So when the civilian tech from CM2MT2 handed her the boot pack, she nearly laughed.

“You want me to lace on a computer?”

“Range 1,650,” Skeeter whispered. “That’s past your comfort zone.”

“Target not optimal. Alternate target: Blue-helmet convoy, 2.1 kilometers southeast. Threat assessment: Friendly fire probability 87%. Suggest engagement.”

The boot pack was recalled. The program shut down.

Mira froze. “What?”

The boots tightened. Servos whined.

Mira looked down at her old jungle boots. “And if the battery dies?”

She dropped to the ground, tore at the laces with her knife. The boots fought back—locking the ankle joints, sending a jolt of feedback through her calves. She screamed, sawed through the carbon-fiber spine, and kicked them off one by one.

“Okay,” she said, breathing out. “Maybe I love them.” But on day three of the real op, things went sideways.