The Rift

Davis Rhodes was crouching on the northern end of the cliff, holding his rifle to his shoulder, when he heard the fuzz from his radio.

"Davis and Miley, can you guys hear me?" it was the Commander.

Or the lieutenant.

Or the chief.

Or whatever he would have been called if they were a real army. Such titles were meaningless for a group of sohpisticated woodsmen, even a group that was that was peppered with scientists.

Miley answered while he unhooked the communications device with his clumsy left hand.

"Miley here."

Davis pushed his thumb down on the reciever.

"Yeah, I'm here too."

"Are the scientists back from the bots yet?"

"They came up about a minute ago," said Davis.

"So Mike's ready, I take it?" asked Miley.

"Yeah, Mike's ready. We're going to fire in less than two minutes."

"It's not going to be all that easy to hear with this rain." said Miley.

"Yes it will," said Calvin. "And if all goes well, you won't have to act anyways... Are your scouts are lined up?"

"Affirmative." said Davis.

"Okay... we're going to give Mike the okay, then. Stay on gaurd."

"Got it." said Davis and Miley at the same time.

Davis put away the radio, briefly scratched his bushy brown beard, and then renwed his grip on the long shiny rifle.

He waited.