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“No one ‘round here has eyes like that.” Bubs’s forehead furrowed with thought lines.
Roshini met his gaze. “You sure?” The female had come out of the beverage outlet.
Though, she thought about it more, she didn’t actually see her step over the threshold.
“Yeah, sure.” Bubs frowned. “Would remember eyes like that.”
The floating female had travelled all the way to Bubs’s Place and hadn’t entered the beverage outlet? That made no cursed sense.
Roshini’s unease about the situation intensified. “Yeah.”
“It’d cause a stir.” Bubs shifted his weight from one big booted foot to the other. “Not much happening for excitement here.”
Roshini knew what he was asking. “’Spect that’ll change.”
“’Spect so.” Bubs nodded.
He would prepare for trouble.
That was prudent. Because Roshini’s gut screamed trouble was coming.
CHAPTER FIVE
Drift waited with Cure for the medic’s contact to arrive. And he waited. And waited.
The planet’s one sun lowered.
Cure’s irritation became visible.
Drift found that interesting to watch. The medic normally favored his machine half. He dealt with emergencies and conflict using logic only.
Cure’s contact, somehow, provoked his often-hidden organic side. The medic currently paced back and forth in front of his beloved Rayan Skin Restorer.
Drift would prefer to stay and watch the impending explosion, but he had a meeting with his own contact at sunset. “We have to leave soon.”
“We aren’t leaving.” Cure’s eyes flashed. “I’m staying here.”
Drift studied his friend. “If your contact doesn’t arrive?—”
“He’ll arrive.” The medic jutted his jaw. “This is his only opportunity to use a Rayan Skin Restorer.”
Drift was beginning to project that piece of machinery might not be as important to every medic as it was to Cure. “Transmit when he arrives.”
If he hadn’t heard from Cure by the time he’d completed his own meeting, he’d return for him.
“I’ll transmit when he arrives.” The medic nodded.
Drift took one more look around them. His lifeform scans indicated there was no one near them, but the unique minerals in the ground might be interfering with the process. His visual scan, however, relayed the same intel.
He returned to the ship, retracted the ramp, closed the doors, and lifted off.
It was a short voyage to the coordinates he had been given. He flew over the small beverage outlet that was designated as the meeting location. There was no activity outside it, no ships in the air around it, and he could easily neutralize the maximum number of beings capable of fitting in the structure.
That situation could change in a heartbeat. He would still proceed with caution.
Drift landed the modified freighter an easy run…for a cyborg…away from his target destination.
He stood. Then he swept his hands over his body armor, ensuring his portable arsenal remained intact. Being the Dauntless’s pilot was his role now. But he had been manufactured and trained to be a warrior, and he had fought in numerous battles before escaping the Humanoid Alliance’s control.
