Breakfast wasn’t anything special. Mara sat at the same table as the others, but a little ways off. The others would fill in around her—those who dressed fast enough to make it to the mess hall in time, that was. She couldn’t understand why so many of them waited until after their run to dress properly.
Two of the soldiers missed breakfast, but Aaron wasn’t one of them. He made it in just as the mess hall’s doors slit shut. His fatigues were blue, a noticeably different color from the olive green of the rest of the platoon. Technically, as a drop-ship pilot, his command chain went through Commander Noah, not her. So long as he slept and ate with the rest of the platoon, though, she wasn’t about to clarify that point.
Such a mess, she thought to herself as she stirred her bowl of gray synthmeal. It’s been that way ever since the Battle of Colkhia. Almost half of the platoon had died in that battle, and they’d been limping along ever since. If the rest of the Flotilla hadn’t been just as disorganized, they’d probably have been disbanded by now. The first campaign of the war was over, and they’d captured several Imperial warships intact. But no one knew who would command them, or whose authority they’d fall under, or even where the crews were going to come from. Some of the pilots were even starting to desert, saying that the Imperials had been beaten and that the war was as good as over. But Mara knew the truth. The Imperials wouldn’t give up so easily. They’d be back.
“Hey there,” said Aaron, sitting down across the table from her. His tray was mostly empty, except for a bowl of dried fruit and synthmeal and a protein shake. That was different—usually, Aaron piled on as much food as he could eat, which was invariably more than her.
“Where have you been, Aaron?” she asked in Gaian. Even though it was more convenient to talk in their native Deltan, he needed as much practice as he could get.
“Guess,” he said in Deltan, completely ignoring her attempt to help him practice the language. She rolled her eyes and gave up trying.
“I don’t know, Aaron. Where?”
“On my way here, I got a message from Major Achilles.” He lifted his arm and held out his wrist console so she could see. “He wants me to meet him on the command deck right after mess, in the briefing chamber.”
Mara frowned. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Am I in trouble?”
“I doubt it. If you were, they would have disciplined you through Commander Noah.” Or not. With how disorganized everything was, she could see a mid-ranking officer going over Noah’s head. But a major? Aaron would have had to have done something extreme to be disciplined by the top brass, and to her knowledge, he hadn’t done anything of the sort.
He sighed. “That’s a relief. I didn’t think so, but hey, you never know.”
“What does it say?” she asked, peering at the screen.
“Not much—just that I’m supposed to report to the briefing room promptly after mess.”
It’s a transfer, Mara thought, her gut sinking. Aaron was about to receive a new assignment.
Friends in Command
The future of the Outworlds now lies in uncertain hands.
The Imperials are back, and this time, a ragtag flotilla isn't going to stop them. But they aren't the only enemies of the new Outworld Confederacy. Together, Aaron and Mara must face a threat from within.
The future of the Outworlds now lies in uncertain hands.
The war for the Outworlds is on. The Imperials may have lost the first round, but they’re back—and this time, a ragtag flotilla isn’t going to stop them.
When Aaron recieves a captain’s commission in the new Outworld Confederacy, Mara is his natural choice for second in command. But Mara never expected to live past the first few battles. She only joined the resistance to avenge her father, and fears the monster she’s starting to become. The only thing she has left to live for now is her friends.
The Imperials aren’t the only enemy in this war, though. The friends must face a threat from within in
SONS OF THE STARFARERS
BOOK IV: FRIENDS IN COMMAND
