"Anderson, Kevin J - Seven Suns 4 - 2005 - Scattered Suns" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Kevin J)

Rebels continued to pour out of the two shuttles, well over a hundred of them, each one armed. So many! They must have been crammed shoulder-to-shoulder inside the royal shuttle and the military escort craft.
At last, Rusa'h's beautiful pleasure mates emerged, carrying themselves as if they too were hardened warriors. Long knives were strapped to their shapely hips, and they carried energy weapons. Narrowing their eyes, two of the women shot down the primary protocol officer, and he crumpled to the floor.
In the midst of the firefight, a group of attender kithmen scuttled out of the royal shuttle. They carried a portable chrysalis chair that looked exactly like the Mage-Imperator's. Leaning forward in the counterfeit chair, Rusa'h smiled as he assessed the carnage.
Weapons fire continued inside the docking bay, but the Hyrillka Designate's rebels quickly overwhelmed the crew, taking them all prisoner. Two pleasure mates raced to the door controls before Zan'nh's reinforcements could arrive. The women sealed every entrance to the bay, code-locked the controls, then smashed them to block all access.
Finally the Hyrillka Designate turned to where he knew Adar Zan'nh would be observing him through imagers. He sat back in his reproduction of the Mage-Imperator's royal seat. "Adar, your crewmembers are only stunned. However, I will kill every one of these hostages unless you surrender this warliner to me."

6
PRIME DESIGNATE THOR'H
After his cargo craft docked aboard Qul Fan'nh's warliner, Thor'h schooled his expression and manner to convey urgent distress, then climbed out, accompanied by seven personal guards.
The Solar Navy troops met him with appropriate courtesy and respect, but Thor'h snapped at the first escort: "Take me to your command nucleus. I would speak with your qul immediately! He must be warned."
The crewmen did not question his orders. Though supposedly disgraced, Thor'h was still the son of their Mage-Imperator. "Follow us, Prime Designate. Qul Fan'nh will be honored to receive you."
Thor'h and his seven guards adopted a brisk pace to keep the escorts moving and sustain a sense of urgency.
Until he had broken free of the tangled bonds of his father'sthism , Thor'h had not understood that Ildirans were like marionettes controlled by invisible soul-threads. The Mage-Imperator's people simply did not know how to be sufficiently suspicious of other Ildirans. Fools! For one of their people to turn against the Empire was as unbelievable to them as a man's left hand suddenly taking up a knife and trying to cut off his right.
Thor'h knew that just such an unexpected shock was necessary to save the Ildiran Empire from its internal weakness. Because he believed in Rusa'h's vision and knew that his uncle was destined to be the true Imperator, Thor'h would do what was necessary for his race-even if it meant he must turn against his brothers and Mage-Imperator Jora'h himself. If all Ildirans allowed themselves to see the purity and truth of the Lightsource, then this struggle need not be a messy one.
Nevertheless, Thor'h suspected it would be bloody.
His timing was well coordinated with Rusa'h's. When Thor'h arrived with his seven converted guards at Qul Fan'nh's command nucleus, he noted that his uncle's royal shuttle had already been accepted into the flagship warliner. Surprises would begin momentarily.
Standing straight-backed in his Solar Navy uniform, the maniple commander turned to greet Thor'h as he entered the bridge area. Tall and thin, the qul touched his fist to his heart in salute. "You honor me with your presence aboard my warliner."
"I thank you for your assistance in this emergency, Qul." Thor'h strode directly toward Fan'nh, and his seven Hyrillkan guards followed him into the command nucleus. Before the escort crewmen could enter the bridge behind them, one of Thor'h's guards spun and sealed the doors.
Everything happened within seconds. Qul Fan'nh blinked in surprise. The locked-out escort crewmen began to pound on the door, calling out questions.
Thor'h stepped up to the maniple's commander. A slim crystal blade dropped out of his sleeve and into his grip. Without hesitation, he swept his arm upward and drove the glassy dagger under Qul Fan'nh's chin, deep into his throat.
Eerily silent, Thor'h's loyal guards spread out, drawing their own weapons. Qul Fan'nh's confused bridge crew staggered up from their stations, some of them crying out in shock.
The subverted Hyrillkan guards had practiced techniques of swift assassination. Their blades flashed. Trapped crewmembers screamed. One woman managed to trigger an alarm before two guards fell upon her and slit her throat.
Thor'h didn't need to bloody his hands again. With one foot, he shoved the twitching body of Qul Fan'nh away from the command rail. In moments, everyone else in the bridge area had been slaughtered, and Prime Designate Thor'h took his place in command of the Ildiran battleship.
Alarms continued to ring through Qul Fan'nh's warliner, and Thor'h gruffly commanded his fellow conspirators to shut them off. By now, the rest of the crew was aware that something had gone terribly wrong, but they could do nothing about it.
"Engage our defenses." All seven of his comrades knew how to operate the weapons systems of a Solar Navy warliner.
Aboard the Adar's flagship, Rusa'h had succeeded in seizing the landing bay. The Designate used the communications systems in his royal shuttle to broadcast a powerful signal heard across all forty-seven of the warliners. "Adar Zan'nh, I am ready to begin executing hostages-one at a time, every three minutes-until you surrender these ships to me."
Most Ildirans could not comprehend such abomination. Smiling to himself, Thor'h wondered how long his brother could hold out against the agony of innocent victims. He doubted Zan'nh, who idolized his mentor, the war hero Adar Kori'nh, would surrender as quickly as Rusa'h hoped.
Thor'h thought of a way he could increase the stakes. His guards moved bloody bodies out of the way and manned the vital stations in the warliner's command nucleus. "Power all of our weapons and prepare to fire. Targeting at my discretion."
On the main screen, he studied the other ships in the maniple, choosing his first target. All of the warliners' weapons systems had been enhanced for direct combat against the hydrogues. The firepower would certainly be sufficient for what Thor'h had in mind.
The good Adar would never open fire against Ildiran citizens-especially not when the majority of those aboard were unsuspecting Solar Navy crewmen. Zan'nh simply wouldn't be able to stand the guilt.
Prime Designate Thor'h had no such compunctions. He could focus on the larger goal and accept a certain level of sacrifice. Forty-six battleships would be sufficient for Imperator Rusa'h's purposes. At least one of them was expendable.
He prepared to open fire.

7
ADMIRAL LEV STROMO
The EDF mopped up their operation around the Roamer greenhouse asteroid complex within twenty-four hours. Admiral Stromo settled into the Manta's command chair. Gripping its arms, he shifted his weight and made a conscious effort to look as if he belonged there.
"I'll stay aboard and remain in command while you consolidate the operations down there," he told Ramirez. "Lead teams into the domes and begin rounding up prisoners, just like we did at Hurricane Depot."
Elly Ramirez was all business now, dedicated to the task at hand; she had not complained about the operation once it started. "I recommend full body armor and defensive weaponry, in case the Roamers adopt guerrilla tactics."
Stromo nodded. That was exactly why he wanted to stay aboard the Manta until the captured territory was deemed safe. "So far they haven't shown any propensity for violence, but they'll be desperate. Like cornered rats."
Ramirez summoned her ground troops, all of whom had spent months training at the EDF base on Mars. Many recruits, unable to imagine personal combat against the hydrogues, had considered infantry drills a waste of time. Now, though, they would have a chance to put their training into practice.
An EDF first-strike squad found an access dock on the side of the main dome. Under fire from the Manta cruiser, the greenhouse itself had been breached. Fading wisps of air and moisture circled the rock like morning mist, but for some reason not all the atmosphere had vented. Though external scans showed that the air was still breathable inside the dome, Ramirez ordered her troops to wear environment suits for extra protection. "The Roamers might consider blowing the seals, just to take us out. Better safe than sucking vacuum."
Stromo agreed. "Take every precaution to make sure none of our soldiers are harmed in the line of duty." He didn't want to have to explain casualties to General Lanyan. "Oh, and the Chairman has asked that we minimize Roamer casualties as well."
"Certainly, Admiral." He got the impression that she considered him stupid for making such an obvious statement.
Docking clamps anchored the lead Manta against the asteroid. A tunnel passage sealed polymer lips around the hatch, which a demolitions crew then blasted open. A vanguard of suited troops proceeded cautiously into the asteroid, holding stun-pulse rifles ready for an ambush. Behind them, the second and third wave of EDF soldiers waited, anxious to flood into the Roamer nest.
Smaller consolidation teams had seized and occupied the outlying stations, metal-walled storage depots, domes filled with hardy and exotic crops. The severed solar mirrorfilm drifted until it finally draped like a reflective shroud over a tiny asteroid.
Overhead, battle-ready Remoras cruised in careful circles through the rubble field. Because of the ruptured containment dome, the main asteroid was unstable, wobbling and precessing. The EDF pilots practiced taking potshots at anything that moved, rousting out clan ships that attempted to hide in the shadows of orbiting rocks.
A small vessel lunged away from the greenhouse asteroid like a rabbit bolting out of hiding. The pilot dodged and changed course repeatedly, making up his trajectory as he went.
Stromo sat upright in his command chair. "Stop that ship from escaping!" he bellowed over the general comm.
Six patrol Remoras spotted the fleeing craft and set off in pursuit. From just the glimpse on his external screens, Stromo thought it was a butt-ugly ship, a collection of mismatched parts cobbled together. But the fleeing craft actuallysparkled as it flew, and its sprint engines took it on high-G-force loops that even fast EDF fighters couldn't match.
Stromo adjusted the flagship's sensors to follow the escaping spacecraft as it shot about like a pinball, ricocheting through the asteroid field, partly to avoid collisions, but probably just to get away. The pilot took ridiculous risks and flew maneuvers unthinkable to Stromo. Before long, the ugly craft left the EDF's best Remoras far behind. It was embarrassing.