"Herbert, Brian - The Butlerian Jihad" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

Viceroy Butler shouted into the chaos, trying to sound confident. "The Holtzman shields will protect us!" Serena could read her father's anxiety, though he covered it well.

Amid shouts and cries of panic, the League representatives scrambled for the exits. The merciless enemies of humanity had arrived.
Any man who asks for greater authority does not deserve to have it.

-- TERCERO XAVIER HARKONNEN,
address to Salusan Militia



The robot fleet has just engaged our spaceguard," Xavier Harkonnen called from his station. "Heavy fire exchanged."

"Primero Meach!" Cuarto Steff Young shouted from the orbital grid screens. Xavier could smell the salty metallic tang of Young's nervous sweat. "Sir, a small detachment of machine ships has broken from the main robotic fleet in orbit. Configuration unknown, but they're preparing for an atmospheric descent." She pointed to the images, picking out brilliant lights that signified a cluster of inert projectiles.

Xavier glanced at the perimeter scanners, real-time intelligence transmitted from the defensive satellites high above Tio Holtzman's gelcircuitry-scrambling fields. On the highest resolution he saw an assault squadron of pyramidal ships roaring headlong into the atmosphere, straight toward the sizzling shields.

"They're in for an unpleasant surprise," Young said with a grim smile. "No thinking machine can survive that ride."

"Our biggest worry will be dodging the debris from their crashing ships," Primero Meach quipped. "Maintain surveillance."

But the dropcarriages slipped past the scrambler shields -- and kept coming. They showed no electronic signatures at all as they penetrated the boundary.

"How are they getting through?" Quinto Wilby mopped his brow, brushing dishwater-brown hair out of his eyes.

"No computers could." In a flash, Xavier understood what was happening. "They're blind dropcarriages, sir!"

Young looked up from her screens, breathing hard. "Impact in less than a minute, Primero. Second wave is coming in behind them. I count twenty-eight projectiles." She shook her head. "No computer signatures on any of them."

Xavier called out, thinking ahead, "Rico, Powder, work with med-response teams and fire-suppression squads. Everything up to speed and ready. Come on people, we've drilled for this a hundred times! I want all vehicles and rescue equipment mobile and in the air, prepared to move before the first ship hits."

"Divert defenses to pound the invaders as soon as they crash." Primero Meach lowered his voice, swept his flinty gaze across his comrades. "Tercero Harkonnen, take a portable comstation and get out there -- be my eyes on the scene. My guess is those dropcarriages will hatch into something unpleasant."

* * *

OUTSIDE, THE CITY streets were chaotic under a cloud-dappled sky. Rushing into the confusion, Xavier heard the hot metallic scream of agonized atmosphere as the inert armored projectiles shot downward like bullets from space.

An asteroid-rain of pyramidal dropcarriages slammed into the ground, one after another. With deafening thunder, the first four blind vessels punched into buildings, leveling city blocks with the explosive dispersion of kinetic energy. But sophisticated shock-displacement systems protected the deadly cargo inside.

Xavier ran down the street, his uniform rumpled, his sweaty hair clinging to his head. He stopped in front of the giant edifice of the Hall of Parliament. Although second in command of Salusa's defenses, here he was in an unsecured position, ready to issue orders at ground zero. Not exactly the way he had been taught in his Armada Academy courses. But Primero Meach was relying on his assessment, recommendations, and ability to act independently.

He touched the comline on his chin. "I'm in position, sir."

Five more unguided projectiles thumped into the outskirts of the city, leaving smoldering craters. Explosions. Smoke. Fireballs.

From the impact points, the inert crashdown pods cracked open to reveal a huge object stirring in each one. Reactivated mechanical units peeled off charred ablation shielding. With dread, Xavier knew what he was about to see, understood how the enemy machines had managed to pass through the scrambler shields. They were not computer minds at all. . . .

Cymeks.

Fearsome mechanical monstrosities emerged from the broken pyramids, driven by surgically detached human brains. Mobility systems restarted; articulated legs and augmented weapons clicked into place.