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   Chapter 72 No.72

The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 4754

Updated: 2018-06-29 19:01


'The man's a pirate, for Alf's sake!' Mykl could almost hear their reasons. 'A murderer!' And while Mykl was well aware of the facts, he had no doubt that if Blachart wanted someone to fear him, it would happen, just like that. He'd noticed the man's effect on Antares, after his release from the cell. Any crewman in the man's way would stand aside. Even on the Undertaker, groups of people chatting loudly in the corridors would fall silent and open up to let him pass. Even the security marines assigned to watch him had seemed to maintain a polite, even respectful distance. People tended to avert their eyes from that penetrating gaze. …And yet there were times when the man was almost friendly. Like now.

The man sat casually with his arm tucked over the side of the door of the taxi, like he was on a Sunday cruise. A smile played on his lips as the slipstream tousled his short black hair, which showed not yet a single sign of gray despite his forty-five years. Mykl already knew his definable sense of humor, which tasted of sarcasm. Surprised? No, Mykl decided, not at all. The man had a lot of nerve, which was clearly what made him into a natural leader. Plus, he seemed to be a good role player. He still didn't trust him. He thought it unwise to ever do so.

Mykl's first impression of the man was apt and it stuck with him. People like that were dangerous – they were capable of anything. Inventive, full

w fired a single shot."

"Well, like I said!" Said Mykl, point a finger to emphasize his point. "And what about Starbase 91?"

"We took care of the fighters." He said simply. "Some of them, at least. It was straight-up combat. After the attack, I was ordered to observe the starbase from the astorfield. You know the rest."

"You seriously expect me to believe that?"

"Yes, really. The fact that I was there at all is just a pure coincidence."

Mykl glared at the man, working hard to control his anger. After all, he still had to work with him for the next few hours.

"That's very hard to believe!" Mykl told the man. "Considering your reputation and your collection of ship's bells say otherwise. Blachart the Bloody. Violence is the air you breathe! Why did you become a Corsair anyway? Couldn't you have become a banker or a store clerk or something else?"

Why indeed? Blachart turned inwards, and offered up an honest answer.

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