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   Chapter 186 No.186

The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 5577

Updated: 2018-06-30 19:02

"Better keep up. Come on, chop-chop!"

The next stop Blachart had planned was the best place for a command center – which was, unsurprisingly, the place that already was a command center – the bridge. By the time they reached the loderunner's bridge, they could hear alarms going off and excited chatter. It seemed their messy habit of leaving bodies on the front doorstep had been discovered. Oops.

A Corsair came out the door and almost collided with Brenton, who – thinking surprisingly fast, managed to blast him with one 440 before he could reach his own sidearm. Where the fella had gone was anybody's guess, but large dripping red patches had appeared on the walls as if by magic, and there were bits of shredded black tunic all over the place, and in the air around them. The deafening boom, amplified by the newly redecorated corridor walls, fading from their hearing, Adam shook his head and reopened his eyes.

"That was loud!" He muttered, wiping warm wet splatter off his shirt. Then he gave the stunned – and now horizontal – Brenton a nod of approval, wondering casually what might have happened if he'd fired both Brackmeisters at once. It probably would've launched him through the ceiling.

"Not bad, kid!" Adam smiled. "Now cover me!"

Stepping past a pair of vacant boots lying off to one side of the doorway, Brenton soldiered onward, grinning evilly. Blachart went in. Brenton hung back, daring a peek around the doorway. It was an average-looking loderunner bridge with a few extra control desks added. Security co-ordination, power grid control, maintenance management for the town – he was sure it was all run from here. Taking this down

ape the blast. It would take them at least another three minutes to reach the nearest life-pod, board it, a minute to launch it – and perhaps another two to reach a minimum safe distance before Freetown and Meradinis-version-two-point-oh got wiped off the map of Endicor for good.

They reached the forward life-pod group on the upper deck, which was the closest to the bridge, but, as luck would have it, the only operable life-pod on this ship was already occupied. As they abruptly arrived at the entrance of the small airlock and looked through the still open door, the occupant they saw inside looked remarkably familiar to Blachart. How the man had known he would need to use the life-pod, whether he was waiting for someone else, or whether he was just about to launch the pod on his own, Blachart cared none. He gave Brenton a shove forward – sending the younger man toppling inside before he could even protest, and landing spread-eagled on top of the fairly well-dressed figure strapped into one of the five seats. The two immediately began wrestling. A small pistol went skittering across the deck.

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