“Molten rock…” Deacon sounded interested again, and he dropped down, checking out the corpse of the drone, flicking slowly through a series of computer-enhanced images on his armor HUD. “No way…”

Steward and Mackay waited patiently for him to explain what the hell he was talking about, but all the soldier did was let out a long, low whistle and repeat himself.

“No fuckin’ way…”

“Deac!” Steward finally snapped.

“Huh?” Deacon jerked around. “Yeah, Sarge?”

“What the fuck are you jabbering about?”

“Wha…Oh, sorry, Sarge.” The soldier flicked his fingers a couple times and sent a download over to the others’ suit HUDs. “I think they’ve got silicon-based chemistry…But whatever it is, it’s got a real high tolerance to heat…”

He glanced back at the cooling body for a moment, then back at the other two. “Nasty little things, for sure, but it might be good news for us.”

“How?” Steward asked in a clipped tone.

“Well, that thing there,” he gestured to the dead drone, “has a current body temp that’s over one-eighty…I’m guessing that the living ones are hotter…”

“So we can use the IR sensors in our suits to spot them easier…all right…” Steward nodded. “All right, now that is what I like to hear, kid.”

“More than that,” Mackay added, thinking furiously. “Our bullets can track heat. If these things are that much hotter than humans, we can activate the thermal guidance chips without worrying about hitting locals.”

“Bingo, L.T.” Deacon grinned under his darkened face shield.

Standing on overwatch atop one of the tallest buildings, Brinks acknowledged the communication he’d just received. “I hear you,” Major Brinks said as he mulled over the information. “Hold back on the IR until I get back to you.”

“Confirmed,” Mackay replied.

Brinks frowned as he pondered the thought while quickly browsing the suit network until he found the person he was looking for. “Lieutenant.”

“Sir?” Savoy’s response was instantaneous, the whining crack of gunfire in the background.

“Got a problem for you.”

“That’s what we tech geeks like to hear, Major,” Savoy smirked. “What’s up?”

“These things are running a body temp over one-eighty,” Brinks started to explain. “The thought that Corporal Deacon had was—”

“Crank up the sensitivity in the rifles,” Savoy interrupted, grimacing. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing, sir,” Savoy shook his head, jostling the image. “I just should have thought of it first. Give me two minutes.”

Brinks signed off, leaving Savoy on the other side to mutter a mild curse for having missed something so obvious. He frowned, locating the team with the closest Drasin drones.

“Bermont, I need you to do something for me before you move out,” he said a moment later.

Sean Bermont paused in his handling of the chute, cocking his head as Savoy told him what he needed.

“Gotcha, Sav,” he said after a moment, then switched his tactical frequency to the squad level. “Russell, we need an IR scan of one of those things while they’re still kicking!”