"Axler, James - Deathlands 050 - Pandora's Reboubt - Nick Pollotta" - читать интересную книгу автора (Axler James)

"We should be safe. Check the land," Ryan replied. "This is a really old blast crater."
"That Does not mean it is not hot," Doc said. "I have seen much older ones still glowing at night!"
"Our composite hull will give some protection," J.B. said hesitantly. "But we've got lots of cracks."
"No, the radiation is too low. We'll be safe," Ryan stated brusquely. The slick, fused soil under their wheels was nearly frictionless; it was worse than driving on ice. Scenes from their awful trek through the arctic flashed through his mind. "But the Ranger won't know that"
"Wouldn't the whitecoats program it to check rad levels?" Dean asked, worried. "Just to be sure?"
"Why? When a nuclear bomb goes off, if the tank survives the EMP wave, it still can't go anywhere near a rad pit for hundreds of years. And no military would plan to leave its equipment alone for that long," Mildred said.
"How about the folks who built the redoubts in the first place?" Dean said in stark candor. Nobody had an answer to that.
As Ryan angled Leviathan into an arroyo, the bottom of the rad pit came directly into view. Barren, featureless land, as level as a skillet, stretched into the distance, with low rolling hills rising in a perfect circle around the rim. Not a stick or a pebble marred the dead perfection, and not even a breeze seemed to disturb the pristine stillness of the hellblasted pit.
There was no time to take a rad count, so Ryan plowed straight into the crater.
"Here it comes!" J.B. said, as the laser rose above the hillock behind them. But before the tank came into view, the short barrel stopped and began to withdraw. "Hey, it's retreating!"
"The trick worked," Dean breathed in relief. Hugging his Mossberg shotgun, the boy slumped in his chair, looking twice his age.
"Advanced technology is so primitive." Doc sighed in contentment.
"Keep going straight," Mildred said, keeping a constant watch on the hilltop. "Don't make your move until we're far, far away from this point"
Ryan gave agreement and continued to pretend he was going to drive through the very heart of the nuke hole.
Slowing to a complete halt, the General Electric Ranger Mark IV sat on the lee side of the low hillock reviewing its options with machine speed. SIG REP DELTA? asked the auxiliary subprocessor, after the main subprocessor didn't respond after the regulation four tries.
The main CDP replied, Confirm. Nuclear strike zone on record. Scram factor 99. Do not proceed on this course.
AFFIRMATIVE. QUERY: LAUNCH MISSILE SALVO?
Negative. Supplies depleted, February 14, 2095, 1409 AM.
CONFIRM. QUERY: FLANK ESCAPING ENEMY TANK?
Processing.
QUERY: RETURN TO BASE?
Processing.
QUERY: ABANDON PURSUIT OF TARGET?
Negative. There was a full millisecond pause. Repairs to the primary weapon system must be performed stat.
CONFIRM. ACCESSING FIELD REPAIR FILES... HIGHEST PROBABILITY LOCATION FOR SUCCESS IS--THE PEARL IN THE WHEEL.
Accepted. Implement. And the mammoth war machine rumbled off toward the east at its top speed.

Chapter Six

Rifles and handblasters were held tight in sweaty hands as good luck charms as Leviathan rolled over the flat plain of the nuclear crater for miles. In spite of their exhaustion, everyone's face was pressed tight to a window or blasterport, watching for the return of the dreaded predark war machine.
Scanning ahead with binocs, Krysty cursed. "There's a river coming up ahead. If the Ranger tries to circle around and ambush us from the other side, it'll reach the water and be able to see inside the blast crater and track us."
"No, it won't," Ryan decided, twisting the wheel sharply. The tires squealed, as Leviathan banked sharply on a new course. "We're cutting a tangent. By the time it reaches the river, we'll be long gone.
The redhead nodded. "Hopefully."
"It's all we have."
The rippled glass under the wheels gave way to streaks of fused glass, shiny fingers reaching into the sterilized dirt. Acid rain gullies cut miniature ravines across the arid plain. Eventually, the pale dirt darkened in color to a proper brown, with some mutated plants and milkweeds appearing in tiny clumps, fighting for subsistence. Then flecks of true grass were seen, the faint green as incongruous as flowers on the moon amid the rad-blasted vegetation. Then more green grass, thickening to patches, followed by small irregular fields with stumpy bushes and corpses of withered bushes that became copses of mutant trees. The trunks were gnarled and malformed, the branches knotted as if in pain and the fruits hairy pulsating sacks. But even these malformations were a welcome sight after the blighted zone of the rad pit.
"Almost out," Mildred stated, motioning with a hand. "See there! Fields of green grass. Been a while since we saw that."
"East wasn't as bad hit as the west," J.B. said, stubbornly chewing bites off a bar of stale cheese as he manned the starboard Remington. "I don't think the big radstorms ever made it this far."
"Doesn't seem as if the acid rains hit here much, either."
"It's not paradise," Ryan said, feeling the desolation, "but I've seen worse."
A rabbit bolted by them, its six legs hurtling it across the clearing into the safety of the greenery. "Muties don't seem too extreme, either," Krysty observed.
"I noticed."
Sipping a cup of MRE coffee from a battered tin cup, Krysty perked up in her seat as Leviathan crested a low ground swell. "What's that noise?" she demanded.
Ryan slowed their speed. "I've been noticing it for hours. Getting worse."
"Controls say the engines are fine," Mildred announced. She tapped the console with a finger. "If the gauges are working correctly, that is."
"Seems to be coming from underneath us," J.B told them, cupping an ear to listen. "Mebbe there's a branch caught in a wheelwell."
"Could be the tire the hellhounds ate," Dean said, loading his weapon from the cache of rounds in his vest. "You know, the empty rim spinning loose."
Easing out the clutch, Ryan braked the vehicle to stop and pulled the handle to set the tandem brakes, fore and aft. "More reasonable than a branch." He released the seat harness and stood stiffly. Checking his 9 mm pistol, Ryan accepted the flashlight from Mildred, clicking it on once to make sure it was working properly. "Come on, J.B., let's go see what's the prob."
"Right," the Armorer said, grabbing a toolbox and his Uzi.
The two men climbed outside while the rest kept a careful watch. After ascertaining there were no surprises waiting for them below the vehicle, they lay on the grass and slid out of sight.
Walking to the middle of the tank, Krysty undid the bolts and clamps on the belly hatch and lifted it out of the way. "See anything?" she called down.