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Armor (Englisch) Taschenbuch – 4. Dezember 1984

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  • Taschenbuch: 432 Seiten
  • Verlag: DAW; Auflage: Reissue (4. Dezember 1984)
  • Sprache: Englisch
  • ISBN-10: 0886773687
  • ISBN-13: 978-0886773687
  • Vom Hersteller empfohlenes Alter: Ab 18 Jahren
  • Größe und/oder Gewicht: 10,7 x 3,3 x 17,5 cm
  • Durchschnittliche Kundenbewertung: 4.4 von 5 Sternen  Alle Rezensionen anzeigen (220 Kundenrezensionen)
  • Amazon Bestseller-Rang: Nr. 45.267 in Fremdsprachige Bücher (Siehe Top 100 in Fremdsprachige Bücher)

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Thank you and God bless you for your interest.
What I know about the Net wouldn't fill a thimble. My first time, so I cannot imagine doing this properly. Love to talk to you. But I , quite simply, do not know how to go about it. Yes, a sequel. Maybe. If he lived. I'm going to try to leave my e-mail address. If I have it written down right. If I happen, quite by chance, to put it in the correct box. So...I'll try. If I should get it right, someone who knows what I should do can do whatever it is that is done to contact me and lead me along. Or not. In any case, thanks for all the comments.

Leseprobe. Abdruck erfolgt mit freundlicher Genehmigung der Rechteinhaber. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

It was then, for Felix, it began. The hatred for the briefing officer had expanded to include his superiors, the captain of the ship, the commanders of Fleet itself, and finally the thick-headed idiot humans who had undertaken something as asinine as interplanetary war in the first place. The hatred blazed brightly, then vanished. From somewhere inside came a shock of all-consuming rage, the nova-like intensity of which startled even him. But then the rage was gone, too. It seemed to shoot away like a comet. What replaced the loathing and fury was something very different, something cold and distant and . . . only impersonally attentive. It was an odd being which rose from Felix and through him. It was, in fact, a remarkable creature. It was a wartime creature and a surviving creature. A killing creature.

The Engine, Felix thought. It’s not me. It’s my Engine. It will work when I cannot. It will examine and determine and choose and, at last, act. It will do all this while I cower inside.



To my beloved father,

first (and foremost) John William Steakley—

and to Eagle,

first (and foremost) pal,

this book is gratefully dedicated.

Every single day I love them both.

You are

What you do

When it counts.

The Masao

Table of Contents



He drank alone.

Which was odd since he didn’t have trouble with people. He had always managed to make acquaintances without much effort. And, despite what had happened, he still liked people. Recently, he had even grown to miss them again. Yet here he was, drinking alone.

Maybe I’m just shy, he thought to himself and then laughed at such a feeble attempt at self-delusion. For he knew what it was.

From his place at the end of the long bar he examined the others in the crowded lounge. He recognized a handful from training. Training was where it had begun. Where he had felt that odd sensation descending upon him like mist, separating him from all those thousands of others around him in the mess hall. It was a dull kind of temporal shock at first, a reaction reverberating from somewhere deep within him. He had somehow felt . . . No, he had somehow known that they all would die.

He shook his head, drained his glass. If he was in the mood for honesty he would have to admit that his chances were no better. No better at all. . . .

He paid the credits for a full bottle and then paid the extra credits to take it out of the lounge. It was strictly against orders on a battle cruiser to have a bottle in one’s personal possession. But on the night before a drop a lot of things were possible. And as the hour for the drop grew nearer, he noticed that his fellows were beginning to take their drinking more seriously.

Outside the lounge wasn’t much better. Lots of bottles had been smuggled out tonight. The ship wasn’t exactly a giant party, but there were enough get-togethers here and there, and enough legitimate crew business here and there, to make it almost impossible to find a quiet place to sit and think. After a while he had settled into an idle rhythm of walking, sipping, smoking, and hunting.

After most of an hour of wandering about the corridors of the immense ship he found himself standing beside the center template strut of Drop Bay One. Drop Bay One was the largest single room in the ship and, since the Terra was the largest warship, the largest single room in space. It was over a hundred meters long and sixty wide. Around him in a checkerboard style were the little square spaces for drop assignment. From here it all began. Thousands of men and women would go into battle from this room. At the same moment, if necessary. The overhead was ten stories above him, criss-crossed with the immense cranes that lowered the equipment of war into position. A hell of a big room, he thought. Bigger even than the Hall of Gold back home where he had first stood at age ten beside the boys and girls of the other nobles and watched the coronation. He and the other children had had a tendency to giggle, he remembered, and so had been placed at the far end of the Hall, away from the throne.

Enough of this, he said to himself. That’s over for me now. It’s far, far away . . .

He sighed, shook his head. He perched himself atop the center strut and lay down on his back and stared up at the distant overhead and didn’t see it.

“Enough sentiment,” he said aloud. “It’s time for brainwork. Time, in fact, for a cold logical assessment of the situation.” He took a sip from the bottle, lit a smoke, and laughed again. “Fact is, we haven’t got a prayer.”

Fact was, most everybody in Fleet nowadays was a rookie. Over sixty percent and rising. That meant six months of advanced training. Nine months tops in the military altogether.

Not much hope there.

Still, the equipment was marvelous and many were surprisingly good with it. He remembered his astonishment at discovering clearly apparent aptitude for, of all things, the battle armor. Most found the power suits almost impossibly alien in practice and couldn’t bring themselves to react in a sufficiently normal fashion. But he, and a few others, had taken to them easily, readily utilizing their potential as the long-sought key to a machine as extension of man’s own puny form.

How odd, he thought, that he should have such bizarre talents. He, of all people, had fit with Fleet’s hopes. . . .

And from there his drunken thoughts slipped into the past like most drunken thoughts of terrified humans. He lay back on the template and blew smoke at the distant cranes. He sipped steadily from the bottle.

He feared.

The hours passed.

Lovers in niches surrounding the perimeter of the Bay took advantage of the sexually integrated warrior class. They rocked and moaned and grasped one another. It was a united, if unorganized, effort by each and all to push the tension-taut present far ahead into the horrors of the future. After a while they would rest from their labors, draining the last of the bottles and lighting the last of the cigarettes. And before thoughts turned inward each and all would notice the glow of the cigarette coal coming from the lone figure who lay on the center template strut in the middle of the vastness of Drop Bay One. They would wonder what the hell it was he was doing there.

Felix, alone and unaware of their curiosity, wondered the very same thing.

*    *    *

Drop was just under four hours away when Felix reached the chow line. The turnout was sparse this morning. Not surprising, considering the night before. He watched several people back out as the line advanced toward the food. As the smell grew stronger, their faces grew greener until at last they couldn’t take it anymore. A broad-shouldered woman wearing a warrior patch and red eyes got so far as to actually have a plate of the heaping whatever placed in front of her before she vomited loudly onto the floor.

She looked around, wildly embarrassed, to apologize at all others in the line, but found only Felix left. Puzzled, she nodded to him and rushed out the door with her palm clamped firmly over her lips. Felix looked around and laughed. He was indeed alone in the chow line. The young woman had actually emptied the place out.

He wasn’t surprised, but neither was he affected. He stepped over the grumbling clean-up crew and, to the cooks’ amazement, ordered them to heap whatever it was onto his...

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4 von 4 Kunden fanden die folgende Rezension hilfreich Von "buechertrinker" am 14. Oktober 2002
Format: Taschenbuch
Der englische Titel "Amor" ist Programm. Im ersten Handlungsstrang ist es dieser Kampfanzug, in dem die Hauptperson im Kampf gegen die insektenähnlichen Aliens auf deren, für Menschen lebensfeindlichen Planeten, zum Killer oder Helden - je nach Sichtweise - wird. Obwohl nicht besser oder schlechter ausgerüstet als seine Kameraden, schlägt er sämtliche Statistiken hinsichtlich Effektivität und der Wahrscheinlichkeit zu Überleben. Im zweiten Strang spielt dieser Anzug zunächst keine große Rolle, rückt aber nach einer etwas langatmigen Einleitung (oder kommt mir das nach dem furiosen und packenden Start nur so vor?) mehr und mehr ist Zentrum der Handlung. Da ich nicht zu viel über die Handlung verraten möchte, sei nur so viel gesagt, dass die beiden Handlungsstränge sehr geschickt miteinander verwoben werden. Was macht die hohe Wertung für diesen Roman aus? Die beeindruckende Schilderung der Kampfszenen ist wahrscheinlich das Herausragende. Der exzellente Aufbau der Story incl. Spannungsbögen und die überraschenden Wechsel der Erzählperspektiven tun ein übriges dazu. Am Anspruch hapert es ein wenig. Zwar wird die innere Zerrissenheit hinsichtlich der Grausamkeiten des Kampfes der eigentlichen Hauptperson sehr gut , die Handlung fördernd dargestellt, aber sonderlich in die Tiefe geht's nicht. D.h. an Strugatzki oder Lem kommt dieser Roman nicht heran. Macht auch nichts! Dafür ist es absolut gute und spannende Unterhaltung von der Klasse z.B. eines Orson Scott Gard (Enders Game), wenn auch deutlich mehr actionorientiert.
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2 von 2 Kunden fanden die folgende Rezension hilfreich Von Ein Kunde am 13. Juli 2000
Format: Taschenbuch
I picked this novel up a couple of days ago and read it in one night. As a soldier I have to say that the story is very compelling in it's discription of battle, the fear, the hopelessness, the lack of faith in the chain of command and in one's self. This story through the eyes of Felix gives the reader a hint as to the fear of combat, the hate of doing what must be done, and the drive to survive when there is no reason to. I have read many reviews on this novel comparing it to a Starship Troopers rip off. The only thing that most of these people have to say is "gee it has power armor and bugs and that Heinlein did it first and better". Well as to that I have to say that I have read many sci-fi novels and the concept of power armor is neither new or that amazing nor does Heinlein hold the copyright to that idea. While Starship Troopers is a good novel and one of my favorites, this story about Felix goes about combat and the emotions involved with such while Heinlein spent alot of time talking about society, the military system and such. As to the part with Jack Crow, yes it is going to through you for a loop. It pops out of nowhere but is still a integral part of the story. With Jack Crow you take another man that will do anything to survive and you see him experience what Felix did during the war and you get another perspective on the man that is Felix and what he went through. All in all I have to say that is a very good story and definitely a something to pick up and read.
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2 von 2 Kunden fanden die folgende Rezension hilfreich Von Ein Kunde am 7. April 2000
Format: Taschenbuch
While scrolling down past reviews of this book, it did not surprise me to see a few U.S. servicemen giving good reviews to Armor. The book effectively conveys the feelings and coping mechanisms (The Engine) that soldiers must face during battle. Two stories are told in the book: that of Felix, the armored soldier, and Jack Crow, a space outlaw. At first one feels as if one is reading two different books, but eventually the two storylines meet at the end.
Regarding the subject of wars against bugs, Armor attempts to portray war, warts and all, like the movie "Saving Private Ryan", whereas Starship Troopers tends to glorify war like the John Wayne classic "The Green Beret." (Don't take me wrong, I like Starship Troopers and "The Green Beret"!)
I recommend All Quiet on the Western Front and Johnny Got His Gun, both non-scifi books, yet excellent in portraying the realities of warfare.
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1 von 1 Kunden fanden die folgende Rezension hilfreich Von Ein Kunde am 6. Mai 1997
Format: Taschenbuch
I can see why some people gave this book a "10", since it starts out terrifically. But, then it
founders badly and I can't rate this book overall much higher than a "4", since I don't think I
would buy it again.

The book is divided into five parts of different length and quality. The first part is a dark and
thrilling action adventure, centered on the armored scout named Felix. It is reminiscent of the
movie "Aliens", with the same violent kinetic energy and the terror of fighting against an
implacable horde of giant alien monsters. The pace of the action mixed with the battlefield
pathos and just the hint of humanization of its characters is a powerful combination and sweeps
you along, making you forget to stop and ask that one simple nagging question (as in the movie
"Aliens"): "why not just NUKE 'em all from orbit!!??"

Unfortunately, the book doesn't continue along the same path, and in the second and third
parts, the author switches gears into the first person narrative (as a different character), and tries
to get into more characterization, more chatty conversation, more human relationships, and
other Writing 101 stuff like that, which he just doesn't seem to have a good grip on because he
sure lost me there. He should have just stuck to what he was good at, which is writing about
action adventure and the pure terror of battle on an alien planet.

So I skipped over to the fourth section, which returns to the tale of Felix. This part was
decent, but got schmaltzy with the arrival of the Masao, and the partial explanation of Felix' past,
which all had a false and tired ring to it.
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