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

at my own kind, until the differences became apнparent. "
"Physical similarities mean nothing," his mother said softly. She touched her
forehead, then her chest. "Here and here they are radically different from us,
programmed to kill, to have no mercy, to destroy civilization wherever they find
it. They cannot build; they can only destroy."
"That is why they must be stopped." His father grunted. "If you and your friends
can contribute to that, you will gain the gratitude not only of your own kind
but of all civilized beings everywhere."
"Tear 'em up tomorrow, Ranj," his brother growled.
"I'll do my best, Sagui."
"You always have." His mother turned to Cynsa, who had begun squealing and
pounding on the table. Ranji's baby sister was a terror. He smiled to himself.
When she matured she'd probably be a tougher fighter than either him or his
brother. All three of them would do their adopнtive parents as well as their
original lineage proud.
Trial finals first, he reminded himself. Graduation beнfore combat. He'd been
pointing toward tomorrow ever since awareness had claimed him. He and Birachii
and Cossinza and all the rest. Now the ultimate goal lay within their grasp.
Only one more challenge to turn back, one more group to demoralize and defeat.
One more height to scale.
He dug into the remnants of his meal. He wasn't hunнgry, but he knew he was
going to need the fuel.

Everyone knew about the Finals Maze. If you were trainнing to be a soldier, you
heard about it at least once a month all your life. Externally its appearance
differed little from similar competition mazes. What might be found inнside was
a different matter entirely.
There would be partitions, of course. Sheer, nonreflecнtive, smooth-sided walls
of impenetrable ceramic that would tower over the tallest team member. These
divided the Maze into corridors and arenas, passageways and pits. Each
partitioned region differed in size and shape from those immediately tangent to
it.
The Maze contained differing habitats, each of a type undeclared in advance.
Those attempting to pass through might encounter burning desert, frozen tundra,
steaming jungle, or temperate forest. The Maze might be filled with water, fresh
or salt. In addition to doing battle with their competition, they would have to
adapt instantly and successfully to whatever local or alien biota had been
proнgrammed into the test field. A squad could defeat its armed opponents only
to be wiped out by a mock avalanche or flood.
You took your people and advanced through the Maze with the aim of wiping out
your opponents or capturing their headquarters position before they could reach
yours. Goals were easy to envision but difficult to achieve.
The sun was out and a few clouds marred the pale blue sky. Not that it made any
difference. Local conditions were meaningless inside the Maze, which could
generate its own internal weather. Ranji ignored the bustle around him as he ran
through a detailed final check of his own equipment. The special competition
pistol he carried would regнister mock injury or death if its beam struck an
opponent. In all respects except its nonlethality it was identical to real
military hardware.
Though access to the test area was limited, a fair crowd was present. The Finals