Star Wars Ghost Crew Novels & Stories

Adam finally had to call Mike over to hold Ian up so that he could help with the wrapping. The sound of Indian war hoots grew loud as the medicine man’s ancestors battled to subdue the spirits that failed to be cleansed and purified of their anger by the flames. They’d taken those who were cleansed of their hatred and anguish away to find peace, but were still left with at least a dozen angry souls to contend with. Mike rushed back to the window to observe the battle alongside Pete, Roy, Jacob, and Jackson while Melody and Adam continued to tend to Ian.

The dinner plate was overturned and crashed onto the floor with a piercing noise. Patrick’s hands trembled uncontrollably, his phone nearly slipping from his grasp. He roared in fury, "What the hell are you talking about? What rental apartment? Are you messing with me? Do you have a death wish?"

Definition: A Ghost Orbit is an unsanctioned maneuver to subtly change a spacecraft's altitude, making it invisible to remote tracking programs. "It’s mutiny," Jun said, his voice trembling slightly, but his eyes were steady. "We are breaking every international law." "We are saving a future, Jun," Elara countered, looking him directly in the eyes. "The ISS was built on collaboration, not corporate greed. We have a moral duty to the thousands of scientists who came before us. Thorne is banking on our compliance (the act of obeying a command or rule)."

“Pressure. Now.” Tank ripped his cut off and pressed it hard against Rhett’s throat. Pain exploded, white and blinding, but Rhett forced his eyes open. Forced himself to stay in the moment, to not sink under. “Stay with me, Maddox,” Ghost ordered, his voice iron. “You hear me? You don’t get to die here.” Hawk hovered close, his face pale in the headlights. “Prospects are gone. Jesus Christ, they’re fucking gone—” “Focus!” Ghost snapped. “We save him, or this whole war ends here.”

I hate myself for considering that some part of me is relishing the prospect of igniting that board… even if it burns him up too. "What's in the coin?" I insist. A pause. "Truth," they answer brusquely. And they're off—gliding into the darkness so fast my eyes can't track the motion. I turn back to Pandora. "Can you track them?" "Already trying," she snarls, tapping at her comm. "But whoever they are? They are Ghosts.". I look back at Cassian. His lids are half-closed, yet his gaze remains fixed on me.

Marcus, the quiet guy from accounting leaned against the door, arms crossed, with a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “McAllen,” he said. “You’ve been looking real happy lately. I see you enjoy your late night with the boss.” My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped closer, I could see the jealousy in his eyes. “ I saw you leaving the private elevator. Looking like a man whose ass has taken some cock. You’re not the first, you know. The Ghost destroys anyone who tries to get close. You’re just the latest toy.” “The Ghost?” I laughed it off, but my voice sounded shaky even to me. “Sounds like some movie legend bullshit.”

"The children... the outcasts. They have no defense against an army." "That is why I have spent thirty years building this," Alaric said. He pressed a button on the wall, and the floor of the ship groaned. A hidden hangar opened below us. I looked down and gasped. Row after row of massive, silver-plated ships sat ready for war. Thousands of soldiers were training with weapons that glowed with the same blue light I had seen on the island. "This is the Ghost Army," Alaric said. "The wolves the world thought were dead. We are going to the Vale, Lyra. And we are going to show them that the Silver Line doesn't break. It just gets sharper."

"Scouts spotted movement up there. Movement not animals enough to be too controlled and noise not enough to be humans. One of our drones captured this She handed me a small device. The screen flickered to life. Black and white footage played. At first, I saw nothing but trees swaying in the wind. Then something moved. Something tall and fast slid across the frame. Its limbs were too long, too smooth. It had the wrong shape, as though one had taken a human being and stretched it to be just horrible. And it moved without making a sound. "What the hell is that?" I asked. Tyra's jaw clenched. "Ghost units. Artificial trackers built to hunt shifter blood. Remote controlled. They don't eat, don't

“Already there.” Sparks arced from the west tower as his team cut their own lines; if the enemy wanted to chew on our nerves, they’d get dead cables and a shock for dessert. Ghost’s people used grapnels to haul up the chassis of a heavier drone, ripping its belly open and feeding it grenades until it coughed smoke. “Eyes on ground,” Ghost said. “They’re not just machines.”

"Ghost and Reyes. Jax and Tank. I sweep alone." "Absolutely not," I said. He looked at me. "I'm faster solo." "You're also bleeding from your forehead and carrying a gauntlet that weighs twenty pounds dead." I met his eyes. "You sweep with me." A silence passed between us that had nothing to do with the war. "Fine," Dax said. "Ghost runs with me. Reyes pairs with Jax. Tank takes the rear." He pulled his steel Phase-Knife. I drew my kinetic pistol, checking the magazine out of habit. Fourteen rounds left. I'd have to make them count.