Watching Over Us Read Free

praying to the Luyten for mercy as well.
    *  *  *
    The line slowed. Laurel caught her foot on a railroad tie, nearly fell. Ahead, the way forward was blocked by a pile of broken machinery. They were on a trestle, thirty feet above a stream, so the platoon was forced to climb over the debris.
    When it was her turn, Laurel picked her way carefully over jagged, crushed steel.
    â€œDrones,” Todd said. “They’re all drones.”
    That’s exactly what they were: walking artillery pieces, designed to wander randomly, seeking Luyten through VRE technology. Luyten couldn’t read their computer-chip minds, so they couldn’t avoid their gunfire the way they did humans’ gunfire. The problem was, once the Luyten knew where one of the drones was, it wasn’t difficult to take out a machine. They could have more easily pulled up railroad ties to block the route, or simply burned it; the barricade was meant to be a message about the drones’ lack of effectiveness, a morale stomper to any soldiers passing through. Beyond the blockade the track veered deeper into pine forest.
    A cry of alarm rose from up the line. Laurel swung her rifle off her shoulder and pointed it into the trees, looking for bright colors. Cobalt blue, magenta, emerald, mustard…
    A huge figure broke from the trees, clutching a rifle the size of a bazooka. It was manlike, but not a man: deep-set eyes, a ridged brow, skin as white as bone, black uniform. He had three legs, which made him fast. So fast.
    The entire platoon gaped, struck dumb by the sight of the creature as it headed north on the tracks, eyes straight ahead, exhaling through its nose like a winded colt.
    Three more burst from the trees; then there were six, then ten, as more appeared farther up the track.
    Cheers rose in the platoon, growing to a full-throated roar as, one by one, the giants disappeared around a curve in the track.
    Lieutenant Carter was squatting, on her walkie-talkie, a finger plugging her free ear. Everyone was talking at once, chattering excitedly, their faces more animated than Laurel had ever seen them.
    â€œI told you,” Sergio said. “Didn’t I tell you?”
    Standing, Carter waved for silence. She was smiling, almost glowing. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just met our new allies. They’re called the defenders.”
    Through her icy shock, Laurel couldn’t help wondering how these defenders would turn the tide of the war. As Todd had pointed out, this wasn’t wrestling. Weren’t they simply larger targets?
    *  *  *
    At lunchtime they caught up with the defenders, who were leaning up against trees eating processed meat that looked like huge cubes of spam. Laurel’s platoon stood at a distance, whispering.
    Laurel marveled at their size, the slabs of muscle bulging beneath their skintight uniforms. How on earth had they been created? They were walking miracles, far beyond what Laurel thought humans were capable of engineering. She wondered if people had thought the same about the A-bomb back in 1945. When your survival depended on it, great strides could be made in a short time.
    One of the defenders waved them on. “You’re giving away our position. Move on.”
    â€œWe just want to say, ‘Welcome,’” Lieutenant Carter called. “We’re glad to have your help.”
    â€œJust stay out of our way,” the defender said. His uniform sported vertical silver striping on the shoulders, but if it indicated his rank, Laurel couldn’t decipher it. He clearly thought he outranked Lieutenant Carter.
    â€œLet’s move out,” Carter called, waving them forward.
    They walked on, the defender’s words echoing in Laurel’s head.
    You’re giving away our position .
    How would saying hello give away these defenders’ position to the Luyten? If any Luyten were within eight miles, they’d already know where the defenders