Chain of Shadows (Blood Skies, Book 6) by Steven Montano

who wore a plain grey jumpsuit just like the rest of his team, had a wild frock of snow-white hair in spite of his otherwise youthful appearance; sweat beaded around his spectacles, which shone bright in the pale sunlight.
    “It has to be the Scorpion Desert,” the surveyor said.  “It’s the only thing that makes any sense.  Nowhere else in the Southern Claw reaches this temperature.”
    “ The Grim Lands,” Cross said.  Wiley looked at him questioningly, but Cross nodded.  “Trust me.”  He looked around.  “But that’s not where we are.”
    “ Well if our surveyor doesn’t know…” Danica said.
    “ I have a theory,” Ankharra said.  “But I hope I’m wrong.”
    “ Do you want to share?” Wiley asked.  “Or are you going to follow standard Southern Claw protocol and keep everyone else in the dark?”
    “ Mr. Wiley, you’re a guest on this ship,” Ankharra said, sounding almost bored.  Cross had the impression they’d had this discussion before.  “And in all matters you’re acting under military supervision, so I suggest your watch your tone.”  Wiley smiled angrily, but nodded.  “I did a quick reconnaissance of the wreckage,” Ankharra continued.  “Cross, I was hoping you could look over the results with me.  I’m not entirely sure what to make of my findings.” 
    “ Sure,” Cross nodded. 
    “ I’ll check in with Ronan and the others,” Danica said. 
    “ Corporal,” Ankharra said. 
    A young man named Lancer trotted over, lean and tall with steel-grey hair and even greyer eyes.  He reminded Cross of an armored nail.  He wore a longsword on his back and carried an M16A2 with a bottom-mounted M203 grenade launcher.  Cross hadn’t seen one of those since Graves.
    God, that seems like such a long time ago.
    “ Ma’am,” Lancer replied. 
    “ Get yourself a partner and watch over these supplies.  No one but myself, Eric Cross or Danica Black is authorized to touch this pile until further notice.”
    “ What is someone needs water?!” Wiley barked.
    Danica gave him a look, and Wiley withered like a plant in the sun.  It took all of Cross’s willpower to suppress a laugh.
    “Yes, Ma’am,” Lancer said.  He wore a face-wrap, but the thin hint of a smile was clear. 
    Lancer pulled aside another soldier named Krieg, a tall and dark-haired man with a pronounced facial scar, to work the guard detail.  Cross went with Ankharra while Danica and Grail went to find Ronan’s group.

The survivors were scattered in a field full of rock shards just large enough for a person to rest on.  Everyone’s faces were grim, and their eyes were full of fear.  Weapons were cleaned and oiled and cleared of sand, a major concern there in the desert, which no one had been prepared for.  Luckily being stationed near Rimefang Loch meant they had a decent supply of water-proof bags, and those would certainly help keep the weapons clear of debris so they wouldn’t jam.
    Cross saw Flint and Shiv eating MREs while they sat and quietly talked with a pair of soldiers.  Shiv waved to him, and Cross waved back.  She watched him with concern in her eyes. 
    His gut twisted with worry every time he thought about her.  She was too young to be out there, stranded so far from anywhere safe.  Ever since he’d met her and her father all he’d wanted was to get them home. 
    I will.  If it’s the last God-damned thing I ever do.
    Smoke shifted in the dry wind.  The sky was cloudless and pale and filled with burning sunbeams.  Cross walked with his hand over his face until he and Ankharra entered the shadow of the ship.   The bloody remains of the seven soldiers who’d lost their lives to the gorilla-like brute had been taken and burned with the others – the dark fumes still plumed into the air over a low ridge to the north – but signs of the combat were still apparent: dark bloodstains that had dried black in the heat, loose shell casings, broken blades. 
    The wrecked ship