Chapter 1

“You’re going down, Lieutenant!” Brenna Decker cries, her fingers furious on the game controller as, onscreen, her avatar winds up for the killing strike.

But Lee Mallory isn’t ready to concede defeat just yet. “The way you say it makes it sound like you outrank me,” he mutters, gripping his own controller as he thumbs the buttons to position his avatar to make his own final hit.

Brenna laughs and shakes her bangs out of her eyes. “I was sworn in first,” she reminds him. As if thatcounts. “So technically, I do outrank you. And I’m about to kick your ass. Do yourself a favor and give up now.”

“You wish.”

They’re playing Owned, a 3D fighting game where heavily armored combatants spar in a cage fight beforea live audience. “Live” means online—the cheering crowd consists of other players logged into the server to watch the gameplay. Each fight lasts three rounds; the player who wins the most rounds wins the match and ten thousand ril, the game’s money, which can be used to buy bigger and better armor and weapons. After three rounds, the game resets and two players from the audience face off next. It’s an addicting game—to play and watch—and Mallory’s lost many free hours staring at the screen. His handsmight ache in the morning, and he might stifle a yawn when he’s on patrol, but he’s one of the biggest and baddest players in the game. He doesn’t go by the handle Maullory for nothing.

Brenna’s a good opponent, he’ll give her that. She holds her own in the cage, and usually takes down any challenger. Any challenger but him, that is. When playing, she goes by her last name, which Lee thinks is a little unoriginal, but it works. Her signature catch phrase, uttered when she’s lined up to finish off her foe, is, “I’m’ll deck you!” A kick spin aimed at her opponent’s waist, followed by three rapid bunny kicks in the solar plexus, each harder than the last, and she raises her hands in victory as her opponent hits the floor.

The first time Lee saw the move, he pointed out, “You know, decking someone usually means punching them. With your fist.”

“Pssh,” Brenna scoffed. “It means making them hit the deck. He’s on the floor, ain’t he? Therefore, he’s been decked.”

As stunning as it is to watch Brenna deck her opponent, Lee isn’t interested in being on the receiving end of the move. This is the third round and they’re tied, one win each. The winner of this round wins the match. Lee can see Brenna’s moving into position, readying herself to launch into that deadly kickspin, and he backs up a few paces. His own killing blow requires some space, anyway—at the last minute he rushes his foe, getting in close, and hits ‘em with a volley of uppercuts, left right left right, each fist battering the midsection. When his opponent staggers back, Lee punches faster, moving up the torso, angling for the chest. The final blow is a wicked right hook under his opponent’s chin, sending the poor loser back against the cage or down onto the floor. Then Lee crows, “You got mauled!”

His focus narrows to the computer screen and nothing else. The rec room onboard the starship USS Nova disappears; the roar of the crowd in his headphones drowns out the sound of soldiers’ laughter and downtime chit chat. Lee is in the zone, ready to strike, ready to wipe Brenna out. When she launches into her kickspin, he dances out of the way, and her bunny kicks connect with nothing but air. Then he closes in, ready to rumble—

“Ten-hut!”

Lee barely registers Brenna surging to her feet beside him. On the screen, her avatar stops like a deactivated robot, arms at the side, head down, waiting for the inevitable. “Got you now, Decker,” Lee mutters as he punches the combination of keys needed to execute his final move.

Brenna nudges him with her foot. “Lee,” she whispers, urgent.

“You can’t stop me now,” he tells her. In the game, his avatar begins the pummeling blows that will bring her down.

Another nudge, this one almost a real kick. “Lee!”

Then a shadow falls over him, and a sardonic voice drawls, “Apparently Lieutenant Mallory thinks he outranks us all.”

Annoyed, Lee starts, “I’m close to winning—” Then he glances up only to find Commander Jonan Thomasglaring back at him.

Suddenly the game is forgotten. Dropping his controller, Lee scrambles to his feet. “Sir, sorry, sir! I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what, Lieutenant?” This close, Thomas’s pale skin looks like fine porcelain in the solar simulation light. His dark eyes are so blue, they’re almost black, and hard as obsidian as he stares down Lee. Veins stand out at his temples, and throb across the top of his shaved pate. A muscle in his jaw twitches in anger.