Drone Threat by Mike Maden

know,” Pearce said. “Some of my clients like that kind of thing.” He cast a glance back at Stella. She nodded and pulled the transmitter from off her neck.
    â€œSeriously, Troy. What’s the verdict?”
    â€œIt’s damn impressive. But you had Stella fly in a straight line and it’s still a slow-moving target.”
    â€œLike I said, this system uses the same components the Pentagon deploys to shoot down mortars. I just made it extremely portable. Targeting drones won’t be a problem.”
    â€œThat’s why I’m here.” Pearce pointed at the laptop. “That thing still ready to go?”
    â€œYup.”
    â€œYou got a ‘laser blaster’ sound?”
    â€œYou mean, like
Star Wars
?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œSure.” Ponder ran through a pop-up menu. Made a selection. “All ready, Boba Fett.”
    Pearce turned to Stella. She had a tablet in her hand. “Go.”
    Stella stabbed at the tablet. In the distance, small motors whined to life.
    â€œWhat’s this?” Ponder asked.
    â€œI guess they’re like Remotes.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œ
Star Wars
reference. Never mind.”
    The laser gimbals twitched as the onboard radar searched for targets. The monitor image shifted back and forth, almost randomly.
    Pearce pointed toward the tree line on the far hill. “Here they come.”
    Ponder squinted. “I can barely see them. Three of ’em, I think.”
    â€œFour. They’re cheap, palm-sized quads I bought on Amazon. Dr. Rao rigged them with a simple homing device.”
    â€œThe target you put on my War Wagon.”
    â€œYup.”
    Seconds later, the four drones buzzed clearly into view. They rotated in circles around each other in a randomized swarming dance as they plowed toward the truck.
    The laser snapped into position, pointing high into the sky.
    A laser blaster sound echoed.
    A scream.
    A large black crow exploded in feathers. Its smoking corpse tumbled into the grass a thousand yards away.
    â€œDarn,” Ponder said. He pulled off his ball cap and scratched his flaky scalp. “I figured you’d try something like this. I narrowed the filter to try and pick up smaller targets.”
    â€œYou succeeded. Sort of.”
    Four sharp bangs rattled the truck door as the four screaming drones slammed into the magnetic target one after another. They broke apart on impact.
    â€œAnd just like that, we’re a smoking hole,” Pearce said.
    Ponder sighed as he tugged on his cap. “I guess this means no sale.”
    Pearce patted the older man’s shoulder. “You guess wrong. It’s a helluva system, Virgil. Exactly the kind of thing I’m looking for. But it’s the really small drones I’m worried about. The hobby-sized stuff. Ten pounds or less.”
    â€œTarget acquisition is the hardest part. If you set the filters toosmall, you start targeting everything that moves.” Ponder glanced at the dead crow. “Maybe we should call the
Duck Dynasty
fellas.”
    â€œHow much more time do you need to get it right?”
    â€œI’m not sure how much more time I have,” Ponder said. His voice trailed off.
    â€œWhat can you do for me in thirty days?”
    Ponder approached the laptop. Tapped a few keys. His eyes brightened. “I might be able to pull a few tricks out of my bag by then.”
    â€œDo what you can. We’ll figure something out.”
    Ponder turned to Pearce. “It’s not about me, you know. It’s about my grandkids.”
    Pearce saw the anguish in the old man’s eyes. He understood it, but in a different way. In his heart of hearts, Pearce wanted to sell his own company and get the hell out of the game and leave it all behind. Take Margaret on a trip around the world, maybe hole up in Bora Bora or Fiji and just let the rest of humanity slip away into its own madness.
    â€œI know. It’s just not quite