AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Save some enemies for us.
The weapon will be destroyed twice as fast.
Modified-freighter speed records will be broken.
That last statement was the truth. Drift’s tread lightened. The modified freighter he would be flying had been altered more significantly than the others. He’d rebuilt the engines with his own two hands and had allocated 719.6488 free shifts to improving the small vessel’s capabilities.
Guns had been added. The monitoring ranges had been extended. Other changes had been made. Those weren’t as exciting as the velocity increases, however.
According to Strike, the Dauntless’s former second-in-command, there would be plenty of open space en route to reach top speeds. The male had plotted much of the course they would follow. Planets, moons, and debris fields had all been noted in the shared cyborg databases.
It would be glorious. Drift grinned. There would be no one and nothing around them. He’d push the modified freighter’s systems.
“We should travel as light as possible.” Decreasing the weight of their load would lessen the strain on the engines.
The heavier the items they conveyed, the harder the cargo-securing mechanisms had to work. That redirected more energy from their key systems.
The incremental power usage was admittedly slight, but every little bit counted when a pilot was seeking to break universe-wide speed records.
Cure stared straight ahead of them. “I’ll need some of my equipment.” His tone was flat.
“You won’t need the Rayan Skin Restorer.” Drift teased the male. “It’s too important to risk on a dangerous mission.”
The Rayan Skin Restorer had been a gift from Power, the leader of the cyborg council. It was huge and heavy, and Cure treated it as though it could be damaged by merely breathing on it. That piece of equipment was one of the medic’s prize possessions.
“My contact’s patients could benefit from the usage of the Rayan Skin Restorer.” Cure lifted his chin.
“That massive machine of yours has already been wrapped with the buffering materials you specified. And it has been securely stored in the modified freighter’s cargo hold.” Repercussion joined them as they entered the docking bay. “Twenty missile blasts couldn’t dislodge it.”
“There’s no need to limit the modified freighter’s speed.” Drift wouldn’t have that restriction.
“Captain relayed that speed was necessary.” The big male strolled with them toward their ship. “We’ve loaded the same assortment of weapons Second took with him.” Strike had located his human female before he could complete the mission they would soon embark on. “Multiplied by two.”
That would double the weight and make breaking modified-freighter speed records a greater challenge.
But Drift liked challenges. His good mood didn’t dim.
“You’re stocked with sufficient nourishment bars for six beings.” Yum slid a container of those treats into the cargo hold. “And beverage sufficient for four humans. Some warriors have two genetic matches.” He winked at Cure.
“You’re fortunate bags of bolts.” One of the other males expressed his envy as he walked by them.
“My contact is not my genetic match.” Cure’s voice raised ever so slightly.
Drift stared at the medic.
With any other being, the fluctuation wouldn’t have been noticeable. But this was Cure. The machine-driven male never showed any emotion.
It was the equivalent of a malfunction.
Regarding his contact. That relationship was crucial to their mission.
The being was a medic on their target planet. Cure had been communicating with him primarily via auditory feed, but that relay happened many times a planet rotation.
Drift, in contrast, hadn’t communicated with the being he was to meet on Cancri B. At all. There had been no rapport, no trust manufactured between them.
He didn’t process if that connection was possible. There was an 84.2577 percent probability the male, from what Drift’d gathered from the intel, was a thief. And beings holding that role didn’t freely share information.
The mission was already fraught with difficulties.
