This is the start of a new science fantasy series that I’m toying with. It’s post-apocalyptic, with shifters and dragons (who are not the shifters) and a new branch of the military. and is taking way more research than I expected. I think you can look for this one next year, late summer or fall I hope. And it kind of depends on whether I can come up with a title that’s a lot less cheesy than up above. Because I really don’t want it to come out with that one. 🙂

“Private Miller?” The corpsman’s voice held only the faintest quiver.

“You don’t need to be scared of me,” Riley said.

“I’m not scared.”

“That’s good. I’m terrified myself.” As jokes went, it sucked, but it seemed to break the tension. After all, he couldn’t be that dangerous, if he was still cracking jokes, right?

The corpsman washed him with rapid efficiency and held the jug for him to piss into. There was little enough to come out, since he hadn’t been able to keep anything, even water, down for—he didn’t know how long. It felt like forever. He’d moved well beyond being thirsty a while ago.

His vision was going weird again.

Please, not another seizure.

The corpsman was tucking a clean blanket around him when it hit, but this one was different. His muscles snapped tight so quickly he literally bounced off the mattress. This time, they didn’t stay tight. Instead, he flailed on the floor, barely aware of the leather sleeve breaking and his IV tearing out of his vein, streaming blood tainted fluids everywhere. He didn’t hear the corpsman screaming over the sound of his own muscles and bones as they tore themselves apart.

He did feel the bite of the tranquilizer darts. And they made something inside him very angry.