THEY WERE THE MEANEST, TOUGHEST BUNCH OF MERCS WHO EVER KILLED FOR A DOLLAR, OR WRECKED A WORLD FOR PAY—AND THEY WERE ONE BOY'S SALVATION....
My Lady Miriam and her entourage rushed back from the barred windows of the women's apartments on the second floor, squealing for effect. The tanks were so huge that the mirror-helmeted men watching from turret hatches were nearly on a level with the upper story of the palace.
The Baron's soldiers had boasted that they were better men than the mercenaries if it ever came down to cases. The fear that the women had mimed from behind stone walls seemed real enough now to the soldiers whose bluster and assault rifles were insignificant against the iridium titans which entered the courtyard.
Even at idle speed, the tanks roared as their fans maintained the cushions of air that slid them over the ground. Three of the Baron's men dodged back through the palace doorway, their curses inaudible over the intake whine of the approaching vehicles.
They did not need to respect us. They were
THE TANK LORDS