Dying Suns
After deactivating Parallax and restoring access to Earth, Deadeye and the Redshift Runners have become the most infamous pirates in the Orion Spur.
Yet the old order has its hands full with Dying Suns, a political movement calling for a return to Earth—while leaving the barren, ‘dying’ worlds they were forced to colonize. Miners, farmers, and other settlers petition the Runners to fly them to humanity’s birthplace.
This upsets corporations and nobles who profited from such exploitation, and Deadeye undertakes the deadliest missions he’s ever flown to save the frustrated masses. But Talon, his beloved captain, has her own vendetta against the nobles, and Deadeye must face his past—and hers—if they are to survive.
Yet the old order has its hands full with Dying Suns, a political movement calling for a return to Earth—while leaving the barren, ‘dying’ worlds they were forced to colonize. Miners, farmers, and other settlers petition the Runners to fly them to humanity’s birthplace.
This upsets corporations and nobles who profited from such exploitation, and Deadeye undertakes the deadliest missions he’s ever flown to save the frustrated masses. But Talon, his beloved captain, has her own vendetta against the nobles, and Deadeye must face his past—and hers—if they are to survive.
Dying Suns: Excerpt
“Ensign, I ordered you to fire upon the target. Why haven’t you complied?”
“Huh?” Deadeye stretched until the movement made him wince.
Muscle atrophy again, most likely. Why couldn’t he maintain a better exercise regimen? He should have been a garbage trawler pilot. Those assholes always had better--
“Ensign? I gave you an order!”
He gave the finger to whoever was barking at him. Void’s sake, he’d made all those jumps and needed rest. The pretty woman had offered a can of orange juice to him, smiling, teasing him with some silly nickname, bangs of hair in her eyes…
“Ensign!”
“Wait, I…” Deadeye’s lips shook. Both hands compressed into fists.
The targeting reticule clicked over the UNS display until it settled on the residential modules in the Homesteader colony below. The woman kept whistling over the radio, more urgent now, the notes rising in pitch…
“Wait,” he whispered.
The reticule glowed red. He pressed the fire button on the ship’s manuals.
“Wait!” he cried.
Target destroyed target destroyed target destroyed target--
Deadeye sat up on the bunk, covered in cold sweat.
The general quarters alarm sounded on the tiny speaker above him. A red light flashed above the door. They were under attack.
“Huh?” Deadeye stretched until the movement made him wince.
Muscle atrophy again, most likely. Why couldn’t he maintain a better exercise regimen? He should have been a garbage trawler pilot. Those assholes always had better--
“Ensign? I gave you an order!”
He gave the finger to whoever was barking at him. Void’s sake, he’d made all those jumps and needed rest. The pretty woman had offered a can of orange juice to him, smiling, teasing him with some silly nickname, bangs of hair in her eyes…
“Ensign!”
“Wait, I…” Deadeye’s lips shook. Both hands compressed into fists.
The targeting reticule clicked over the UNS display until it settled on the residential modules in the Homesteader colony below. The woman kept whistling over the radio, more urgent now, the notes rising in pitch…
“Wait,” he whispered.
The reticule glowed red. He pressed the fire button on the ship’s manuals.
“Wait!” he cried.
Target destroyed target destroyed target destroyed target--
Deadeye sat up on the bunk, covered in cold sweat.
The general quarters alarm sounded on the tiny speaker above him. A red light flashed above the door. They were under attack.
