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“If we’re not back by sunset, all this is yours, little lizard.” She smiled at the tiny creature. “It should be self-maintaining until something breaks.”
The lizard tilted his head and gazed up at her with his large eyes.
“We’ll be back by sunset.” Drift sounded certain about the success of the Plan.
She clung to that hope. It was the only way she could function.
When she’d pictured it in her head, she’d envisioned herself being brave. She would stoically go off to her death, comforted by the knowledge she would be saving thousands of Cancris.
Now that the time had come, she was terrified. She didn’t want to die. And she didn’t want her friends to die. And Fates, she worried the Plan wouldn’t be successful and all their sacrifices would be for nothing.
Her cyborg seemed to sense that. He had complete faith in the Plan. He believed they would successful and the two of them, at the very least, would survive it.
That calmed her ass down.
“I know I shouldn’t risk it.” She confided in Drift. “But I need to talk freely and openly with Luam.”
She wanted everything to be said and understood. No code words used. No thoughts implied but not communicated.
Her friend should know how much she cared for him. He should realize the difference he had made in her life and would make in other beings’ lifespans.
That was important. To her. And to her friend.
“I’ll ensure no one else hears your chatter.” Her cyborg expressed no surprise. He must have anticipated the request.
As he often anticipated her wants and needs. The male got her. He understood her. And she didn’t know how she would have endured the past few planet rotations without him.
She set aside the herbs Luam wouldn’t ever consume. And she donned her delivery disguise. It was too risky to meet with her friend looking like her natural self. The Invaders could be watching them.
And Luam had seen her in numerous disguises. It hadn’t altered their friendship. It wouldn’t impact their conversation.
Their connection was at the soul level.
“I wish we could save him.” She fastened her brown flight suit.
“Chatter with your friend, my female, and ask him what he wants.” Drift straightened her collar. His fingertips brushed over her neck and she leaned into that touch, craving it, needing it. “To choose how one dies is a powerful act. When we were under Humanoid Alliance control, Blunt, a big C Model, learned he would be slated for decommissioning the next planet rotation. His handler had been rewarded for Blunt’s high kill rate with a newly manufactured G Model.”
Roshini caught one of her cyborg’s hands and squeezed his fingers.
Drift was a G Model. The reminder that he had also replaced another warrior, that a warrior had been killed because he was born…or manufactured as he called it, must have pained her caring male.
“We were going into a fierce battle that shift.” Drift’s voice reverted to the emotional flatness he used when memories especially hurt him. “Blunt relayed to me and to the rest of the warriors over the transmission lines that we were not to shield him from any damage. And if he was rendered nonoperational, we were not to pull his form out of the war zone.”
“Fates.” She hugged her male. Her heart ached for him and for Blunt. “Your friend planned to die.”
Drift nodded. “He planned to die in battle, doing what he loved. The advance warning of his decommissioning had been a gift. He could end his lifespan on his terms, in control.”
Roshini battled to control her emotions.
“It was a good death.” Her cyborg’s lips curled upward. “Blunt fought as I’d never seen him fight. And he had a big smile on his face when that first missile struck him. He moved directly into it. His suffering was over in two heartbeats.”
In contrast, decommissioning, her male had explained to her previously, could last a full shift. The cyborgs’ huge forms were ravaged for parts. They spent their final moments in horrific agony.
Luam and the other Cancris with advanced tumors were enduring an even slower death. The pain inhibitors were losing their effectiveness. They’d be in agony also.
“The Erinomean Green Fire kills within two heartbeats.” Any suffering her friends endured would pass quickly.
Needing to do something, she donned her simulated hair.
