The people had to think the Emperor was a deity—above darkness and above sin.
And he did whatever he had to preserve that. To maintain his control.
Even the Charro that they fought—they had said something about there being orders. Who would the Charro take orders from? The highest bidder, of course.
And in this quadrant, the Terran Empire paid the best.
Another blast hit very close.
“We have to hurry.”
Freya clenched the blaster in her hand, and they ran. It was a straight shot, directly in front of the little apartments. Kian’s long legs pumped hard, and with every step, he pulled further and further away.
The drones, however, stayed right on her tail, blasting at her.
She darted left, then right. Every shot hit the apartments instead of her and destroyed them as she ran.
The volley of shots wasn’t stopping.
Freya found every bit of energy and adrenalin reserves and poured all of it into staying alive.
Blasts flew by her, grazing her clothing, and for once, she was glad the billowy underdress made it challenging to lock onto her torso. Between that and her irregular running pattern, she hoped it was enough to get to the shed.
Whatever was so special about it had better be amazing. They weren't going to last much longer out here.
Kian reached the shed first.
How could that little thing protect them?
One of the drones charged after him. Hit him with several blasts.
Freya gasped.
She opened her mouth to cry out, but he didn’t recoil from the shots. Perhaps his clothing rejected the blasts? She couldn’t be sure.
She pushed to reach his side. He was her only friend on this moon. She needed him to get out of here.
He opened the door and disappeared, the door slamming behind him and the obvious sound of a lock clicking into place.
She skidded to a stop, staring.
Did he just ditch her?
The drones shifted toward her.
Anger overlayed the fear. That bastard. He wasn’t getting away from her. Leaving her alone on a damn planet with drones and Charro and—
Blaster shots made her run. This time, there was more anger pushing her than fear. Anger at what she was going to say to him when she got there.
She was not about to be--
Kian came back out.
Portable ion cannon gleaming on his shoulder.
The drones hesitated.
Kian fired.
