Fireteam chapter - a science fiction military adventure

CHAPTER

Miguel Salazar sat inside the mosquito netting and cursed the microscopic swarm of gnats that had gained entry.

He was sure they had come inside only to torment him as a punishment for his participation in this sinful endeavor.

That is what his mother would call it.

A sin.

And the insects that buzzed his ears and bit his exposed skin in tiny annoying pricks of discomfort was his punishment.

Miguel was sure it was slowly driving him mad.

The infernal buzzing, the heat which he should be used to but still felt baking to him and the dust in the air.

It clung like a haze under the warming lamps, a fog of raw powder trapped inside the tent.

All of the workers wore masks. Miguel was supposed to have one on too, but his breath against the fabric made him even hotter.

And it stank.

He couldn’t stand the smell of himself, so he pulled the mask down around his neck.

Which presented a new problem.

Hallucinations and rapid heartrate. He could feel his pulse pounding in his neck, in his hands.

Even his groin, where the butt of an AK-47 rested against the inside of his thigh.

He had watched the shadows shift for hours, eyes twitching and nose flaring. And he only remembered every so often to lift the mask to cover his nose and mouth.

Only long enough for the heat to bother him, and then it went down again.

He heard a noise, but couldn’t be sure if it was real or not.  Like the buzzing of a large mosquito, one outside and flying high.

Miguel went to the screened in mesh and stared as an airplane dipped between two mountains and dropped toward the isolated valley.

An Otter lined up on the dirt runway and swooped down. It touched on the ground long enough for two men in the back to shove a metal box out onto the runway.

Then the airplane engines screamed as the pilot pushed the throttle full and sailed just above the treetops to disappear over the mountains in the east.

Miguel fingered the trigger on his rifle and wondered at his next move.

He would call it in, that much was obvious.

Perhaps the man he worked for was expecting a delivery of a six foot tall metal box that looked to measure the same dimensions in every direction.

He made a move toward the radio when the box whirred.

Miguel watched in fascination as each side of the box folded up, and metal men stepped out.

No, not men, he saw. Their legs were too thin, their arms too small to be men.  Robots or androids, his mind tried to process.

But robots weren’t real.

He had seen the toys, little things designed for children’s play, but these looked nothing like toys.

They looked dangerous.

Miguel saw that each of the six robots carried a weapon, or what looked like a weapon to him.

It had a barrel that was connected to the arm, so that where the robot pointed, death followed.

He learned this by watching the lead robot.

It pointed at the tent and shredded the workers in the screen.

Miguel jumped, startled at how fast it happened.

Then the robots were on the rest of them, the burping whir of arm mounted helicopter guns mincing the bodies inside.

Miguel had enough time to raise his rifle before he was eviscerated, his hopped-up mind registering that his legs were on the other side of the room before he closed his eyes and wondered if this was for his sinning.

He didn’t see the robots torch the drug facility, nor did anyone witness them return to the box and slip inside before the walls folded down.

The Otter made a second pass, landing long enough to roll the box back in the hold before it disappeared over the horizon.

The robots returned to the box and shut down.

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