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They were outnumbered; Siri had known that from the beginning. And, although the majority of her men had agreed to answer the distress call from the people of Planet FX-87, there had been a number who had not and had been allowed to board smaller ships to return to base and hopefully get them some…
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“Who is she?” That was the question being asked all over the base following the arrival of a particular shuttle, carrying a most peculiar passenger: a soldier said to be out of her time, having been left in a stasis after being fatally wounded in a long-ago battle with the Ryxarri. Why she’d been awoken…
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Three… Siri crouched behind her respective pile of crates, rifle at the ready. Through the tint of her helm’s visor, she watched the armored figure of Commander Ferral hold up the fingers of his free hand—his other held his own gun—in a silent countdown that the nearby Ryxarri aliens skitering past on the other side…
