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   Chapter 158 No.158

The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 5777

Updated: 2018-06-30 19:02

He ran the fingers of his right hand over his chin, savoring the new smoothness of it. His beard was one of the first things to go. It had been something of a shock, the first time he saw himself in the mirror clean-shaven again – he looked like a different person, younger even, but his eyes told a different story altogether.

There was one other thing that set him apart, his one Achilles heel, and that was that he had a conscience, and that deep down he really was a good man. He was more certain of that now, ever since his new friend and savior in the Imperial Space Fleet had recently tried to convince him of that. He was a man who just happened to lose his way… and then had been lucky enough to find it again. This was a man of uncertain origins, with no confirmed identity but the one he chose for himself…but in truth, his history went back a little further than that. Quite a bit further, actually, but he didn't really wish to dwell on that at the moment either. At any rate, further back than the past month he'd spent on this dreary chunk of desolation on the edge of known space…

He suppressed an involuntary shudder, returning to the present. He smiled again at the girl sitting on his lap at the bar. She was pretty, far more pleasing to the eye than all those nightmare memories he was trying so desperately to forget. In all that time, she was the one person on Caries he'd spoken more than a one word sentence to. Or smiled for.

"What's your name today, honey?" The girl asked nonchalantly, smiling into his eyes. Her sultry sweet voice brought him back to the present. She wore a low-cut dress and her hair hung long and flowing. Her assets were bulging and very nearly in his face. Her make-up was no

m. A little slice of heaven for a tired, restless soul looking for the innocence he'd lost and along the way, and forgotten what it looked like.

The two small Neo-Western style bar doors suddenly swung open and closed noisily as two men entered the bar. There was nothing unusual about that, but these two seemed to be looking for someone, hands close to their weapons, and in a second he realized they had found him.

He quickly nudged the girl and she slid aside and made her way to the end of the bar, sensing trouble on the brew. Nobody else in the place seemed to have noticed anything out of place yet. The men wore black clothes in the style that suggested they had been of the Corsair persuasion, in much the same way as veterans of the American Civil War stuck to articles of their uniform for years afterwards. They were armed, with all too familiar-looking hand guns or blasters slung in side holsters. They approached, boots thudding on the crude plank floor, faces displaying serious, businesslike expressions. He took up his glass and drained it, catching the worried look in Marsha's eyes. He smiled and sent her a reassuring wink.

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