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   Chapter 164 No.164

The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 5039

Updated: 2018-06-30 19:01


"Call me Mykl." Mykl replied sincerely. "We're all captains here, after all."

"Mykl." Lofflin smiled and nodded. "Joe." He said, extending his right hand.

"Joe." Mykl smiled, taking it.

"Well, have you?" Lofflin continued.

"No." Mykl replied with a slight shrug. There had been that time when his loderunner's engines exploded, leaving him high and dry in deep space… but he still had communications – and anyway, that had only been for a few hours, most of which was spent with the knowledge that rescue was on its way. That wasn't the same thing as being stuck in the middle of nowhere without the same level of peace of mind. "Can't say I have. Guess I've been lucky."

"Yeah, well… In the isolation of command we know that even though we feel just as hopeless and miserable as our crew, we can't afford to show them our true feelings. Blaine forgot that, and someone took it very personally."

"What did Blaine do?"

"Right when the crew needed him most, when we were stuck out in the black with no hope of rescue or survival, he locked himself in his quarters for three whole days with nothing but whiskey for company."

"Ah." Mykl nodded, getting the picture.

"As luck would have it, funny things happen in deep space and we ended up getting back home again after all… and the killer – Mr. Billingham is on his way to a very big, very lonely prison where – ironically – the chances of that are a lot less certain."

Yes, Mykl reflected as he sipped his brandy and cola. Funny thing

is glass to Mykl, who put his against it with a notable clink. "Here's to life!"

"Yeah." Mykl nodded. "Life!"

Carlson was having a bad day, for his cunning and bold master plan to impress everyone by dominating the pool table was going tits-up, and in a big way. His cue made a funny little noise as it struck the white ball at exactly the wrong angle, and sent his ball careening against the cushion, from where it rebounded to the center of the table, slowing down rapidly to where it stopped after hitting nothing else.

Carlson groaned and dropped his head between his outstretched arms, muttering under his breath with embarrassment. Ripley grinned, savoring her impending victory, before proceeding to clear the table of her remaining 3 solids, and then sank the 8-ball. Then she held her cue up like a sword in triumph, and took a bow. Carlson dropped to his knees, laughing, and made a fuss of kowtowing and begging for mercy. Laughing, Lofflin and Mykl turned back to their conversation.

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