That’s the right idea, but you could cut it to the bone even more. The vital nugget of information the reader needs to know to understand what’s happening next in the story, what you must get across to them, is that through the Slate, the pilot is psychically connected to their drone, and furthermore, drones are used for war. You could say exactly that, or show it instead, which might look something like this:
The pilot ran to his battle station and strapped on his Slate interface helmet as the air raid sirens blared. Black mercury blood pumped down to the drone’s hand as the pilot clenched his — and its — fists.
If it’s still not clear enough that the Slate helmet connects the pilot to the drone, you could write in a part where the pilot gets their helmet dislodged and the connection suddenly severs at a very inconvenient time, thus parlaying exposition directly into juicy, tense conflict. If you want to incorporate the detail about the electric signals simulating the brain, you could show an EMP bomb taking out three drones in one go and have someone say “look out for those EMP bombs, they’ll short out your drone’s positronic brain,” so now you have another obstacle to avoid. If it’s not causing me problems, why would I care about it? My car, do I care about how it works until it breaks down and I have to fix it? Do we write stories about The Car That Worked Right And Here’s How, or about The Car That Broke Down By The Side Of The Road, Stranding Our Hapless Protagonist In Werewolf Territory During A Full Moon?
(You COULD cut it to the bone even more: “the pilot clenched his fists, and, with his Slate helmet on, the drone’s,” but that’s very dry. There’s no flavor, no texture, no urgency or location or emotion.)