"Richard Hatch - Battlestar Galactica 02 - Warhawk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hatch Richard)

but any sentient being would have felt the brunt of Valor's telepathic fury
in that moment. They knew he was there. They were coming 'round to face
him.

Betrayers! he psi-shouted again, and ignored the two that had broken
off to meet him. Instead, he headed after the main body of the attackers.
The other two would lose precious time in altering their course. By then,
he might have had an impact on the attack force.

Valor's fury was genuine. The Chitain were native to Xerik-7. Were, in
fact, the only sentient race native to the Xerik system, and it was an
embassy to them that the Sky had built on the third moon of Xerik-12. It
had been a peaceful and mutually beneficial relationship. Until now.

What disturbed him most was the utter unexpectedness of this attack.
Certainly the Chitain were a vicious race, but there had been nothing to
indicate they would make war. No slight nor insult to begin it. Only
duplicity.

Fury drove Valor on as the combination of engine and telekinesis
powered him forward. There were ten Chitain ships ahead of him,
dropping down toward the moonbase, which had already become visible.
The thin atmosphere began to drag on the ships, and a bright flame
burned briefly around each of them, and around Valor as well.

The Chitain craft were unlike any other space-faring vessels Valor had
ever encountered. Though the warrior race had shared some of its
technology and culture with the Sky, they had never allowed their ships to
be inspected up close. As such, it had been impossible to determine if the
many tendrils snaking from the nose of a Chitain ship were actually
bio-mechanoid, or merely appeared that way. Certainly, it would take
particularly advanced technology to cause mere machines to move the way
those tendrils did.

They were, based on outward appearances, the chief mode of
navigation and propulsion for Chitain craft. Each ship had a complement
of at least twelve such tendrils, protruding from the nose and curling out
and back, from which a small jet of crimson energy burned. The rear of
each Chitain craft was equally curious, for it was equipped with a tail that
mimicked those of the Chitain themselves. The wide metallic stinger
generally curled under and forward, and fired upon enemies from that
position, but it could be moved to fire in other directions as well.

Odd craft they were, reminiscent in a way of lifeforms the Sky had
studied from the oceans of various worlds in their quadrant of the galaxy.
But devastating. Just as their builders were.

With the pressure of the moon's atmosphere on him now, Valor gave up
any pretense of flight. Instead, he threw himself toward the lunar surface
and the Sky embassy there with the ardor of a lover, using his ship, his