Kaits and his buddies scrambled to hide their holocards and gambling chips as Lieutenant Gilbert walked into the rec bay. Gaming for credits was strictly forbidden on the Galactic Defense Federation’s ships, and the last thing Kaits needed was to get chewed out by the lieutenant.
Again.
“Men, this is Private Johnny Wilson
I don’t sleep anymore.
My apartment is cramped, little more than a closet. Space enough for a few childhood mementos and some clothes, nothing more. No bed.
I was ten years old when I woke one morning to a blazing house and my parents burning alive and myself unscathed in the middle of it all.
The desert stretched as far as Ben could see, the horizon disappearing in a haze of heat waves. He touched a hand to his black mustache and attempted to ignore the boasts coming from the man walking beside his horse.
“My men are comin’ for me, marshal,” said Jack Chase. He wore a smile
I’ve just finished mopping the floor of the Decimator’s control room when two Second Class Henchmen walk in. The big goons leave muddy footprints all over the—formerly—shiny floor. I glare after them, but they don’t even notice me.
Typical.
No one notices me unless they slip on a wet floor, or—
The tangled jungle darkened around Damon as the sun slipped from the sky.
“We will stop here for the night,” he called to the men trudging behind him. They eased the supply packs from their shoulders and threw themselves to the ground with weary sighs of relief.
All except one.
“Are you sure
Cyra, how will you do this?
I have no answer to give myself as I trudge across this scorching desert. I only know that I must try. Shimmering columns of heat rise before my eyes. I am tempted—so tempted—to discard the armor that protects my arms, chest, and legs.
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