Light flashed in Aleksandr’s eyes, accompanied by a blast that threw him down. His luck was bad: Shrapnel tore through him; pain flared in his left leg. His luck was good: The drone did not linger for the finish. It darted away, chasing his peers as they bounded for trees. Bleeding, pressed to soil, he heard more explosions, off in the direction from where he had come.
Quiet settled over the f
Continue Reading on New York Times
This preview shows approximately 15% of the article. Read the full story on the publisher's website to support quality journalism.