First Command
Kim Morden should be elated. Not only has her fleet commander promoted her to captain, but he’s given her command of the RAS Verdun, a great honor for any up-and-coming officer, especially one whose career had such a rocky, deadly start. However, no honor can conceal Morden’s disappointment when she discovers that her first assignment will be a routine mission to search for missing cargo ships in Derek’s Triangle, a worthless, backwater sector outside Alliance control. Such a mundane mission is hardly appropriate for a ship of the line when the Milipa Empire is closing in around the Alliance, and Morden wonders whether command has forgotten or forgiven her past after all.
Morden’s irritation grows when she discovers that her new second-in-command is none other than Emma Holsey, an old friend turned enemy. Morden hasn’t seen Holsey in ten years, but the hatred and blame between them flares back to life. Holsey fights Morden’s every decision, hell-bent on making her first mission as miserable as possible. But when the search takes a terrifying turn and uncovers a sinister threat in the Triangle, Morden and Holsey must put their personal feud on hold if they’re to stand any chance of getting themselves and their crew home alive…
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Excerpt
Captain Mostoff’s voice was hoarse and desperate. “Give me your pistol.”
Holsey braced her weapon on the shattered crate in front of her, aiming carefully at the impact point that had just appeared on the wall. She felt dizzy. The Baron had shaken violently when the drop pod had made contact.
“Commander, please.” The edge of panic in Mostoff’s voice was obvious.
Major Osterman, Corporal Carter, Private Jones and Lt Voth were spread out, tucked into cover in front of them. Holsey had warned them what to expect, but not even Osterman had faced an enemy like this before. She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking or the hairs on the back of her neck from stiffening.
Deep breaths, Emma.
Mostoff grabbed her shoulders. “Let me help you.”
She turned her head, and their eyes met. His face was painted with the same intensity she felt. A drop pod carried fifteen to twenty combatants. Even with Mostoff’s help, her team was badly outnumbered.
She didn’t trust him.
She had to trust him.
Holsey pulled out her side arm, flipped it around, and handed it grip-first to Mostoff. “I want it back when this is over.”
He nodded, racking the slide quickly. She handed him her extra magazines and turned to face forward. The metal around the indentation had already begun to glow bright red. The room grew lighter, cast in a soft light by the burning metal.
Osterman shouldered his weapon. “Here they come.”
Holsey could see Jones and Carter raise their weapons, Carter’s RAR MK42 light machine gun resting on its bipod in front of him.
There was a pop, and the wall exploded inward, filling the room with smoke and debris.
Weapon’s fire burst from the opening as the attackers reached the edge of their pod, the thin air making the usually explosive sound of gun fire almost inaudible. Holsey rested her helmet on the stock of her carbine. She looked down her sights, searching for a target.
The first few grotesque beasts dropped from the ceiling and crawled carefully through the debris.
The Frontin shock troops had stopped firing. She could see one turn its head, its many black-eyes fixing on her. Its hideous, toothy mandible moved as it said something to the creatures hiding on the other side of the opening.
It smiled.
Holsey squeezed the trigger, her carbine barking as it sent several rounds into the creature’s abdomen. The Frontin screamed, black gore spraying the wall as its body hit the floor with a grotesque squishing sound.
The rest of Holsey’s team opened up, showering the Frontin in the doorway with deadly fire, hitting the pod’s hatch from several angles. The distinct crack of Osterman’s submachine gun, still audible despite the low atmosphere, covered the Frontin’s screams.
Explosions rippled across the crates in front of her, Frontin barbs impacting all around her. She ducked, avoiding the metal splinters spraying in all directions. One of the Frontin roared, the sound tearing at her nerves.
She saw Mostoff fire several rounds at two figures darting quickly out of cover on their left. One of them lurched, its legs shattered. It stumbled slightly, but kept moving, darting back into cover.
Her team was being surrounded — fast.
Holsey took a deep breath and leaned out of cover, her eyes locating a target. She fired off several quick bursts. Her target’s head fragmented, its legs scrabbling for several seconds before seizing, toppling the dead monster to the deck.
She ducked back into cover, dropping her spent magazine. “Voth, pull back to the rear entrance. Take Carter with you. We can’t let them get behind us.”
Voth nodded, signaling Carter. Jones got to a knee, laying down suppressive fire. Voth and Carter broke from their positions, heads low, trying to use jumbled crates from a toppled cargo loader as cover while they dashed towards the back of the room.
Holsey slapped in a new magazine and fired quick controlled pairs in the direction of the creeping Frontin.
The Frontin went crazy and several broke from cover, charging directly at Voth and Carter. The two men were firing wildly, barbs exploding around them as they slid towards cover. Carter jerked as his shoulder exploded. He tumbled as several more barbs burst inside his torso, showering Voth with a bloody mist.
The man never had time to scream.
Major Osterman stood up, firing from the hip. The charging Frontin were cut down, split in half by his withering fire.
Holsey picked out another target. “Major, stay in cover.”
Osterman dropped back behind his crate, tossing his weapons aside and pulling his pistol. “I’m out.”
She slipped back into cover. Voth had managed to scramble to the rear, firing from a well-covered position next to the door. His shots were wild, panicked.
If he didn’t calm down, he would burn through his ammunition in no time.
The Frontin’s blood-curdling screams made Holsey dizzy. She shook her head, trying to focus. If they couldn’t reach the door, they would all be dead in a matter of minutes.
Osterman pointed to her left, breaking the rhythm of his smooth, accurate fire for only a moment.
Mostoff screamed, and Holsey turned her head. The man was trying to fight with his bare hands, his body dangling from one of the Frontin’s claws. Its bone-white teeth glistened with slick ooze as it opened its mouth wide to crush the helmet of his environmental suit. Holsey saw the creature’s face, its deep black eyes cold.
Barbs smashed into the crates in front of her, incinerating in a wave of smoke and flame. There was no way to know how many Frontin were left.
Holsey and her team were not going to make it. She wiped her visor, closed her eyes, and willed the world to slow down.
Private Jones was screaming from somewhere ahead of her, blood flowing from his mouth as fire impacted all around him.
Holsey lowered her head.
This was it. She might as well have died the last time she’d faced these bastards.
She broke from cover and sprinted towards Mostoff. Explosions followed at her heels, the Frontin’s gleeful screams echoing loudly behind her. Osterman and Voth were yelling, but she couldn’t tell what they were saying.
She slammed into the Frontin holding Mostoff. Even through her suit, its skin felt rough, yet slick with ooze. It stumbled, trying to regain its balance on the uneven deck.
Holsey rolled, pulling her combat knife as she regained her feet. She plunged the steel blade into the creature’s brain cavity, its body shaking wildly. She gagged slightly at the noxious sight of the Frontin’s thick blood as it oozed down her blade. She pulled the knife free, letting her opponent’s body fall lifeless to the floor.
Something struck her, pain shooting through her back, the world blurring as she fell and hit the deck. She shook her head, letting her vision clear. Her blood froze, her eyes filled with the sickly smile of the Frontin pinning her to the ground. Its arms were raised, a long blade pointed at her heart.
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