Decisively Engaged (Warp Marine Corps Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: C.J. Carella
We’ll see.”
“We’ll see,” Tyson agreed. I’ve got a little list. Most of the names are crossed off already, but not all . “Tell me more about the aliens.”
“Turns out the galaxy’s a nasty neighborhood, Ty. Wait till you get briefed on all the things the Puppies are telling us. It’s Might Makes Right all the way down.”
“So there’s no Prime Directive? No congenial peace-loving aliens?”
“Heh. I hated Star Trek when I was a kid. No. It’s nineteenth-century-style international politics. To the winner go the spoils. Primitive species are forced into trade agreements at gunpoint, or exterminated without a second thought. The lucky ones get sort of adopted by the nicer aliens, like the Puppies. In this case, we’re getting a great deal of help, because the Puppies accidentally led the Snakes – the motherfuckers who wiped out half the planet – here, and they feel they owe us.”
Is that so? Then, yeah, hound-dogs. You owe us .
“So there’s no rules at all?” he said out loud. “That’s rough. What’s stopping the Snakes from dropping a dinosaur-killer asteroid to finish us off?”
“There are some rules. Can’t inflict major damage to a planet’s biosphere, apparently. That’s why they didn’t use nukes or big rocks; their city-busters are designed to exterminate the tool-users while leaving most everything intact. Things like bioweapons aren’t allowed, or ‘grey goo,’ whatever that is.”
“You don’t want to know. Who enforces the law?”
“The Puppies were a little vague about it. Elders of the Universe or the fucking Q Continuum, something like that. Whoever it is, they mostly leave the Starfarers – the guys with starships – alone, as long as they stick to some very loose rules.”
“Good enough.” Tyson thought about it for a second, but the answer was never really in doubt. “All right, Al. You’ve got me, for whatever it’s worth. I think I know what we need to do.”
“I thought as much. We can’t afford second-guessers or self-haters to get in the way.”
“It’s not going to be pretty. The cure might be almost as bad as the disease.”
Hewer’s expression hardened. “As long as we survive and we carve a place for us among the stars, I don’t care. Three hundred years from now, college professors can denounce me as an evil tyrant. And that’s fine, because that means our species will be around three hundred years from now.”
Tyson nodded.
“Let’s go to work.”
One
Year 163 AFC, D Minus Ten
One step at a time.
USWMC First Lieutenant Peter Fromm’s left leg wasn’t working right, but he limped along, ignoring the stabbing pain that flared up with every shuffling stride. The artificial muscles in his combat suit weren’t working anymore, and the combined weight of his body armor and the unconscious form of Captain Chastain was becoming unbearable. Fromm’s desperate dash for cover with a body draped over his shoulders had quickly turned into a limping walk. Even hunched over, he knew he was too high off the ground, making a perfect target, but he also knew that if he went down he would just lie there.
One step at a time.
Nothing else mattered. He had to reach the entrenchments ahead of him, had to save the captain’s life. The CO of Charlie Company was a casualty only because Fromm had knocked him unconscious less than an hour ago. He’d had good reasons, but he couldn’t leave the man to die, even if the first thing he did upon waking up would be to order Fromm’s arrest.
Friendly fire ahead of him, flashes like fireflies in the night. Hostile fire behind him, the whine of ionizing charges followed by loud explosions whenever charged particle bursts or laser beams hit something solid. His force fields were down, and the only thing between him and the storm of deadly energies raining all around was his body armor, which might stop a hit, but most likely would not.
Just a few more steps.
A stray laser pulse from a
“We’ll see,” Tyson agreed. I’ve got a little list. Most of the names are crossed off already, but not all . “Tell me more about the aliens.”
“Turns out the galaxy’s a nasty neighborhood, Ty. Wait till you get briefed on all the things the Puppies are telling us. It’s Might Makes Right all the way down.”
“So there’s no Prime Directive? No congenial peace-loving aliens?”
“Heh. I hated Star Trek when I was a kid. No. It’s nineteenth-century-style international politics. To the winner go the spoils. Primitive species are forced into trade agreements at gunpoint, or exterminated without a second thought. The lucky ones get sort of adopted by the nicer aliens, like the Puppies. In this case, we’re getting a great deal of help, because the Puppies accidentally led the Snakes – the motherfuckers who wiped out half the planet – here, and they feel they owe us.”
Is that so? Then, yeah, hound-dogs. You owe us .
“So there’s no rules at all?” he said out loud. “That’s rough. What’s stopping the Snakes from dropping a dinosaur-killer asteroid to finish us off?”
“There are some rules. Can’t inflict major damage to a planet’s biosphere, apparently. That’s why they didn’t use nukes or big rocks; their city-busters are designed to exterminate the tool-users while leaving most everything intact. Things like bioweapons aren’t allowed, or ‘grey goo,’ whatever that is.”
“You don’t want to know. Who enforces the law?”
“The Puppies were a little vague about it. Elders of the Universe or the fucking Q Continuum, something like that. Whoever it is, they mostly leave the Starfarers – the guys with starships – alone, as long as they stick to some very loose rules.”
“Good enough.” Tyson thought about it for a second, but the answer was never really in doubt. “All right, Al. You’ve got me, for whatever it’s worth. I think I know what we need to do.”
“I thought as much. We can’t afford second-guessers or self-haters to get in the way.”
“It’s not going to be pretty. The cure might be almost as bad as the disease.”
Hewer’s expression hardened. “As long as we survive and we carve a place for us among the stars, I don’t care. Three hundred years from now, college professors can denounce me as an evil tyrant. And that’s fine, because that means our species will be around three hundred years from now.”
Tyson nodded.
“Let’s go to work.”
One
Year 163 AFC, D Minus Ten
One step at a time.
USWMC First Lieutenant Peter Fromm’s left leg wasn’t working right, but he limped along, ignoring the stabbing pain that flared up with every shuffling stride. The artificial muscles in his combat suit weren’t working anymore, and the combined weight of his body armor and the unconscious form of Captain Chastain was becoming unbearable. Fromm’s desperate dash for cover with a body draped over his shoulders had quickly turned into a limping walk. Even hunched over, he knew he was too high off the ground, making a perfect target, but he also knew that if he went down he would just lie there.
One step at a time.
Nothing else mattered. He had to reach the entrenchments ahead of him, had to save the captain’s life. The CO of Charlie Company was a casualty only because Fromm had knocked him unconscious less than an hour ago. He’d had good reasons, but he couldn’t leave the man to die, even if the first thing he did upon waking up would be to order Fromm’s arrest.
Friendly fire ahead of him, flashes like fireflies in the night. Hostile fire behind him, the whine of ionizing charges followed by loud explosions whenever charged particle bursts or laser beams hit something solid. His force fields were down, and the only thing between him and the storm of deadly energies raining all around was his body armor, which might stop a hit, but most likely would not.
Just a few more steps.
A stray laser pulse from a
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