"Charles Ingrid - The Sand Wars 04 - Alien Salute" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ingrid Charles)

stage when she would one day be awakened and, unable to help himself, he
shuddered before looking away.

Only Amber knew if he was a really a hero or a coward for refusing to be
chilled down with the rest of them.

He paused now and spread his hand out over the plastic shield as though
he could touch her face and share her dreams with her. It had been another
battle to keep psychological debriefing loops from being hooked up to her
cold sleep dreams, but he'd won that one, too. The human mind should
have some dignity in cold sleep, even if the body did not. He looked at his
four-fingered hand, at the scar where the little finger had been sheared off. It
had been amputated, a victim of frostbite from a cold sleep occupied too
long. Seventeen years too long.

Two months of real time was not too much to be added to his years, Jack
thought. He'd endure it, waiting for the end of the voyage and the
beginning of the war, his war, with the Thrakian League.

Endure it, hell, he'd welcome it.

His emperor, the traitor, was another matter.

Jack dropped his hand from the shielding, took a deep breath, and
continued his journey through the frigid hold, not pausing to look at his
men who lay like fallen soldiers. He did not stop until he reached the gym
where he stripped off his shirt and began to exercise, chasing his thoughts
like demons from his mind.

The gym was ill-used, but that hadn't surprised Jack after a look at
Harkness' crew. The surprise was that the transport even carried a gym. He
winced a little as he flexed. Deep, purpling bruises still covered his torso.
He'd be healed by the time they pulled out of hyperdrive and began to
decel thoughтАж one valid reason for not being chilled down.

His peculiar susceptibility to cold sleep fever was another.

The action on Bythia had not injured him badly, but it had cost him the
life of his commander and friend. Jack would be long in forgetting Kavin.
Besides their friendship, the two had shared the common background of
being battle armor Knights, infantry soldiers who were mobile tanks,
fighting ground warfare designed to annihilate the enemy and not the planet
they fought upon. Virtually no one beyond the two of them was now
trained in "Pure" warfare, although the art of wearing battle armor had
recently been recommissioned by Emperor Pepys. Now Jack stood alone.

He would have to find a way to carry on.

Sweat tickled its way down his skin. He counted off his sets mercilessly,
whipping his body back into shape, until he was too exhausted to move.