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   Chapter 39 No.39

Dead Beckoning By Christina Engela Characters: 5214

Updated: 2018-06-30 12:01


Not all of them were going to go down quietly, Blachart just had that feeling – and he was right. While some tried to run, and some were rooted to the spot – others tried to draw their weapons and take their best shot. Just then, his comlink beeped. Truth be told, he hated those things – but considering it was probably Antares, he put it to an ear and answered while moving round the bridge, avoiding getting shot and taking down Corsairs with his weapon. Phut. Phut the Luger spat. Corpses thudded to the deck around him. The conversation went something like this:

"Hello?" Phut. Phut. "Oh – hi, Mykl. We crashed. Long story." Phut. "Yes, he's alive. Hiding under a bush somewhere. Don't worry, the dome will be down in a few minutes." Phut. "Yes, I know, we were supposed to fly back, but you know how it is…" Phut. Phut. "No, we couldn't find another shuttle we really liked." Phut. Phut. "Yes, we'll be clear in time." Phut. "Yes, expect a big bang." Phut. Phut. "Ciao ciao."

Brenton was standing at the door, looking as though he might as well be watching the show and eating popcorn. As the last body fell to the deck, Adam headed for the coms console, giving the dead body of the operator a push, sending it and the wheelie-chair it was on, rolling a few feet away. He opened all the available Corsair channels – surface and space bound, and left them that way.

"There – that should jam all their communications and effectively paralyze any attempts to stop us!" He nodded towards the exit. "Long enough, anyway – time to go!"

"Think the bikes

ched over to the control console beside the door, steadying himself as the other two continued to wrestle, grunting and desperately exchanging occasional blows. He shut the pod door with a soft hiss-pop of a pressure-seal snapping into place. Inputting course instructions of his own, he then kicked the Brackmeister 440's lying on the deck grid over to his side of the pod. He sure as hell didn't want one of those going off in here.

"Hold onto something!" He ordered the wrestlers, and punched the release – but he hadn't meant each other. Brenton had a good hold of his opponent's long flowing black hair, and the other had a fair grip on Brenton's arm and shirt collar. Without any warning, the life-pod launched away from the HQ ship, not unlike how a mortar shell is fired from its launcher, and the seconds that followed inside the pod were filled with sudden violent acceleration, vibration, then inertia and partial weightlessness – and a good deal of pointless screaming and thrashing about in the claustrophobic little space.

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