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   Chapter 38 No.38

Dead Beckoning By Christina Engela Characters: 6271

Updated: 2018-06-30 12:02


'Eye-roll.' Blachart thought, like it was some kind of sushi. 'Too much Dutch courage perhaps?' On the other hand, with him doing all the work – and very efficiently, there seemed to be little for Brenton to do, and the noob probably thought they were in no danger at all.

The rest of the corridors seemed to follow a pretty standard layout. Since the ship was on the ground and not going anywhere, they found the corridor leading to the engine room deserted. The pressure-door had been left open and he could hear voices ahead, coming from inside the engineering section. Of course, this was the power station running Freetown now, and the energy screen, which meant that the core had to be online – and if it was online, it meant there was something he could sabotage. He paused at the edge of the doorway and cautiously peeked round it – he saw two figures in black performing maintenance on a piece of equipment, one of them leaning with his head and shoulders inside a machine cabinet. The other seemed bored and doing nothing but pass him tools.

"Off you go then, " Brenton chirped, holding a 440's under each arm. Clearly and not surprisingly, they had got a little bit heavy and unwieldy. "Go do your stuff."

Blachart cocked his head a little, not giving Brenton the slightest clue what was coming next. A quick shove sent the pilot stumbling through the doorway into the engineering section, arms flapping. The 440's thudded and clattered onto the deck grid, causing both mechanics to stop what they were doing and gawk at him, completely distracted for the moment. Brenton apologized awkwardly, and quickly bent over to pick up his fallen weapons. In the awkward silence, Blachart stepped in, took quick aim and fired. Phut. Phut. Two head-shots dispatched the only two Corsair crew in the compartment. Brenton stared at the dead forms, and then gave him a look.

oom, 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 would paralyze the whole enemy response. Black-clad Corsair personnel stood and sat semi-frozen, stunned in mid-administration by the puzzlement of the detonation outside the door. They'd been trying to solve the riddle of the 4 dead elite etcetera, etcetera guards at the bottom of the ramp at the time – when a man appeared on the bridge, facing them, holding only a pistol!

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