"Robert Doherty - Area 51 - The Reply" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doherty Robert)

He watched the seven spacecraft lift out of the top of the palace, the rays of
the rising sun absorbed by the black metal of their lean shapes. He looked down,
trying to orient his sudden awareness. His hands were gripping the wooden
railing of a three-masted ship. All the sails were set but there was little
wind. In the belly of the ship he could hear the beat of drums as rowers pulled
in unison, straining against long oars.
He felt out of place, out of himself. The contrast between the seven
spacecraft that were now nothing more than rapidly fading dots high above and
the technology of the sailing ship only added to the strange feeling.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose and a shiver ran down his spine. He
looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened at what he saw. Even the rowers
paused as they saw it. He felt the displacement of the air as the massive
mothership passed by overhead. The rowers went back to work, pulling even more
furiously on their oars. He watched as the

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mothership stopped and hovered over the island the ship had left from, blocking
out the sun.
It was all laid out before him in perfect detail. He was amazed how he could
see the entire island, yet also focus on individuals who were many miles
distant. Concentric rings of land and water surrounded the capital city in the
center of the island. Rising up, on the central hill, was the palace where the
rulers had governed from. A golden palace, over a mile wide at the base and
stretching over three thousand feet into the sky, it was a magnificent
spectacle, but one that was all too easily overshadowed by the dark craft that
was now centered above it.
Outside the palace, the streets in the city of the humans were choked with
people fleeing toward the sea, to their sailing ships. He could look to the
ocean around him and see other sails here and there on the blue water, some
already going over the horizon.
Gazing back at the city, he saw that there were those who had fallen to their
knees in the shadow of the ship, heads bowed, hands raised in supplication,
praying that new rulers might replace the old. His gaze knew no bounds, going
through walls and seeing inside houses, where others huddled in fear, mothers
clutching their children close, men holding useless metal swords and spears,
knowing that there was nothing they could do against the power from the sky.
He looked up at the ship. The air crackled. Those others who also dared to
look saw a bright golden light race along the black skin of the mothership in
long lines from one end to the other. The light pulsed off the ship downward
into the palace in a thick beam, a half mile thick.

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He flinched, even though he was many miles away. But nothing happened. Those
on their knees prayed harder. Those fleeing ran faster. Every muscle in his body
tensed as he waited.
Again the light pulsed. And again. Ten times the golden light hit the center