Armor World (Undying Mercenaries Series Book 11) by B. V. Larson

Author:B. V. Larson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Iron Tower Press
Published: 2019-04-03T22:00:00+00:00

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After his first dozen solid deaths, no legionnaire worth his salt was terrified about getting killed. That was just part of the job, an unpleasant thing that happened to everyone now and then.

But… the prospect of going back inside a super-dense shell of matter was something else entirely. The invasion ship prevented all signals—even teleportation—from working. That meant there was no escape, no way of reporting a death. It was a perming scenario, and we all knew it.

Worse, we in the 3rd Unit, 3rd Cohort knew that we had the most experience with teleportation attacks. That meant we were destined to be Graves’ first-line commandoes with all the grim realities that went with that job.

“This is going to be the shit-show to end all shit-shows,” Harris said glumly in the officers meeting after the briefing. “You mark my words.”

“I can’t argue your point, Harris,” Leeson said. “We’re as good as permed already. There’s no winning this. If we screw up, we’re permed. If we nail it, they’ll just keep sending us first until we’re permed anyway.”

“All you can think about is getting out of doing this?” Barton asked incredulously.

“Damned straight!” Harris said. “If I thought there was a way out, I’d take it in a flash. The odds are high we’ll get our asses permed. Does that make you happy or something?”

“Of course not,” Barton replied. “But we’re the best shot Earth has to stop this menace.”

They eyed her coldly. “Playing the goody-goody to the hilt, eh, lady?” Leeson said. “You won’t last forever with that attitude.”

She returned their stare with an angry look of her own. She crossed her arms over her breasts and turned to me.

“These men are going to ruin morale, sir.”

“Yes…” I said, “and no. This is Legion Varus. We don’t like to lie to ourselves. Let them get all the bitching out of their bellies. In the end they’ll come around and do their jobs.”

Harris and Leeson continued to grumble. We drained a coffee bot and reviewed every frame of the briefing. But sure enough, about an hour later they got off their asses and got moving.

They still weren’t happy, mind you. Not by a long-shot—but they’d go, and they’d fight, and that was the most I could ask from hardened men that knew the stink of a bad mission when they smelled one.

We thought at first they’d give us the day to prep and gear up—but that didn’t happen. Right after lunch, the first launch was announced—and yours truly was leading it.

“McGill, your unit is on point,” Graves said. “Remember, you’re on radio silence on this trip. You’ll jump down to the planet surface, sniff around and jump back—that’s it. Pick your order of battle. I’m leaving the details up to you but remember to move quickly. We can’t take the chance the enemy will detect what we’re doing and take steps to stop us.”

“Roger that, sir. We’ll hit Gray Deck in thirty minutes.”

“Make it twenty. See you there.”

Graves closed the connection, and I had to hit the ground running.

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