General Ostergard stood motionless with mouth agape as Lord Orn began turning New Jericho into cannon fodder. Not one to waste time, Commander Prax sprinted down the corridor towards the exit as Perius Yurlay, Oligarch Morinth’s sheepish man-servant, held up a finger as if he was about to scold the commander when he passed, but choked back the words when his eyes met the fire in Prax’s.
“We done sitting on our thumbs,” Freego asked as Prax jumped behind the controls of the Arrowhead.
“Ready that railgun,” Prax replied. “We’re dropping that carrier in the water.”
The large alien smiled.