“Thank you. Don’t worry – we are used to rough and ready conditions. Let me introduce you to my team.” Major half turned and gestured for the figures scaling the ramp to approach. Light glimpsed a tough metal breastplate under the brown robe as he did so. He couldn’t yet tell if this ‘Major’ was an organic cyborg, or a synth with a Human face.
 
The first two of the team to clank into the light of the cargo bay were definitely droids. Bipeds, of a longer and thinner shape than Major. Light guessed they may not have been combat-models originally, but had been modified and armoured beyond recognition. One’s base chassis was a deep navy colour and the other was forest green, though the paint on both was worn by many scratches and dents. They carried a large duffel bag stuffed with equipment in each hand, and another slung on their back. They each dropped their bags and came in for a hearty handshake.

“Hoo's it gaun, lads? You can call me Bodach.” Said the navy blue one. His voice was exceptionally rough and gravelly, with a heavy regional twang. “This wee gobshite wi’ me is Diarmuid.”

“Hey, Howya fellas? Lovely weather today ain't it?” Diarmuid chimed in, dripping with rain from outside. By contrast, his tone was musical and inviting. That of a younger man.

“Both of them are from Earth originally, hence the outlandish accents. Fought in more wars than the trebuchet.” Major explained with a wry smile.

“Bodach is about as old as the trebuchet as well.” Diarmuid stage-whispered.

“You cheeky bastard!” Bodach growled, before addressing Senjen. “That’s a mighty shiny frame you’ve got there, lad! Are you one of those lizard folk, or do you just have a thing for tails, eh?”