"Duval’s up the hill," Reece said, as Flynne watched a pixelated blob of tan migrate a little closer to where the button would have been on a regular ball cap. They didn’t have a button, Marine caps, because if someone hit you on top of your head, they could drive the button into your skull. "Carter’s around the back, Carlos down by the trailer. Got a net up, twenty units, twenty in reserve." Twenty drones over the property, she understood, flying synchronously in repeating pattern, each of the three men monitoring a third of it. That was a lot of drones.