Galactic Champion (Book 1)
Dante King
Copyright © 2019 by Dante King
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
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Chapter One
We were trapped in a cave. My squad of Martian Storm Marines was doing their damned best to pretend it was the insectoid Xeno soldiers who were locked in here with us instead of us locked in with them.
It was dark in the cave, but we Martians had been bred with natural night vision. Our ancestors from Terra hadn’t shared this ability, nor had they been bred for war like every Son or Daughter of Mars. We were capable of withstanding the worst of circumstances. It was something we took pride in.
The cave narrowed about 20 yards behind us, and we couldn’t retreat any further because there were too many rocks blocking the exit tunnel. The boulders in front of us allowed each Marine a gap wide enough to peek through without giving our position away.
Nineteen Marines against an entire swarm of the worst predator species the galaxy had ever seen. This was the squad’s final test, and they were expected to achieve a passing mark. Death was a sure means of failure, and I doubted many of my team members would survive the cave, but I was more than happy to be proven wrong. If they could accomplish this exercise, then they’d be ready for special ops missions.
Lance Corporal Oliver “Swede” Nilsson grabbed a clip and attempted to insert it into his battle rifle’s magazine, but his shaky fingers made him fumble. The mag fell toward the ground, and I quickly snatched it out of the air before it could clatter and alert our enemy.
Unlike us, the Xeno bugs weren’t gifted with the ability to see in the dark. Nor were they sporting night-vision tech. But they didn’t need gifted eyes or gadgets. Like a spider in its web, they could sense movement through the vibrations in the stone.
“Any tips, Paladin, Sir?” Sergeant Maxwell “Joker” Hadell asked me over comms.
On this mission, I wasn’t Major Jacob Berger. I was Paladin. Just another Marine who would obey Joker’s lead. Hell, maybe I’d step in and take control if a few hundred bugs swarmed the cave, but it’d hurt the scores of both Joker and the rest of his team. They had to prove themselves without me taking point, and I’d only assist where absolutely necessary.
The mission was theirs to complete or fail.
“Watch your movements, and don’t go dropping anything.” I glanced at Swede, and he pretended like he hadn’t almost alerted our position.
“Aye, Sir,” Swede said, “but they told us—”
“Shut it!” I ordered.
That kid was the worst kind: a know-it-all who graduated at the top of his class, a grunt who thought his instructors were something like gods, all-knowing and all-wise. I was pretty sure there were no gods. What kind of creator-god would make bugs, and then, make giant versions of bugs who carried battle rifles? What kind of gods would create mankind along with good-natured, man-like aliens and then, these? Not any kind of god I wanted to meet.
I waited a moment to see if Swede was going to give his usual protest, but he didn’t. Any other time, the kid would have had something to add regarding what he’d learned in grunt school, as if I hadn’t been the one to write most of their curriculum.
“I bet that’s not what he learned in school,” Joker quipped.
I groaned inwardly. It was tough keeping the troops disciplined when even my sergeants wanted in on the joke. I’d punish them later. They knew it. But they also knew I wouldn’t ruin their careers over it.
A small stone slipped from beneath Swede’s feet and barely made a noise when it fell. But it was enough to attract the attention of the two nearest Xeno. Their forms shimmered as their cloaking tech disengaged and revealed two oversized bugs with a pair of antennae sprouting from triangular heads. Their hard outer shells were the color of pond scum, and two skinny arms dangled from their pen-shaped thoraxes and reached below their six spike-tipped legs.
The pair of Xeno dashed to the spot where the stone had fallen and pointed their rifles to where they thought their enemy might be hiding. Joker lifted his hand slowly, signaling the other Marines to remain where they were. The antennae on the aliens’ heads drifted toward the boulder as everyone held their breath.
The bugs didn’t seem to notice the 19 humans only a few yards in front of them and turned away. I couldn’t help but notice the way the Marines had reacted to seeing the alien weaponry. They’d heard plenty about Xeno tech, but seeing it up close was something else.
The Xeno Harbinger-Class soldiers sported rifles with projectiles that scientists called “ootheca” but that Marines just called bug-bullets. The fleshy orbs hit with the force of a bullet and popped in a mini-explosion of monoprotic acid.
The Xeno didn’t kill by blowing your head off, either. They weren’t humane like that. Instead, they shot to wound. Maybe they’d hit you in the shoulder. Maybe a hip. Either way, your screams and agonized writhing would let the rest of the bugs know where you were. The more pain you felt, the louder you screamed and the more bugs you would attract. But we’d also used their tactic to our advantage. And it came in the form of a little something called a screamer.
“You fucking idiot, Swede,” Joker whispered.
“I’m docking points from you, Joker,”
