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“Captain said you’d be arriving.” Repercussion bumped against him. The male was stationed in loading. “You should take this with you, Second.” He handed Strike a missile launcher. “It’s a duplicate of Captain’s female’s weapon. I modified it myself. It took me fifteen planet rotations to do that properly.”
The Valkyrie was noted for having exceptional weapons. Strike juggled the missile launcher from his right hand to his left hand and back again. It had some heft to it. “I can’t take it, warrior. It’s yours.”
“I’ll modify another one.” Repercussion shrugged. “When you use it on the enemy, process that you’re not alone. Your brethren are with you.”
Cyborgs, especially D models like Strike, weren’t manufactured to operate on their own.
It was a struggle to suck back his emotions. “I’ll process that.” Strike’s voice was gruff. “Protect the Dauntless and Captain while I’m gone, warrior.”
“No damage will come to him.” Repercussion stated that with the solemness of a vow.
“I stocked you with nourishment bars, Second.” Yum slid a container into the cargo hold of the modified freighter. He was in charge of nourishment procurement. “Pirx berry-flavored, your favorite.”
“That’s appreciated.” Strike looked into the storage space.
“Beverage was also loaded.” The male waved one of his hands at those supplies.
Cyborgs didn’t require their liquids to be replenished. The beverage would only be required if he encountered a fully organic being.
That was unlikely. But… “It’s logical to be prepared for any situation.”
“That’s what I projected.” Yum’s head bobbed. “You can’t process what you’ll be facing out there. We hear rumors about this stretch of the border.”
Strike had heard the stories also.
There were tales of large creatures flying through space, of ships that disappeared with no explanation—never to be seen again, of debris fields that resembled asteroid belts, and other unusual activity.
He had to be prepared for anything.
“Homeland sent us some life-form-scan-blocking cloaks.” Those cloaks would be dangerous to don in the air. A freighter with no life-forms on it had a high probability of being shot out of space. But the garments might be beneficial once he landed on a planet’s surface.
“Two cloaks have been placed in the pack with the flight suits.” Repercussion transmitted a list of the items stored in the cargo hold to Strike.
“There’re excessive flight suits.” Strike didn’t require garments in every available size.
“It’s logical to be prepared for any situation.” Repercussion repeated what Strike had told Yum. “Warriors find genetic matches on missions.” His eyes twinkled with humor.
Yum and the other warriors situated around them nodded.
The probability he’d locate his genetic match on his current mission was 3.4588 percent. He would be focused on gathering intel about the potential threat to their kind.
But saying that would accomplish nothing except damage the males’ emotional systems. They hoped to, some planet rotation, locate their genetic matches while on missions also.
Strike chose not to address the comment. “I require five more handhelds.” He’d modify them to better track the pulsing sound.
A warrior rushed to retrieve the devices.
While those were loaded, Strike planned his mission in his processors. His assignment could be key to his kind’s survival.
Nothing could be left to variability.
CHAPTER TWO
The vocal and the high-profile beings might receive all of the attention and most of the recognition.
But support beings quietly and effectively ran the universe.
Kesser knew that truth better than anyone else.
