The Soul Eaters (The Thin Hex Line Book 1) by Gwyndolyn Russell (e reader txt) 📕

"You, boy, are crazy! Do you realize what you've done?! The ship is in shambles! It's falling apart, you see!"

Willis retracted, slowly sitting back down.

"You've thrown all my tools everywhere! Now I have to get those little rats to fetch them! You've busted gas pipes, water pipes, electrical circuits! We're missing panels!"

Reaper was biting back a grin, watching the two of them. The little kotoli was not done yet, however. He snapped around to Reaper. Snatched up a wrench. And pointed it at him.

"Did you order him to do it? You damned young humans and your disrespect for the hard work of this old kotoli! All you do is destroy what I've built!"

"I'm sorry, Torch," Reaper struggled with keeping a straight face. "It won't happen again. Do you need a hand? Or a trip to the medbay?"

"Need a hand? I don't need no hand! But you're damned if you don't get me back up there in the next five seconds!"

Reaper held his hand out to the chief engineer, who quickly scampered up to stand in his palms. Reaper pushed the kotoli up, and the little pika-like grandfather floated back towards the hole.

He groaned as he clambered in, cursing all the while.

"Really pissed him off this time, huh?" Reaper chuckled.

"Oh, man, thought he was gonna kill us."

"Hail the colony, let them know the pirates are gone. We'll deliver some supplies."

"Yes, sir."

FOUR

The combat siren wailed through the ship. All the lights flashed red repeatedly. That was our signal. Every able-bodied soldier not stuck on post rushed to the armory. I may not have been the first one there, but that was all right. My job was to make sure everyone was ready for the Captain's orders. Were we going to board a ship, or were we going to be boarded?

It didn't matter. What mattered was we were all ready. I donned my own armor. It was simply an upgraded version of the standard issued Federation space suit, which originally provided protection from the vacuum of space. This upgraded version came equipped with armor plating. The chest piece was the thickest and heaviest piece, like a tiny vest, it only covered the chest and back. Its own collar was a little tall and the front of it angled down at the top and upwards from the bottom to make a rounded edge a few inches from the body. The rest of the armor was only half as thick, covering the forearms and legs. Molle weave was stretched over the suit and armor pieces to allow for different pouch setups. The matching helmet for the suit was much smaller than the standard. Sharper angles, better reinforcement, and a combat system to assist with aiming and locating the bad guys.

With the ship feeling out of control, it was all we could do to stand upright and get everything on. Soldiers fell into one another, hit the lockers. I'm pretty sure I saw one fall inside his locker and get shut in.

It took far too long, a few minutes, for all sixty men and women to get geared up. They were rusty and I was already planning on drilling them the next couple of weeks until the speed increased.

Everyone lined up in front of their lockers, maglocks keeping them in place. Some held onto the shoulder of the soldier in front of them to keep balance. I stood at the door, leaving it wide open.

"Comm check. Sound off!" I called.

Each one called back into the radio. Alpha 1, Alpha 2, Alpha 3... all the way down the line.

Something went wrong in the middle of Charlie. Charlie 4 made no sound. I looked for him in the line.

"Charlie 4, sound off!"

Nothing.

A soldier got shoved, so he leaned out of the line.

The ship rattled violently, a locker swinging open. Beta 2 got smacked right in the side of the bucket on his head. He hit the bench.

"Charlie 4, fix your goddamned comms!" I screamed over the wailing siren.

His helmet came off. Christ, he was young. Early twenties, maybe. Not a single hair on his chin. He frantically messed around between the inner lining and outer shell of the helmet, trying to figure out what went wrong.

The ship must have taken another sharp turn. We all leaned to one side as if a large wave rolled right under us. Charlie 4 fell against the bench. Beta 2 still didn't straighten up.

The motions came to a steady stop. The siren ceased. The lights flashed white. It was over.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

I checked the time displayed on my HUD. 1:37 PM. 10 minutes for everyone to get ready. Five minutes waiting for orders. No action. I was pissed. Pissed about having no action. Pissed at my platoon for lack of coordination. I planned for a stern talking to Reaper. Right now, I had a bigger issue.

I snatched my helmet off.

"Uh oh…" Sparrow sang. "LT has that look."

Ruby hushed her.

Everyone shut their mouths. They froze. Some were already taking their helmets off and were now second guessing that choice.

“Gear on. Laps.” I waved my finger in a circle. “Mjolnir, keep them going.”

Mjolnir roared at the others. Clapped his hands. They moved in two columns, out the door and down the hall. I looked each and every one of them in the eye as they passed.

I made them run, or rather pull laps around the entire floor, take off, and store their gear, run laps again, until I got bored. I grabbed a coffee. Watched them for quite a while.

“What in Asquallus’ name are they doing all that for?” Irzazee appeared at my side.

I jumped mid sip, a few drops of hot, black coffee made its way down the hall. I didn’t even hear him come up. I took a moment to think about how something so tall and in a rubber suit could be so quiet.

I sipped. “Reaper pissed me off.”

“Ahh.” He clasped one hand behind himself, tucked under the obnoxiously large metal shell. “Is that sufficient reason to…”

“Oh,