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Captain’s female’s lips twitched. The Valkyrie was seated by their leader. Her left hand and Captain’s right hand were hidden under the console.
Strike suspected their fingers were linked. Physical contact was soothing to cyborgs and their genetic matches.
He didn’t process that from his own experience. Strike hadn’t located the one being he was fabricated to bond with, care for, protect.
And he projected he would never find them.
His lifespan would be devoted to safeguarding others, including his captain. And battling to maintain the peace on board the Dauntless and in the cyborg sector. “Requesting authorization to plan another mock battle, Captain.”
Pick me as one of the leads. Pick me. The mock battle, as Strike projected, distracted Grid.
“Authorization granted, Second.” Captain’s gaze didn’t shift from the navigator. “What is the threat?”
Strike silently groaned.
“There’s no threat, Captain.” Cyborgs couldn’t lie. That was written into their programming. Grid projected…incorrectly…they wouldn’t face any danger as a result of his bizarre plan. “Requesting authorization to test our shields, utilizing fully functional missiles.”
“You want to erect a shield around some space debris and fire missiles at it?” Intrepid narrowed his eyes at Grid.
The male tilted his head to the side. “That’s one option.”
“If your plan is to shoot missiles at the Dauntless and place everyone on board in peril, that request is denied.” Captain frowned.
Olrun’s shoulders shook. The captain’s Valkyrie was holding in her laughter. She didn’t process, as Strike did, that shooting missiles at their battle station was Grid’s plan.
“My plan now is to erect a shield around some space debris and fire missiles at it.” Their navigator appeared content with that modification.
“I projected that was your plan.” Intrepid nodded. “Engineering will assist with that project. Choice?”
“I’ll assist him, Captain.” The kid lifted his chin.
Their leader dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Strike, organize two more mock battles.”
“Organizing two more mock battles, Captain.” Strike wouldn’t participate in either of them.
He trained. His fighting skills had to be honed to ensure he could physically protect the beings around him. But he derived no joy from mock killing others.
Others felt differently about the events.
Pick me as one of the leaders. Grid resumed his campaigning.
Strike would give him that honor. “The teams will be led by?—”
Captain held up his right hand. That was a signal for silence.
A strange sound pulsed through the bridge.
Strike couldn’t process how Captain had heard it first but their leader often detected danger before others did.
“What’s that noise?” Intrepid looked at them for input.
Strike had no projection of its cause. He skimmed his hands over the control panel embedded in the console before him. There were no indications of any issues on board the battle station.
No one else spoke.
“What’s the status of our systems?” Intrepid looked at Choice.
“All systems are operating within spec, Captain.” The kid looked down at his control panel also.
