RED LEGION Teaser
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RED LEGION (In Her Name, Book 10) Michael R. Hicks This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. ISBN: XXX-XXXXXXXXXX RED LEGION (IN HER NAME, BOOK 10) Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Hicks All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. Published by Michael R. Hicks AuthorMichaelHicks.com This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. 1 This book is dedicated to all the readers who so patiently waited for my long-lost muse to return. 2 FOREWORD RED LEGION has been a long time coming. I started the manuscript in 2016, and — as I write this — I’m hoping to finally have it done in 2020 as the COVID-19 pandemic sweeps across the globe (make of that coincidence what you will). This is the longest I’ve ever taken to write a novel. The original version of IN HER NAME that I published in 2008, which I later broke apart to become EMPIRE, CONFEDERATION, and FINAL BATTLE, also took four years to write, back when my muse wouldn’t let me sleep unless I put in a good round of writing for the day. Maybe I’ve just gotten old and soft, and my muse took off with some younger guy, or maybe I’m just getting old. Regardless, I’m pushing through to the end on this book, and I hope you’ll find it worth the wait. NOTE: THIS FILE IS A PREVIEW THAT CONTAINS ONLY THE FIRST TEN CHAPTERS OF THE BOOK! The complete novel will be published as an ebook on Amazon, B&N, and the other major ebook retailers. I hope to also publish a print version, but no promises on that (doing print is a pain and I sell very few copies). PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SHARE! This is a sample/teaser, so please feel free to share it however and wherever you like. And please also feel free to let your friends know that FIRST CONTACT, EMPIRE, and SEASON OF THE HARVEST (not one of the IN HER NAME books) are free as ebooks at any major ebook outlet, and you can check out my site at AuthorMichaelHicks.com for a complete list of my books and where to get them. 3 Second Lieutenant Rachel Ortiz sat alone in her quarters aboard the Confederation corvette CSS Leander. While the compartment, which measured two meters long by one point five meters wide, was listed as a stateroom on the small warship’s deck plan, it was smaller than a solitary confinement cell in a Confederation prison. In a way, she reflected, a prison cell is exactly what it was. Three months had passed since her assignment as the commander of Leander’s Marine detachment after her graduation from the Officer Basic Course on Quantico 17. She had been fourth in her class and had expected a good assignment. She had earned a good assignment. Such was her surprise when she opened her orders to discover that she’d been assigned to the Marine Corps’ 12th Guards Regiment, also infamously known as the Red Legion. She wore the regiment’s patch on the left shoulder of her uniform. Turning to look at herself in the small wall mirror, she could see the patch with its red lion rampant on a black background. When she had first put it on, she’d felt as if it had burned her skin like a brand. The Red Legion was the dumping ground for the worst of the worst in the Corps. Half of the Legion’s personnel were prisoners, from non-violent drug users to soulless killers, who had been given the promise of a pardon in exchange for surviving twelve months of combat duty. The other half were malcontents, slackers, general ne’er-do-wells…and a few decent Marines, primarily officers, who were given the impossible task of molding them into a fighting force against the warriors of the Kreelan Empire. Some deserted, preferring to take their chances against the Internal Security Service and summary execution. Others kept a low profile, hoping to live long enough to transfer to another unit. And more than a small few reveled in the brutality and cruelty that were the rule, rather than the exception, in the Legion’s twelve battalions. Six of those battalions fought as complete units, usually used to augment Marine divisions in major engagements. Those were the cushy assignments, and generally received better personnel (such as they were) and, even though they typically fought in large battles, had a higher survival rate. The other battalions, including her own parent unit, the 1st Battalion, were parceled out to the smaller Navy warships as on-board detachments commanded by junior officers such as herself. She snorted in disgust. Commander was a grossly optimistic term for what she really was. Prisoner, or perhaps hostage, would have been more appropriate. In frustration and anger, she delivered a savage kick to the metal bulkhead below the fold-out desk where she was doing her best to focus on her detachment’s paperwork. A hand’s breadth above the floor, the paint had long since been chipped away by the toes of her combat boots, revealing bare steel that was rusting in the ship’s overly humid atmosphere. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. After a moment, she returned her attention to the screen in front of her. The administrative tasks for which she was responsible were her only real respite, for the mind-numbing paperwork allowed her to depart from her otherwise brutal reality for a short while. She stopped as she called up the next personnel record she needed to update, a flame of pure hatred, something she’d never known before coming aboard Leander, flaring in her core. The name on the screen was that of Staff Sergeant Besarion Khutashvili, the detachment’s senior NCO, who was known by the less than affectionate name of Stalin. A convicted murderer who had been given the chance of a pardon if he fought the Kreelans as a member of the Red Legion, Khutashvili had instantly volunteered. He was big, easily twice the size of Ortiz, and the 4 most brutal human being she had ever known. Everyone was terrified of him and he fed on their fear, lived for it. The damnable thing was that he also boasted a chest full of decorations earned in combat against the Kreelans. Feared as he was, he had survived more battles than anyone else in the platoon, and had even saved a few of his fellow Marines in the process. As for Ortiz, “Stalin” treated her like he might a stray cat. The Corps insisted that an officer command the detachment, and even Stalin knew that he would never be promoted beyond his current rank. So he intimidated and cajoled the junior officers placed over him. She knew quite well from reviewing the unit records that those who went along with him lived quite a bit longer than those who didn’t. Most of the latter suffered mysterious deaths, in combat or otherwise. To Ortiz’s everlasting shame, she had given in to his intimidation, which was tempered by the promise of protection from the less savory of the detachment’s personnel. She was willing to sacrifice her life for the Confederation against the Kreelans, but didn’t want to die at the hands of this maniac. While she would die before admitting it, she was also grateful for his protection: the detachment boasted six convicted rapists who shamelessly tore her uniform off with their eyes every time she stood in front of them. Surprisingly, Stalin didn’t care much about sex one way or the other. He just enjoyed killing. As long as she didn’t get in his way, he’d told her, she’d be just fine. She kicked the bulkhead again, furious with herself for being such a tool, and a useless one at that. A sudden knock at the door almost made her yelp in surprise. “What is it?” She looked at the sturdy deadbolt she’d had one of the ship’s crewmen weld onto the door. It was locked. “Lieutenant!” It was Lance Corporal Waylon Davis, who had been released from a mental institution as a “salvageable” patient. He was completely crazy, but he was one of the few Marines in her detachment she felt she could trust. “You’ve got to come see this!” Resting her hand on her sidearm, which was strapped to her right thigh when she was awake and under her pillow when she slept, she went to the door and unlocked it. “Did the replacements arrive?” She’d been expecting two new bodies to replace a pair of Marines who had been killed in a brief but savage engagement with a Kreelan destroyer. “Yeah, el-tee, but…I have no words. You’ve got to come see.” Ortiz pursed her lips as she considered venturing from the safety of her cabin.