Proof of Concept (Undead Marine Book 2) by J.N. Chaney & Jonathan P. Brazee

Author:J.N. Chaney & Jonathan P. Brazee [Chaney, J.N. & Brazee, Jonathan P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Variant Publications
Published: 2024-07-28T00:00:00+00:00

20

The next eight days were hectic, a huge effort of getting troops and equipment to the ground. The landing zone was a mass of activity as forces were staged for what would be the major push to take the planet.

The castle was fully operational, and it turned back the daily Tucanan probes. There was little sign of Tucanan ground forces, and by now, the Tucs had seeded the atmosphere with “pede dust,” tiny flakes of a reflective surface that both scattered orbital energy weapon fire and diminished the effectiveness of naval scanners. So, there could be Tucanans in the area, but probably not large units.

While the initial naval fleet could have essentially eliminated the bulk of any Tucanan surface installations, that ship had sailed. With the pede dust, a ship could pour enough power into a cannon to reach the ground for a specific target, but not for large area targets. Now, it would be up to the ground forces to prosecute the battle for the planet.

If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. On planets that the Tucanans invaded where there were still sizable human populations, it was those people who kept the Navy and Marines from conducting total war against the Tucanans there. Here, because of the desire to capture the planet instead of just destroying it, giving the Tucs time to emplace and activate their defenses meant that, once again, total war, with all the capabilities of the human military, was no longer feasible.

And that frustrated Pax to no end. Humankind was in a war where their very existence could be in doubt, but it seemed that most battles were artificially limited in scope. Gentlemen’s agreements were followed. But how the hell could you consider a pumped-up centipede a gentleman?

He realized that there were many factors beyond the grunts on the ground, but if it were up to him, he’d commit the maximum of force every time the Tucanans dared to enter human space.

Olivia walked up and tossed him a combat ration.

He snagged it out of the air without looking and said, “Don’t tell me. Turds and monkey dicks.” He looked at the label and huffed. “How did you know I was hankering for this right now.”

“They had wagyu prime rib, medium rare, being sliced to order by a Royal Charter Navy chef, but I knew you didn’t want that weak shit,” she said as she plopped down beside him.

“I’m glad you’re here to take care of me.”

“Any time, brother. Any time.”

Pax twisted the top to heat up the meal. In reality, turds and monkey dicks—beans and sausages—weren’t terrible. They were far better than LRSBs, the Long-Range Sustenance Bars they’d landed with. And through some logistical miracle, the task force was supplied with neither the Fordyce combat rats nor the Hangul Republic Army Long Rats—“rat turds.”

Instead, they had SagFed Class Ds, which were militarized versions of commercial camping and hiking meals, and which weren’t bad at all. Just a few moments ago, in fact, Pax had been thinking about turds and monkey dicks, and here she was, showing up with one.

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