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He wrinkled his nose.
The leaders of the Humanoid Alliance, his cruel manufacturers, had all been human. They had decommissioned many of his brethren, slicing and dicing them to salvage spare parts, killing them in the most painful way possible. He and other warriors had been fortunate to escape them.
According to the databases, the humans on Syndiculous 5 had little interaction with the Humanoid Alliance. And some of those locals might have insights into the pulsing sound he was investigating.
He flew the modified freighter toward the planet.
Lights flashed on the console. He was being hailed.
Strike opened communications.
“You have entered Syndiculous 5 space.” The voice would have sounded human or humanoid to beings with suboptimal auditory systems. Strike, being a cyborg, immediately processed it was coming from artificial intelligence. “Identify yourself.”
There were no visuals.
Strike bypassed the planet’s process and hacked into the security system. That system was, surprisingly, adequate. But he was half machine, and he easily gained entry to it.
From there, he accessed other systems and databases. He scanned all of them. Multiple times. He found no indications anyone on the planet had detected the pulsing sound.
There was a 98.4777 percent probability he could forgo landing on Syndiculous 5. He could save that time, conserve resources, and continue on his route.
Strike tilted his head to the side.
There was a 1.5223 percent probability landing on the planet could benefit his mission, however. He was already close to its surface. And his investigation should be thorough.
He gave himself permission to land on Syndiculous 5.
Genetic information had been required to do that. It was utilized by the Syndiculs’s systems to track every being on the planet’s surface.
He transferred his data and then programmed it to self-delete after one planet rotation.
They would have no permanent record of his existence.
“You are authorized to land, Captain,” the digital voice recited.
Strike directed his modified freighter toward Syndiculous 5. The image of the planet grew larger on the main viewscreen. It was blue and green and gray, with splashes of white.
Ships orbited high above its surface, outside of its atmosphere. According to the security system, there were hundreds of vessels waiting for authorization to land.
Strike had skipped that queue. He guided the modified freighter downward.
No one attempted to stop him.
The first checkpoint must’ve been the only level of security the Syndiculs projected they required. That logic was faulty. He was evidence of that.
But it served his purposes. He continued his descent.
His plan, once he landed on Syndiculous 5, was to listen to the locals’ chatter. If the sound had been detectable on the surface, either by their auditory systems or by their devices, they would question the source of it. It would be a topic of conversation.
As soon as he uncovered the answers he sought, he’d depart.
The entire process should take mere moments.
Strike lowered the modified freighter to the simulated stone-covered ground and deactivated its engines. The landing site he’d allocated to his vessel was close to the settlement in which the planet’s leaders resided.
They should have more intel than the average being.
As Strike stood, he ran his hands over the blades and guns strapped to his body armor.
