Julia Huni's Blog, page 4

Krimson Surge

I just finished writing the third book in the Krimson Empire series. It’s off to my co-author for tweaking and then it will be released on May 18. Here’s the new cover, again by the amazing Ryan Schwarz, and blurb:

They’d won the battle, but the war was yet to come.

While Tony spreads news of the rebellion throughout the Federation, Quinn helps distribute resources for the rebels. But a mysterious data card connects her to an old enemy.

Trusting someone who betrayed her makes Quinn uneasy, but what choice does she have?

In search of answers, she ventures out on her own. Avoiding Federation officers and bounty hunters is difficult but staying ahead of the Russosken is even harder. Especially when they’ve taken a personal interest. Destroying the Russosken should loosen the Federation’s grip, a win-win, in Quinn’s mind.

But what will it do to those who have supported her? And will Quinn’s investigation jeopardize Tony’s mission? Freedom comes at a price. The final bill might be more than Quinn and Tony are willing to pay.

On pre-order at Amazon, with a May 18 release.

The post Krimson Surge appeared first on Julia Huni, Author.

Krimson Spark

Book two of the Krimson Empire releases Monday, April 20th!

Here’s a snippet:

Quinn stepped into her quiet apartment. The kids were still at school activities, so she had it to herself for a few minutes. She set her bag on the couch and scratched the ears of the caat stretched across the back. Sashelle, the Eliminator of Vermin, endured the attention with a bored look, but nudged Quinn’s hand with her head when the human stopped scratching. 

“Everybody wants something,” Quinn said. “Even you, eh, Sassy? I just wish I knew–” she broke off. Heaving a sigh, she pulled up the saved message on her comtab. 

Lou’s voice sounded grim, even though the words were innocuous. “Hi Quinn. We had a visitor last week. I wish you could have met them.” Or maybe the grim tone was her imagination. The idea of a message from Lou made Quinn feel nervous.

It was the code she and Tony had set up when he left her on N’Avon. She hadn’t realized he’d shared it with Lou. Did that mean Tony was in trouble? Or was Lou simply calling in the favor Quinn owed her? And how had Francine known Lou called yesterday? Was it a coincidence she’d come looking for Quinn this morning?

She closed the message and tossed the comtab on top of her bag. She couldn’t do anything until Lou called again–the ship captain hadn’t left any contact details.

If she was lucky, maybe Lou would never call back…but luck, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.

The post Krimson Spark appeared first on Julia Huni, Author.

The Trophany – Part 5

If you missed Part 4, click here
Part 3, click here.
Part 2 is here.
Part 1 is here.

Two hours later, they
reached the location Bergen gave them for the shuttle. “There’s nothing here.”
Doug set the rover to idle and twisted around in his seat. “We’re at the right
coordinates, but I don’t see anything.”

“They wouldn’t leave it
sitting out in the open, genius,” Cyn said. “It’s probably in some kind of
underground bunker.” She twisted around, too, to look at Bergen. “What do you
think?”

“I copied the specs on the hangar. Let me send them to you,” Bergen said, scratching his head. He poked at his phone. “It’s all Krimson to me—maybe you can figure it out.”

Marielle gave Bergen a
strange look, then turned back to her computer console. She’d volunteered to
keep an eye on Cisneros and The Trophany. Fortunately, Cassi had known how to
ping the rovers’ locators without alerting the occupants. Marielle’s screen
showed a rough map of the asteroid, with the base outlined in blue and their
location a blinking green dot. Another dot, this one red, blinked a short
distance away, in the craggy hills to the west of them.

“I think I can run a
subterranean scan on this thing,” Cassi said, tapping some controls. Her
extensive EVA experience had also given her a working knowledge of most of the
equipment in the rover. What she didn’t know, Doug and Cyn had figured out.

After a moment, Cassi
nodded in satisfaction and pointed to the screen beside her. “This area is
hollow. We just need to figure out how to get in.” She tapped a few more
commands and grunted happily when it pinged. “Yup, there’s a door right here.
Do you have any open commands in that file?”

Cyn flicked something and
grinned. “Got it!”

The forward-facing cams
showed a slit opening in the hill off to their left. As they watched, it
stretched wider, until it was large enough for the rover to crawl inside.

“Bogies on the move!”
Marielle’s voice cut through the cheers. “They’re headed away from us, though.
Must be looking for more loot.”

The rover trundled into the hidden hangar. Cassi did some magic on her console and the door shut behind them.

“Is there atmo inside this
space?” Quinn asked.

“No,” Cassi said. “But it
looks like there’s an accordion airlock over there.” She pointed out the
location on the front screen. “Pull up close to it—might be automated. If it’s
standard SFS build, it should have recognized our vehicle when we entered
and—yes!”

Onscreen, a yellow-green,
accordion-folded tube stretched out from the wall. As they moved closer it
seemed to home in on them like some kind of alien creature scenting the atmosphere
inside their rover. Quinn shuddered. She knew it was standard tech—her
imagination was obviously too active.

The airlock latched on to
their rover with a muffled clang. Doug climbed out of the driver’s seat and
squeezed past the passengers to the rear of the boxy vehicle. He opened a panel
near the door and entered some commands. With a pop and a hiss, the door swung open, cold, stale air
flooding into the rover.

“Let me take point,”
Marielle said, checking her disrupter then pulling out a blaster.

“You don’t expect anyone to
be here, do you?” Quinn asked.

Marielle smiled, grimly.
“No, but better safe…”

The rest of the team
trooped out of the rover, and Quinn shut the door behind her. “Can you lock
that?” she asked Doug.

“I’ll put a passphrase on
the open sequence,” he replied. “That should keep space pirates from stealing
our rover.” He grinned and winked as he keyed in a command.

She smiled faintly and
followed him up the airlock.

When the cycle completed,
the inner door opened.

“Oh, shit,” Marielle said.

Cisneros stood there,
smiling. “Drop it.” He held a blaster aimed at The Trophany’s head.

Marielle laughed, hard and
bitter. “I don’t think so. Go ahead and shoot her. You’d just save me from
having to do it.”

“Marielle, how can you say
such a thing?” The Trophany cried. “We’re friends! Think about how we—”

“Save it, Tiff,” Marielle
sneered. “I heard you plotting with this ass-hat. You were going to leave us
behind so you could fill your shuttle with gold. And now that you’ve realized
he’s going to dump your sorry butt here, you want my help?”

“What?” The Trophany pulled
out of Cisneros’ grip. Ignoring the gun pointed at her face, she rounded on
him. “You were going to abandon me?! How dare you!?” She kicked him in the
shin, the decorative steel tip of her boot cracking into the bone. Then she
shoved her knee up into his groin.

Cisneros jerked back,
hunching over in pain. “You little—!” He slid his finger onto the trigger of
his weapon and his head exploded.

The Trophany screamed as a cloud of disintegrated blood, bone, and flesh showered over her.

Marielle flicked the safety
on her blaster and holstered it. She looked at The Trophany, then cocked her
fist and drove it into the other woman’s face. “You owe me, bitch.”

* * *

Through the inner door of
the airlock, they entered a small, rough-walled hall. A door on the left led to
a tiny chamber with a cot and a sanitation pod. Three familiar, meter-high
crates half-blocked the way. At the other end, another airlock led to the
shuttle. Everyone carefully stepped over Cisneros’ headless body, leaving it on
the floor in a pile of brain dust.

“How’d you get in here?”
Marielle asked, poking The Trophany between the shoulders.  “Your rover
wasn’t in the garage.”

The Trophany stumbled but
caught herself. With her arms secured behind her back, she didn’t put up much
of a fight. “We got into the compound, but Perry couldn’t open the shuttle. He
sent the rover away on autopilot, and we waited for you.” She whimpered and
hunched her shoulder up by her bruised jaw.

Cyn stopped tapping on the
control panel by the second airlock. “It won’t cycle,” she said. “It’s asking
for a passphrase, and it’s not responding to anything in the file you sent,
Tony. You got any ideas, Parra?”

Doug shook his head. “I
could try some of the old ones, but they’re changed every six months, minimum.
We’ll probably get locked out if we try too many.”

Quinn banged her head
softly against the wall. To have come so far and be stopped now! “The old
look-under-the-drawer thing won’t work here, will it, Tony? Any thoughts?”

Bergen had his phone out
and was swiping through it. “I downloaded everything I could. Let me see what
I’ve got.” After a few moments of silence, he pushed around the crates. “Let me
try.”

“I’m already here,” Cyn
said. “Just read it out to me.”

Bergen shook his head. “Too
many weird characters. It will be easier for me to just type it in.” He
squeezed past the others to the hatch. Cyn stepped aside and Bergen typed into
the panel, consulting his phone as he did. “Damn. Hang on.” He poked the phone
a couple more times and tried again. “Ah! Got it!”

With Cassi’s help, Cyn
donned one of the tiny EVA suits and went outside to do a preflight check while
the rest of them entered the shuttle.

Bergen took a quick look at
the cockpit then retired to the passenger area. “I’ll let Cyn do her thing,
then start the warm-up.” He grabbed a water pack from the galley and dropped
down into a seat.

“Quinn,” Marielle said.
“Move away from Bergen. This thing has a wide range, and I don’t want to take
you out by accident.”

Quinn looked up. Marielle
had her small disrupter aimed squarely at Bergen’s chest. “What are you
doing?!”

“The real question is: what
is Bergen doing?” Marielle asked calmly. “He’s a Krimson spy.”

“What? No!” Quinn stared at
Marielle. “Cisneros made that up.”

Marielle shook her head, her eyes never leaving Bergen. “He thought he made it up. Funny, he was actually right, wasn’t he, Bergen?”

Bergen looked from Marielle
to Quinn, his eyes flicking around the room, evaluating. “You’re crazy,
Marielle. I’m a finance guy.”

“No, you’re a Krimson spy.”
Marielle stood in the aisle, feet apart, weapon pointed, rock-steady, at
Bergen. “This isn’t an SFS shuttle. It looks like one—they did a good job of
mocking up one of ours. But they never expected any SFS personnel to actually
get inside. Look at the inside of the door, Quinn. Emergency egress
instructions written in Krimson text. The ID numbers on all the fixtures in
here—chairs, vid screen, galley cabinets, water packs. Look at any of them, Quinn. They’re all Krimson.
And only Bergen could open the door.
I can’t believe he thought Doug and Cyn wouldn’t notice.”

Bergen hesitated, then
shrugged. “Our shuttles are built for stealthy insertion. That means using SFS
equipment anywhere an SFS technician might look. We frequently land at your
bases for fuel and maintenance. But as you said, no one is supposed to come
inside. Poor planning on our part, but you know, budget cuts. Getting SFS parts
is not cheap.”

Quinn gasped, leaping out
of her chair. “You’re admitting it? But I’ve known you for years! How can you
be a Krimson spy?”

“Deep plant. I’ve been on
the SFS payroll longer than most of their real employees. Of course, my Krimson
Empire salary offsets the crappy pay here.” Bergen leaned back in his chair,
sizing up Marielle. “Here’s the thing, though. I’m saving you. Your own chain
of command left you here to die, but I risked my mission and my freedom to get
you off this rock. I could have left without any of you.” He paused, cocking
his head. “I could have taken a boat-load of gold back to the Empire, too.” He
smiled wistfully. Then his face hardened, and he turned away from Marielle, his
eyes locking onto Quinn’s. “But I didn’t. I’m risking it all to save fourteen
civilians. Dependents of my government’s enemy. Do you want to know why?” He
paused.

Quinn nodded, mesmerized.

“I’m saving you, because
that’s what we do in the Krimson Empire. We value loyalty. And family.
Children. Friendship. We don’t leave civilians to die because it’s easier than
getting a divorce or because there’s a pile of cash.” He stood, slowly,
ignoring Marielle and her gun, his eyes glued to Quinn’s.

“I was sent here to provide
information that would help broker peace between our people. I didn’t hurt
anyone. I didn’t provide any information that would endanger anyone, even your
military combatants. I told my handlers about the people I met here in the SFS,
and that we’re all really the same, and that warring with the Federation doesn’t
help anyone except the fat-cat defense contractors. And I think my little
contribution helped pave a way for peace. I could have gotten on my shuttle,
knowing I’d done my part, and flown back to my home. But that’s not how we fly
in the Empire. So, I’m saving you, and your friends, and your admiral’s whiny
wife, and even that fontenk poerken Cisneros, if Marielle hadn’t killed
him first. If you’ll let me. But you’re in command, Quinn. You decide.”

Quinn looked from Marielle
to Bergen. “He’s right. He could have left us. Or killed us. But he didn’t.
Let’s go get the others and find our families.”

The Trophany’s
uncharacteristically meek voice floated over the seat backs. “Can we take some
gold?”

Quinn rolled her eyes. Then
she thought better of it and looked a question at Bergen who grinned and
nodded. “Yes, we can.”

To find out what happens when Quinn and Tony get back to the Federation, pre-order Krimson Run. It releases on Monday!

The post The Trophany – Part 5 appeared first on Julia Huni, Author.

The Trophany – Part 4

If you missed part 3, click here.
Part 2 is here.
Part 1 is here.

An hour later, the group
met in the rover garage. The Trophany and Cisneros had departed before Bergen
and Marielle could stop them. While Doug, Cyn and Cassi checked out the two
remaining rovers, Bergen, Quinn and Marielle brought Steve up to date.

“I have an automated hail
going out every five minutes,” Steve said, defensively. “I’ll get a ping on my
phone if anyone answers. I was hungry.”

Quinn held up a hand to
stem the flow of excuses. “Great. Just keep sending. Make sure the response is
monitored at all times. We don’t want to miss a chance at rescue because you’re
in the bathroom. Get one of the ladies to help you. I’m sure you can train them.”

Steve stared at her as if
she’d grown a second head. “But…they’re civilians.”

“So are you, Steve.” Quinn
patted his arm. “At this point, it doesn’t really matter. If we don’t get off
this rock, we’ll become the tail of some comet.”

Steve blanched.

“Try not to think about
it,” Bergen said. “But if you get them to send a shuttle, you’ll be a hero.”

Steve grinned then frowned.
“Oh, by the way, you got a message from some guy named Hoover.”

“What? Why didn’t you say
so? What is it?” Quinn clenched her fists trying not to strangle Steve.

“It said—” He patted
several pockets, then pulled out a scrap of paper. “L.T. Sorry. XO threatened
court martial. I’ll try to get a message out.”

Quinn closed her eyes. No
help from the Elrond, then. “Thanks, Steve. Get those ladies trained,
OK?” Just in case. Plus, it would keep Steve out of her hair.

Steve squared his
shoulders, saluted, and strode away.  

Marielle rolled her eyes.

“Bad news,” Cassi called as
she crossed the garage. “It looks like Cisneros wanted to make sure we didn’t
follow them.”

Quinn felt her shoulders
tighten even more. “What did he do?”

“Come and see.” Cassi led
them across the room and under the boxy vehicle. She pointed upwards, where
Doug and Cyn hung on their backs between open panels on the underside of the
rover. Their personal grav lifters whined when they shifted position, as they
threaded some kind of tubing into the vehicle.

“He didn’t try very hard,”
Cyn called down as she worked. “He cut the life support connections. But I
guess he forgot this is a rover garage. Lots of spare parts waiting to be used.
We’ll have this one up and running in a few minutes.”

“Could this be subterfuge?”
Bergen asked. “Very obvious damage so we overlook something more subtle until
it’s too late? They’ve made it clear they aren’t worried about collateral
damage.”

“Good thought,” Doug said.
“I suggest we take the time to run thorough diagnostics before we leave.”

“How long will that take?”
Quinn asked. “They’ve already got an hour head-start. Of course, they plan to
load all that gold, and possibly pick up more along the way. Plus, they’d need
to recommission the shuttle. We need to get there before they can launch it.”

Doug and Cyn muttered to
each other for a few minutes. “I wish we knew more about the shuttle’s current
status. Reactivating it could take minutes or days,” Cyn groused.

Bergen cleared his throat.
“Based on what I found in the files, it’s almost ready to launch. It looks like
they expected to need it at any time.”

“Can you send those files
to my profile?” Cyn asked. “I can work up a more accurate estimate.”

The short man looked away,
twitching his shirt cuffs. “Sure,” he said after a moment. “I’ll run back to
the Control Center and see if I can send you the link.”

Quinn watched him go, wondering
what was bothering him. Didn’t he trust Cyn and Doug? She’d known him for a
couple years, and he’d always been upfront and helpful. Something felt off.

With a shrug, she turned to
Marielle and Cassi. “Cassi, can all six of us go in the rover? Or would it be
faster with fewer people?”

Cassi shook her head.
“These things aren’t fast. They were designed to carry heavy loads of ore. The
military-grade, like these, use that capacity for weapons. It can take one or
dozens of us.”

“Great. Pull anything you
think we might need from the third rover—spare parts, extra fuel, suits if
there are any. Anything we could possibly require—move it to this one. Just in
case Cisneros did something we don’t detect.” She turned to Marielle. “Get into
the armory. Break in if you have to. We need weapons if we’re going to take
that shuttle away from Cisneros and The Trophany. I’m going to talk to the
troops.”

When Quinn reached the
break room, Steve had the remaining six refugees gathered in a circle. “If the
phone rings, answer it. The only one who can call us is someone on this rock or
the Admiral’s ship. I’ve got the signal going to all your phones, so if someone
else answers first, that’s OK. But whatever you do, don’t let it go to
voicemail.”

A slender man raised his
hand. “My phone is set to ‘Do not disturb’. Should I change that setting?”

Quinn closed her eyes, and
took a deep breath, willing her face to remain passive. Thank all the stars
this lot would be staying here on base. She rolled her shoulders and tried to
consciously relax her neck. With another deep breath, she cleared her throat.

“Thank you all for
assisting Steve in this important mission.” Quinn made eye contact with each of
the men and women gathered around Steve. “I know none of you have been on
active duty, and this could be a trying experience for you. But we have a plan
in place to get us back to the Elrond as quickly as possible.”

“Where’s Tiffany?” A mousy
woman—Kaiden Armitage—demanded. “She said the shuttle is coming back for us.”

“Yeah, Tiffany said you and
that Burger guy were causing trouble,” Fabron Mathews grumbled.

Dev Singh glowered at her.
“What kind of scheme are you trying to pull?”

“Ladies and gentlemen!”
Quinn raised her voice to a parade-ground bellow. “Please, take a seat and
allow me to explain our current situation.”

The men and women grumbled
but pulled chairs from the sharing circle into a small clump.

“Let’s hear it,” Dev said.
“Better be good.”

“As you know,” Quinn began,
feeling her way through the web of truth and fiction, “we were delayed to allow
a ‘re-balancing’ of the shuttles. Unfortunately, due to the Elrond’s
current location and the, er, changing situation on the front, they will not be
able to send a shuttle back for us.” A shout went up. She held up a hand,
waiting for the outburst to end.

“We are working remotely
with SFS personnel to reactivate a shuttle that is currently in storage here at
Sumpter. We are fortunate to have two retired shuttle mechanics and an EVA
specialist at our disposal. I will be taking a small crew across the Serpian
Crater to get the shuttle running. We’ll land it here to take the rest of you
on board and depart for the Elrond.” She looked around the small group.
Less information was probably better in this situation. “Any questions?”

“Where’s Tiffany?” Kaiden
asked again.

“Yeah, where’s Tiffany? And
that Cisneros guy?” Fabron demanded. “Tiff said he’s in charge because he’s the
highest ranking.”

Quinn held up a hand again
to stop the surge of questions. “One at a time. Tiffany and Colonel Cisneros
have already proceeded to the shuttle to begin, uh, initial reactivation tasks.
The group I am leading will join them to complete those tasks. Starting up a
shuttle is not a fast and easy project. It requires the skills of many
technicians. Fortunately, we have people with those skills.”

She hoped.

“Who put you in charge?”
Dev Singh shouted as he leapt to his feet.

Quinn smiled. “The
Federation Space Force did. I was a senior grade Lieutenant before I became a
dependent. When Colonel Cisneros left the base, I became the senior ranking
officer.”

Except she wasn’t. She was
just a spouse with military experience. But the only people who really knew
that were busy following her orders to get the rover working. Sometimes
ignorance was bliss. Or at least helpful.

Singh sat down. “Fine. What
are we supposed to do?

“Just stay calm and answer
the phone,” Quinn replied. “We’ll be back to get you in a few hours.”

* * *

“I hope Steve can hold it
together back there.” Quinn watched the rear camera view as they trundled away
from the base.

“They’ll be fine,” Bergen
said. “None of them has the gumption to pull anything, and we’ll only be gone a
few hours.”

“We hope,” Marielle
muttered.

“If we’re gone longer,
we’re all dead,” Bergen said with a fatalistic shrug.

“Hey, Tony.” Quinn leaned
close to Bergen and lowered her voice. “Who’s going to fly the shuttle once we
get it up and running? I’m not a pilot, and I don’t think any of these good
folks has any stick time, either.”

Bergen smiled. “I was
wondering when someone would ask that. As it happens, I have twelve hundred
hours of flight time, including several hops in this exact model.”

“Good.” Quinn let out a
breath. “I was afraid we’d have to coerce Cisneros into flying it for us. But I
thought you were a money guy. When did you do all that flying?”

Bergen shrugged. “I was a
transport pilot before I got into finance. Got tired of hauling cargo, so I got
my degree and upgraded jobs.”

“Huh.” Quinn sat back in
her seat. “You really are a jack of all trades.”

Come back tomorrow to read more.
Preorder Krimson Run here.

The post The Trophany – Part 4 appeared first on Julia Huni, Author.

The Trophany – Part 3

If you missed part 2, click here.

“I don’t like this,” Doug
Parra said. “Cisneros is the ranking officer, and y’all tied him up.” While The
Trophany attempted to organize her groupies, Quinn and Bergen had pulled aside
a couple of retired military members.

“We tied him up because he
pulled a gun on us,” Quinn said. “We have a plan, but he won’t listen.”

“I won’t be party to a
mutiny.” The stone-faced woman from The Trophany’s sharing circle, a retired
shuttle mechanic named Cynthia Horgan, crossed her arms over her chest.

“We’re civilians, Cyn, so
it’s not actually a mutiny,” Bergen said.

“I’m not a civilian, I’m retired.”
Cyn insisted. “So is Cisneros. And Parra. We could be called back to active
duty at any time.”

Bergen rolled his eyes.
“But you weren’t called to duty. You’re here as civilian dependents.”

“Could we stop arguing
about this and get to work?” Quinn said. “My kids need me.”

Cyn nodded in agreement.
“Mine, too. OK, if you get us off this rock, we can sort out the mutiny issue
later. And if you don’t, we’ll be dead. What’s the plan?”

Quinn looked at Bergen, but
he stared back at her. Finally, she shook her head. Obviously, Bergen wanted
her to do the talking. “According to information Tony found in the databases,
there’s a mothballed shuttle at an outpost across the Serpian Crater. If we can
get there, can you two get it up and running?”

Doug looked thoughtfully at
Cyn. “I’ve helped recommission shuttles before. What’s your background?”

While the two discussed
technical details, Quinn pulled Bergen aside. “I’m not comfortable with this.
Why are you making me take charge?”

“You’re the ranking officer
after Cisneros.” He held up a hand to stop her disagreement. “Yeah, I know, you
aren’t an officer any more. But these guys are going to respond to your rank
even if you don’t own up to it.”

“That’s ridiculous! You
take charge.” Quinn shoved her fingers through her tangled brown hair. “I just
want to get back to my kids.”

“You may think it’s
ridiculous, but you know that’s how military folks are wired.” Bergen leaned
back against the table behind him. “Officers are in charge. If you don’t at
least pretend to be the boss, you’d undermine any authority I try to exert. No
one here trusts Cisneros—his bad behavior is an open secret. They know he’d
abandon us in a heartbeat if he could replace us with a crate of gold. They
know and trust you, so you’re it. You’re our best chance for survival.”

“Ugh. If I wanted to lead a
mission, I would have stayed on active duty.” Quinn pulled a tie from her
pocket and bundled her hair into a low ponytail. If she was going to have to
take charge, she’d better look the part. She squared her shoulders and turned
back to the two mechanics. “What do you think?”

Doug shrugged. “If it was
mothballed using standard procedures, with the intention of being reactivated
in an emergency, we can do it. If it was just abandoned as useless junk, we’re
screwed.”

Quinn nodded. “It’s plan C.
If we get that far down the list, we’re already screwed. The Trophany is
supposed to be recording a message to the admiral. We’ll launch it in an
emergency beacon. And Steve Piruytha is still trying to raise the Elrond.”
She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. “Tell me what you know about our fellow
refugees. We’re looking for anyone who could help us get off this rock.”

Cyn glanced at Doug. “I’ve
attended a few of—what did you call her? The Trophany?” She smirked. “I’ve
attended a few of The Trophany’s spouses’ meetings. She seems to attract the
most drama-prone among us. Marielle LeBlanc, for example.” She laughed as she
named the aide’s wife. “Did you hear her moaning about her husband’s
‘deployment’? A whole week at the front!”

Quinn smiled and waved a
hand. “Yeah, I heard, but that’s not helpful now. Who might be useful? Anyone
else with mechanical or tech skills?”

“Cassi Palacios was an EVA
Specialist,” Doug offered. “She just separated last year, so she’s pretty
up-to-date. We might need her if this shuttle is across the crater.”

“Good thinking. Who else?”
Quinn looked from Doug to Cyn and back. “Is that it?”

Bergen made a choking noise
from his seat in front of a computer terminal. “You aren’t going to believe
this.”

“What? More bad news?”
Quinn rubbed the back of her neck.

“Maybe. We have a security
specialist. Black belt in four martial arts and expert marksman in every weapon
from slingshot to rocket launcher.” Bergen leaned back and laughed. “She worked
for the Federation Secret Service.”

“They only hire the best.
That means she’s fast, smart, and lethal,” Quinn said, quietly. “Who is it?”

Bergen bit his lip.
“Marielle LeBlanc.”

“No way!” Doug laughed.

“The moaner? I would never
have guessed,” Quinn said.

Cyn shook her head. “This
is the second time I’ve been stationed with her, and I had no idea. Do you want
me to talk to her?”

Quinn looked at Bergen, but
he offered no advice. “OK, here’s the plan. Bergen is going to find as much
info as he can on the mothballed shuttle. Parra, you work with him to come up
with a launch plan. Horgan, you get Marielle on board. We definitely don’t want
her siding with Cisneros and taking us out. I’ll talk to Cassi about the trip
across the crater. We’ll meet back here in,” she looked at the chronometer,
“thirty minutes.”

Bergen gave Quinn a
discrete thumbs up as she and Cyn left the room.

* * *

Quinn groaned in
frustration as she watched Cassi Palacios dig through a store room. “There are
only two EVA suits? And they’re both tiny! Child-sized!” She held one of the
suits up to her long frame. The feet dangled just below her knees.

“Most techs have their own
custom suit. I wouldn’t trust a station-supplied one if I had a choice.” The
tall blonde grimaced. “Doesn’t matter, since neither of these is going to fit
me. We’re going to have to depend on the rovers. At least they’re all
vacuum-tight and fully charged. Normally I wouldn’t venture across an asteroid
like this without a suit, but this is not normal. I recommend you, Cyn, Doug
and I take the rover and find the shuttle. Doug and Cyn can get it up and
running—this suit should fit her. Bergen can stay here and organize the wives’
club so they’re ready to load when we arrive.” She wrinkled her nose as she
said “wives’ club.”

“Not a fan of The
Trophany?” Quinn asked, folding the EVA suit into its bag with the helmet.

“Shh! She hates that name,”
Cassi said, packing the second suit. “And you really don’t want her angry at
you. She is vicious.”

Quinn rolled her eyes.
“What’s she going to do? Tell her husband on me? Actually, that would be great,
because maybe it would get us off this rock.” She led the way down a hall
toward the rover garage.

Three rovers squatted in
the crowded garage. They looked like a cross between a deep space shipping
container and a spider on roller skates. An open crate lay on the floor next to
the farthest rover, and The Trophany and Cisneros stood beside it, scattering
packing material as they dug through it.

“Crap!” Quinn grabbed
Cassi’s arm and dragged her back out of the garage. “She untied Cisneros and
I’ll bet that crate is full of gold. We need to find Tony. Let’s get away from
here!”

They ran down the hall,
Quinn gabbling into her phone as she stumbled along. “Tony, Cisneros is loose.
They’re in the rover garage. Where are you?” They scrambled back into the EVA
dressing room. “Lock the door!” she told Cassi.

Cassi looked at the panel
beside the entry. “There’s no lock. What do we do?”

A message pinged on Quinn’s
phone. “Bergen says he’ll come to us, and we should stay away from them.”

Cassi gave her a strange
look. “You’re the L.T. What do you think we should do?”

Quinn froze. What did
she think they should do? “I think we should lock them both up, send the
emergency beacon to the Elrond, and then get across the Serpian Crater
and get that shuttle running. Which is basically what we already had planned,
except the locking up part. Let’s take those two out. Are there any weapons in
here?”

Cassi smiled a little.
“There’s a vacuum-rated cutter.” She brandished a heavy-looking device. “And a
couple crowbars.”

Quinn laughed and pulled
Cisneros’ gun from her waistband. “I think this will work better but give me
one of those crowbars.”

The two women gathered
their weapons and headed back toward the garage. Bergen barreled into them from
a cross corridor. “Where are you going?”

“We’re going to get
Cisneros and The Trophany out of our hair and get on with this mission.” Quinn
raised the gun.

Bergen smiled. “I like it.
Do you need help?”

Quinn handed him the
crowbar. “Look threatening and back me up.”

“Drop the gun,” a soft
voice said, “or I will fire.”

The three froze. “Crap,”
Bergen said. “Not again.”

“Drop the gun and turn
around slowly.”

“Do it, Quinn,” Bergen
said. “She’s serious.”

Quinn carefully placed the
weapon on the floor and pivoted, hands held out to her sides. Marielle LeBlanc
stood in the hallway, a disrupter aimed squarely at them.

“Shit,” Quinn said. “Did
Cisneros get to you?”

“He’s the ranking officer,”
Marielle said. “Whose orders should I be following? Yours?” She barked a laugh.
It sounded like a chihuahua.

“He’s a criminal!” Quinn
protested.

“Charges were dropped,”
Marielle shrugged. “He’s the ranking officer. Besides, Tiffany trusts him.”

Quinn rubbed her forehead.
“Tiffany thinks she’s going to get rich. She doesn’t care about anyone but Tiffany.”

Marielle lifted her chin.
“She’s always taken care of me.”

“They’re in the rover
garage pawing through a crate of gold.” Cassi said. “If they get a shuttle down
here, what do you think they’re going to take with them? You or another crate
of shiny metal?”

“Look, I’ve seen your
background. You were FSS. You can’t possibly be as gullible as you pretend.”
Quinn narrowed her eyes. “What is your game?”

The barrel of the disrupter
drooped a little. “They’re in the rover garage?”

“Where did you think they were?”
Quinn asked.

“Tiffany said she was
recording the message for the beacon. She told me to come find you and keep you
out of the way so she could get her message out.” She looked the three of them.
“Show me.”

Bergen started to move down
the hall, but Marielle hollered, “Stop! Show me a surveillance feed. Can you
get audio?”

“I can do that,” Quinn
said. “Let’s go to the Control Center.”

The four of them moved down
the hall, Quinn leading the way with Marielle trailing behind, the weapon still
aimed at them. Once inside, Marielle took up a station by the closed door and
gestured with the gun. “Dial it up, Quinn.”

Quinn sat at the nearest
station and picked up a note leaning against the screen. With a humorless
laugh, she waved it at Bergen. “Steve went to get lunch.” Dropping the note,
she opened the facility surveillance. “They’re still in the garage. I’ll unmute
the audio.”

The Trophany’s voice grated
shrilly through the speakers. “—we get more?”

On the screen, Cisneros
fitted the lid back onto the crate. “I don’t think it’s just lying around on
the surface out there, or we’d have heard about it before now. Someone must
have found a vein and been mining it.”

“Was this whole evacuation
just a conspiracy to get the gold off the base?” Quinn whispered.

Onscreen, The Trophany
continued to stare at a lump of metal in her hand. “If we could get more, well,
I’d be willing to make some sacrifices to get it back to civilization.
I’m not stupid. I know Syed is done with me—if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have left
me here. I need to make sure I can provide for myself.” Her voice hardened.
“But I don’t just want to be comfortable. I want to be wealthy. I want to have
enough money to destroy him.”

“What kind of sacrifices
are you talking about?” Cisneros asked.

“Why?” The Trophany
snapped. “Do you know where there’s more gold?”

“How badly do you want it?”
Cisneros flipped the switches on the grav cart strapped to the crate. The
device hummed and lifted the crate, and he shoved it toward the rover. “If we
can get to that shuttle Burger mentioned, we can fill it with gold. I’ll fly,
you’ll co-pilot, and the rest is cargo space. But you’d need to sacrifice
your little coffee klatch.”

The Trophany waved a hand.
“There’s a new spouses’ group at every base. They’re all pretty much the same.”
She laughed as she watched him maneuver the crate through the rover’s door.
“Lucky for you I don’t know how to pilot a shuttle.”

A smirk crossed Cisneros’
face, but with his back to The Trophany, she didn’t see it.

Quinn turned down the volume
and looked at Marielle. “Any questions?”

“One,” Marielle said. “When
do I get to take her down?”

Come back tomorrow to read more.
Or preorder Krimson Run here.

The post The Trophany – Part 3 appeared first on Julia Huni, Author.

The Trophany – Part 2

If you missed part one, click here

In the ready room, The Trophany held court. The group sat in a
circle, with The Trophany reigning over a pot of coffee and a tray of snacks. A
woman in a pink jumpsuit held a yellow scarf, twisting it between her fingers
as she spoke.

“My husband deployed to the front-line last year.” Her voice
trembled. “He was gone for a week. A full week!” A tear rolled down her cheek.

From the doorway, Quinn took one look and turned to make a run for
it. Bergen grabbed her arm.

“Just kidding.” She shook her head. “This is why I never attended
the spouses’ meetings. The Trophany loves to create drama over nothing. That
woman is complaining about a week TDY? She should try a real deployment.”

Across the room, The Trophany nodded sympathetically. “Being the
wife of an admiral’s aide is difficult. Not as hard as being the commander’s
wife, but difficult.” She leaned across a stone-faced woman and gripped Pink
Jumpsuit’s hand. “We’re here for you, Marielle. We feel your pain. Now
pass the talking scarf on.”

Obediently, the young woman passed the scarf to the large, bald
man on her left. The Trophany smiled, her blue-white teeth flashing. “Tell us
your name.”

The man rolled his eyes. “I’m Doug, and I’m good.” He held out the
scarf to the woman on his left.

“No, Doug, you aren’t good,” The Trophany said, placing one hand
over her heart. “This is a difficult time. Open up to us. We’re here for you.”
She beamed around the circle, and several heads nodded obediently in response.

Quinn shuddered then stepped forward, ripping the yellow scarf
from Doug’s fingers. “We have a problem.”

The Trophany’s eyes narrowed. “Quinn Templeton, if you want to
join the sharing circle, find a seat.” She pointed to an empty chair. “You
can’t just ram your way into the middle.”

“I have the ranting rag, Tiffany,” Quinn said, waiving the scarf.
“It’s my turn to talk, and we’re in trouble.”

The Trophany leapt to her feet. “It’s a talking scarf, not
a ranting rag. You must honor the process!”

“Look,” Quinn said, holding the scarf aloft. “I just talked to the
comm guys on the Elrond. They know nothing about the shuttle coming back
for us. Their orders are to rendezvous with the four shuttles, take them aboard
and immediately depart for the jump point. No waiting for us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” The Trophany said. “My husband would never
allow us to be stranded.”

“Maybe you should call him, then,” Quinn replied. “Because the Elrond
isn’t waiting.”

* * *

The door to the Control Center opened, and Bergen paused in the
entry. “The Trophany requests your presence.”

Quinn, seated at the console, ignored his statement. “Tony, check
this out.” She waved him over, clicking on the panel. “This is a vid from the
shuttle bay oversight cams.” The view on the screen sped forward then slowed,
Quinn narrating as she manipulated the vid. “Here we are, leaving the shuttles.
They get everyone out, then they move the passengers from Delta to the
empty seats in the other three shuttles.” The view panned right and zoomed in.
“Now they’re loading some crates onto Delta. We were removed to make
room for cargo!” She turned to look at Bergen, arms crossed over her chest.
“What do you think they packed in there?”

Bergen’s eyes narrowed. “I think we can find out easily enough.”
He pointed at the screen. “They left some behind.”

* * *

Tiffany Andretti stalked across the small office, stopping
uncomfortably close to Quinn. The Trophany glared, eyes narrowed to slits,
mouth set in an ugly scowl. On the doll-like woman, the effect was less than
menacing, and Quinn bit back a grin. Then she sneezed as the trophy wife’s
perfume smothered her.

“You’re telling me those sons of bitcheskicked us off the
shuttles to bring in a haul of gold?” The Trophany’s unusually soft voice cut
through the room like a scalpel.

Quinn shivered. Usually she found The Trophany entertaining, if
irritating, but maybe the woman had unexplored depths. “They loaded dozens of
crates onto that shuttle, and the three that were left behind contained these,
so I think that’s a safe assumption,” Quinn said, holding up the lump of gold.

The Trophany snatched the heavy rock from her. “How much?”

Quinn shrugged. “I didn’t count. Several dozen crates, I guess.”

“No, I mean how much is it worth?” The shorter woman licked her
lips and caressed the palm-sized lump of unrefined metal. “The whole shipment.
How many credits?”

Quinn shook her head. “No idea.”

“If I may,” a light male voice cut in. The man who had been
standing by the door strolled over to them. He held out his hand, and The
Trophany reluctantly relinquished the gold. Medium height and weight, with brown
hair, brown eyes and tan skin—the man was completely unremarkable in every way.
He took the lump and scanned it with a device he pulled from his pocket. “This
piece alone is worth—” he stopped, glancing at Quinn and Bergen, then leaned
down and whispered in The Trophany’s ear.

The small woman’s eyes widened. “Holy shit! No wonder they dumped
us. How much did they leave behind?” She asked, licking her lips again.

“There are three crates,” Quinn repeated. “But more importantly,
how are we going to get off this rock? I don’t care about the gold. I just want
to get back to my kids. And don’t forget the Krimson Empire is coming our
direction.”

The Trophany waved that away as a minor inconvenience. “I’ll
contact my husband’s command and have them come get us. Where did they get all
this gold?”

“I don’t know!” Quinn cried. “Can we focus on getting home?”

The plain man stepped forward, turning slightly so he stood with
his back to Quinn. “Rumor has it this asteroid is littered with gold. There are
fifteen of us. If we can get a shuttle sent back, there should be room
for,” he paused, as if calculating, then continued, “seven standard sized
crates. More if we—” He broke off, glancing back at Quinn, then guided The
Trophany toward the door. “Let’s go call the Admiral.”

Quinn and Bergen exchanged a glance. “Who the hell is that?” Quinn
demanded after the others departed.

Bergen grimaced. “That’s Perry Cisneros. Spook. Lieutenant
commander, FSF, retired. Barely.”

Quinn’s eyes left the door through which the couple had hurried
and focused on Bergen’s face. “What do you mean, ‘barely’ retired? Recently?”

Taking her elbow, he urged her toward the exit. “A few years ago,
he was, er, encouraged to retire in exchange for the service dropping
charges. He was accused of multiple extramarital affairs with both subordinates
and spouses of subordinates. There were rumors of coercion, but they said none
of his victims came forward to provide testimony. The JAG let it drop on the
condition Cisneros leave the service. He’s here because his wife is the
personnel officer.” They entered the Command Center as he spoke. “Maybe you
should contact the ship again. I’m going to nose around the databases to see
what other options we might have.”

Quinn waved a distracted hand at him and logged into the comm
system. “Elrond, this is Sumpter Base, do you read me?” She double
checked the protocols and sent the signal again.

“Unknown caller, identify yourself,” a voice replied. The screen
remained stubbornly blank.

Giving the cam a puzzled look, she flicked an icon. “This is
Sumpter Base. Quinn Templeton speaking. I just talked to someone up there about
an hour ago.”

“Lieutenant Templeton?” the voice asked. “Is that you? What are
you doing at Sumpter?”

“I was a Lieutenant a long time ago,” Quinn replied, cautiously.
“Who is this?”

“It’s Hoover! Hal Hoover! From Port Lucretia!” The screen flared
to life, showing a grinning middle-aged man with thinning hair and an FSF
uniform stretched across the beginning of a beer belly. He waved enthusiastically.
“I haven’t seen you in years! What are you doing on Sumpter, ma’am? I thought
everyone there was getting deployed?”

Quinn shook her head. “I’m a dependent now. I separated from the
service years ago. We’ve been left behind. I’ve got fifteen non-combatants and
no active duty personnel here.”

The man’s face fell. “Damn. The guys told me someone had contacted
us. The brass said everyone had been evacuated, so we thought the Empire was
trying to pull something. But that’s really you. You haven’t been recruited by
the KE as a spy, have you?” A grin flashed across his face.

“Don’t even joke about that, Hoover. I’m sure this line is being
monitored.”

Hoover’s face fell. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“We got left behind. This blasted asteroid is covered in gold
nuggets, and our evacuation team decided to take them instead of us. Can you
help us get out of here? The admiral’s wife is with us—maybe you can get his XO
on the line.”

“Admiral Andretti’s wife is there?” Hoover gave her an
indecipherable look. “Let me see what I can do. Hang tight, L.T.”

Quinn opened her mouth to remind him she was no longer an officer,
but the screen went dark. She turned to Bergen, but before she could say
anything, the door swung open. The Trophany and Cisneros strode in.

“We can’t get through to Syed’s office,” The Trophany announced.
“Call the ship for me.”

“I just did,” Quinn said. “Sergeant Hoover is going to call me
back.”

Cisneros eyed her. “Get them on the horn. We don’t wait on a
sergeant.”

“He’s contacting the XO,” Quinn protested.

“Get them on the horn,” Cisneros demanded. “They have more than
one tech in the comm shack.”

Quinn gritted her teeth and turned back to the console. She input
the comm keys and waited. “They aren’t responding, sir.” Bergen grimaced at the
title, and Quinn shrugged a little. Even knowing what she did about Cisneros,
respect for the rank won out over distaste for the man. Besides, being in this
environment took her right back to her active duty days. Old habits were hard
to break.

“Then. Try. Again,” Cisneros said, as if speaking to a
three-year-old. “And keep trying until they respond.” He turned to The Trophany
and shrugged dramatically. Spotting Bergen, he barked, “You there—who are you
and what are you doing?”

Bergen stared him down. “Antonin Bergen, civilian. Fiscal
services. I’m looking at options.”

“Fine. Anything you find, I want to know ASAP.” He turned back to
The Trophany. “I think we need to institute SFS protocol four-oh-one
immediately.”

The Trophany shook her head. “I don’t know what that means. Just
do whatever you need to do to get us out of here.”

Bergen glanced at Quinn and back to The Trophany. “He’s telling
you he intends to institute martial law and place himself in command. Since
he’s the ranking retiree.” Bergen spit out the words like they tasted bad.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” The Trophany said. “Of
course, as the admiral’s wife, I outrank you. But I will certainly listen to
your counsel.”

Quinn bit back a laugh. Like the spouses of too many senior
officers, The Trophany thought she wore her husband’s rank. The two of them
could fight it out as far as she was concerned. She just wanted to get back to
her kids.

“Sumpter Base, this is the Elrond.” A voice boomed out of
the speakers.

Quinn hit the volume button. Why did it get so loud every time it
turned on? “Elrond, this is Sumpter. Go ahead,” she replied.

“Krimson agents, depart Sumpter Base immediately. All Federation
personnel have been evacuated. The facility will be purged in twelve hours.”
The voice sounded automated.

“Hoover!” Quinn slapped the video button, but the screen remained
blank. “Hoover! You know I’m not a Krimson agent. Send someone to evacuate us.
Please!” She swung her chair around. “Tiffany! Say something so they know it’s
you. They must have a voice match on file!”

“This is Tiffany Andretti, wife of Admiral Syed Andretti! I demand
you send a shuttle to pick me up!” The Trophany’s voice ratcheted up an octave
as she spoke.

“Krimson agents, depart Sumpter base immediately. All Federation
personnel have been evacuated. The facility will be purged in twelve hours.”
The mechanical voice repeated.

“They’ve cut reception,” Quinn said in defeat. “They can’t hear
anything we’re saying.”

“You’re Krimson agents?” Cisneros asked, his eyes narrow. “We
should lock these two up,” he said to The Trophany. “We could get a reward for
capturing known Krimson agents.”

“We aren’t agents! Even if we were, you won’t get a reward if
we’re all purged in twelve hours!” Quinn cried. “We need to get through to
them.” She swung back to the console and started activating alternate
protocols.

“Step away from that console,” Cisneros demanded. “I won’t have a
Krimson agent using Federation property.”

Quinn leapt to her feet. “Are you even listening to me? We aren’t
agents. And, oh, yeah, they’re going to dust us!”

Cisneros reached out and yanked Quinn away from the console,
shoving her toward The Trophany. Then he pulled out a weapon. “Hold on to her.”
He swiveled back to Bergen.” You, Burger, step away from the console.”

“Ah, crap,” Bergen said. “I hate it when this happens.” He stood,
casually dusting off his pants.

Cisneros advanced on Bergen. The shorter man waited until the
colonel closed in, then with an impossibly fast movement, kicked the weapon
from his hand. “Quinn, grab the gun.” Another lightening move, and Cisneros lay
on the floor, Bergen’s knee in his back.

Quinn yanked her arm away from The Trophany’s limp hold and dove
for the weapon. She stood and aimed it at Cisneros, feeling sick to her
stomach. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Tony.”

“It’s a terrible idea!” The Trophany shrieked.

“We need to act fast, and these two are doing everything in their
power to get us killed,” Bergen said. Digging through a drawer, he unearthed
some zip ties. With a swift movement, he secured Cisneros’s hands. Then he
dragged the protesting colonel up into a chair and secured his feet to the
console. He turned to The Trophany. “Ma’am? Are you going to help us, or shall
I secure you with the colonel until we are able to obtain transport?”

The Trophany looked back and forth between Bergen and Cisneros.
Her mouth opened and closed a couple times. “I just want to get off this rock.”
She smiled. “And I want to take some gold with me. That’s not a problem, is
it?”

Want to read more? Click here for part three.
Or click here to pre-order Krimson Run

The post The Trophany – Part 2 appeared first on Julia Huni, Author.

The Trophany – part 2

If you missed part one, click here

In the ready room, The Trophany held court. The group sat in a
circle, with The Trophany reigning over a pot of coffee and a tray of snacks. A
woman in a pink jumpsuit held a yellow scarf, twisting it between her fingers
as she spoke.

“My husband deployed to the front-line last year.” Her voice
trembled. “He was gone for a week. A full week!” A tear rolled down her cheek.

From the doorway, Quinn took one look and turned to make a run for
it. Bergen grabbed her arm.

“Just kidding.” She shook her head. “This is why I never attended
the spouses’ meetings. The Trophany loves to create drama over nothing. That
woman is complaining about a week TDY? She should try a real deployment.”

Across the room, The Trophany nodded sympathetically. “Being the
wife of an admiral’s aide is difficult. Not as hard as being the commander’s
wife, but difficult.” She leaned across a stone-faced woman and gripped Pink
Jumpsuit’s hand. “We’re here for you, Marielle. We feel your pain. Now
pass the talking scarf on.”

Obediently, the young woman passed the scarf to the large, bald
man on her left. The Trophany smiled, her blue-white teeth flashing. “Tell us
your name.”

The man rolled his eyes. “I’m Doug, and I’m good.” He held out the
scarf to the woman on his left.

“No, Doug, you aren’t good,” The Trophany said, placing one hand
over her heart. “This is a difficult time. Open up to us. We’re here for you.”
She beamed around the circle, and several heads nodded obediently in response.

Quinn shuddered then stepped forward, ripping the yellow scarf
from Doug’s fingers. “We have a problem.”

The Trophany’s eyes narrowed. “Quinn Templeton, if you want to
join the sharing circle, find a seat.” She pointed to an empty chair. “You
can’t just ram your way into the middle.”

“I have the ranting rag, Tiffany,” Quinn said, waiving the scarf.
“It’s my turn to talk, and we’re in trouble.”

The Trophany leapt to her feet. “It’s a talking scarf, not
a ranting rag. You must honor the process!”

“Look,” Quinn said, holding the scarf aloft. “I just talked to the
comm guys on the Elrond. They know nothing about the shuttle coming back
for us. Their orders are to rendezvous with the four shuttles, take them aboard
and immediately depart for the jump point. No waiting for us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” The Trophany said. “My husband would never
allow us to be stranded.”

“Maybe you should call him, then,” Quinn replied. “Because the Elrond
isn’t waiting.”

* * *

The door to the Control Center opened, and Bergen paused in the
entry. “The Trophany requests your presence.”

Quinn, seated at the console, ignored his statement. “Tony, check
this out.” She waved him over, clicking on the panel. “This is a vid from the
shuttle bay oversight cams.” The view on the screen sped forward then slowed,
Quinn narrating as she manipulated the vid. “Here we are, leaving the shuttles.
They get everyone out, then they move the passengers from Delta to the
empty seats in the other three shuttles.” The view panned right and zoomed in.
“Now they’re loading some crates onto Delta. We were removed to make
room for cargo!” She turned to look at Bergen, arms crossed over her chest.
“What do you think they packed in there?”

Bergen’s eyes narrowed. “I think we can find out easily enough.”
He pointed at the screen. “They left some behind.”

* * *

Tiffany Andretti stalked across the small office, stopping
uncomfortably close to Quinn. The Trophany glared, eyes narrowed to slits,
mouth set in an ugly scowl. On the doll-like woman, the effect was less than
menacing, and Quinn bit back a grin. Then she sneezed as the trophy wife’s
perfume smothered her.

“You’re telling me those sons of bitcheskicked us off the
shuttles to bring in a haul of gold?” The Trophany’s unusually soft voice cut
through the room like a scalpel.

Quinn shivered. Usually she found The Trophany entertaining, if
irritating, but maybe the woman had unexplored depths. “They loaded dozens of
crates onto that shuttle, and the three that were left behind contained these,
so I think that’s a safe assumption,” Quinn said, holding up the lump of gold.

The Trophany snatched the heavy rock from her. “How much?”

Quinn shrugged. “I didn’t count. Several dozen crates, I guess.”

“No, I mean how much is it worth?” The shorter woman licked her
lips and caressed the palm-sized lump of unrefined metal. “The whole shipment.
How many credits?”

Quinn shook her head. “No idea.”

“If I may,” a light male voice cut in. The man who had been
standing by the door strolled over to them. He held out his hand, and The
Trophany reluctantly relinquished the gold. Medium height and weight, with brown
hair, brown eyes and tan skin—the man was completely unremarkable in every way.
He took the lump and scanned it with a device he pulled from his pocket. “This
piece alone is worth—” he stopped, glancing at Quinn and Bergen, then leaned
down and whispered in The Trophany’s ear.

The small woman’s eyes widened. “Holy shit! No wonder they dumped
us. How much did they leave behind?” She asked, licking her lips again.

“There are three crates,” Quinn repeated. “But more importantly,
how are we going to get off this rock? I don’t care about the gold. I just want
to get back to my kids. And don’t forget the Krimson Empire is coming our
direction.”

The Trophany waved that away as a minor inconvenience. “I’ll
contact my husband’s command and have them come get us. Where did they get all
this gold?”

“I don’t know!” Quinn cried. “Can we focus on getting home?”

The plain man stepped forward, turning slightly so he stood with
his back to Quinn. “Rumor has it this asteroid is littered with gold. There are
fifteen of us. If we can get a shuttle sent back, there should be room
for,” he paused, as if calculating, then continued, “seven standard sized
crates. More if we—” He broke off, glancing back at Quinn, then guided The
Trophany toward the door. “Let’s go call the Admiral.”

Quinn and Bergen exchanged a glance. “Who the hell is that?” Quinn
demanded after the others departed.

Bergen grimaced. “That’s Perry Cisneros. Spook. Lieutenant
commander, FSF, retired. Barely.”

Quinn’s eyes left the door through which the couple had hurried
and focused on Bergen’s face. “What do you mean, ‘barely’ retired? Recently?”

Taking her elbow, he urged her toward the exit. “A few years ago,
he was, er, encouraged to retire in exchange for the service dropping
charges. He was accused of multiple extramarital affairs with both subordinates
and spouses of subordinates. There were rumors of coercion, but they said none
of his victims came forward to provide testimony. The JAG let it drop on the
condition Cisneros leave the service. He’s here because his wife is the
personnel officer.” They entered the Command Center as he spoke. “Maybe you
should contact the ship again. I’m going to nose around the databases to see
what other options we might have.”

Quinn waved a distracted hand at him and logged into the comm
system. “Elrond, this is Sumpter Base, do you read me?” She double
checked the protocols and sent the signal again.

“Unknown caller, identify yourself,” a voice replied. The screen
remained stubbornly blank.

Giving the cam a puzzled look, she flicked an icon. “This is
Sumpter Base. Quinn Templeton speaking. I just talked to someone up there about
an hour ago.”

“Lieutenant Templeton?” the voice asked. “Is that you? What are
you doing at Sumpter?”

“I was a Lieutenant a long time ago,” Quinn replied, cautiously.
“Who is this?”

“It’s Hoover! Hal Hoover! From Port Lucretia!” The screen flared
to life, showing a grinning middle-aged man with thinning hair and an FSF
uniform stretched across the beginning of a beer belly. He waved enthusiastically.
“I haven’t seen you in years! What are you doing on Sumpter, ma’am? I thought
everyone there was getting deployed?”

Quinn shook her head. “I’m a dependent now. I separated from the
service years ago. We’ve been left behind. I’ve got fifteen non-combatants and
no active duty personnel here.”

The man’s face fell. “Damn. The guys told me someone had contacted
us. The brass said everyone had been evacuated, so we thought the Empire was
trying to pull something. But that’s really you. You haven’t been recruited by
the KE as a spy, have you?” A grin flashed across his face.

“Don’t even joke about that, Hoover. I’m sure this line is being
monitored.”

Hoover’s face fell. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“We got left behind. This blasted asteroid is covered in gold
nuggets, and our evacuation team decided to take them instead of us. Can you
help us get out of here? The admiral’s wife is with us—maybe you can get his XO
on the line.”

“Admiral Andretti’s wife is there?” Hoover gave her an
indecipherable look. “Let me see what I can do. Hang tight, L.T.”

Quinn opened her mouth to remind him she was no longer an officer,
but the screen went dark. She turned to Bergen, but before she could say
anything, the door swung open. The Trophany and Cisneros strode in.

“We can’t get through to Syed’s office,” The Trophany announced.
“Call the ship for me.”

“I just did,” Quinn said. “Sergeant Hoover is going to call me
back.”

Cisneros eyed her. “Get them on the horn. We don’t wait on a
sergeant.”

“He’s contacting the XO,” Quinn protested.

“Get them on the horn,” Cisneros demanded. “They have more than
one tech in the comm shack.”

Quinn gritted her teeth and turned back to the console. She input
the comm keys and waited. “They aren’t responding, sir.” Bergen grimaced at the
title, and Quinn shrugged a little. Even knowing what she did about Cisneros,
respect for the rank won out over distaste for the man. Besides, being in this
environment took her right back to her active duty days. Old habits were hard
to break.

“Then. Try. Again,” Cisneros said, as if speaking to a
three-year-old. “And keep trying until they respond.” He turned to The Trophany
and shrugged dramatically. Spotting Bergen, he barked, “You there—who are you
and what are you doing?”

Bergen stared him down. “Antonin Bergen, civilian. Fiscal
services. I’m looking at options.”

“Fine. Anything you find, I want to know ASAP.” He turned back to
The Trophany. “I think we need to institute SFS protocol four-oh-one
immediately.”

The Trophany shook her head. “I don’t know what that means. Just
do whatever you need to do to get us out of here.”

Bergen glanced at Quinn and back to The Trophany. “He’s telling
you he intends to institute martial law and place himself in command. Since
he’s the ranking retiree.” Bergen spit out the words like they tasted bad.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” The Trophany said. “Of
course, as the admiral’s wife, I outrank you. But I will certainly listen to
your counsel.”

Quinn bit back a laugh. Like the spouses of too many senior
officers, The Trophany thought she wore her husband’s rank. The two of them
could fight it out as far as she was concerned. She just wanted to get back to
her kids.

“Sumpter Base, this is the Elrond.” A voice boomed out of
the speakers.

Quinn hit the volume button. Why did it get so loud every time it
turned on? “Elrond, this is Sumpter. Go ahead,” she replied.

“Krimson agents, depart Sumpter Base immediately. All Federation
personnel have been evacuated. The facility will be purged in twelve hours.”
The voice sounded automated.

“Hoover!” Quinn slapped the video button, but the screen remained
blank. “Hoover! You know I’m not a Krimson agent. Send someone to evacuate us.
Please!” She swung her chair around. “Tiffany! Say something so they know it’s
you. They must have a voice match on file!”

“This is Tiffany Andretti, wife of Admiral Syed Andretti! I demand
you send a shuttle to pick me up!” The Trophany’s voice ratcheted up an octave
as she spoke.

“Krimson agents, depart Sumpter base immediately. All Federation
personnel have been evacuated. The facility will be purged in twelve hours.”
The mechanical voice repeated.

“They’ve cut reception,” Quinn said in defeat. “They can’t hear
anything we’re saying.”

“You’re Krimson agents?” Cisneros asked, his eyes narrow. “We
should lock these two up,” he said to The Trophany. “We could get a reward for
capturing known Krimson agents.”

“We aren’t agents! Even if we were, you won’t get a reward if
we’re all purged in twelve hours!” Quinn cried. “We need to get through to
them.” She swung back to the console and started activating alternate
protocols.

“Step away from that console,” Cisneros demanded. “I won’t have a
Krimson agent using Federation property.”

Quinn leapt to her feet. “Are you even listening to me? We aren’t
agents. And, oh, yeah, they’re going to dust us!”

Cisneros reached out and yanked Quinn away from the console,
shoving her toward The Trophany. Then he pulled out a weapon. “Hold on to her.”
He swiveled back to Bergen.” You, Burger, step away from the console.”

“Ah, crap,” Bergen said. “I hate it when this happens.” He stood,
casually dusting off his pants.

Cisneros advanced on Bergen. The shorter man waited until the
colonel closed in, then with an impossibly fast movement, kicked the weapon
from his hand. “Quinn, grab the gun.” Another lightening move, and Cisneros lay
on the floor, Bergen’s knee in his back.

Quinn yanked her arm away from The Trophany’s limp hold and dove
for the weapon. She stood and aimed it at Cisneros, feeling sick to her
stomach. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Tony.”

“It’s a terrible idea!” The Trophany shrieked.

“We need to act fast, and these two are doing everything in their
power to get us killed,” Bergen said. Digging through a drawer, he unearthed
some zip ties. With a swift movement, he secured Cisneros’s hands. Then he
dragged the protesting colonel up into a chair and secured his feet to the
console. He turned to The Trophany. “Ma’am? Are you going to help us, or shall
I secure you with the colonel until we are able to obtain transport?”

The Trophany looked back and forth between Bergen and Cisneros.
Her mouth opened and closed a couple times. “I just want to get off this rock.”
She smiled. “And I want to take some gold with me. That’s not a problem, is
it?”

Come back tomorrow to read more….

The post The Trophany – part 2 appeared first on Julia Huni, Author.

Krimson Run

Krimson Empire Book 1 comes out on March 23. Until that day, I can give you a sneak peek at The Trophany, the story that inspired the series. Since The Trophany will be published as a prologue to Krimson Run, I can only leave this up until March 22. So read it now!

The Trophany

The stench of fear permeated the shuttle bay, overriding the smell of grease and rover fuel. Hundreds of civilians huddled in clumps like sheep in a snowstorm. Men, women and children stared at each other, silent except for the babies crying in response to their parents’ tension. Even the toddlers stood still, big-eyed and quiet.

The speakers crackled, and a
smooth, tenor voice spoke. “Attention, civilians! The Krimson Empire is not
attacking. There’s no reason for panic. Federation and Empire diplomats have
decided the presence of non-combatants in the forward area is hindering
negotiations. Therefore, you are being relocated to Federation Base Zauras for
now.”

Quinn Templeton leaned
closer to her friend Tony Bergen and muttered, “Right. And my great-grandmother
teaches marksmanship classes at her old-folks home.”

Bergen shrugged. “My
grandmother does teach marksmanship,” he said, a hint of a laugh running
under his words. “But she’s an instructor at the special forces academy.”

“At this time, groups one through
twenty, proceed to Alpha Shuttle. Follow the blinking lights.” Green lights
streaked across the shuttle bay floor, creating a meter-wide path to the
spacecraft near the huge hangar doors.

Quinn frowned and turned to
check on her kids. Ellianne stood silent beside her, one hand gripping a pink
duffel, the other clutching the corner of Quinn’s jacket. Lucas slouched a few
meters away with another preteen, both struggling to maintain cool attitudes.
Lucas glanced around, made eye contact with Quinn, and quickly turned away,
pretending he hadn’t just looked for his mother.

The shuttles loaded quickly.
Quinn got Ellianne and Lucas strapped in and their bags stowed. Settling back
into the uncomfortable seat, she reached to pull the straps across her body.

“Templeton, Quinn!” a voice
barked over the din. “Piruytha, Steve! Front and center.”

Quinn jumped, her body
responding to the command before her mind caught up. “Don’t worry, I’ll be
right back,” she told the kids. Pushing through the sea of people, she worked
her way down the aisle to the front door of the shuttle, followed by Piruytha.

“This way.” An enlisted man
in the familiar gray and black camo uniform jerked his head and started across
the shuttle bay, not waiting to see if they followed.

“What’s going on?” Quinn
asked, but both men ignored her. With a glance back at the shuttle, she trotted
after them. In the ready room, she joined a dozen other grumbling passengers.

A tall man stepped to the
front of the room and cleared his throat, stilling the muttered conversations.
“I am Master Sergeant Kress.” The man twitched his sleeve, as if to draw their
attention to his rank. “We need to re-balance the load on one of our shuttles.
We’re moving passengers from that shuttle to the others, and we’re going to
make a second run to pick up the last of the civilians. You will wait here
until the Alpha Shuttle returns from the transport.”

“My kids are on that
shuttle!” Quinn screamed, pushing back toward the door. Unfortunately, the rest of the group had the
same idea. Voices rose in anger and panic, bodies pressing into each other as
they all tried to push out of the room.

“Attention!” Kress’s parade ground voice cut
through the hubbub. The mob settled, people unconsciously stepping back and
straightening up. “We know some of you have dependents on the shuttles. We also
know you wouldn’t want to put those dependents at risk. Many of you are former
military or civilian employees—that’s why you were selected. You understand the
importance of good order and discipline, especially in a situation such as
this. We will transport your dependents safely to the cruiser, then the first
shuttle will return to retrieve you. Now, Mrs. Andretti would like to say a few
words.”

Quinn looked around the room, noting the faces.
Most she recognized. A few surprised her. Spotting Bergen, she wormed her way
through the crowd to his side. “What’s the admiral’s wife doing here?”

Bergen shrugged, surveying the room. “She’s
definitely not former military. Unless her recruiter was desperate to make
quota.”

A tiny, young woman with flowing blond hair, an
elegant suit, and extravagant makeup raised a languid hand. “My dear fellow
spouses,” she said, her high-pitched voice making more than one listener
cringe. “We must all do our duty in this trying time.”

Tiffany Andretti, trophy wife of the admiral,
had always irritated Quinn. She tuned out the squeaky voice and pulled out her
phone to text her son.

Lucas’ reply was filled with arcane acronyms and
angry emojis. She showed the phone to Bergen. “I don’t think Lucas is
thrilled.”

Bergen reached up and patted her shoulder.
“They’ll be fine. Melody’s on your shuttle, right? She’ll take care of them.”

“Yeah.” Relief washed over her, and she sent a
quick message to her friend. Melody’s immediate response relieved her further.
She put the phone away and leaned closer to Bergen. “What is The Trophany
droning on about?”

Bergen rolled his eyes. “Do our duty, support
our service members, yada yada yada. I think she’s here so we’ll believe
they’re coming back.”

“Doesn’t reassure me.” Quinn snorted. “Didn’t
you see that pic of the admiral with the vid starlets last week? Getting rid of
this one might be exactly what he’s hoping for. So sad, lost in the Krimson
surge. Devastating loss. On to wife number four.”

Bergen bit his lip, but Quinn could see the
smile.

The roar of a shuttle engine drowned out The
Trophany’s voice. Every head in the room snapped toward the view screen on the
wall. A streak of motion, a flare of engines, and the first shuttle took off.
Three more followed in quick succession.

“That’s it, then,” Bergen said, under the angry
outburst. “Perfect tactics. Distract us while they finish the deed. Where’s
that Sergeant Kress?”

Quinn peered around the room. Being taller than
average, she could easily see over the group. Even now, most military spouses
were female. The few men, like Bergen, stood at the edges of the crowd, making
her task easier. “I don’t see him.”

“Then let’s go find him.” Bergen moved casually
toward the door, stopping when anyone looked in his direction. Quinn followed
his lead. The door slid open, and the two made their escape.

The hallway was deserted. Bergen led the way to
a door marked Control Center. He tried the handle. “That’s odd. This should be
locked.” The door swung open.

Inside, communication equipment lined the walls,
with a large view screen showing the runway. Lights blinked, static buzzed, but
no one manned the workstations. “Where is everyone?” Quinn asked.

Leaving the control room, they checked the
shuttle bay. Empty. Room by room, they checked the entire facility. “Even if
they planned to evacuate the whole base, someone should be here to land the
last shuttle,” Bergen said. “Let’s get back to the Control Center and find
out.”

Cold sweat rolled down Quinn’s back. “You don’t
think they really left us behind, do you?” She raced down the hall behind
Bergen. “I was just kidding about the admiral.”

“You might have been kidding, but you might have
been right.” Bergen stepped into the Control Center and shut the door behind
Quinn. “You were in comm, right? See if you can raise anyone.”

Quinn sat and looked over the console. “It’s
been ten years,” she said. “A lot of this has probably changed. And I was an
officer. I didn’t actually work for a living.”

Bergen grinned at the old joke. “I’m sure you
can figure it out.”

She flipped a few switches and got a login
command on the screen. “The username is auto filled, but we need a password.”
Yanking out a drawer, she scrabbled through the contents, turning up the usual
office flotsam.

“Check the underside,” Bergen said. He yanked
another drawer out of the desk, tipping the contents onto the floor as he
flipped it over. “Nothing. Try yours.” He started rifling through the next
desk.

“Bingo,” Quinn said, ripping a small card off
the bottom of the drawer she’d just dumped. She slapped it on the desk and
typed the symbols into the console. “Excellent security here.”

“Welcome to Sumpter Network” flashed up on the
screen. With a grin, she started flicking through the system.

A voice boomed through the speakers. “Elrond,
this is Sumpter Delta Shuttle. We’ve achieved orbit. Boosting out in five,
four, three, two, boost.”

Quinn slapped the volume control. “That’s
Kress!”

“Roger Sumpter Delta. We see you.
Projected rendezvous in four hours,” a different voice responded.

“Elrond is the transport cruiser,” Quinn
told Bergen. “If Kress was telling the truth, the shuttle will return in eight
or nine hours.”

“But if he wasn’t, the transport will be long
gone before we know it.” Bergen frowned. “Since he’s on that shuttle, I doubt
he was being honest with us. We need to contact someone.”

Quinn scrolled through the interface and hovered
over an icon. “What do we tell them? Won’t they want to know how we got access
to the system?”

Bergen heaved a sigh. “Quinn, there’s no one
here. No one. They can’t get mad at us for calling for help. Besides, it’s not
like they can court martial you. You’re a civilian.” He held up a hand. “And
don’t worry about getting the comm tech in trouble. If they were stupid enough
to leave their password on the bottom of the drawer, they deserve to get
tagged.”

Quinn flicked the switch. “You’re right. And
besides, my kids are on that shuttle. Momma is coming.”

Want to read more? Click here to pre-order Krimson Run

The post Krimson Run appeared first on Julia Huni, Author.

What am I writing now?

I just wanted to give you a little update on what’s coming down the pike. I finished Krimson Empire 2 a few days ago and sent it off to my co-author. Craig has a crew of beta readers who will review it, and send some suggestions back to me.

I’ve already had my own alpha readers go through it, so hopefully, there won’t be a lot to fix. The title is tentative at this point: Krimson Spark. Ryan Schwarz, our excellent cover designer, is hard at work on the art.

This week I started Krimson Empire 3. Quinn started this journey as a military wife who was desperate to find her kids. By book 3, she’s becoming a bad-ass. I can’t wait to see where she goes from here. The rest of the crew is also evolving and growing. It’s fun to watch.

Krimson Empire book 1 will launch on March 23. Book 2 will follow about a month later and book 3 will drop sometime in May.

My other unfinished series is Recycled World. Once I’ve got Krimson Empire well on the way, I want to come back to finish Recycled World 3 and 4. Then I’m thinking about a spin-off that will take the Recycled World crew off-planet–just like Peter’s always wanted. Stay tuned for that!

The post What am I writing now? appeared first on Julia Huni, Author.

New Series Release!

I have a new book coming out on March 23. I’ve mentioned it once or twice (or a million times) in my newsletter. And on Facebook. And to anyone I meet randomly on the street. The cover is finished, the book is with the formatter, and the pre-order is live!

I’m really excited to be working again with Indie Science Fiction powerhouse Craig Martelle. Craig has lived in the Amazon top 100 Science Fiction authors for most of the last four years, and has probably forgotten more about marketing than I know.

There will be at least four books in this series and the first draft of Book 2 is almost done.

If you’d like a taste of the first chapter of Book 1, keep reading!

Krimson Run

Tony Bergen hated the capital city of the United Federation of Planetary Societies, but the weather always raised his spirits. Bright sunshine, but not too hot. A light breeze with a whiff of sea salt, but no trace of dead fish. He wasn’t sure how the Federation managed it, but Romara weather was perfect.

The same could not be said for the company. Like all Federation cities, the metropolis was overrun with UFPS security. He’d counted forty-three uniformed agents and twelve undercover. None of them had taken a second look at him, so life was good.

He strode down the perfectly fabricated cobblestone street—every square meter included one stone set a half-centimeter higher or lower than the rest. The effect was meant to be charmingly random, but anyone with an eye for patterns could see the careful planning. He shook his head. It would have been cheaper—and easier—to hire humans to install the darn things. But the Federation automated everything.

Half-way down the street, he tripped over a slightly raised stone and stumbled into a wall. That gave him a chance to glance behind without being obvious. Twenty meters back, a well-dressed couple chatted as they strolled. In a nearby alley, two children played a game involving a ball and a stick. A small, furry creature sat on a doorstep—obviously someone’s pet. A pretty young blonde carried a bag of groceries toward him.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. If Federation Security was watching for him, this is where they’d strike. A narrow street, nowhere to run and few witnesses. He straightened up and strolled onward, whistling an old tune as he walked. The blonde girl smiled at him and slid her hand into her pocket.

Tony’s heart rate increased. Was she reaching for a weapon? The children had disappeared. He sidestepped and glanced back. The couple had stopped talking and increased their speed, closing in with a deceptively smooth gait. Tony picked up the pace.

The girl approaching him pulled her hand out of her pocket. Something metallic glinted in the sun.

Tony flung himself sideways into a shallow doorway. A male voice roared, “Halt! Federation Security!”

With a piercing scream, the young woman dropped her groceries and her silver communications tablet. Round green fruit bounced out of the bag, scattering across the narrow road. The pet hissed and scrambled up a drain pipe.

The well-dressed couple broke into a run and thundered past both Tony and the girl, shouting incomprehensible code as they ran. The woman’s left heel pierced one of the green fruits, but she ran on, oblivious to the new ornament on her bright red shoe.

Tony stepped out of the doorway, smiling sheepishly. “That was terrifying.”

“You’re telling me,” the girl said. “I wonder who they were after?”

Tony shrugged, then crouched to help her gather the spilled fruit. “These don’t look too bad,” he said. He picked up the silver device. “Here’s your comtab. Good thing you have a high-density case.”

“It’s weathered a few drops,” she replied with a slight smile, taking the comtab. “And the fruit are for a sauce, so it won’t matter if they’re bruised. Thanks for your help.”

She rose and continued up the street. Tony slid the thin silver chip that had been attached to the comtab into his pocket and strolled in the other direction.

If you want to read more, you can pre-order Krimson Run now, and it will automatically be delivered to your Kindle on March 23.

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