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The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 5658

Updated: 2018-06-30 12:02

"Only when they're saying something I want to hear." He said dismissively. "What about the rest of the data, the ship's log, other data banks..."

"We got it all – their computer memory core is remarkably intact, it's just not translated; the computer hasn't identified enough of the language yet. Another two or three hours... maybe a few days."

"We don't have a few more days." Lofflin reminded her in a tone that suggested his mind was elsewhere. "Thanks Jessica – let me know if you find anything useful."

Kinsley left, looking a little disappointed. Her perfume lingered long after the door closed behind her. Yawning tiredly, he went over to his desk and sank into his chair. It was a small matter to toss aside an article of uniform that covered the computer terminal. He took out his comlink and called the bridge.

"Please inform the search teams on the derelict that we've found a likely location for the engineering section, tell them it's on the fifteenth deck – the fourteenth one below the bridge level."

"Will do sir – nice to get some good news for a change."

"Oh, and tell them to be careful." Lofflin added. "Accidents happen. Apparently."

Then he checked for the transmatter operator log, and found it in his inbox. He read through it carefully, checking for the list of names, transport times and actions – when they went over, what time they returned to Mordrake. He found Billingham's entries. Just one trip, there and back again. Lt. Commander Ralph Billingham, went over at six twenty one PM, returning to the ship at one thirty two AM. Pollard's death had been fixed at around two forty five… A chill ran through him as he realized what this meant. Ther

Irrelevant. More pleasure. I will kill. Feel their blood splash. Feel their soft flesh slide over my blades. Hear their screams of agony. Their deaths will satisfy.

* * *

It was early morning – at least, in the normal sense, on the fourth day of their ordeal and Joe Lofflin felt like he was nursing a severe hangover. He'd had four hours of broken sleep in a twenty-four hour cycle! It was almost worse than none at all! At least he'd had no more nightmares, but he did dream of Bennett, which was almost as bad. Torture.

Breakfast at the officer's mess was served up as orange juice and scrambled eggs on toast and coffee. The egg whites were whiter than the whites of his eyes! The cook seemed to have cheered up since yesterday, when breakfast was self-service and consisted of anything that hadn't exploded or turned to charcoal in the microwave. Harry had been up most of the night, but seemingly had got more sleep than Lofflin – or perhaps he was just used to less sleep. Many Doctors seemed to be, perhaps thanks to their time at med-school. He'd been examining the body of the unfortunate Specialist Pollard.

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