Jenna halted abruptly in front of him, her sharp inhale a warning.
Malik stopped, his attention snapping to the large, bipedal droid that stood in the center of the space. Gleaming black plate armor covered its lanky form, and glowing red eyes stared at the passengers. Long arms hung at its sides, and the droid’s knees were bent slightly, as if it was preparing to pounce.
Malik’s skin prickled. He glanced Vic’s way. “Please tell me this isn’t your crew member?”
Vic inclined his head. “He is … meet my first mate, Obsidian.”
“Your first mate?” Malik looked at the towering black battle-droid once more, unease rippling through him. These droids were exclusively used by the Mir-Ferrin clan-lord, warding his flagship and marching into battle alongside his cyborgs. Malik had heard enough about them over the years to know you didn’t want to mess with a battle-droid; just one look and you could see it was lethal. “Where did you get one of these?”
“When I deserted from the Mir-Ferrin space fleet, I took him with me.” Vic paused there, noting Malik and Jenna’s tension. “Don’t worry, he’s been reprogrammed … Obsidian no longer takes orders from Mican Mir-Ferrin.”
“That’s a relief,” Jenna muttered.
“Greetings,” Obsidian spoke then. The low, rasping drone of the droid’s voice made the fine hair on the back of Malik’s neck bristle. “Welcome aboardThe Wayfarer.”
“At least it’s got manners,” Jenna murmured.
Malik’s gaze narrowed. He’d watched the newsreels of the attack on Idral, had seen these killing machines cutting down the House Guard and his own men. Vic should have told him his first mate was a battle-droid.
Malik didn’t trust droids; unlike Jenna, who’d had a utility-droid at her side since childhood, his experience with non-sentients in childhood—the police-droids that patrolled the streets of Melor—had imprinted unpleasant memories.
You couldn’t reason with a droid or plead with one.
Mir-Ferrin battle-droids were built with just one purpose: to kill.
Ignoring Malik’s frown, Vic glanced back at his first mate. “Go ahead and start the engines … I’ll get our passengers settled in.”
“Yes, Captain.” Obsidian turned, moving with almost sentient suppleness as it mounted the stairs to the cockpit. Only the low whir and rattle of its metal parts belied it.
Meanwhile, Vic turned back to Malik and Jenna. He then gestured to the seats behind them. “Strap yourselves in … we’ll be off now.”
“How long until we reach Idral?” Jenna asked.
“Just over five hours.”
“And you’re sure you can get us through the blockade?”
Vic nodded. “As sure as I can be. I’m flying a Mir-Ferrin ship … and I’ll be using a fake ID. Vic Mir-Riorde is wanted for desertion by the Mir-Ferrins, so I’d rather not advertise myself to them.” He paused then, folding his muscular arms across his chest. “I’ve got a hold full of machine parts to off-load in Melor if they start asking any questions.”
Jenna held his gaze for a moment before nodding. She then moved over to the row of seats, lowering herself into the one nearest.
Malik divested himself of his heavy rucksack, which he secured to the cabin wall, and sat down next to Jenna. She’d opened her bag, retrieving her space-sickness tablets and a bottle of water. Swallowing the tablets, she then clipped on her harness.
The woman wore a determined, grim look upon her face, as if she were going in for a tooth extraction without anesthetic.
She hadn’t suffered too badly when they’d departed Aura Terminal—yet they’d been traveling upon a passenger liner, and the departure had been smoother than this one would be.
Malik focused then on strapping himself in as the deck beneath his feet started to vibrate.
Vic strolled past, moving with the loose-limbed agility of one used to living in cramped quarters, and threw himself into the pilot’s seat. Obsidian crouched next to him, clawed hands roaming over the console.
The cyborg then hit a button on the console and leaned forward. “Tower, this isTheWayfarer. We’re ready for our 0900 slot. Do we have clearance for takeoff?”
“Affirmative,Wayfarer, you’re cleared,” a slightly bored voice drawled back.
The vibrations beneath Malik’s feet reached a crescendo, a high-pitched whine echoing through the cabin.
He glanced over at where Jenna sat, rigid in her seat, her fingers clenched around her harness straps. Her face had gone bloodless—not a good sign.
