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   Chapter 31 No.31

The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 4813

Updated: 2018-06-29 12:02

"You're mine, you Red bastard!" He shouted down the hole. "Fucking die!"

Moments later, as the tank disintegrated under him, his last memory was of bright light, a great heat and a faint faraway sensation of weightlessness…

And then he woke up, soaked with cold sweat from head to toe. His heart was racing, pounding inside his chest, straining with the weight of the nightmare. That damned dream again! It didn't come every night, but when it did, it was profound… to relive the sins of his past. The door chime rang, and then again, and sounded urgent. And there was something else… a blaring alarm outside the room… in the corridor outside perhaps… was that the yellow alert?

"Commander d'Angelo!" A male voice called from the other side, accompanied with some spirited knocking.

"What is it?" He rasped, struggling to his feet. His mouth and throat were dry. What time was it? The small bedside alarm clock told him it was 02:05 ship's time. "Coming!"

The chime rang again.

"Commander! Commander d'Angelo?"

"Yes!" Mykl answered, stumbling out of his small bedroom through the little lounge to the door. When he opened it, he saw Lt. Hanson on the other side.

"What is it?" Mykl asked him.

"Captain's looking for you on the bridge right away, sir – urgent!"

Mykl couldn't help but notice the respectful way his former jailer seemed to be addressing him… amazing what the sudden reacquisition of rank could do fo

off-line. Even their running lights are off."

"Any communications from them?" Falcone interjected.

"None, sir." Nordyke reported. "They haven't acknowledged us in any way."

"Hmm." Said Falcone. "Running silent."

"Maybe they haven't seen us." Mykl offered. "Maybe they're asleep, no one on watch. Or perhaps their sensors have a shorter range than ours."

Falcone knew civilian ships were, as a rule, slacker than military ships. It was indeed possible. Even likely. As for the question of sensors, a thirty year old loderunner was unlikely to have equal or better than a current, state of the art warship – which meant that while Antares could already see them at this range, they might not yet see Antares.

"Could be." He conceded, "But their beacon should be on auto anyway – life readings, Ensign Muller?"

"Twelve, sir – all human." The sensor operator, Jacob Muller, replied.

"Helm, plot an intercept course – what's their heading?"

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