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The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 5865

Updated: 2018-06-29 19:01


Blachart grinned. He knew the feeling. It could be unnerving when one expected something to happen – and then it persistently didn't. He knew the cab driver hadn't kept the speed limit of 70Kph just out of civic pride, or because of the occasionally visible road sign that pointed out the speed limit. He didn't do it because of the high fines or because the Corsair government – like most other governments of slightly differing degrees of criminality – said most road deaths were caused by speeding maniacs… No, they did it because highway patrol cops on high speed motorcycles armed with small missiles. Whether the resulting death toll was caused by speeding, or by motorcycle cops firing missiles at speeding motor vehicles, was still being hotly debated, presumably over bowls of popcorn. Either way, it was measured out and rationalized as a matter of cause and effect; if people hadn't been speeding in the first place, there wouldn't have been a need for them to be apprehended in the second place. In short, this is what they mean when they say 'speed kills'. That and bad aim. Further, the demise of quite a few innocent bystanders added fuel to the fire – partially because according to an edict passed by the Corsair authorities, there was no such thing as innocent bystanders.

"Where are we?" Mykl asked, both for his benefit, as well as the portacams.

"You wanted to see some Corsair society and interaction, so here we are – Moogies."

Moogies was a rough-looking night club as run-down as its name suggested. It was, according to Blachart, average for Meradinis, catering for the dregs of the Corsair society (which Mykl estimated at around 88%). Considering the morality of the Corsairs in general, he realized that wasn't saying much

nd of the bar, watching the goings on and killing two mugs of the local brew. The starship captain grimaced. It was green, had froth like a rabid dog on top of it and was strong enough to degrease a thermo-plasma injector. The hubbub in the pub part of the room wasn't too loud to hold a reasonable conversation.

"So, I hear you're gay." Mykl said conversationally. "This where you 'cruise' for dates?"

Blachart frowned and gave him a fuck-you kind of look, and not in an erotic way either.

"I didn't think you Terran types had a problem with people's sexuality anymore." He said.

"We don't." Mykl smiled dismissively. "Chill. I was just curious and making conversation."

The last thing he needed was for the whole partnership to come unglued on account of Blachart's feelings got hurt over an insensitive remark by Captain d'Angelo.

"Well, yes, I am." Blachart began. "Not that I wear labels, but yes, I usually date people of the male persuasion. And no, " He chuckled, "But give me some credit, would you? This place would be the very last place in the galaxy I'd come looking for a date – unless it's a date with the Reaper, you're talking about."

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