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But he said nothing because those were their difficulties to overcome.
And he’d garner no sympathy from anyone else.
The warriors situated around them longed to undertake such an assignment. There would be danger, action, and the possibility of meeting their genetic matches — the beings they were manufactured to protect, love, and fabricate offspring with.
That possibility was extremely unlikely, and it was adding weight to their ship.
Drift watched, powerless, as Repercussion continued to stuff containers into the cargo hold.
“Extra flight suits, in an array of colors and sizes, have been stocked.” The male’s excitement was palpable, and Drift had no impulse to dampen it. “And four lifeform-blocking cloaks are packed. We received another delivery of those. Other essential supplies have been included.”
That list was transmitted to Drift and Cure. There was an excessive amount of medic equipment on it.
You do process our mission is to kill the enemy, not repair them, yes? Drift teased Cure over a private transmission line.
My role consists of repairing. The medic’s reply was devoid of any humor. Your role consists of flying fast. Captain processed our skill sets when he chose us for this mission.
Drift had no answer for that. Because their captain did process their skill sets. And he had chosen Cure as Drift’s mission partner.
He couldn’t push back on the loading of the medic equipment.
But he could have some fun with it. Then you’ll need more pain inhibitors. I plan to put a lot of projectiles into any Humanoid Alliance beings we detect.
Cure said nothing.
Drift grinned.
“You might need more firepower.” Repercussion grabbed the missile launcher that had been strapped to his back. “I gave one of these to Second.” He gazed down at the weapon and sighed. “It’s a duplicate of the missile launcher Captain’s female wields.”
Captain’s female was a Valkyrie. Her kind were fierce warriors and had excellent taste in weapons.
Repercussion looked at Drift. His gaze shifted to Cure. Then it returned to Drift.
“You should take it.” He held the missile launcher out to Drift.
“I can’t take it, my friend.” Drift was honored by the gesture. The weapon meant something to the male. “It’s yours.”
“I can modify another one.” Repercussion shrugged. “It took me fifteen planet rotations to do that properly with the first one. This second one took twelve planet rotations. The next one should take an even shorter duration.” He gave Drift a sheepish smile. “And you’ll need it to protect your genetic match.”
Drift didn’t project he’d meet his genetic match. “Our mission is to destroy the weapon the Humanoid Alliance is fabricating.”
“You’ll need it for that also.” The male beamed. “You can never have too many missile launchers.”
Repercussion loved to fight.
As did Drift.
They were cyborgs. Their kind was manufactured for battle. Waging war pleased their design.
And both Drift and Cure had to prepare for conflict.
The Humanoid Alliance processed only one language – violence. The enemy wouldn’t allow their superweapon to be destroyed without a fight.
“We can never have too many missile launchers.” Drift accepted the gift.
The weapon would add more weight, but it was necessary.
He slid the missile launcher into the cargo hold.
