Read Online Murder of Crows (Book One of The Icarus Trilogy) by Kevin Kauffmann - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kevin Kauffmann
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the cargo bay. Jenkins took a breath and prepared himself for the jump. Even with five games behind him he wasn’t used to the ordeal. He jumped out of the plane anyway.
The ground rushed at him impossibly fast. The scream of the wind flying past him made it hard to focus, but he’d been trained to release his parachute at three hundred meters. It almost wasn’t in his control anymore. He just had to make sure he wasn’t going to land on a spire or jagged line of barbed wire. No point in getting gibbed right at the start.
He directed himself to a patch of clear ground and released his chute. It fluttered behind him and caught the atmosphere. It slowed down his descent considerably, but he was still falling at a good click. At five meters he flicked the release switch and prepared himself for the landing.
The young Crow met the ground with a considerable thump and tried to use up his momentum in a forward roll. The suit took the brunt of the impact, but Jenkins still needed to do something to compensate for the freefall. He came to his feet afterwards without harm. His bones ached, but that was a fairly common occurrence on reentry.
There was a crash behind him. He thought he’d been ambushed before realizing it was just Feldman making his entrance. The brute had released his parachute at twenty meters from the ground, just like every other game. His suit was reinforced for all the extra weight and a great deal of his fan base was enamored with his nonchalant style. Usually he landed on his feet and tried to look the part of the juggernaut. In this particular instance he fell onto a pile of trash and metal and promptly landed on his back.
Feldman picked himself up and wiped some mud from his armor before looking around for his sword. The overseers tended to place the weapon at the drop zone instead of sending it along with the soldier. Too many mishaps and problems involved with reentry. It also made it more entertaining for the viewers to have some soldiers virtually unarmed until they could find their weapons.
Feldman didn’t really care either way. It was usually tucked away nearby. The few times he had been ambushed he was able to adapt fairly well. Most soldiers had a hard time reacting to a behemoth rushing them in power armor. He felt fortunate for growing up on an asteroid farm. His genes had taken full advantage of the lesser gravity and the Commission had done what it could to replicate it in his clones.
Jenkins looked around the clearing and found Feldman’s sword off in a patch of grating to his right. He pointed it out to Feldman and then tried to take in his surroundings. Feldman lumbered towards his plasma sword off in Jenkins’ periphery while the young soldier scanned the horizon for his teammates’ beacons.
Goldstein and Norris were fine and setting up camp along a ridge. They’d probably stay there for the whole game. Guarding the sniper wasn’t the most glamorous job, but it would keep Goldstein out of trouble. The soldier had been quite unfortunate in the last few games.
Feldman was trudging towards his teammate when he heard a few rocks fall down the ridge behind him. He turned quickly for his size, but a flurry of shells pelted his armor before he was able to gain his bearings. The bullets did little damage but it was still somewhat jarring to the veteran. Jenkins was yelling something over Comms, but Feldman wasn’t really paying attention; he was already rushing the source of the gunfire.
There were two men from the Hawks above the ridge, which would have been a little more than Feldman would have preferred, but Jenkins was already laying down suppressive fire. They were already retreating back to the other side of the crest as Feldman rushed closer. He didn’t smile, as Norris or Warner might have done. The titan took no pleasure in killing men.
Feldman was only a meter away from the crest when he
The ground rushed at him impossibly fast. The scream of the wind flying past him made it hard to focus, but he’d been trained to release his parachute at three hundred meters. It almost wasn’t in his control anymore. He just had to make sure he wasn’t going to land on a spire or jagged line of barbed wire. No point in getting gibbed right at the start.
He directed himself to a patch of clear ground and released his chute. It fluttered behind him and caught the atmosphere. It slowed down his descent considerably, but he was still falling at a good click. At five meters he flicked the release switch and prepared himself for the landing.
The young Crow met the ground with a considerable thump and tried to use up his momentum in a forward roll. The suit took the brunt of the impact, but Jenkins still needed to do something to compensate for the freefall. He came to his feet afterwards without harm. His bones ached, but that was a fairly common occurrence on reentry.
There was a crash behind him. He thought he’d been ambushed before realizing it was just Feldman making his entrance. The brute had released his parachute at twenty meters from the ground, just like every other game. His suit was reinforced for all the extra weight and a great deal of his fan base was enamored with his nonchalant style. Usually he landed on his feet and tried to look the part of the juggernaut. In this particular instance he fell onto a pile of trash and metal and promptly landed on his back.
Feldman picked himself up and wiped some mud from his armor before looking around for his sword. The overseers tended to place the weapon at the drop zone instead of sending it along with the soldier. Too many mishaps and problems involved with reentry. It also made it more entertaining for the viewers to have some soldiers virtually unarmed until they could find their weapons.
Feldman didn’t really care either way. It was usually tucked away nearby. The few times he had been ambushed he was able to adapt fairly well. Most soldiers had a hard time reacting to a behemoth rushing them in power armor. He felt fortunate for growing up on an asteroid farm. His genes had taken full advantage of the lesser gravity and the Commission had done what it could to replicate it in his clones.
Jenkins looked around the clearing and found Feldman’s sword off in a patch of grating to his right. He pointed it out to Feldman and then tried to take in his surroundings. Feldman lumbered towards his plasma sword off in Jenkins’ periphery while the young soldier scanned the horizon for his teammates’ beacons.
Goldstein and Norris were fine and setting up camp along a ridge. They’d probably stay there for the whole game. Guarding the sniper wasn’t the most glamorous job, but it would keep Goldstein out of trouble. The soldier had been quite unfortunate in the last few games.
Feldman was trudging towards his teammate when he heard a few rocks fall down the ridge behind him. He turned quickly for his size, but a flurry of shells pelted his armor before he was able to gain his bearings. The bullets did little damage but it was still somewhat jarring to the veteran. Jenkins was yelling something over Comms, but Feldman wasn’t really paying attention; he was already rushing the source of the gunfire.
There were two men from the Hawks above the ridge, which would have been a little more than Feldman would have preferred, but Jenkins was already laying down suppressive fire. They were already retreating back to the other side of the crest as Feldman rushed closer. He didn’t smile, as Norris or Warner might have done. The titan took no pleasure in killing men.
Feldman was only a meter away from the crest when he
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