COUNTERSTRIKE When the alien war engulfing a distant planet spilled to Earth through a network of hidden portals, humankind was plunged into an apocalyptic, generations-old conflict between the Plysserians and the Chodrecai. Now, months after Earth’s most powerful military forces formed a tenuous alliance with the Plysserians and countered a devastating, three-pronged Chodrecai offensive, alien survivors continue to wreak havoc on a shell-shocked Earth. Martial law and civil unrest run rampant. Resistance cells and pockets of Chodrecai sympathizers are gathering strength. And two U.S. Marines—Sergeant Major Simon DiCarlo and Sergeant Belinda Russell— remain trapped on the alien planet of Jontashreena . Now, as human and Plysserian scientists and engineers race to unlock the intergalactic portals and harvest alien technology, Earth prepares for the most explosive battle for its existence. Joining the war effort are recruits like young Colin Laney, who will advance from Marine boot camp to the forefront of a massive invasion on alien terrain—with the fate of two worlds hanging in the balance. Dayton Ward is the New York Times bestselling author or co-author of nearly forty novels and novellas, often working with his best friend, Kevin Dilmore. His short fiction has appeared in more than twenty anthologies, and he’s written for magazines such as NCO Journal , Kansas City Voices , Famous Monsters of Filmland , Star Trek , and Star Trek Communicator , as well as the websites Tor.com, StarTrek.com, and Syfy.com. A native of Tampa, Florida, he currently lives in Kansas City, Missouri with his wife and two daughters. Visit him on the web at DaytonWard.com. 1 Corporal Bradley Gardner did not see the lone Chodrecai soldier, at least not until the damned thing was ready to frag his ass. “Gardner! On your nine!” Reacting to the warning from somewhere behind him, Gardner spun to his left in time to see the wounded alien warrior rising from beneath smoldering wreckage, bringing up the pulse rifle it carried in its bulky, muscled arms. Its pale gray skin was darkened with ash and soot. Shreds of burned skin and muscle hung from its left arm, injuries no doubt resulting from the fuel-air bombs that had blanketed the area less than thirty minutes earlier. It appeared to Gardner that the alien’s molded body armor had melted in places, perhaps even fusing to the Chodrecai’s exposed, scorched skin. How the thing managed to stay on its feet was beyond him. Then none of that mattered as the gaping muzzle of the soldier’s pulse rifle rose to point in his direction. Gardner fired without really aiming, the oversized Plysserian weapon bucking in his hands as it belched energy. The air whined in his ears and a bolt of displaced air crossed the space separating him from the Chodrecai, striking the wounded alien in its broad chest and sending it staggering backward. It tripped over a piece of flame-riddled debris and fell, toppling to the blackened ground. “Get down!” another voice shouted, this time from somewhere to Gardner’s right, and the corporal dropped instinctively to one knee as figures rushed past him. Leveling his pulse rifle at the fallen Chodrecai, he watched as fellow Marines closed on its position, training their own weapons on it. Someone yelled at the soldier in its native language, ordering the alien to remain still and offer no resistance. “Nice shot, Gardner,” a gravelly voice said from behind him, and Gardner looked up to see Gunnery Sergeant Kelley Owens, his platoon leader. The imposing African-American man’s eyes bored into him from beneath the brim of his floppy green camouflage boonie hat. “Almost makes up for you sleepwalking through the area. You looking to get your ticket punched, or what?” Rising to his feet, Gardner felt his face flush in embarrassment as he watched fellow Marines take the wounded Chodrecai soldier into custody. “Sorry, Gunny. I was too busy looking for anything we might salvage. I screwed up.” It had been a boot mistake, the kind of error Gardner might have made what seemed like a lifetime ago, when he was nothing more than a full-time hospital payroll administrator back in Kansas City and a part-time Marine reservist. A lifetime ago, before the war had come. From somewhere off to his right, Gardner heard more weapons fire and turned to see other Marines—some wielding pulse rifles like his own while others carried M4A1 carbines—converging on another Chodrecai warrior, this one appearing uninjured as it lunged from behind the burnt-out shell of a collapsible shelter. The alien was firing on the run, lumbering toward the protective cover of the forest surrounding the glade where the Chodrecai had made their encampment. Gardner flinched as one Marine caught the full brunt of the alien’s weapon, everything above his waist disintegrating in a cloud of blood, skin, bone, and clothing fragments. What remained of the man fell to the ground as his companions pre