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"Hold the line, boys," Miller grunted, his heavy autocannon beginning to thump rhythmically. "We get paid by the bug, and today, we're all going to be rich."

The air in the drop-pod smelled like stale coffee and hydraulic fluid. Corporal Elias "Rat" Thorne checked his pulse on his haptic display: 140 bpm. High, but steady. Next to him, the rest of the 4th Frontier Battalion sat like statues in powered exo-suits, their faceplates reflecting the flickering red combat lights. Download Frontier Corps Military Sci Joe Kassabian epub

New Oakhaven wasn't a haven. It was a strip-mining colony on the edge of the Perseus Arm that had stopped sending shipments and started sending distress signals. The "Coalition" claimed it was a labor dispute; the Frontier Corps knew better. It was the Swarm—organic, relentless, and hungry for the minerals the colony sat on. "Hold the line, boys," Miller grunted, his heavy

Rat hunkered down behind a rusted ore-hauler. He wasn't thinking about the pay. He was thinking about the three liters of oxygen left in his tank and the five hundred miles of vacuum between him and the nearest extraction point. Just another Tuesday in the Corps. High, but steady

The pod bucked. A violent shudder threw Rat against his restraints as the heat shields began to ablate. Outside, the sky was a bruised purple, streaked with the fire of a dozen other pods screaming toward the surface. CRACK.

"Thirty seconds to atmosphere," the pilot’s voice crackled, devoid of emotion. "Keep your lunch down. It’s going to be a bumpy ride into New Oakhaven."

The mag-rifle hummed, a rail-driven slug tearing through the lead creature’s chitinous chest. It didn't scream; it just kept coming. In the Frontier Corps, they taught you that the universe didn't care about your heroism. It only cared about your ammunition count.