From The Other McCain (By Smitty)
We crossed the ridge as the sky brooded and looked down on the Umgeheuer encampment.
This was the hard part. I beamed instructions to my drone rider, and he dismounted, unaware of his pending demise. We’d clone him again.
As sun set, the drone crawled in low to where their noisy power generators throbbed and poured pollutants skyward.
Past the generators was a large fuel bladder. The enemy was cocky about their camp layout.
The explosives in the drone’s stomach took full advantage of this.
* * *
“Excellent work, Xanthippus,” said General Benton, the drone’s DNA source, upon my return to base.