"Roger," said Shelton, saluting the radio.
He had an idea. He broadcast a distress call over the international radio, knowing full well the terrorists would jam it. He then carved 'SOS' on a long-range probe droid, which was the same color as the Nevadan desert, and sent it off towards the nearest military base, smiling at his own brilliance.
"Now, onto those AWTR weapon turrets," he muttered, sitting down in a nearby computer console.
To his horror, when he logged into the remote-access mainframe, the screen erupted into color. He recognized the Zwings virus. The terrorists had injected the entire base's programming with bugs!
Shelton hurriedly contacted Zanasiu. "James, the military's been contacted, but the computer mainframe of the entire base has been compromised. I can't help you artillery-wise until you or another team gets to the Central Processing Unit. I'll tell you what to do from there."
