"Foster, Alan Dean - Damned 2 - The False Mirror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

Ranji's squad entered the gully. As they used its cover and then that of a
smaller tributary to work their way northward, he wondered how Cossinza's people
were faring. They had disappeared into a different branch of the Maze. He
glanced at his wrist communicator but did not adjust it. Communication was
allowed and possible only within individual Maze partitions. Splitting up
offered a testing group more attack options but reduced their ability to
coordinate strategy and defend their own headquarters. Radical groups that
divided into the maximum five squads were usually overwhelmed, while those in
which all twenty-five participants stayed together were almost always
outflanked.
It didn't matter to the Ciilpaans. They were prepared for anything. Such
tactical flexibility had been a major contributor to their string of successes.
It took them most of the day to cross the desert partition, advancing with a
proven mix of care and speed. Evening produced the first of several surprises.
Gleaming walls narrowed to form an intersection. Whiteness glimmered beyond. Not
the white of gypsum sand but of ice and snow. Bitter cold leaked through the
portal. Ranji's people were forced to make hasty readjustments to their
equipment.
The instant they darted through the opening temperature and visibility fell
sharply. Snow swirled around them, and the clear desert sky of the partition
just traversed was replaced by wind and scudding dark clouds.
Ranji smiled to himself. There had been rumors. Not only would they have to make
their way through an infernally uncooperative Maze, avoiding natural
difficulties and traps along with their opponents, they would also have to cope
with environments that changed with each new partition. That meant altering
tactics accordingly. It was challenge enough to tax the most resourceful.
Among other things, it meant they could not predetermine how to allocate their
supplies of food and water. Not when they might have to go from spending days in
.a comparatively benign temperate forest to a week on a barren tundra. It
complicated everything. Which was, of course, the intention of the Maze's
designers.
The next partition was dominated by higher, damper desert. Dense succulent
vegetation mimicked lusher climes while small creatures scurried through the
undergrowth. A sudden downpour caught them unaware, leaving everyone drenched
and considerably less buoyant than they had been the previous morning.
And still no sign of the Kizzmatis.
Squad Four was out of range, having decided to explore a different partition,
but he was still in communication with Two. Again he found himself wondering at
Cossinza's progress, decrying the inability of the communicators to penetrate
the ceramic walls of the Maze.
Then the dry air was full of questing beams of colored light and he was too busy
shouting orders to worry about the circumstances of distant colleagues.
As he scrambled frantically for the cover of a cluster of thick-leaved bushes,
he found himself marveling at the Kizzmatis' speed. He'd repeatedly been told
how fast they were, but it was still a shock to encounter them this early in the
game. From the volume of fire it was impossible to tell how many of them there
were. He guessed more than one full squad but less than three. Lights flickered
overhead, hunting responsive targets.
A quick check revealed that his squad had suffered two minor "injuries" and no
"deaths." They were still at full strength, which suggested either that the