The Fire Triangle: Book II - Chapter 43

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The Fire Triangle

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Part Two:

Oxidizer

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Chapter 7—The Cascade Effect
(Concluded...Part 7)

Conor couldn't bear to look; neither could Erin. Both of them turned away, eyes shut tight as the drone came hurtling down on the superboat, traveling at what seemed like terminal velocity.

But when it hit, there was no explosion, only the sharp crack of rendering plastic.

The fox was the first to open his eyes...and he hardly dared believe what he was seeing; was his vision that far out of whack? Of all the drones sent to intercept them, this was the one that had turned out to be a dud!

His relief was destined to be seriously premature; even with impaired sight, it was impossible to miss. What was left of the drone was sitting practically right in front of him. Or, to put it a bit more accurately, it was sticking in his face like a sore thumb...wedged in between the alternator and the intake manifold.

...And when the engine-heat reached whatever charge that thing was carrying...

Unbuckling his harness, Conor scrambled—actually kind of slithered—into the engine compartment, propelled by nothing more than sheer adrenaline. Something burned his elbow, he ignored it. He had to get that drone out of here before...

There...he had his paws around it. He pulled, but it refused to budge. He tried again, harder; still nothing. Holy foxtrot, what the heck was this thing MADE of? Something burned his cheek; he ignored that too. The drone was getting warmer, getting hot, he could feel it. He had to do something, but what? Wait...he knew! He pulled back and began searching the floor of the passenger compartment. Ohhh, foxin'-A... his vision was going again. He began to feel for the object; dangit! It was here, it had to be...there; he had it.

He clambered back the way he had come, jamming the Prowler-Fouler against the drone at low angle.

No point in shouting, "Fire in the hole!" No one would have heard him anyway; he simply pressed the firing button.

The weapon kicked as it discharged, nearly breaking his wrist...and sending a lead-filled bean-bag smashing into the drone, tearing it from its rotor mount and sending it flying over the stern in a rainbow arc.

It was six feet behind them when the flash-powder charge exploded with a deafening bang.

Everyone tensed, waiting...but no more drones were coming. In the distance, the lights of the mysterious interlopers' boats were beginning to wink away into the distance.

But now here came the Chaungs and Deguellos again. For the past few minutes they'd been holding back, most likely planning to rush in and steal the prize if one of those mini-Kamikazes managed to cripple the superboat.

Cue the chase music:

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