He might have just imagined it, but he thought he heard whooping and cheering from Bunkhouse. Which was real nice and everything, but if the hostages penned there could see him, so could the drones. He unslung the shotgun from his shoulder, thumbed the safety off, and pumped the forearm to chamber a round. Didn’t need it just yet, so he yanked a shell from the strap and shoved it into the magazine to replace the one he’d just chambered. These shells were birdshot, like you’d use for going after pheasant or small game. He’d fitted the weapon with a choke to improve its range. He heard the screech of an eagle above and off to his right and turned his head back to see Genghis pounce on a drone and smash it to the ground. The birds all looked the same to him, but he could tell them apart by their gauntlets, which he’d printed up using different colors of plastic.