They were autonomous cargo haulers. Designed to move heavy equipment through the villa’s service areas. Strong. Fast.
I didn’t ask Flinx. I ran from the shaft, sliding behind a stack of power cells, and sprinted for the bay’s main cargo terminal. I knew these systems; I’d studied them for my escape plan.
Brevan fired from the shaft, covering me. Pulses scorched the air over my head.
I slammed my palm against the terminal’s emergency panel. “Fire Suppression Test,” I muttered, hitting the override sequence. “Maintenance Cycle. Evacuate Bay.”
The loading drones activated. All twelve. Their engines humming to life.
The guards noticed. Turned toward the sound. “What is that?”
The drones lurched forward. Not in formation. Random. Chaotic. Each one following a different route but all of them converging on the guards’ position.
One guard tried to shoot a drone. The pulse bounced off its armored hull.
“Move!” Their commander shouted.
The guards scattered. Their careful formation breaking apart as two tons of automated machinery bore down on them.
“Now,” I said into my comm.
We ran.
Straight through the chaos. The drones were still moving. Still forcing the guards to dodge. We stayed low. Used the machines as cover.
A guard saw us. Raised his weapon.
Brevan fired. The pulse caught the guard’s shoulder. He went down.
We reached the hangar access door. Still open from when the guards had entered.
Flinx shrieked, jumping from the console to Brevan’s shoulder.
We plunged through.
The hangar was small. Private. Designed for discrete departures. And sitting on the landing pad, engines already warming up, was the sky-speeder.
Sleek. Fast. Exactly what Kallum had promised.
We sprinted toward it.
Behind us, the guards were recovering. Pushing through the drone chaos. Weapons raised.
“Get to the speeder!” Brevan shouted. He turned and fired. Covering our approach.
I reached the speeder first. Climbed into the pilot seat. Flinx leaped in after me and settled into the copilot position.
The controls lit up. Standard configuration. Throttle. Navigation. I’d run simulations on this layout for two years. But simulations didn’t shoot back.
Brevan backed toward the speeder. Still firing. Keeping the guards pinned.
The hangar’s main doors started closing. Heavy blast doors. The lockdown.
Flinx sent.
“I know!”
The launch sequence initialized. Power routing. Thruster alignment.
