"Baldwin, Bill - The Helmsman 04 - The Mercenaries" - читать интересную книгу автора (Baldwin Bill)
"Ten."
Barbousse announced grimly.
"Nine... Eight... Seven..."
Brim had to fight the controls with all his concentration. Come on, Barbousse!
"Four... three... two... one... Torpedoes running, Cap'm!"
In the wink of an eye, eight dark spindles flashed out from beneath Starfury's bridge and headed squarely for the battleship. Instantly Brim threw in full military power, pulled the nose up and rolled out into a violent jink. But he was moments too late.
With unbelievable concussion and sound, the whole forward tip of Starfury's starboard pontoon disappeared in a tremendous blast of radiant energy. Her hull jumped and quivered for a long moment and the generators skipped a beat as Brim fought to bring the skewed ship back under control.
Then, without warning, they were again blasted off courseЧthis time by an even more stupendous explosion. The whole Universe seemed to light up by the birth of some hellacious new star...
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WARNER BOOKS EDITION
Copyright й 1991 by Merl Baldwin
All rights reserved.
Questar is a registered trademark of Warner Books, Inc.
Cover illustration by John Berkey
Cover design by Don Puckey
Warner Books, Inc.
New York, N. Y. 10020
A Time Warner Company
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: June, 1991
The Mercenaries
Bill Baldwin
CHAPTER 1
Bromwich, 52009
Commander Wilf Brim, I. F., scanned a mass of polychrome data cascading over his four readout consolesЧthen checked the panel clock, "It's time, Number One," he said, nodding to Lieutenant Nadia Tissaurd at the CoHelmsman's station beside him. "Let's pipe it on the blower."
"Aye, Captain," Tissaurd replied; a deft pass of her index finger triggered the starship's intercom. "Hands to lift-off stations," she announced, her voice resounding into every cubic iral of the big starship. "Hands to lift-off stations. Stand by mooring and fender beams!"
Abruptly, the bridge filled with noises of imminent departure: running footfalls, airtight doors slamming, the cadenced babble of thirty different checklists. Brim settled into his recliner with a full measure of excitement. Beneath his boots, I.F.S. Starfury's deck trembled to the steady beat of six Admiralty A876 gravity generators running at fast idle in long pontoons at either side of the main hull. Above it all, he sensed (more than heard) the treble rush of steering engines as Engineering Officer Strana' Zaftrak carried out her last-moment checklist at the Systems Console behind him. No need for worry there. The Sodeskayan woman was thorough.
A scraping thud announced the brow had been swayed back to the edge of the gravity pool; anyone aboard now was on his way to the space trialsЧwhether that was what he intended or not.
"Hands stand by for internal gravity," Tissaurd announced on the blower. A woman in her early forties from the Lampsen Provinces with laughing eyes, jet-black hair, and a compact figure, her matter-of-fact competency had been an asset since the day she signed on as First LieutenantЧonly metacycles following Brim's own arrival as Commanding Officer. With the million-odd tasks to be accomplished before the new ship was commissioned, her kind of cheerful willingness had been doubly appreciated. Besides, she was sexy in her own way.
Once more Brim verified the flow of information over his console, then swallowed hard and nodded to Zaftrak's furry visage in a display. "Switch it, Strana'," he ordered quietly.
The Sodeskayan winked and passed a delicate, six-fingered hand over the gravity console beside her, changing sixteen flashing red indicators to steady blueЧand savaging Brim's stomach in an avalanche of nausea as gravity cycled from planetary to the ship's artificial gradient. During twenty-nine years in space he had never become inured to the change, especially if it happened abruptly.
When his vision cleared, he shunted one of his displays to the PoolMaster in a control cupola on the rim of the gravity pool, twenty-five irals beneath Starfury's levitated hull. "Single up the moorings, if you please, Master Scirri, " he ordered.
"Singling up moorings, " replied Scirri's bearded face from the display. He had narrow lips, a sharp nose, and the humorless, close-set eyes of a sharpshooter. He was the best PoolMaster at Sherrington's.
Through the HyperscreensЧnormally transparent crystalline windows that simulated conventional vision at HyperspeedsЧBrim watched a network of greenish mooring beams wink out one by one. Presently, the ship was tethered by a single set of four springs projected from the corners of the gravity pool, flaring up and abating as Starfury moved to the wind.
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