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By the time Drift and Cure left the battle station, the cargo hold of their modified freighter was full. Cure had stocked the space with more medical supplies. Repercussion had supplied them with additional weapons. And Yum had provided them with another container of Pirx berry-flavored nourishment bars because, he shared with Drift, females liked them.
Despite the added weight, the modified freighter, with its improved engines, reached giddily fast speeds during the first portion of the voyage. Drift didn’t have sufficient open space to truly test the engines’ capabilities, but he was thrilled with the results thus far.
When they reached the debris field, he had a smile plastered across his face.
He also had sensors stuck all over his form, including the insides of his cheeks. Cure had decided to run a series of experiments, and Drift was his test subject.
As long as it didn’t interfere with the speeds they reached and it made the medic happy, Drift tolerated the poking and prodding. Though he was grateful Grid and Argot and the rest of his brethren weren’t present to see him looking like a fraggin’ fool.
“Your heartrate is decreasing.” Cure pointed his handheld at Drift.
“I’m slowing our ship.” Drift, unfortunately, had to do that. Strike, via transmission, had informed them that Strike’s female’s kind would be contacting them before they entered the debris field. “The Syndiculs should be?—”
The lights on the modified freighter’s console flashed.
“That must be them now.” Drift opened communications.
“You have entered space temporarily controlled by Syndiculous 5.” A human female’s face appeared on the main viewscreen. Her gaze met his for two heartbeats and then shifted upward. “Identify yourself.”
“This is Drift and Cure.” He answered for both of them. “Strike, our brethren, has obtained authorization for us to cross the debris field.”
“Pilot Drift. Medic Cure.” The female smiled. “Yes. We’ve been notified of your request.” Her gaze returned to his forehead. “The Ministers of Intergalactic Relations have also informed us that speed is of the essence.”
“Speed is essential.” And it was greatly enjoyed. Drift smiled back at her.
The female said nothing. She continued to stare at his forehead.
“It’s a sensor,” Drift explained.
“What?” The female’s cheeks flushed with pink pigment. “I mean…what is a sensor, Pilot Drift?”
“The blue square stuck to the middle of my forehead is a sensor, my new human friend.” Drift grinned. He must look like a disaster. “All my responses during this voyage are being monitored to benefit cyborg science.”
“Cyborg medical science.” Cure corrected him. The fool appeared pleased with himself.
“Cyborg medical science.” Drift laughed. “Give Medic Cure a couple more moments and he’ll have you hooked up to sensors also.”
The female’s eyes widened. “A path has been blasted through the debris field,” she hurriedly told him. “Follow our ship and we’ll lead you through it.”
She really didn’t want to end up looking like him. Drift struggled to contain his mirth. “We’re following your ship.”
They weren’t following it quickly.
The human female was flying a standard EE284 survey ship. And she flew it cautiously.
But they traveled faster through the debris field than Strike had flown, according to the database. There was wreckage on both sides of them. Strike would have navigated through cluttered space similar to that. Their path, in contrast, was clear, it was direct and it was safe.
It was also unexciting. Even the mines that had been set along the far edge of the floating wasteland had been removed.
“This is where we leave you, Pilot Drift, Medic Cure.” The female slowed her ship’s speed even more and shifted its trajectory. “It should be smooth flying to Syndiculous 5. The Ministers of Intergalactic Relations have redirected all other flights.”
Strike and his female were aware of the urgency of their mission.
“Thank you for your assistance.” Drift dipped his head.
“It was an honor, Pilot Drift.” The female smiled and ended the communication. The image of her face disappeared from the main viewscreen.
