Uri knelt near the impact crater, allegedly the landing site of the mysterious artifact. He pulled up a display on his wrist computer, accessing his drone's files and programs. There, he thought. A small icon labelled Bloodhound. He tapped the icon twice, activating the drone's tracking and hunting functions.<br/><br/>The drone was a squat thing, a circular body with four spider-like limbs with a back-mounted light machine gun: the M570 Squad Automatic Weapon. Not exactly top of the line, but it was a rugged beast, built to withstand the sands and dust of Mars. Titanium plating and and angular front end built to deflect shots made the drone a solid combatant and a good piece of cover in a pinch. Labelled B-00, the drone was Uri's first working (and last surviving) drone. He called it "Boo".<br/><br/>'Boo,' he said, 'check the crater for something we can follow. Spoor, beastman dander, a blood trail.'<br/><br/>As the 'bot searched, Uri took inventory of his  belongings. Food, charging kit, basic tools and meds, and enough ammunition to last a good while. Of course, his shotgun wasn't exactly top of the line, but in this day and age, "top of the line" for most meant that gaudy steam crap. Unnecessary gewgaws, he thought. Too many visible moving parts to last in dust or mud, too energy-inefficient and bulky to be man-portable, and too expensive for working men. No, the dwarfs of the Martian mountainhomes had it right. Powder-based and advanced magnetic weapons. Simpler, sweeter, and far more efficient. Leave the steam tech to the artists.<br/><br/>The 'bot chittered at him, breaking his reverie. A trail. It turned to a nearby waterfall and armed its M570. Uri grunted noncommittally. 'Some daft fool's probably taken the damned thing to a rock to open it by then,' he grumbled. 'Lead on, Boo. And try not to get too trigger happy. Don't want this evolving into our last job.'<br/><br/>Well, it probably wouldn't, since the trail took them to a cave behind the falls. The two stacked up on either side of the entrance. Uri activated his neural uplink, jacking into the drone's consciousness with the cold mental sting of data inload. And suddenly, his vision gained a heads-up display. Ammunition counter, visual and text-based status readouts. For all intents and purposes, he and the drone were one as long as he maintained a link.<br/><br/>Uri took cover underneath a shadowed cluster of rocks and urged the drone slowly inside. Hopefully whatever was inside was open to talks. Or easy to kill. Preferably both, in case the defecation impacted the oscillating cooling system, so to speak.