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The male grunted.
“Stay behind me, my female.” Strike marched through the tunnels.
“I guess we’ll be moving slowly.” She followed him. “You’re carrying two grown beings. And Tsadok isn’t a small male.”
Strike huffed. They’d be moving slowly because his female was human and humans had a much-lower top speed compared to cyborgs.
“Shouldn’t I be going first?” She touched his body armor-clad back. “In case we have to stun anyone? Your hands are full.”
“My shoulders are full. My hands are free.” He could shoot while carrying the two beings. “My scans remain functional. Stay behind me.”
“You’re also wearing body armor.” She sucked air through her teeth. “Not that it helped you much this planet rotation. They blasted right through it.”
“It took them multiple shots to do that.” The body armor had helped protect him. “And they were utilizing modified projectiles.”
He’d taken a sample of those projectiles and would relay them to his brethren.
Their body armor would be improved to withstand any future barrages. That would protect warriors, including himself.
“Our kind fought with metal-encased robots, so they must’ve adjusted their projectiles to deal with them.” His female shifted her friend’s hair. “They chatter like they’re big tough warriors, willing to die at any moment, but they took good care of Talley.”
Strike projected those big tough warriors had females also.
His female chattered about garments and hair braiding and the cleanliness of her friend’s fingernails. They progressed at her pace, passing immobile Powluks. His little human’s footsteps echoed off the rock walls. She wasn’t designed for stealth.
But she was fabricated for him. Warmth spread across his chest.
They stopped at the bottom of the vertical climb to the surface.
His female stood beside him. “You can leave one of them down here and convey them individually.” She looked upward.
His ability to carry them wasn’t his concern. He tugged, using twenty percent of his strength, on the railing.
The ladder remained attached to the rock wall.
It should hold. “Move farther into the tunnel.” If he fell, he didn’t want to land on his female. Her safety was his priority.
She did as he instructed. “I could carry your weapons.”
His female could barely carry her own weapons. His lips quirked upward. “Don’t start climbing until I’ve reached ground level.”
“You might not have said anything, but I know you.” She rolled her eyes. “I know you’re worried the ladder won’t bear the weight of three beings. I certainly won’t put extra stress on it.”
She was a clever female. And she did process him.
That had been his concern.
Strike balanced the two beings on his shoulders, and he climbed. He moved as smoothly as he could, seeking to minimize the horizontal strain on the ladder’s fasteners.
Metal whined. As he progressed higher and higher, dust fell from the rock wall.
A fastener bent. More tension stretched across his already taut muscles.
He reached the top and opened the door.
That shift of weight increased the stress on the ladder.
A fastener broke on its south side. Then another broke. And another.
