"W. Michael Gear - Forbidden Borders 1 - Requiem for The Conqueror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gear W Michael)

For long seconds Dimeter Anaxoulos waited, then the complicated targeting
computers sorted out vectors, and the
lights dimmed as energy bolts lashed out from the giant orbiting platform.
Mass detectors quavered from the aftereffects while the sensors fuzzed from
the radiation of the discharges, but one by one, the incoming dots
reestablished on the screen, unscathed, closing the distance incrementally.
"I don't . . ." Anaxoulos gripped the console edge to brace himself. "Shoot!
By the Blessed Gods, target and shoot!"
The weapons officer grimly applied himself to the task. Seconds passed as bolt
after bolt flashed toward the stars at the speed of light; and with each one,
it became apparent that something had gone terribly wrong, for the shots
played randomly through the vacuum.
Anaxoulos hunched as if kicked in the stomach. "What . . . How . . ."
"The master computers," the weapons tech told him in a dead man's voice. "They
did something to the master computers. Somehow, some way, they sabotaged the
system."
Dimeter Anaxoulos screamed his rage, bowling the weapons officer out of the
way as he clawed at the control console, sending shot after shot harmlessly
into space. Finally, in defeat, he cried. He was still crying when the first
enemy strike blasted his orbital platform.
"I've got a message from the commander of the Pylos, Lord Commander."
Staffa kar Therma swiveled in his command chair. The three-sixty screens
surrounding him reproduced every angle of the battle that raged around
Myklene. Each of his ships darted through Myklenian space, streaks of light
marking their bombardment of the ravaged defenders. One by one, his assault
ships dropped low over the planet, dispersing ground assault teams. Smoke rose
in rolling columns over Myklenian urban centers.
He could remember each of those cities. He needed only to peel back the
curtain of memory to see them as they'd been in his youth. A pang speared his
heart. This had been home once before theyd turned on him and his talents. And
had Chrysla been left for him, she might have talked
him out of crushing thi final link with his past. Perhaps he would have felt
pity for the people who had once been his. Now, as he watched the planet burn,
only an emptiness filled his breast. A shattering of dreams.
Praetor, today you reap what you have sown. Your son has returnedтАФand broken
your bac.
"Lord Commander?"
Staffa glanced at his comm officer. "Yes?"
"The commander of the Pylos, sir. Do you wish to speak to him?"
Staffa nodded, and a face formed in the main monitor on his command chair. The
bridge behind Theophilos Marston had gone deadтАФpower shorted. Smoke wreathed
the air and emergency sirens wailed in the background. Marston looked stricken
as he grabbed a console to steady himself. He wore a space suit in
anticipation of decompression.
"Lord Commander, I am Theophilos Marston of the flagship Pylos. I beg of you
Lord Commander, stop your assault! We're helpless. The lives of millions
hangтАФ"
"I'm well aware of your situation, Captain." Staffa said coldly and leaned
forward, savoring the moment. "I also remember the lessons you once gave me on
strategy and tactics. I believe your exact words were, he purpose of war is to