its quick-release mount by his side.
As soon as the bird was officially shut down he stowed his charts and set himself up for a smooth restart later on. With that accomplished Landers sat back with his commuter mug of hot black coffee to take in the oncoming sunrise and await the arrival of the white-pride welcome wagon.
The Pierce compound had proved nearly impossible to find in the heart of this endless, rolling green sea of trees, mountains, and meadows. Even with the Terminator-vision of forward-looking infrared sensors he’d missed it in the predawn darkness and flown right past several times. The already minimal heat signature of the place seemed to be even further masked by cooling baffles, diffuser vents, buried outlet ducts, and other stealthy tricks usually employed only by first-class indoor marijuana farms.
Those precautions—in conjunction with the ingenious way thestructure and its outbuildings were virtually buried in the surrounding forest—all made this remote hideout nearly invisible, even at close range. It certainly hadn’t shown up in the few lo-res satellite images that had been available on short notice. Whatever their other failings of intellect and character, it was quite a feat for a rogue band of civilians to manage to hide so well in this surveillance age.
Even after he found them he’d had no success in trying to announce his proximity by radio, much less to negotiate clearance to land. Apparently these mongrels were interested only in talking among themselves; they maintained some kind of primitive analog scrambler on their ham signals and repeaters, and Landers hadn’t brought along the specialized equipment required to crack such an old-school code.
Though they obviously valued their seclusion, once past any tense introductions he really didn’t expect much hostility. The chopper’s rear compartment had room for half a squad of hired soldiers and a mounted minigun if he’d ordered them, but the upcoming negotiation was one he’d elected to attend alone.
Not to imply that he was without protection—this Talion-owned MD600N was souped-up and loaded-out for twenty-first-century urban riot control. As such, the machine bristled with an arsenal of autonomous, hands-free antipersonnel weaponry as well as a raft of advanced targeting and spying gear. These made the helicopter, much like its veteran pilot, more than capable of both kicking ass and taking down names.
The control panel in front of him was dominated by a large multifunction touchscreen, which at the moment displayed a live picture of his surroundings in glowing 3-D wireframe. In its onscreen image the nearby multifloor log house was shown to contain the moving hot spots of more than fifty people clumped about in several locations. Many of them appeared to be armed and all had begun to converge toward the front of the place, apparently so they could observe their new arrival more clearly.
Since this was both a surprise visit and a first in-person encounter,it seemed wisest to let them come to him in their own time. When guys like these see a black helicopter land in their front yard, you need to give them a few minutes to calm down.
At length an exploratory party appeared from around the leeward side of the house. They came slowly, guns raised and ready as they advanced across the open ground. The aircraft recognized the danger and responded by initializing its active-denial electronics. A near-ultrasonic whine ascended behind him as the weapons charged and locked on, but Landers touched the onscreen button labeled HOLD , and only waited.
Despite some dark clouds that had begun to gather to the north, it was light enough by then to see the men clearly. As he sipped his coffee and followed their approach he was vaguely reminded of another scene, though it took a thoughtful moment to make the connection. It was an image from the opening minutes of 2001: A Space Odyssey, when those early hominids had crept forth from their
As soon as the bird was officially shut down he stowed his charts and set himself up for a smooth restart later on. With that accomplished Landers sat back with his commuter mug of hot black coffee to take in the oncoming sunrise and await the arrival of the white-pride welcome wagon.
The Pierce compound had proved nearly impossible to find in the heart of this endless, rolling green sea of trees, mountains, and meadows. Even with the Terminator-vision of forward-looking infrared sensors he’d missed it in the predawn darkness and flown right past several times. The already minimal heat signature of the place seemed to be even further masked by cooling baffles, diffuser vents, buried outlet ducts, and other stealthy tricks usually employed only by first-class indoor marijuana farms.
Those precautions—in conjunction with the ingenious way thestructure and its outbuildings were virtually buried in the surrounding forest—all made this remote hideout nearly invisible, even at close range. It certainly hadn’t shown up in the few lo-res satellite images that had been available on short notice. Whatever their other failings of intellect and character, it was quite a feat for a rogue band of civilians to manage to hide so well in this surveillance age.
Even after he found them he’d had no success in trying to announce his proximity by radio, much less to negotiate clearance to land. Apparently these mongrels were interested only in talking among themselves; they maintained some kind of primitive analog scrambler on their ham signals and repeaters, and Landers hadn’t brought along the specialized equipment required to crack such an old-school code.
Though they obviously valued their seclusion, once past any tense introductions he really didn’t expect much hostility. The chopper’s rear compartment had room for half a squad of hired soldiers and a mounted minigun if he’d ordered them, but the upcoming negotiation was one he’d elected to attend alone.
Not to imply that he was without protection—this Talion-owned MD600N was souped-up and loaded-out for twenty-first-century urban riot control. As such, the machine bristled with an arsenal of autonomous, hands-free antipersonnel weaponry as well as a raft of advanced targeting and spying gear. These made the helicopter, much like its veteran pilot, more than capable of both kicking ass and taking down names.
The control panel in front of him was dominated by a large multifunction touchscreen, which at the moment displayed a live picture of his surroundings in glowing 3-D wireframe. In its onscreen image the nearby multifloor log house was shown to contain the moving hot spots of more than fifty people clumped about in several locations. Many of them appeared to be armed and all had begun to converge toward the front of the place, apparently so they could observe their new arrival more clearly.
Since this was both a surprise visit and a first in-person encounter,it seemed wisest to let them come to him in their own time. When guys like these see a black helicopter land in their front yard, you need to give them a few minutes to calm down.
At length an exploratory party appeared from around the leeward side of the house. They came slowly, guns raised and ready as they advanced across the open ground. The aircraft recognized the danger and responded by initializing its active-denial electronics. A near-ultrasonic whine ascended behind him as the weapons charged and locked on, but Landers touched the onscreen button labeled HOLD , and only waited.
Despite some dark clouds that had begun to gather to the north, it was light enough by then to see the men clearly. As he sipped his coffee and followed their approach he was vaguely reminded of another scene, though it took a thoughtful moment to make the connection. It was an image from the opening minutes of 2001: A Space Odyssey, when those early hominids had crept forth from their
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