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Fallen Angel Reviews – Reviewed by Dena

Rogue's Rules is a riveting, evocative, suspenseful tale of treachery, loathing, acceptance, and understanding. The characters are relevant, poignant, and endearing. I cried and rejoiced with Jesse as she found her way back, all six of her. Even the side characters drew me. Tom's willingness to help Jesse out while battling his own demons made him my hero.

Rhobin Courtright deftly weaves a tale of torture, abandonment, loyalty, and faithfulness. The Corps may have abandoned the missing crewmen of the Constant, but Jesse and Tom have not. Throughout Rogue's Rules, the issues of corruption, sexual misconduct, betrayal, and mismanagement within the military is discussed without losing the compelling, intense storyline of Jesse and Tom's struggle with themselves and their need for retribution.

I could not put Rogue's Rules down and eagerly await its sequel in December. Rhobin Courtright amazing story telling ability leaves me in awe.

Cover for 'Rogues Rules' posted

Traitor… mutineer… deserter…

…slanderous words fixed to Ensign Jezlynn Chambers’ name. Unable to refute the charges, the six individuals inhabiting her body remember nothing about the battle that ended her career, destroyed her ship… and shattered the Ensign’s mind.

Excerpt — 4594.03 Standard Space Calendar

In the shuttle's crew section the low hum of talk ensued, but not loud enough to be heard in the forward cockpit. Merit listened but didn't join in.

“Uppity bitch for such new crew, hey?” Brin said. “Watch for them,” he mimicked in Chambers' calm voice. “Cold one she is.”

“Shut up, Brin,” Tro said. “Tricome hiring Chambers for the Migrant Sun was our good fortune. At least the ship isn't likely to fly apart at the least motion. Her plan's no worse than some of the lost causes Tricome's sends us on. While I was on watch, she spent hours on the Deep Net. Investigated this target. You just can't stand anyone who demands fair work from you.”

“Shut up, yourself, Tro, you suck-up. Chambers ain't likely to kiss your ass, even if she wanted a man.”

“Don't go slurring her just because she don't sniff around you, Brin.”

Brin swore at his adversary but shut up with a few indistinct mumbled words.

“Tricome's believing she's good, ex–Ranger and all. Didn't say much himself, at this ‘briefing,’ hey?” Cor said to Brin, punching him in the ribs with his elbow and grinning.

“Tricome never briefed us, just told us to go,” Brin answered, his tone aggravated and surly.

“You think this is her plan alone?” Cor asked.

“That's it, never knew Tricome to leave any cargo behind. How'd she know what to take, and what not?”

“Zerka better beware, she'll have first place. No loss to get rid of that alien, either.”

“Zerka's in no danger. Tricome has another place for Chambers,” Scav said. Merit looked at Scav in surprise, she hadn't thought him so crude. His friend Tro gave him a disgusted look, too.

Brin's soft words silenced the laughter. “Just so. Be thinking; rest of that cargo needs looking to. After all, it's our share we're losing.” A few soft voices agreed with Brin.

Scav said, “Don't know about that, seen her temper, and she seems real hard. Knows combat moves, practices all the time. Could be bad disobeying, especially the way Tricome feels.”

“You scared shit, just stay with the other suck-ups. What can she do to us anyway?” Cor said.

Brin and a few others sniggered and offered a few suggestions.

Cor smiled back at them and said, “You think Tricome'll let good crew go just for a screw? Migrant Sun's no Corps ship, and we're not Rangers.”

More contemptuous laughter followed. Merit noticed Scav shut up. Brin wasn't a person to cross. Merit knew that, but knew Tricome in a temper could space anyone without regret. Knew for sure she wouldn't do anything but what she was told. That was the problem working on a ship like the Migrant Sun—they attracted loathsome crew. Merit vowed to renew her efforts to find a better work berth.

With the smooth docking, everyone started arranging suits and gear. As the pressure equalized with a hiss, Scav moved to help open the hatch. With the ease of entry into the drone Merit figured Chambers had already worked some systems magic.

Everything proceeded in silence, with precision and according to plan, and with the designated cargo safely floated on the shuttle in less than ten minutes. As they locked down the last cargo container Chambers asked those reassembled on the shuttle, “Where's the rest of the team?”

Cor stood safe among the gathered team. Merit sneered to herself. All talk and backstabbing, that was Cor.

“Said they'd check out the other holds,” Scav said, and backed away at Chambers' sudden movement.

Merit was glad her helmet plate hid her face, and that Chambers' face was hidden from her. Chambers called several times through the drone's intra-link, but only static answered.

“Leave them,” Tro said, “they're probably fried. Let's get out of here, now.” Chambers swore; it came through helmet audio in a violent burst of sound and no one made another comment. Merit didn't feel any easier when their raid leader entered the flight deck. Chambers came out within seconds and left through the hatch still opened into the drone.

“You three, come with me,” she ordered, pointing as she moved. Afraid, Merit followed, as did the others selected.

Chambers stopped at a tender panel blinking red in warning. Inserting a dataclip she read the feed. “Stupid bastards, they've tripped security.” She fingered the panel's pads for a minute, then said, “Come on, I've bought us some time before lock-down starts.” “Can we reach them?” Tro asked following Chambers down the passageway. Merit's helmet audio picked up the nervousness in Tro's voice. It mirrored what she felt.

“I've linked with the ship's computer, as long as I follow its security protocols we're okay.”

“How long do we have?” Tro asked.

“Long enough.” With that she led them through the darkened passageways using only her suit's elume, and only stopping to deflect ship defenses as they came to them. Merit was glad she followed last, for she never saw the defense triggers. Alarm warnings like red strobe lights flashed on tender panels they passed, unnerving her further.

The holo simulation replayed in Merit's mind as they moved deeper into the ship. Shivering inside her suit, she forced her legs to move, afraid to follow, but even more afraid to go back alone. When they came within sight of the missing party, she threw-up. Her suit's filter system quickly drew the mess away, but the taste lingered. They had never reached the cargo float netted at the far side of the hold. Brin squatted, frozen, near a compartment support, hoping to escape the searching beams traveling the hold. The others stood in dark grotesque star shapes, locked to the floor by their boots. Merit was glad the crazily changing patterns of light and dark in the hold prevented a clear view of the bodies.

“I cannot disengage these defenses once they've been activated without triggering a total ship lock down,” Chambers said, fingering the comlink on her glove's back. Her voice sounded metallic in Merit's headgear. “Stay alert, they're on motion sensor only, and won't pick up the sound. I'm trying to slow the surveillance scan and response time.”

Chambers' fingers stopped even as the sickening light slowed its frantic pace to a crawl. Cautiously, and very slowly, Chambers moved from one body to the next. No one talked. Merit could hear the soft muffled sound from within her suit as magnetic boots locked and unlocked with Chambers movement. It made a counterpoint to the sound of everyone's labored breathing through auditory.

“This one's still alive. Take them all back to the shuttle,” Chambers ordered. When someone made a sound, she said, “Don't argue, you can't get back without me. Just move slow.”

Reaching a body, Merit unlocked the boots and pulled the suit and its contents out of the hold in slow agonizing motion. It wasn't easy to keep her load in a slow steady trajectory. With each sudden variation she held her breath, afraid to move. Chambers just watched them.

“Don't leave me,” Brin's voice choked as they reached the hatch.

Looking back, Merit saw Chambers approach the huddled figure in slow movement. She grabbed the back of his gear and raised him to his feet and shoved him forward. They heard Brin's scream as a target grid fell on his faceplate. Chambers kicked him out of the beam, stepping back herself as it flared on the deck in an explosion of light. Brin scuttled to the hatch during the beam's flare, then huddled on the catwalk. Chambers followed in tedious slowness.

As she neared the hatch Tro yelled, “You're targeted.” Chambers froze. Seconds passed in waiting, then the red lines deactivated. Chambers pushed off her heels, unweighting her boots, and used suit impulse jets to shoot herself through the hatch, her motion appearing frozen in the intermittent light. Tro hit the hatch release and the heavy door slid into place as light flared within the hold.

They quickly moved down the passageway, but not fast enough for Merit. Chambers took the lead, disarming the defenses as they came to them. Merit moved her twitching muscles in what seemed an arduous pace. No one talked about the dead men; no one talked at all. Merit feared a lock-down, knowing once locked in the drone, no one would get out. Regurgitated particles peppered with her faceplate and clouded her view. The smell of vomit clung to each breath.

Relief on reaching the shuttle's hatch weakened Merit's knees and she stumbled as she stepped into the shuttle. The body popped from her arms, soaring in a trajectory that took it to the other side of the shuttle to bounce off the bulkhead. It bounced a second time before someone, she couldn't tell who, caught it and pushed it aft, where it was tied down. She started laughing and couldn't stop. Someone pulled her through the hatch and secured it. The drone's hatch shut with an abrupt slam, halting her frenzied laughter. She dragged himself to a seat and strapped in, with a scant second to spare. The shuttle already shivered with power.

Once the shuttle disembarked for the Migrant Sun, Merit collapsed, drained. This had been her first raid. She'd lied when she told Zerka she'd done it before. Now she was even more scared. After minutes of immobility, she removed her helmet to wipe her face.

She heard Tro say, “Was real worried you would leave us, her leaving the shuttle like that.” He cleared his throat to regain his normal voice.

“Tried, but the flight command console was locked up. She thinks of everything.”

Merit was too tired to recognize the voice.

“Bastards,” Tro said, “what about the rest of us? Hell, Tricome will space us all anyway.”

Not knowing if his words were promise or threat, Merit turned her eyes to look at the motionless men tied down at the back of the shuttle. In the shuttle's restored atmosphere, they stank bad, worse than she did; smelled of burned suit, burned meat, urine, and shit. She gagged again, but swallowed hard. It didn't do any good. As others removed their helmets, men spewed and the results remained floating in the compartment despite the air filter's efforts. It was a miserable ride.