![]() ![]() ![]() Strauss wanted to put one of those things in him, too, but that wasn’t happening. Damn creepy symbiont, he thought with an angry breath. ![]() John Brenton was right beside him, his arm almost brushing Caldswell’s shoulder, and Caldswell hadn’t heard a thing. Always, that was, until yesterday.Ĭaldswell kept himself from jumping just in time, sliding his eyes over to look at his partner. Even these last eighteen months, when the phantom attacks had grown so frequent it didn’t seem possible to catch them all in time, Caldswell’s team had always pulled it off. They’d never missed an alarm or arrived too late to save whatever colony planet the phantoms had chosen to nest on. But in those seven years, they’d never failed. Seven years of working constantly, of never seeing his wife, of missing his daughter grow up. Seven years now they’d been fighting the phantoms. ![]() Commander Brian Caldswell, head of the little-known and terribly named Joint Investigatory Spatial Anomaly Task Force, stood on the bridge of the Republic battle cruiser he’d requisitioned from fleet command an hour ago, staring through the huge observation window at the void beyond, a void that should have been a thriving planet of sixteen billion people, and wondering how everything could have gone so wrong so quickly. ![]()
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