Patrick hesitated. Something deep within him still maintained that this was wrong. He was trained to fight, trained to use his brains and his training and experience to fight and win battles—but this was not one of the battles he had in mind. He wasn’t defending his home or his country or his family. This mission was to destroy one country’s supposed threat to disrupt commerce in order to help a multinational corporation earn more money. This was a job for a private security company—or a mercenary force.

The obvious question: Was Patrick turning into a mercenary? Was he going to start fighting not for home or country or family, but for money?

Maybe he was, at least for the moment. If his own military didn’t want him, maybe it was time to fight for what he felt was right—and accept a little money to do it.

“I’m in,” Patrick heard himself say. “I’ll get a NIRTSat constellation up right away, and get a few FlightHawks ready for air support.” The FlightHawks were Sky Masters’s unmanned combat aircraft, capable of ground, air, or ship launch, and equipped to carry a wide variety of sensors, cameras, radio gear—or munitions. They were stealthy, accurate, and very effective.

“We’re gone!” Paul McLanahan shouted excitedly, his electronically synthesized voice amplifying his happiness. “Let’s go kick some Libyan rocket-launching ass!”

SAMAH, LIBYA
 SEVERAL DAYS LATER

“Nike, say status,” Patrick McLanahan whispered into the secure satellite link. A warning indicator on his electronic visor had just advised him that one of his men had already engaged the enemy. Just a few minutes into what was supposed to be a quick, silent recon, they were made.

“Bad guy came out of nowhere, and this damned suit blasted him before I could stop it,” retired U.S. Marine Corps master sergeant Chris Wohl explained. “I’m secure, and I’m moving in.”

“This is supposed to be a soft probe, Nike, not an assault. We can come back.”

“If they’re alerted, they might move all their assets, and then we’d have to locate them all over again,”

Wohl protested. “I think only one guy saw me, and I don’t think he’s a sentry, so we still might have time. Besides, you made this suit, not me. If you wanted a soft probe, you should’ve showed me how to shut off the auto-bugzapper feature. I’m secure, and I’m moving in.”