Maybe the tariff dispute on Planner's World could've have been settled by arbitration, but when war broke out, the United Cities hired the best mercenaries money could buy:
HAMMER'S SLAMMERS
Lt. Arne Huber was old enough to be a veteran but still young enough to have principles. He commanded a platoon of combat cars, leading from the front because he was a Slammers officer and that's the only place you can lead.
From Huber's first minutes on Plattner's World, he was in the middle of hot, flaming war. He knew that wasn't going to change until the Slammers either left the planet or his relatives back on Friesland got a coffin with a warning to bury it unopened.
FOR THE LOCALS, THE WAR WAS A MATTER OF PRINCIPLE;
TO THE SLAMMERS, IT WAS A PAYCHECK
A score of separate states and factions fought to rule Plattner's World. That was bad enough, but the planet's great wealth had attracted not only mercenaries but a worse kind of looter: interstellar investors with no qualms about making a profit on blood, so long as the profit was high enough and the blood came from somebody else.
From a weed-grown landing strip to the narrow corridors of a modern office building, Arne Huber's survival depended on quick reflexes and the blazing cyan hellfire of his gun. He and his troopers didn't like some of the choices they had to make—but they'd make them regardless, because they were the Slammers and it was their job.
DECEIT AND BETRAYAL WERE THE ONLY CERTAINTIES
Arne Huber and his platoon had to face government officials with private agendas, politicians with armies of street thugs, and a hostile armored division with the most powerful tanks on the planet. The climax would come as it always did, when the Slammers slugged it out with the best the enemy could throw at them. Tank cannon, automatic weapons, and the world-shattering thunder of massed artillery would turn the night into an inferno and a slaughterhouse.
Arne Huber and his troopers knew they could die, because they'd watched friends die on every planet where they'd served. Maybe they could even be beaten—
BUT NOBODY'D BEATEN THE SLAMMERS YET!
At the publisher's request, this title is sold without DRM (Digital Rights Management).
Vietnam veteran, former lawyer, former bus driver, and now bestselling author, David Drake tells a military story like no other. His readers recognize that he can take them where no one else can, with gut-wrenching description that puts them face-to-face with the enemy, and in the midst of the action right on the battlefield. He helped create the audience for mercenary military science fiction with his best-selling "Hammer's Slammers" books. Drake graduated Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Iowa, majoring in history (with honors) and Latin. His stint at Duke University Law School was interrupted for two years by the U.S. Army, where he served as an enlisted interrogator with the 11th Armored Cavalry in Vietnam and Cambodia. Drake has a wife, a son, and various pets.
." . . real people fighting real conflicts. . . . a book by a man who has been there. . . ." ." . . the best in military science fiction. Recommended." "David Drake has distinguished himself as the master of the mercenary science fiction novel. He has developed a following for his Slammers just short of cult proportions."
Colonel Alois Hammer: to the galaxy, a legendary commander of mercenaries. To his troops, a leader who can be trusted to always back them to the hilt - and meet a payroll. When the situation on a planet has gone beyond desperate, it's time to call for Hammer's Slammers.
Description:
Maybe the tariff dispute on Planner's World could've have been settled by arbitration, but when war broke out, the United Cities hired the best mercenaries money could buy:
HAMMER'S SLAMMERS
Lt. Arne Huber was old enough to be a veteran but still young enough to have principles. He commanded a platoon of combat cars, leading from the front because he was a Slammers officer and that's the only place you can lead.
From Huber's first minutes on Plattner's World, he was in the middle of hot, flaming war. He knew that wasn't going to change until the Slammers either left the planet or his relatives back on Friesland got a coffin with a warning to bury it unopened.
FOR THE LOCALS, THE WAR WAS A MATTER OF PRINCIPLE;
TO THE SLAMMERS, IT WAS A PAYCHECK
A score of separate states and factions fought to rule Plattner's World. That was bad enough, but the planet's great wealth had attracted not only mercenaries but a worse kind of looter: interstellar investors with no qualms about making a profit on blood, so long as the profit was high enough and the blood came from somebody else.
From a weed-grown landing strip to the narrow corridors of a modern office building, Arne Huber's survival depended on quick reflexes and the blazing cyan hellfire of his gun. He and his troopers didn't like some of the choices they had to make—but they'd make them regardless, because they were the Slammers and it was their job.
DECEIT AND BETRAYAL WERE THE ONLY CERTAINTIES
Arne Huber and his platoon had to face government officials with private agendas, politicians with armies of street thugs, and a hostile armored division with the most powerful tanks on the planet. The climax would come as it always did, when the Slammers slugged it out with the best the enemy could throw at them. Tank cannon, automatic weapons, and the world-shattering thunder of massed artillery would turn the night into an inferno and a slaughterhouse.
Arne Huber and his troopers knew they could die, because they'd watched friends die on every planet where they'd served. Maybe they could even be beaten—
BUT NOBODY'D BEATEN THE SLAMMERS YET!
At the publisher's request, this title is sold without DRM (Digital Rights Management).
Vietnam veteran, former lawyer, former bus driver, and now bestselling author, David Drake tells a military story like no other. His readers recognize that he can take them where no one else can, with gut-wrenching description that puts them face-to-face with the enemy, and in the midst of the action right on the battlefield. He helped create the audience for mercenary military science fiction with his best-selling "Hammer's Slammers" books. Drake graduated Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Iowa, majoring in history (with honors) and Latin. His stint at Duke University Law School was interrupted for two years by the U.S. Army, where he served as an enlisted interrogator with the 11th Armored Cavalry in Vietnam and Cambodia. Drake has a wife, a son, and various pets.
**
From Booklist
The latest Hammer's Slammers book consists of three novellas flying in close formation. Together they are the adventures of Lieutenant (later Captain) Arnie Huber, a combat-car leader when the Slammers land on Plattner's World to fight over the price of a key ingredient for geriatric drugs. "Choosing Sides," in which Huber learned to do dirty tricks, first appeared in Warmasters [BKL My 1 02], alongside novellas by David Weber and Eric Flint; "The Political Process" and "Neck or Nothing" each take Huber on desperate missions against potential treachery and the superior forces of other mercenaries. The weaponry, the action scenes, and the depiction of the Warrior Walking Alone are as vivid and compelling as Drake's readers expect them to be, and his realization of characters and political intrigue continue to mature. The Slammers may be one of the longest-serving units in military sf, but they are no longer, as they sometimes seemed to be, more of the same old same old. Roland Green
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Review
." . . real people fighting real conflicts. . . . a book by a man who has been there. . . ." ." . . the best in military science fiction. Recommended." "David Drake has distinguished himself as the master of the mercenary science fiction novel. He has developed a following for his Slammers just short of cult proportions."
Colonel Alois Hammer: to the galaxy, a legendary commander of mercenaries. To his troops, a leader who can be trusted to always back them to the hilt - and meet a payroll. When the situation on a planet has gone beyond desperate, it's time to call for Hammer's Slammers.