Gears of War: Aspho Fields. Home · Gears of War: Aspho Fields Karen Traviss - Gears of War 01 - Gears of War-Aspho Fields · Read more. For the first time, fans of the blockbuster Gears of War video games get an in- depth look at Delta Squad's toughest fighters—soldier's. Now he knew who she was. It came back with all the force of being shaken awake from a deep sleep. She'd fought at the Battle of Aspho Fields.

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Gears of War Aspho Fields Karen Traviss ebook. Publisher: Random House Publishing Group Page: 0. Format: pdf. ISBN: , Aspho. If you may be interested to read this Gears Of War Aspho Fields book of get gears of war aspho fields pdf file for free on our ebook library pdf file: gears of war . oni4ucEnaxa - Read/download Karen Traviss's book Gears of War Aspho Fields in PDF, EPub, Mobi, site online. Get free Gears of War Aspho Fields.

Physically, he is very big and muscular.

The grub was choking the life out of me, a round missed my brain by inches. Sep 29, Jonah rated it it was ok. A handful of factories struggled to produce spares, let alone crank out new weapons. In order to bring out the page I had to press on where a word would be to highlight the word and that fixes the missing page.

More like a tantalizing start and a promise for more information in later volumes. The Quickeningwith the battle drastically different from Gears of War: It felt like the author pulled Gears info to build a frame of a story around that info, threw in aslho dialogue and hope that the reader is familiar enough with the Gears universe to hold the whole thing asphk.

And that made it perfect to hide in. You might have noticed that I have reviewed a number of books by Karen Traviss. No character comes to the page with a blank slate, no good character fiedls least, but Aspho Fields take this challenge on with an interlaced narrative that shows both who these characters have become, and why.

I will however be fieldz the rest of the series The commando squad, led by Hoffman, infiltrate the base and begin capturing personnel and data. She writes very well, with a great balance between story and detail, and I was turning pages quickly the whole way.

It had to be maintained at all costs.

This job, or the Locust? The door opened behind him, just a crack judging by the muffled voice. He replaced his cap. Give me a minute. That, at least, won the politician a few points. He was taking the shortages like everyone else. He stood in front of a makeshift display board covered in sheets of paper, studying each in turn, then glanced over his shoulder.

Are things as hopeful as they look? He picked up the briefing notes that were always crisp and ready for him at these pointless monthly meetings, and leafed through the digests. Food stockpiles—10 percent lower than target. Munitions—a third below target output. Utilities—domestic power supplies less than twelve hours a day.

That was all he had to say. Prescott stared at him as if he was waiting for him to continue and give him some good news to announce. In the brief silence, an antique clock ticked with a sound like stones falling off a ledge.

Has the bomb worked? It always tended to get crushed. He pinned down his thoughts in the realms of the measurable and predictable as much as he could. Time will tell. Equipment failures went beyond critical a long time ago. So if Prescott got off his back and concentrated on civil unrest and reconstruction, it was one less hassle to deal with.

For appearances. Ever been under fire? Anything less is morally unacceptable. The grime on the glass—there was no maintenance these days, none of the trappings of a less brutal war—gave the broken Jacinto skyline a softer, more flattering focus.

He let out a long breath. I have to think past wars. My job is tomorrow. But hate and tribalism only unite a society so far. Long practice made him line the badge up with his nose almost unconsciously, running the edge of his right forefinger down over the metal while his left hand positioned the back of the cap.

Hoffman knew get lost when he heard it. It was all men now, near enough. The Pendulum War days of women in uniform were largely over. As Hoffman left, a girl in a sober blue business suit—maybe the girl who opened the bathroom door—stood at a filing cabinet with her back to him. When she closed the drawer and turned, he could see she was several months pregnant. That was a priority job now; not just replacing engine parts and weapon components, but replacing humans.

It might have been his imagination, but the sky was less heavily clouded than usual. He looked up, and saw nothing. Nothing was good news. His radio crackled. Now get some sleep. Tell Mathieson to get his lazy ass in that seat. Stroud out. It must have been damned hard to grow up in the shadow of Helena Stroud.

Or Adam Fenix, come to that. He made his way down the road to headquarters, suddenly wanting to pick up a rifle on the way.

Dom could hear firing long before Delta reached the junction with the boulevard. Marcus broke into a faster run, then sprinted toward the sound. Baird almost fell.

Aspho Fields

He could still sprint like a pro. Want a hand? Soon would be good. It was funny how you could overcome that instinct to get the hell out if you were trained hard enough. The boulevard was a big, open space with precious little cover. Dom and the rest of Delta made their way up the road by darting from doorway to doorway, and laid up for a moment behind an overturned dumpster. The Boomer and accompanying drones were preoccupied with the entrance to the mall, another converted period building.

Its weather doors were long gone. But the security shutter—a huge steel portcullis suspended between fluted columns—had been lowered. The Boomer was rattling it as easily as a night watchman checking a flimsy door. All the way around the atrium. Dom heard a voice in the background urging someone called David to hang in there; they had wounded to evacuate. Up the fire escape, along the mezzanine, and then Dom and I drop the Boomer from above.

The longer Marcus took it in silence, the bigger the eruption Dom expected. Just as Marcus had said, there was a rear entrance to the mall.

The walls were still intact. The doors were missing. Dom checked his Lancer and followed Marcus into what was obviously familiar territory to him. Take his head off. What the hell am I going to do if he gets killed?

Losing the kids had been bad enough. But when Maria went missing, Marcus had somehow held Dom together, whether he realized it or not. The guy was his friend, and his last link to happier times. The only upside was that everyone, absolutely everyone, had lost family and friends.

You were understood. The two men stared into pitch blackness. He always did, from the moment Dom first met him. The corridor had no natural light. Okay, this passage runs past the management offices and opens onto the mezzanine by the elevator. They had to preserve the internal walls.

After fifty yards, feeling their way with their hands against the walls, they turned hard right. Dom could see a bright rectangle ahead. The corridor filled with the noise of an intense firefight. It was just an empty gap now, without even the hinges left intact.

We always have, always will. The noise hit him like a brick wall. Once he was on the mezzanine, it all became clear. He could see the whole ground floor of the mall from here, from the carved drapes that flanked the interior entrance to the blackened shells of shops that lined the ground level, lit by sporadic muzzle flash. Rossi was crouched behind a retaining wall of stone by the stairs to the basement level, and a Gear—David?

Marcus sprinted to the far end of the floor, overlooking the entrance. It was only five meters. He was so pumped with adrenaline now, so set on sticking with Marcus no matter what happened, that everything he looked at was sharp, intensely colored, and somehow both slow-motion and flashing past him.

It started to lift. As Dom got ready to drop over the edge, it occurred to him that he could easily be caught in crossfire, but by then he was too pumped to stop.

The shutter lifted high enough for the Boomer to enter. It crouched under the barrier, almost squatting, then paused for a split second to look up. Marcus put a burst of fire through it. Then he crashed down onto its back. This was a two-man job.

The Boomer went down, face-first. The force of the impact winded Dom; he tasted blood in his mouth. As the Boomer rose to its knees to shrug them off, Dom was aware of deafening fire over his head, but nothing else. He caught the Boomer in a choke hold, his arm closing around its squat neck, while Marcus emptied a clip into its gut.

He fell back to reload. Dom jumped clear and carried on firing. Shit, those things really did take some stopping. Not even chainsaws did the job on them. Ordinary grubs, though…that was another matter. A drone came at them out of the rubble just as the Boomer sank to its knees, riddled with rounds. Dom turned to fire, but the grub jumped Marcus first. He revved up the chainsaw instead.

Down through the shoulder, right through the main plumbing. Get off my buddy, you bastard. His chainsaw screamed and stuttered against armor. Dom sliced into its shoulder—and still the thing kept moving. But the Boomer was out of the game now, just a shaking mound of meat on the floor. Somehow, Dom kept it in his peripheral vision as he sliced into the grub on top of Marcus.

He was sure it was never going to die until it bellowed and threw back its head, hurling him clear. As Dom scrambled to his feet, he saw a spray of arterial blood, Marcus rolling clear, then everything ground to a sudden, silent halt.

The Boomer was down. The things bled out like any other creature. Dom turned in time to see a drone falling backward a few meters away, still firing in a neat arc that tilted up to punch into the vaulted ceiling.

Then he inhaled. Are we done here? Rossi, you still there? Abdominal wound. Dom, caught in that weird limbo between fighting for his life and instant boredom, found he had to keep moving. He could have sworn he saw someone go into the mall. Right, Rossi? Sometimes, when he returned to a site, bodies were decomposing, and sometimes they were gone.

Maybe the packs of feral dogs and cats scavenged them. He took another look at the Boomer. Its eyes followed him as he moved around it, baleful and accusing.

After all that, the thing was still hanging on, just like David. Dom aimed his Lancer, then paused to flash Marcus on the radio. It might have been a waste of valuable ordnance.

Karen traviss aspho fields pdf

But at least it was dead now. There was nothing to pity or love or recognize. And they smelled bad. That smell clung to him until he showered it off, along with smoke and weapon residue. There was no sign of the Lancer. Another flicker in his peripheral vision made him turn, even though he knew it was just fatigue. There was a retail unit right ahead of him, its doorway partly blocked by rubble.

It was crazy, but he had to check. The debris on the floor from the collapsed ceiling was littered with bodies. In the smoky gloom, he could pick out limbs jutting from the debris, and his first thought was that a bunch of Stranded had been living here when the place came under fire. Now he could see the bodies were just old display mannequins stripped of every reusable material.

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He picked up a stray forearm. Even the small metal ball joints at both ends were missing. Dom could now hear the staccato sound of an incoming Raven. He picked his way back toward the exit, squinting against the daylight from the mall that plunged the rest of the space back into relative darkness.

His gut rumbled, and he reached in his belt-pouch for some dry rations to tide him over. He fired. I will defend and maintain the Order of Life as it was proclaimed by the Allfathers of the Coalition in the Octus Canon. I will forsake the life I had before so I may perform my duty as long as I am needed.

Steadfast, I shall hold my place in the machine and acknowledge my place in the Coalition. I am a Gear. Dom fired because no Gear would walk up on a buddy like that. The afterimage of the lamp and the light from the door blinded him. I still might. Identify yourself. She must have been trailing them all the way, and that thought bothered him more than the Locust.

It was a Stranded game; get a woman to keep a guy busy, then send the man to do whatever thieving he needed. The bastards had even tried to steal weapons, fuel, and vehicle parts from Gear patrols, which was a good reason for leaving them to fry. Not that the women were any less trouble than the men, but in a species on the brink of extinction—and humans were that species—nobody took risks with their females.

They were hope, the future, the survival of society—not cannon fodder. Dom was cut short by the thud of boots hitting the ground hard to his right, like someone had jumped from a height. He swung around. It was the rifle that got his attention first, a really old model Longshot, a Mark 2, followed by the woman holding it.

She looked like a smack in the mouth waiting to happen. She clipped the rifle back on its sling—shit, she had a Lancer, too—and stood there waiting. Dom stared at the rifle. Dom could see the tattoos on her arms now. Got a lot of catching up to do. Is it still Hoffman?

It was incredulity rather than bad manners. She definitely had. Try covering a couple of continents that all look as good as this place.

And remember that wet stuff called sea? That was still enough for Dom to decide to give her a wide berth. South Islanders were all crazy, and that was by Gear standards, which allowed for a lot of crazy even at the best of times. She took it. I like that in a woman. Come on, Marcus, take me to Hoffman. Outside, the King Raven had already set down and the winchman gave them an irritated get-a-move-on gesture.

The Raven lifted clear, and Dom caught a fleeting glance between Marcus and Bernie that bothered him for a moment. It was the kind of look that might have been a question or a warning or both. And I can still do the job. And she can. Dom found himself trying to erase five, ten, fifteen years from her face without looking as if he was staring. If anything, she looked…sympathetic. Mataki, Mataki, Mataki. Oh shit, yes. Now he knew who she was.

It came back with all the force of being shaken awake from a deep sleep. Dom held out his hand. It was the first half-decent bathroom Bernie had seen in years.

The novelty of running water would take some getting used to. She filled a basin, plunged her head in, and savored the simple joy of fresh water before straightening up and focusing on the mirror.

There was a bittersweet feel of home about it all. They filled the locker room. Marcus stood cleaning Locust guts off his armor, looking mildly annoyed. Then he took off the do-rag he always wore and rinsed it in a basin.

Without it, he looked like a totally different man. I heard some weird shit about you when I got here, Marcus. Is it true? That they court-martialed you.

I got forty years. Served four. It was going to be a death sentence, but Dom spoke up for me. And got me out a few days ago. The man would die in the proverbial ditch for anyone he believed in.

There had to be more to it than that—a lot more. Are you going to tell me why you decided to come back now? He was a good lad, dog-loyal and humblingly brave, the spitting image of his brother right down to the neat black goatee beard.

You know Dom. I went back home when I was invalided out of the army. The island was totally cut off on E-Day, so it was eight years before I even heard about the recall to Ephyra.

Harder for Locust to get at them when they put to sea. Every human, our whole species, is in mourning. What kind of society is going to come out of this?

What are we going to be like after so much loss? Thinking that far ahead was a luxury nobody had, except maybe the politicians. But she thought it anyway. Marcus continued cleaning up, and Bernie tried the showers. Even with cold water, it was sheer luxury. She was never going to set foot in a bloody boat again. The main door swung open. Six months after that, she was stuck in a hospital bed with a shattered leg, and then she was out of the army for good.

It was too easy to lose touch with people. And then—you found the people had gone forever.

Gears of War Aspho Fields

She wanted to kill grubs, to wipe them out like they wiped out her world, and being a Gear gave her the best seat in the house to do that. What else did you expect him to say? A bloody fine Gear.

Carlos was a brother anyone could be proud of. Dom just smiled to himself for a moment, a little sadly, and started singing under his breath while he took off his body armor. Fighting Locust was a messy business.

Bernie thought of the chainsaw bayonet, and realized that stripping down and cleaning a rifle was a whole new game these days. Marcus was using an old toothbrush on the blades. Marcus made that unhh sound under his breath.

Bernie recalled it all too well.


She took that as a guide to just how bad the blood was between him and Hoffman. Bernie gathered her belongings—one change of clothes, three changes of weapon—and sat in the lobby area waiting to be summoned.

The Gears walking past her were all men. The Pendulum Wars were different, somehow. Nobody really believed it was the end of the world, even if global disaster was actually around the corner.

This time, though, it was probable, and everyone knew it. And take a few more of the grub bastards with me. Passing Gears stopped to stare for a second and then wisely went about their business. Actually, he had changed. His age showed, more around his neck than anything, and his piercing dark eyes looked somehow faded. But he still stood as if he was going to take a run at her, arms loose at his sides, weight slightly forward.

But I can still function in full armor and hit a moving target at eight hundred meters. She was here, she reminded herself, because she was human, and being a Gear again was the best chance she had of taking back her world. Dom walked up to her, reeking of carbolic soap. It was bloody hard to scrub off that Locust smell.

Carlos thought a lot of you. I bet you two got up to all kinds of shit he never told me about. Bernie did her best to smile back, and followed him down the corridor.He swung around. As Shadows Fade: He was born to be a Gear.

The Coldfire Trilogy: Nothing was good news. He never said a word. It was the kind of look that might have been a question or a warning or both. A couple of King Ravens circled overhead, returning from dropping a team of sappers at the North Gate food facility.