CASPer Alamo (The Revelations Cycle Book 9) by Brown Eric S. & Brannon Jason

Author:Brown, Eric S. & Brannon, Jason [Brown, Eric S.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Seventh Seal Press
Published: 2018-01-29T16:00:00+00:00

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Devils

Lieutenant Ashley Rai took a long drag from her cigarette, letting its smoke fill her lungs as she sat on the edge of her bunk. Her roommate Kylie was sitting cross-legged on the floor by the door that led out into the corridors of Byrne. Although Kylie, as an enlisted specialist, normally wouldn’t have roomed with an officer, it had been the only open room besides the one with three men, and that would have caused…other issues.

The ship didn’t belong to the Hellhounds, but Colonel Hendershot was a creature of habit. Byrne was his go-to vessel for the Hellhounds’ long-range transport needs. Over the years, Rai had been aboard the vessel so many times that it almost felt like a second home to her. Captain Garth and the colonel got on well, and Rai was sure the Hellhounds got a steep discount for their frequent use of the ship.

Their current contract was with a wealthy mining consortium. Some planet the consortium had recently gained possession of needed to be pacified, and the angry natives put in their place. It was a common enough job in this boom of interplanetary mining.

What made this job different was that the Hellhounds weren’t the only merc unit dropping onto the planet’s surface. Working with other merc companies wasn’t such an odd or rare thing. It was who the other merc company was, in this case, that left Rai feeling a sense of dread about what lay ahead for them.

The Hellhounds were one of the best, albeit lesser-known, merc units around. Colonel Hendershot didn’t give a crap about anything other than getting the job done and carrying out the contracts his unit took on, to the letter. He embodied the “quiet professional”. The colonel didn’t care who you had been before you joined up, as long as you could carry your weight and knew how to kill efficiently.

Robert’s Guard, on the other hand, was their exact opposite. The larger merc company was, in Rai’s opinion, a bunch of elitist snobs. The Guard outnumbered the Hellhounds four to one, and almost everyone in it had formal military training of some sort.

Their CASPers were gleaming, spotless suits, as much at home on the parade ground as the battlefield. Their officers were always clean-cut, starched, creased, and squared-away. They were also starkly professional in both their manner and their zero-defects approach. A single slipup in a unit like Robert’s Guard could get you booted out of it.

Rai had met Colonel Robert once when she had attended an Earth-based meeting with Colonel Hendershot. The man was a prick of the highest order. She remembered the cool disdain he had shown toward Colonel Hendershot and herself at the officers’ ball. He had stood there in his expensive suit, sipping daintily at a glass of champagne, smirking at Hendershot in his rough-and-tumble bomber jacket and her in the out-of-fashion dress uniform she had worn to the affair.

Despite his condescending attempt at politeness, Rai likely would have put

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