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   Chapter 87 No.87

The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 4720

Updated: 2018-06-29 19:02


"Status?" He said tiredly. "Why aren't we in the air yet?"

"Engines are just about ready for launch." Hanson reported from the helm. "They're firing at us, sir."

"Damage?"

"Nothing yet, sir. All light stuff so far, but it won't be long before they bring up something bigger!"

"Right. Let's not wait for them to get here – get us the hell off the toast rack, Hanson!"

"Aye, sir!"

The vibrations rose through the deck as the drive began to thrust – passing into his pain-wracked body. He needed to lie down, and it wasn't something he could put off to do later. Stars began to flicker before his eyes. Sleep was too much to wish for, rest an unreachable dream… His head sagged.

"d'Angelo." Blachart called at his side, then more gently "Mykl."

Mykl groggily lifted his head to look at him. It seemed a surprising effort, like lifting weights.

"We've still got to clear the Black Fleet… and after that, the astorfield."

Mykl nodded, blinking his eyes slowly at him.

"It's far from over."

Nod, nod.

"Lifting off now, Captain." Hanson reported just as the Undertaker lurched like an elevator under full power. The old ship left the ground with conversion drive at full power, climbing to orbit. A trickle of blood began to show from the deteriorating field bandage and caught Blachart's eye.

"Sergeant." The Corsair called Maguire. "Help me take your captain to the sickbay."

st finishing a knot.

"?" Said the expression on his face.

"There." Said Blachart. "All done."

"Thanks." Mykl nodded in gratitude, mentally squashing the sharp rhythmic thump in his shoulder till it subsided. This is where the shit really hits the fan, he thought.

"Coming up on our stern, sir! Range now twelve thousand."

"Can you identify?"

"Unknown configuration, power-curve similar to ours."

"Raise shields… intensify stern shields."

After that it was Casey's turn again.

"Message from the ship, sir – ordering us to surrender!"

"Ignore them, Marine." Mykl told Casey. "Helm, maximum possible sub-light speed for the astorfield!"

"They've fired, sir!" Hanson reported, "Three slam-torpedoes closing rapidly astern!"

"How are the shields?" Mykl asked the dark angel standing by his side.

"They'll handle a few slam-torpedoes." Blachart replied. "Assuming your people did a good job fixing my ship."

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