Were those supposed to be combat vehicles? Were the tubes on the roof RPGs? They looked ridiculous on a battlefield.
Oh, yes. Blowing up those racecars was going to be much more satisfying than blasting away at the drones.
Gleb sat in the passenger seat of a FlashDance automobile, only slightly upgraded since it came off Diab’s manufacturing line in Porto Novo, and grumbled at the world at large. “We’re taking on an experienced combat force ten times larger than ours with racecars?”
Ping, listening over the open line from her copter high above, gurgled a laugh. “It wouldn’t be sporting otherwise.”
Marcos, driving the vehicle wherein Gleb sat at the controls for firing the Big Gun mounted on the roof, laughed as well. “Sporting, yes; we must be sporting.”
Rubinelle added a more serious
