my weight. I grab the guns as the drone carries me away and disconnect the power systems, shutting them off. It is one thing about hoverdrones I have not forgotten in two years.

“Craze!” Macabre shouts after me.

It is strange hearing the physical voice of a brother. We used to talk aloud more, back when hope and strength were two things we still possessed, before CSP turned on us and the war shredded my Brothers. Then, only our private network was trustworthy.

Macabre>>Craze: We need to stick together!

Wind scrapes at my synthflesh and tugs at my worn tactical pants. After years without more than elbow space, without weapons or armor or freedom, our escape feels like chaos. To our human Creators, chaos was overwhelming.

They designed me to excel in its midst, to adapt moment to moment with little thinking time.

Craze>>Macabre: Hang on. I’m working on it.

I scan my databases for a logged recording of a drone with more information. As the mountains grow closer and my brothers further behind, I find what I’m looking for in the critical information downloads.

Videos load in translucent windows in my visual field.

Pulling from Savage’s experience, nearly three years ago, I find the control panel at the rear of the unit like he did and pry it free. I pull out the wiring harness with a host of glassy chip cards. Savage notes which wires to pull to shut the unit down,but I don’t want to do that. I want the drone to fly my injured brothers to safety.

I search my memory further.

Green wire stops it. Black shuts it down.I follow Hotwire in another video.Blue tied to white-striped engages manual mode.

His help is bittersweet.

I miss all of my decommissioned brothers as I pull the wires from the harness and twist them together. They did not deserve their fates. It was torture to sort their parts in the plant, knowing some were my fault. I was good at my job, but that didn’t involve saving them—a design flaw I still fight to overcome.

Ranger’s body is evidence I haven’t learned jack shit.

The drone slows, stops, and flips a manual steering panel toward me. Solcrue do everything with wrist controls, remotes, and access codes. We have to get our hands dirty.

I take control and guide the drone back. As I do, I watch more recordings for pulling the tracker and disengaging remote access. When our ride is safe, and the guns are in manual mode, I close the claws.

Macabre limps toward me as I glide up beside him. “You’re insane.”

Craze>>Macabre: Impulsive.

“Why don’t you wish to speak to me? Do you not miss it?”

Craze>>Macabre: voice recognition or trackers. I don’t trust this moon.

Macabre>>Craze: Fair enough.

I haul Tangle onto the drone’s platform, and then help Macabre.

Skysprinters race around the darkened portal like an angry hive as I pick up Ranger and lay his broken body beside Tangle’s.

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