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The two of them had spent many planet rotations together. They’d chattered about a variety of things, his training, her mom, his brethren, her friends, and the upcoming rescue mission.
He hadn’t said anything about a sector-destroying weapon before now. There had been vague mentions of him investigating a situation for his kind.
She’d assumed that was a trade issue or something equally minor.
But no, he was tracking down a weapon that could kill them all. Fates. And he hadn’t shared that information with her.
She suspected he had never planned to tell her. He would have simply…left.
That caused a pain in her heart she had to battle to conceal.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The most-efficient way to stop a warrior from fighting was to promise that warrior participation in a more-glorious battle.
Strike had learned that tactic from his dealings with his brethren, and it had proven successful with the Powluk. He had lowered his weapon.
His female’s friend was no longer at risk. And his female was no longer contemplating doing something brave yet highly risky.
He had protected her.
“How did you know where my warriors were?” The Powluk frowned at him. “You couldn’t have seen them. They’re one with the terrain.”
The warriors might have concealed themselves from their human former foes. They could be seen with a cyborg’s visual system.
But Strike hadn’t relied on that. “I utilized life-form scans.” He tapped his fingertips against his temple. “Cyborgs are manufactured with them.”
The male grunted.
“You can modify any handheld to automatically scan your surroundings.” He relayed that advice to the warrior as he watched his female.
She kneeled beside her incapacitated friend. “She’s passed out.”
“We gave them sedatives.” The Powluk wrinkled his nose. “We gave him a greater amount than her. They should revive in a shift or two and won’t be any worse for it.”
Strike didn’t want to wait that long. He preferred for his female and himself to be far away from the stunned Powluks when their mobility returned. “I’ll carry them.”
“Second Zetus is a large male.” The Powluk waved one of his hands at the being. “It took three of my warriors to carry him here.”
“We should wait.” Strike’s female looked unhappy with that prospect also.
They both wanted to leave the planet.
“I can carry the two of them.” Strike stomped over to his female’s friend’s male. He bent his knees, lowering his form, and he hefted the male over his right shoulder.
“I’ll be honored to fight alongside you, warrior.” The Powluk gazed at him with renewed respect.
Strike said nothing. The friend’s male was heavy for a humanoid, but cyborgs were fabricated to lift huge weapons. He could transport the two unfunctional beings.
“I’ll carry Talley.” His female must have doubted his ability to do that. She struggled to draw her friend upward. “Fates. She weighs a lot.” The friend slipped downward again. “I don’t know where she stores it.”
The friend did look alarmingly fragile. Her waist was smaller than one of his biceps.
Strike was thankful his beautiful female was built for a cyborg.
He clasped the friend by the waist and plunked her over his left shoulder. His definition of a lot varied greatly from his female’s. The friend was lighter than a long gun.
“I’ll contact you in ten planet rotations.” Strike informed the Powluk.
