And this Victor is fully capable of raking them in, a Bolo Mark XXXIII of the 4th Regiment, Second Brigade, First Confederation Mobile Army Corps, in the vanguard of an all-out Bolo strike against the planet Caern. The enemy is the Aetryx, shadowy, unknown beings who enslave other species with nothing less than the promise of immortality. As a savage, interstellar war begins, Colonel Jon Streicher prepares to lead Victor and the rest of his regiment in that most difficult of tactical evolutions—planetary invasion.
But D-Day turns into a disaster, and Caern is a deadly trap. Colonel Streicher and his command team find themselves stranded on the target planet, desperately attempting to survive the hellfire chaos of modern warfare, as Bolo faces Bolohuman hybrid in a cataclysmic showdown that will uncover unexpected truths, reveal hidden secrets, and even call into question the loyalty of the Dinochrome Brigade itself.
For just what will happen if the Aetryx aren't slavers after all, but literal gods who can make good on their promise of eternal life
The Dinochromes are about to find out.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
William H. Keith, Jr. has published over 50 novels, both science fiction and military techno-thrillers. Among his popular series are the "Warstrider" and "Seals: The Warrior Breed" series for Avon Books. His Tactics of Duty for the "Battle Tech" series (Roc) won the 1995 Award for Best Game Related Fiction. His Baen novels include the genre bestsellers Bolo Brigade and Bolo Rising, and, in collaboration with Babylon 5 star Peter Jurasik, the science fiction comedy adventure Diplomatic Act.
Keith Laumer was renowned as a master of exciting fast-paced action stories and novels. A former Air Force officer and also at one time a Foreign Service Officer, Laumer's experience led to his two most popular series: the hilarious adventures of Retief, the galaxy's only two-fisted diplomat, and the Bolos.
Welcome to Lady Sally's, the House that is a home—the internationally (hell, Interplanetartily) notorious bordello. At Lady Sally's House, the customer' doesn't necessarily come first: even the staff are genuinely enjoying themselves.
Wife of time traveling bartender Mike Callahan, and employer of some of the most unusual and talented performing artists ever to work in the field of, hedonic interface, Her Ladyship has designed her House to be an ``equal opportunity enjoyer," discreetly, tastefully and joyfully catering to all erotic tastes and fantasies, however unusual. Like her famous husband, Lady Sally doesn't even insist that her customers be human . . . as long as they have good manners.
Small wonder, then, that she and her staff encounter beings as unique and memorable as the superhuman Colt, whose banner never, ever flags . . . Diana, the deadly dominatrix who cannot be disobeyed .. . Tony Donuts, the moronic man-monster even the Mafia doesn't want to mess with-. . . or Charles, the werewolf with a distinct difference .
Praise for a Hugo—and Nebula—Winning Master Storyteller:
. . . I'd nominate Spider Robinson as the new Robert Heinlein."
-The New York Times
"The hottest writer to hit science fiction since Harlan Ellison!"
-Los Angeles Times
"Sheer good storytelling . . . imaginative and captivating: . . ."
ALIENS: BEWARE OF LOW-FLYING
Chip Connolly was a conscripted grunt in trouble. Here he was, stuck behind enemy lines with a bunch of cyber-uplifted rats and bats. Rats with human speech, but with rat values. Rats that knew what was worth fighting for: sex, food and strong drink. True, they were holed up on a ruined wine-farm with enough brandy to swim in. Trouble was, there wasn't much food. And with shrew-metabolism the rats had to eat. He was next on the menu. The bats were no help: they were crazy revolutionaries planning to throw off the yoke of human enslavement—with high explosive. As if that wasn't bad enough, there was the girl they'd rescued. Rich. Beautiful. With a passionate crush on her 'heroic' rescuer. She came with added extras: a screwball Alien tutor, and a cyber-uplifted pet galago—a tiny little lemurlike-critter with a big mouth and delusions about being the world's greatest lover.
So: he'd volunteered for a suicide mission. Of course things only got worse. The whole crew decided to come along. Seven rats, five bats, a galago, two humans, a sea-urchin-like alien and an elderly vineyard tractor without brakes . . . against several million inimical aliens. He was going to die.
Mind you, not dying could be even more terrible. That girl might get him.
My forty-seven pairs of flint-steel roadwheels are in depot condition. Their tires of spun ber~yl~lium monocrystal, woven to deform rather than compress, all have 97% or better of their fabric unbroken. The immediate terrain is semi-arid. The briefing files inform me this is typical of the planet. My track links purr among themselves as they grind through scrub vegetation and the friable soil, carrying me to my assigned mission.
There is a cataclysmic fuel-air explosion to the east behind me. The glare is visible for 5.3 seconds, and the ground will shake for many minutes as shock waves echo through the planetary mantle.
Had my human superiors so chosen, I could be replacing Saratoga at the spearhead of the attack.
The rear elements of the infantry are in sight now. They look like dung beetles in their hard suits, crawling backward beneath a rain of shrapnel. I am within range of their low-power communications net. "Hold what you got, troops," orders the unit's acting commander. "Big Brother's come to help!"
I am not Big Brother. I am Maldon, a Mark XXX Bolo of the 3rd Battalion, Dinochrome Brigade. The lineage of our unit goes back to the 2nd South Wessex Dragoons. In 1944, we broke the last German resistance on the path to Falaise—though we traded our flimsy Cromwells against the Tigers at a ration of six to one to do it.
The citizens do not need to know what the cost is. They need only to know that the mission has been accomplished. The battle honors welded to my turret prove that I have always accomplished my mission.
Two new powerhouses of science fiction, David Weber and Linda Evans, continue the amplified history of the Bolo, the nearly indestructible tank/artificial intelligence that changed the shape of the galaxy.
David Weber tells the story of a Bolo, theepitome of the knight sans peur et sans reproche; who is driven over the edge by the very humans he is: pledged to protect.
Linda Evans give us the tale of the "Little Lost Dog" in which a bored young woman on a frontier planet tinkers with a mothballed Bolo and revives it, only to discover that the artificial intelligence that ran it is hopelessly brain-dead ....