Sean-Michael Argo - Ghost Faction

The merc entered the craft’s main deck minutes later and upon confirming that she was back aboard, the crew set about preparing for takeoff. She walked through the small craft until she reached the pilot’s deck, and after entering another code confirmation, was permitted entry. The door slid open and she could see that the pilot had the craft fired up and was ready to leave.

“All systems are green, ready to return to the nest,” said the pilot as the merc nodded, then sat down with a small involuntary groan of pain to strap herself into the chair next to him, prompting the pilot to add, “I have med-bay on alert. They’ll be waiting.”

The ship’s thrusters ignited, and moments later, the craft was streaking up through the troubled atmosphere of Vorhold.

The merc watched as the ship passed through the clouds of the lower atmosphere and into the sparkling void.

Somewhere out there lurked Sword Base, a place where no one had last names and no legacy beyond their deeds, where she would return and wait with the other flawed warriors until the next contract sent them into battle and made them whole once more. Their war with the universe would be unending, that struggle the only peace possible for veterans of such quality, and in that, there was purity.

Jada did not look back as the craft arced over Vorhold on its docking trajectory with the mothership.

It was time to let the Reaper die so that the Dire Sword could be born.

No attachments and no mercy.

Thank you for taking this dark journey alongside the mercenaries of Sword Base, who have played their violent part in the ceaseless wars for profit waged between rival corporations and the gradually unfolding mystery of the Gedra.

After working with real-life military men and women for so long, I wanted to take a stab at responsibly including some elements of PTSD, the motivations of a person who would choose to keep fighting long after the money is no longer an issue, along with exploring the anti-narrative that is the common experience of many soldiers engaging in modern warfare. I hope that my efforts to present such themes, albeit with a heavy sci-fi twist, have been well received and entertaining.

I invite you to continue adventuring with me in an expanded universe as the Necrospace series continues with more stand-alone novels. We will explore the lives and struggles of a variety of characters, some familiar and some brand new, all inter-connected in the great web of commerce and combat that is Necrospace.

* In Perpetuity contains strong language.

“What you are holding in your weak little hands is called an A6 plasma rifle! Also known as a scorcher!” Master Sergeant Lawrence Kim bellowed at the fifty rows of fresh cadets that packed the antechamber to the combat simulator. There were twenty-five cadets per row, but Kim focused his attention on just a handful in front of him. “You will only refer to your rifle as a scorcher! It will not be called an A6! It will not be called a plasma rifle! If I hear any of you motherfucking pieces of shit referring to a scorcher as anything other than a scorcher, I will personally turn you all into bottoms! Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir!” the cadets yelled.

“Holy fucking moron crap!” Kim yelled. “Did you taint flakes just call me sir? Are you all retarded in ways that had yet to be invented until this very second? Have you never watched a training video in your life? Did you not all just complete your written exams administered by Central Space Command’s most dedicated recruitment officers? My name is Master Sergeant Lawrence Kim! You will call me Master Sergeant or you will get my ten foot cock up your ass so fast that I’ll be coming from between your gums before you can even register the intense tearing sensation that is your insides! Now, what is my motherfucking name?”

“Master Sergeant Lawrence Kim!” the cadets yelled.

“Jesus jumping on a laser! You are the stupidest motherfuckers I have ever had to train! Did I not just tell you sperm shits to call me Master Sergeant? Did I not just say that?” Kim roared.

He stomped up to a skinny young man, maybe twenty, maybe less, and thrust his chest against the cadet.

“What the fuck is your name, cadet?”

“Cadet Private Carlos DeSuezo!” the young man replied.

“What did I ask to be called, Cadet Private DeSuezo?”

“Master Sergeant!”

“Did you call me that?”

“I did not, Master Sergeant!”

“And why the holy fuck did you not call me by the name I just ordered all of you cunt scrapings to call me by?”

“It was confusing, Master Sergeant!”

“Do you know the difference between a pussy and an asshole, Cadet Private DeSuezo?”

“I do, Master Sergeant!”

“Which do you prefer to ram your itsy bitsy cock into, Cadet Private DeSuezo?”

“I prefer pussy, Master Sergeant!”

“Then would you not be upset if you were to whip out that one inch of yours and find that you are jamming it into a shit-crusted asshole? Would that not upset you, Cadet Private DeSuezo?”

“Yes, that would upset me, Master Sergeant!”

“Then you can understand how I felt when you piss dribbles referred to me by something other than Master Sergeant, can you not Cadet Private DeSuezo?”

“I can, Master Sergeant!”

“So let us try this again, you fucking snot licking, spooge drinkers! What is my name?”

“Master Sergeant!”

“I cannot hear you over the cocks and twats that are jammed in your mouths! WHAT THE FUCK IS MY NAME?”

“MASTER SERGEANT!”

“Very good,” Kim grinned. “That’s exactly what my name is. Now, your job, if your tiny little fucksticks for brains can handle it, is to name your scorcher. Can you handle that, you sphincter nibblers?”

“Yes, Master Sergeant!”

Kim turned and stalked over to a tall woman, close to thirty with shoulder-length brown hair and deep black skin. He shoved himself against her, mashing his muscled chest into her breasts. The woman did not budge, but her bottom lip started to quiver.

“What is the name of your scorcher, cadet private?”

“Master Sergeant?” the woman asked.

“You named your scorcher after me? I would be flattered if it wasn’t so goddamned sad! There are a trillion names out there and you have chosen to name your scorcher after me? Were you born an abortion, cadet private?”

“No, Master Sergeant!”

“Then why did you name your scorcher after me?”

“I did not, Master Sergeant! I was asking a question!”

“I did not hear a question, cadet private, I heard my motherfucking name! Why is your head shoved up your cunt, cadet private? Now, that’s a question!”

“Yes, Master Sergeant!”

“Yes? Yes what, you cum dumpster? At no point did I expect a response from that cock hole you speak with! What is your name, cadet private?”

“Cadet Private Nola Vklogg!”

“Cadet Private Nola Vklogg? You are not from Earth, Cadet Private Nola Vklogg, are you?”

“No, Master Sergeant, I am not!”

“Which piece of shit colony are you from, Cadet Private Nola Vklogg?”

“I am from Grafe, Master Sergeant!”

“Grafe? Grafe! Do you hear that, you pus bag whores? We have a Grafian here!” Kim shoved his face into Cadet Private Vklogg’s, pressing his nose against her nose. “I bet you think you’re better than all of us, don’t you Cadet Private Nola Vklogg? I bet you think you can buy us all out with your riches and make us your slaves, right? When you go to the can, you probably shit diamonds and corphia crystals? Each time you flush, you flush my year’s salary down the shitter. That make you feel special, Cadet Private Nola Vklogg?”