Again I gazed at my own stunned reflection floating in the digitized lines of his mask.

The sound of footfalls grew even closer. Then there came a loud whirring noise and a thunderous cracking from downslope. I shot a nervous glance through the hole in the trunk and saw a few treetops vanish abruptly from view as if sucked into the earth.

“You have to go,” he said.

“I need to hide here—”

“They are taking down the trees and anything in their path.”

“How?”

“Listen to me.” The glow flared, the digitized voice even louder now.

Outside, more trees vanished. The screeches of Drones echoed through the valley, cries of rage.

His grip on my hand tightened. “No matter what, they must never find out who you are. Do not let them take you. We will contact you when we can and tell you of your mission. Until then you have one job: Stay alive. At any cost, stay—”

The glow vanished, the mask turned instantly to a lifeless black sheet. His fingers released their grip on my hand. He remained in exactly the same position.

Through the narrow hole in the trunk, I watched another row of trees below shudder and topple. The Drones were literally clearing the hillside. And the tree I was hiding in was right in their path.

I reached for the rifle, then remembered the Rebel’s words. I couldn’t take myself out, not now. I had to stay free and stay alive. I started for the hole, then paused.

Gathering my courage, I reached for the helmet. And twisted it off.

It was empty.

A wisp of smoke curled lazily from the space suit’s neckhole, floating up the hollow core of the tree. Grabbing the rim of the collar, I tilted the semi-rigid suit forward and peered into the torso. Nothing inside.

Like the Queen, he’d turned to gas.

I didn’t wait around to contemplate this impossibility. Charging through the hole in the tree, I yanked on my backpack and shot to my feet. Through the netting of the branches, I saw the nearest pair of Drones hurtling upslope.

Between them they carried a massive whirring blade. It took a moment for me to recognize it as a backhoe undercutter that had been removed and retrofitted to be carried at either end. It was basically a giant chain saw designed for cutting rock and ballast. The armored carbide plates moved in continuous 360-degree rotation. I watched with amazement as the Drones came straight at a tree, the blade held between them. The teeth buzz-sawed through the trunk, and the massive pine slid away. The Drones barely even had to slow their pace.

Bursts of mist shot out of valves around the necks of their helmets, producing the ear-rending screeches. Were they caused by gas expanding with the heat of rage?