“I don’t see why we need to have it around, Paulson,” Merrik grumbled. “Damn bug gives me the crawls.”
The sergeant stomped his boot hard against the tunnel floor. The wet thud echoed up and down the cavernous hollow, touching off ripples along the scattered patches of bioluminescent algae.
“Shut it. You want
Jaq Orleans no longer had a home to go back to. The war was over, the graves dug and covered, the medals all hung. After six years of fighting against the evil trying to invade their nation, his people had won. They’d finally won.
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They call us the Misfits. They don’t give us battle armor. Just what we can collect from the bodies of fallen friends and foes.
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