Direct Fire (Drop Trooper, #4)

by Rick Partlow

Port Harcourt was a hornet’s nest and we were about to stick our dicks in it.

I hadn’t died yet. But the day was still young.

They were certainly willing to die, to give up their lives in service to an immortal, spiritual Emperor who manifested himself in a series of physical hosts. Which seemed weird, but then again, every religion seems weird from the outside.

Jesus Christ, my head hurt from trying to keep my eyes from rolling.

“Another sonic screwdriver,” Vicky told him, motioning with her empty cup.

Doctor Who reference?

Life, he would say, is a grindstone. Whether it grinds you down or polishes you up depends on what you’re made of.”