Gears of war, aspho fields

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CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20

EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY KAREN TRAVISS
COPYRIGHT
 
For the 2ndBattalion the Mercian Regiment, and all British service personnel in Afghanistan. Because real heroes in the real world are the ones we should be reading about.
 
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My grateful thanks go to my editor at Del Rey, Keith Clayton, for indulging my love of outlandish armor and unfeasibly large weapons; to Gears producer Rod Fergusson, Epic president Mike Capps, and—of course—Gears designerCliff Bleszinski for making Gears such an intelligent, emotional gut-punch of a universe; Jim Gilmer, for sharing his invaluable ER experience with chainsaw injuries; real-life sniper Ray Ramirez, for friendship and technical advice; to Jerry Holkins and Mike Krahulik of Penny Arcade, who promised me Gears was “Traviss Town,” and made up my mind; and to all the men and women in uniform who’vegenerously given me their time and wisdom over the years, and who continue to leave me humbled by their courage and quiet professionalism.
 
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PROLOGUE
TIME: FOURTEEN YEARS AFTER EMERGENCE DAY. PLACE: SOMEWHERE BENEATH THE SURFACE OF SERA.

For a time, the humans of Sera knew the illusion of peace…until Emergence Day.
At that moment, our people broke free from our subterranean world,erupting into the domain of these groundwalkers, and wiping out whole cities. We fought and killed the humans on their fine boulevards, in their homes, on their battlefields.
And they fought back.
In time, their valiant defense was crushed. With billions dead, humans denied their enemy control by destroying their own civilization. They launched devastating attacks on their own territory—sacrificingtheir own citizens—so that we could not possess it. Such is their loathing and fear of us.
Understand what a world must do to survive—what humans must do, and what we must do. But survive we must.
Now the humans’ long struggle against overwhelming odds approaches the final, desperate stand…
(QUEEN MYRRAH OF THE LOCUST HORDE, ADDRESSING NEW LOCUST TROOPS WAITING TO GO INTO BATTLE FOR THE FIRSTTIME.)

URBAN PATROL IN EPHYRA; 14 YEARS AFTER EMERGENCE DAY, ONE WEEK AFTER THE LIGHTMASS ASSAULT ON THE LOCUST.

I swear I can smell barbecue.
I don’t mean scorched flesh—that’s a stench I know pretty well. I mean meat, proper meat, the bitter tang of charcoal at the back of your throat, smoky fat, spices, juices. I’m point man today; I raise my fist to halt the squad.
See, smell matterswhen you’re on patrol. It’s part of the picture you build up, as much a clue as anything you see, hear, feel. It tells you plenty: dead bodies, how long they’ve been dead, discharged weapons, leaking fuel, fresh air from a distant vent when you’re looking for a way out. And, of course, it tells the enemy plenty about you.
So how many Locust are left?
Marcus looks around slowly, not blinking, likehe’s a machine scanning the buildings. “What is it, Dom?”
“Smell it?”
Someone’s probably trying to carry on a normal life in this city, pretending it’s an ordinary summer day like we had years ago, wars ago. Even with billions dead, humans get on with life. Even me. Even without my wife and kids. Humans always find something to hang on to.
Marcus pauses, inhales slowly, then lets his rifle reston its sling.
“Dog,” he says at last. “Yeah, dog. Overdone.”
Cole chuckles. “Save me a leg. Two, if it’s one of those little yappy guys.”
“Shit, those Stranded eat anything,” Baird says. He’s got no time for the bands of refugees living outside government protection. Has anyone? Me, I try to remember they’re our own. “Maybe they’ll end up eating each other and save us a few rounds.”
It’s...