Read Online Decisively Engaged (Warp Marine Corps Book 1) by C.J. Carella - Free Book Online
Authors: C.J. Carella
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its wielder’s torn-up arm and a piece of shoulder still holding on to it. The explosion that dismembered the rifleman consisted mostly of steam from his own vaporized bodily fluids. ETs on each side of the target recoiled as bits of bone shrapnel and burning steam hit them, along with an overpressure wave powerful enough to rock them on their feet.
Fromm fired six more times, squeezing the trigger as soon as the targeting dot slid over another target. He missed twice – firing from a moving platform wasn’t easy even with neural implant targeting – but blew four more Ruddies to Kingdom come, turning them into miniature bombs that wounded several others. The car kept going. It shuddered but did not stop when Locquar hit a couple of attackers and sent their bodies caroming over the vehicle. On the other side of the passenger’s seat, McClintock was shooting as well; the screech of her beamer was noticeable even alongside the supersonic cracks of Fromm’s weapon.
Their car sped past the burning wreck of the lead vehicle and ran clear of the charging mob. Fromm twisted in the back seat to see what was going on behind them. The two Vehelian limos were following closely, knocking down Ruddies and running them over even as swords and spears glanced off their sides. The bus followed in their wake. A couple of firearm-wielding Eets raked the vehicles as they went by, but they were firing from the hip, spray-and-pray style, and Fromm didn’t think they hit anybody. He couldn’t see the van anywhere. Nothing he could do about that, except hope they all made it through the ambush point before the rocket launcher teams…
A puff of smoke erupted from the top of the second limo’s roof.
… reloaded.
The explosion didn’t look like much, but Fromm knew what it meant even before the limo swerved off course and drifted lazily to a stop. The missile had crashed through the top of the vehicle and shredded everyone inside. Only someone in sealed combat armor could have survived, and he doubted armor was part of Vehelian diplomatic dress code. The bus behind the doomed Oval car didn’t slow down, clipping the stopped vehicle and sending it off on a spin. The horde of Ruddies giving chase fell upon the stopped limo like lions tackling the slowest member of a fleeing herd.
McClintock looked at him, a question in her eyes. He shook his head. There was nothing they could do for the passengers of the doomed vehicle. The only consolation was that the mob tearing into the vehicle would only find corpses to desecrate. She bit her lip and checked the charge levels on her beamer. The energy weapons were as lethal as the plasma rounds his gun fired, but their effective range was measured in feet rather than yards, and their batteries only held enough power for five to seven shots, depending on the model. The Embassy spook changed battery packs. Fromm replaced his gun’s magazine with a fresh one. He’d only brought a spare magazine, never thinking he’d need more than forty rounds. Now he was down to thirty-three.
“Are we there yet?” he said, deadpan.
McClintock chuckled. “I will turn this car right around.” She went on in a sober tone: “Half a mile as the crow flies. A bit more on the road, but it’s a fairly straight shot there, unless…”
The road they were on had taken them over a slight rise on the ground. When they reached the top of the shallow hill, they saw the massed crowd it had hidden.
Several local vehicles, powered and animal-drawn, had been dragged across the street, blocking it.
“Quiet spot my ass,” Fromm grumbled.
The roar of the Ruddy mob drowned out his words.
* * *
“Where the fuck did they come from?” Gunnery Sergeant Miguel Obregon said as his imp fed him data from the overhead micro-drones. There was plenty of news, and all of it was bad.
One thing was clear: the Ruddies knew the Americans had them under aerial observation. They had come into the city in small groups and
Fromm fired six more times, squeezing the trigger as soon as the targeting dot slid over another target. He missed twice – firing from a moving platform wasn’t easy even with neural implant targeting – but blew four more Ruddies to Kingdom come, turning them into miniature bombs that wounded several others. The car kept going. It shuddered but did not stop when Locquar hit a couple of attackers and sent their bodies caroming over the vehicle. On the other side of the passenger’s seat, McClintock was shooting as well; the screech of her beamer was noticeable even alongside the supersonic cracks of Fromm’s weapon.
Their car sped past the burning wreck of the lead vehicle and ran clear of the charging mob. Fromm twisted in the back seat to see what was going on behind them. The two Vehelian limos were following closely, knocking down Ruddies and running them over even as swords and spears glanced off their sides. The bus followed in their wake. A couple of firearm-wielding Eets raked the vehicles as they went by, but they were firing from the hip, spray-and-pray style, and Fromm didn’t think they hit anybody. He couldn’t see the van anywhere. Nothing he could do about that, except hope they all made it through the ambush point before the rocket launcher teams…
A puff of smoke erupted from the top of the second limo’s roof.
… reloaded.
The explosion didn’t look like much, but Fromm knew what it meant even before the limo swerved off course and drifted lazily to a stop. The missile had crashed through the top of the vehicle and shredded everyone inside. Only someone in sealed combat armor could have survived, and he doubted armor was part of Vehelian diplomatic dress code. The bus behind the doomed Oval car didn’t slow down, clipping the stopped vehicle and sending it off on a spin. The horde of Ruddies giving chase fell upon the stopped limo like lions tackling the slowest member of a fleeing herd.
McClintock looked at him, a question in her eyes. He shook his head. There was nothing they could do for the passengers of the doomed vehicle. The only consolation was that the mob tearing into the vehicle would only find corpses to desecrate. She bit her lip and checked the charge levels on her beamer. The energy weapons were as lethal as the plasma rounds his gun fired, but their effective range was measured in feet rather than yards, and their batteries only held enough power for five to seven shots, depending on the model. The Embassy spook changed battery packs. Fromm replaced his gun’s magazine with a fresh one. He’d only brought a spare magazine, never thinking he’d need more than forty rounds. Now he was down to thirty-three.
“Are we there yet?” he said, deadpan.
McClintock chuckled. “I will turn this car right around.” She went on in a sober tone: “Half a mile as the crow flies. A bit more on the road, but it’s a fairly straight shot there, unless…”
The road they were on had taken them over a slight rise on the ground. When they reached the top of the shallow hill, they saw the massed crowd it had hidden.
Several local vehicles, powered and animal-drawn, had been dragged across the street, blocking it.
“Quiet spot my ass,” Fromm grumbled.
The roar of the Ruddy mob drowned out his words.
* * *
“Where the fuck did they come from?” Gunnery Sergeant Miguel Obregon said as his imp fed him data from the overhead micro-drones. There was plenty of news, and all of it was bad.
One thing was clear: the Ruddies knew the Americans had them under aerial observation. They had come into the city in small groups and
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