The Tank Lords

By Drake, David

Book Id: WPLBN0000625329
Format Type: PDF eBook:
File Size: 1.19 MB
Reproduction Date: 2004

Title:	The Tank Lords
Author:	Drake, David
Volume:	Hammer's Slayers
Language:	English
Subject:	Science fiction, Fantasy & science fiction, Pulp literature
Collections:	Science Fiction Collection, Baen Library Collection
Historic Publication Date:	1999
Publisher:	Baen Publishing Enterprises


Citation APA MLA Chicago Drake, B. D. (1999). The Tank Lords. Retrieved from https://self.gutenberg.org/

Description
Description: Colonel Alois Hammer: He welded five thousand individual killers into a weapon more deadly than any other in the human universe. When a planetary government faces unfriendly natives, guerrilla insurgents, or ruthless terrorists, they do the only thing that might save them

Summary
Summary: They hire Hammer's Slammers, the toughest, meanest bunch of mercs who ever wrecked a world for pay. Known throughout the galaxy for their cold, ruthless ferocity, the men of Colonel Hammer's indomitable armored brigade routinely accept impossible missions. Again and again, they go up against overwhelming forces, or fight a two-front war against ferocious opposition, all without atomizing their civilian employers. Can they keep doing it Not if they abide by the rules of civilized warfare...but nobody ever said the Hammers were nice. Even when their chances are not good—those who oppose them have no chance at all!

Excerpt
Excerpt: Under the hammer ?think you?re going to like killing, boy?? Asked the old man on double crutches. Rob jenne turned from the streams of moving cargo to his unnoticed companion in the shade of the starship?s hull. His own eyes were pale gray, suited like his dead-white skin to burlage, whose ruddy sun could raise a blush but not a tan. When they adjusted, they took in the clerical collar which completed the other?s costume. The smooth, black synthetic contrasted oddly with the coveralls and shirt of local weave. At that, the curwinite?s outfit was a cut above rob?s own, the same worksuit of burlage sisal that he had worn as a quarryhand at home. Uniform issue would come soon. The suddenly emotionless words surprised Rob as much as a scream in a silent prayer would have. Hissing like a gun-studded dragon, a gray-metal combat car slid onto the landing field from the west. Light dust puffed from beneath it: although the flatbed trailer behind was supported on standard wheels, the armored vehicle itself hovered a hand's-breadth above the surface at all points. A dozen powerful fans on the underside of the car kept it floating on an invisible bubble of air, despite the weight of the fusion power unit and the iridium-ceramic armor. Rob had seen combat cars on the entertainment cube occasionally, but those skittering miniatures gave no hint of the awesome power that emanated in reality from the machines. This one was seven meters long and three wide at the base, the armored sides curving up like a turtle's back to the open fighting compartment in the rear.