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The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 5463

Updated: 2018-06-30 19:01


"Zero two hundred, sir." Said the voice of the watch officer on duty. "We've just lost contact with the shuttle. I thought you would want to know."

"Any idea what happened?" He asked, sitting bolt upright, in a t-shirt and shorts, still under his light fluffy grey blanket.

"No sir. They just went down real fast, then disappeared on the surface."

Mykl nodded. That sounded pretty much just like what they were supposed to do. "So they made it to Endicor. Any activity from our Corsair neighbors?"

"No sir, all quiet."

"Okay, thanks. Get back to me if anything else comes up."

Mykl settled back in beside the still-sleeping Ripley for the rest of the 'night' hoping that the mission was indeed going as planned, and that Blachart, Adam – whatever, was getting the job done.

Meanwhile, in a shallow crater in some mossy soil under the seemingly endless high canopy of trees probably a little older than Moses, Blachart stirred. His consciousness surfaced slowly from the murky ether into the real world. Somehow the shuttle hadn't blown up and somehow they hadn't been incinerated. Somehow they hadn't been smashed to bits like bugs on a windshield. Somehow he was still alive! Gloriously, painfully alive! He groaned. He'd had something very specific in mind when he'd decided on early retirement – and this sure as hell wasn't it.

"You still alive, sir?"

Blachart recognized Brenton's voice. It was coming from somewhere behind, where the younger man stood, trying to open the flight deck door to the rear compartment. He was, somewhat surprisingly, still alive and not missing any body parts. Brenton looked ok

y probably weren't too far from the settlement. A man with skin like that had to be on Death's door - or at least halfway down the garden path.

"Who're you?" The man barked.

"Name's Renner." Said Blachart, adopting a drawl. "Garvan Renner. This is my partner – uh, Stinky. Say hello to the nice man, Stinky."

Brenton just gave Blachart a fuck-you kind of look. Blachart shrugged, appreciating his private joke. After all, the way Brenton handled things on the way down, he stank alright. The man could be glad he hadn't labeled him something else, like "Shitty" for instance.

"What you doin' here?" The pale man demanded.

"We came lookin' for a new beginning." Blachart lied. "Been hearin' rumors o' Corsairs gatherin'."

"How'd you crash?"

"Bucket o' bolts had a systems failure on the way down." Said Blachart, hoping that made them sound like a likely case of hard luck. The pale man seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Who's the last Patron in the Black Palace?" He asked, leering. Clearly this was a test, since only the Corsairs would know the right answer.

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