No Middle Ground (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride) by Wachter Caleb

Author:Wachter, Caleb [Wachter, Caleb]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Pacific Crest Publishing
Published: 2014-05-13T07:00:00+00:00

“Listen up,” Sergeant Walter Joneson barked, as thirty four power-armored Lancers sat in their grav-harnesses aboard the armored shuttle still moored in the shuttle bay, “we launch in thirteen minutes. That means eighteen minutes from now, every pair of boots on this shuttle will be on the hull of the Cardinal’s Wrath.”

Lu Bu felt a thrill of excitement like nothing she had ever experienced. She squeezed the grip of her blaster rifle tightly and took deep, calming breaths with the visor of her helmet up, knowing that when the shuttle lifted off she would depend absolutely on her armored suit’s life-support systems.

“Look to your right,” Joneson continued, and Lu Bu did so, finding only a bare duralloy wall since she was seated near the cockpit, “now look to your left.”

She did so and saw the same man whose leg she had broken during the training altercation, and she felt a wave of anger as the words he and her other countrymen had said replayed in her head.

“You’ve all come from different places,” Joneson said, and Lu Bu actually felt his eyes on her briefly, “but none of that matters now. As of this moment, you’re Confederation Lancers and nothing else—check the rest of that rot in this hangar. Do you get me?”

“We get you, sir!” Lu Bu shouted, in unison with the rest of the warriors aboard the cramped shuttle.

“Some of you have seen action,” Walter Joneson continued as he paced up and down the deck, “and for some of you this will be your first taste of live fire. I’ve read each of your files, and aside from these six,” he gestured to the only Lancers to bear Corporal-rank insignia, “none of you has faced armored opponents. This is an at-will organization, and what we’re about to get into will be rougher than anything you’ve experienced, so anyone who wants to sit it out had better get off my shuttle.”

Lu Bu was actually offended the Sergeant would suggest any of his Lancers would balk at the opportunity for combat, but she knew she had been waiting for this moment for years. She ground her teeth quietly and looked down the shuttle for any cowards who might want to run in the face of battle.

But none of the Lancers took the Sergeant up on his offer, so he nodded curtly. “Good,” he growled as his gaze swept the entire shuttle. “The Incumbent class’s standard complement is two dozen Marines,” he said, turning to one of the Corporals. He was a large, dark-skinned man with powerful cheekbones and a nose that had been broken so often that, to Lu Bu, it seemed to be a piece of art—and Joneson pointedly added, “that’s ‘twenty four,’ Gnuko.”

The Corporal hung his head as though in shame, and the men to either side of him mockingly consoled him as a round of chuckles filled the shuttle. Even Walter Joneson smirked as the wave of nervous energy crackled among the Lancers like electricity dancing over their metal armor.

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