Chapter Four - Rusty
Baxter had barely dug himself out of the junk pile in the engine room before they broke out of the atmosphere and emerged into the crisp black deadliness of space. He swept himself off, took a look at the impossible clean up job, turned away from it and headed back to the cockpit.
“I thought you were dead back there,” said Jak.
“And you didn’t bother to go back there and check. That’s nice.”
“Hey, someone’s gotta fly the ship.”
Jak turned and observed that Baxter had sustained more physical damage in his repair job than he did facing a giant dragon.
“So how are you doin’ anyway?” asked Jak.
“Good,” started Baxter, “except I can’t feel my arms or legs.”
“Better beaten and bruised than dead. Right, pal?”
Baxter lowered himself slowly and carefully into the chair in front of his station. He reviewed a few pieces of information on his screen and checked their heading.
“Rusty’s?”
“Yep.”
Jak Phoenix Page 4
