Some guys come out of the pod cool as a cucumber, like they were napping in there instead of piloting a drone soldier. Not me. I end up drenched in sweat every time, feeling like I just ran a marathon instead of waging war via a glorified video game.

 

The others give me a hard time about it, but only in fun. The truth is, they all wish they could do what I do. Nobody else puts up numbers like mine. My kill/loss ratio over the past month is basically unheard of — ten to one. I take out ten of the enemy's drones for every one of ours I lose. That's damn efficient.

 

Today's battle will boost my numbers even further. My drone's battery is running dangerously low at this point, but I've already shut down twelve bandits.

 

I've tucked my unit in behind some cover, letting it rest. The drones have to recharge back at base, but moments of respite seem to give them a little boost. I have no idea how. Maybe it's just wishful thinking.

 

As I catch my breath, I drop my drone's gaze to the ammo gauge on its pulse rifle — it's empty. Holy crap! I must have really lost it in that last skirmish to have spent a whole charge already.

 

"Well, that's that then," I mumble. I only had one mission today — to take out as many bandits as I could. Without a functioning weapon, all my unit can do is get shot.

 

Out of options, I stand my drone back up, step out from behind the wrecked vehicle I've been hiding behind — and find myself face to face with an enemy unit.

 

My heart hammers. I've been connected to dozens of drones when they bit it, but I mostly haven't seen it coming. More often, I'm caught up in the heat of battle one moment, my feed's cut off in the next, and I assume I know what happened.

 

A few seconds pass, which seems strange. Then I realize why. The enemy drone isn't even carrying a rifle. It must have been lost in the battle, which puts the two of us on equal footing — almost.

 

These drones are pretty tough, and I don't have much confidence that I can beat one down with an empty rifle, but I'm sure as hell gonna to try.

 

As I raise my inert weapon, the enemy unit reaches behind its back and retrieves a sword. As in an actual slab of sharpened metal meant for maiming. What are we, barbarians?

 

I'm so dumbfounded, I barely manage to swing my rifle down in time to block the first slash, which would otherwise have cut into the midsection of my drone. I parry several more strikes from my opponent as I backpedal fast, thinking faster. Knowing the battery is already low on this unit, and its weapon inferior, I decide to become the aggressor and hope for the best.

 

I don't even bother trying to accomplish anything with the rifle. Instead, I pick my moment and reverse course, charging forward with as much momentum as I can muster. My drone takes the enemy's sword across the shoulder, but it’s a glancing blow that fails to penetrate the armored exoskeleton.

 

The two drones tumble to the ground in a pile, but mine ends up on top. Both weapons skitter away. I don't hesitate. I lunge for the sword and come up swinging, scoring a hit by blind luck as I spin back around, severing the hand from my adversary's unit.

 

I'm dumbfounded all over again by the enemy's reaction. The drone collapses to the ground, writhing as if in agony. Could the damage have caused a cascade of shorts through its circuits, I wonder?

 

With the toe of my boot, I nudge the severed hand, which lies in a small pool of bright red oil. Two white nubs protrude from its wrist. It takes me a moment to identify them.

 

"All units fall back!" I scream, toggling my comms to broadcast all. "The enemy isn’t using drones. We're fighting actual—"

 

I stop shouting when I realize my feed's been cut. My view of the battlefield is replaced by the claustrophobic interior of my pod. I hear my own breathing, which is ragged and panicky. I feel the sweat trickling down from the neural crown I wear to link up with the drones.

 

I'm so overwhelmed, I barely notice the little poke at my thigh. There's a needle port down there that can inject a pilot with a stim shot when they need it. But I don't think this was a stim because suddenly I'm feeling very… very… tired.

 

And then everything goes black.

 

* * *

 

I come to gradually, my brain still foggy from the sedative. At first, I think I'm still in the pod because I can feel the neural crown strapped tight across my brow. But when I try to move, I mostly fail. My arms and legs are restrained, and I can only shift my head enough to glimpse the armor I'm wearing. The sound of my own breathing seems loud in the helmet.

 

A dozen questions rise in quick succession in my mind. Chief among them is: Are there any drones at all?

 

Bile rises in my throat as I consider how many slave soldiers I've probably killed.

 

Then I feel another mind pressing in on mine. I've been in so many battles — sort of, but I've never experienced fear like this. Which is the point, I'm sure.

Whoever my pilot is, I hope he's nearly as good as me.