"I'm glad. Thank you, Cobb." This was true and a relief because Drift had yet to shake his pathological habit of needing to be liked by everyone. Maybe in the next millennia or five, he could move past from being the galaxy's deadliest doormat.

"The shorter-lived races leading such violent lives never fails to shock me," Drift mused. "Does no one back home do anything? I can't imagine a planet stalked by slavers can stay off the radar forever."