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The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 5851

Updated: 2018-06-30 19:01


"It was a bad idea to try have me killed." Blachart grated. "That just made it personal. You threatened people I care about… And that was the last mistake you'll ever make!"

Kilroy knew it was now or never – Blachart had a score to settle. He tried to run, but Adam fired, turning a patch of gravel close to his feet into a shallow pool of smoldering, fresh liquid glass. Kilroy stopped, raising his hands again slowly, eyeing him askance. Blachart knew very well that if Kilroy escaped, it would mean he could still expect many more unwelcome visitors, and they wouldn't stop coming until one day, one of them succeeded. There were no witnesses here, just Blachart and Kilroy and these blank rock walls. There wasn't a court in the Terran Empire that would convict him of murder if Sona Kilroy, the Hammer – a man responsible for the deaths of thousands of colonists over the years – never saw the inside of a nice comfy colonial prison somewhere. Trouble was, his conscience objected. Yes, he had killed quite a few people in the last few hours too – but that had been…well, unavoidable. It had been them or him and he was just better at this than they were. He kept the blaster pointed squarely at the Corsair's broad chest, prepared to fire at the slightest provocation. While he mulled over whether breathing could be considered provocative, he understood that Mykl and his landing party would likely be coming along quite soon – and Mykl was bound to be a little sore at him for the handcuff lark.

"Maybe I led the Terrans to Meradinis, " Blachart reasoned, "But if not me, then somebody else would have eventually. It was long overdue, we expected it for years – we all knew it would happen one day! That's why we all had our own escape plans

ther like animals in a cage, gladiators in an arena – locked in mortal combat. Blachart's blaster lay somewhere, lost to him.

Then Kilroy charged, and Blachart side-stepped nimbly and delivered a blow to Kilroy's kidneys as he passed. Kilroy landed on a pile of sacks and rolled back to his feet, growling like an animal, accompanied by the sweet melodic tones of coins tinkling to the ground. Kilroy found a weapon, of sorts – a metal pipe – and he wielded it in his artificial hand, swinging at him. Blachart ducked, rolled, back-stepped to avoid the blow, before grabbing the pipe and moving in. He delivered a kick to Kilroy's stomach, causing him to double over – followed by a kick to the face. The pipe clattered to the floor noisily. Blachart looked for a real weapon, but the pipe would have to do. It was solid and somewhat heavy for his liking, but it made a pleasant note when it made contact across Kilroy's shoulders. It had fairly good balance too, when he whirled it round and floored the terrible Sona Kilroy with an upward swing. On the cavern floor, on all fours, Kilroy shook his head, spat out a little blood, rose to his feet – then charged.

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