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

Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32



Prologue
^┬╗
Where in the hell was their transport? What had happened to recall? Jack
fought the maddening impulse to scratch inside his armor, as sweat dripped
down, and the contacts attached to his bare torso itched impossibly. To
scratch now, the way he was hooked up, he'd blow himself away.
Damn. Where was that signal? They couldn't have been forgotten, could
they? If the pullout had happened, they would have been picked upтАж
wouldn't they?

As sweat trickled down his forehead, he looked around.

Sand. They had been dropped in a vast sea-gulf of sand. Everywhere
beige and brown and pink dunes rose and fell with a life of their own. This
was what the Thraks did to a living world. And the Knights, in their suits of
battle armor, trained and honed to fight a "Pure" war destroying only the
enemy, not the environment, were all that stood between Milos and his own
home world lined up next in a crescent of destruction that led all the way
back to the heart of the Thrakian League.

So far, they'd been lucky here on Milos. Only one of the continents had
gone underтАж still, it was one too many as far as the lieutenant was
concerned. The Dominion Forces were losing the Sand Wars. And he was
losing his own private struggle with his faith in his superior officers. They'd
been dropped into nowhere five days ago and had been given the most
succinct of orders, gotten a pithy confirmation that morning and nothing
since. Routine, he'd been told. Strictly a routine mop-up. You don't treat
Knights that wayтАФnot the elite of the infantrymen, the fastest, smartest and
most honorable fighters ever trained to wage war.

Jack moved inside the battle suit. The Flexalinks meshed imperceptibly
and the holograph that played over him sent the message to the suit and, in
turn, the right arm flexed. Only that flex, transmitted and stepped up, could
have turned over an armored car. He sucked a dry lip in dismay over the
reflex, then turned his face inside the helmet to read the display.

The display bathed his face plate in a rosy color and his eyesight flickered
briefly to the rearview camera display, just to see which of the troops were
ranged at his back. The compass wasn't lying to him. "Five clicks. Sarge,
have they got us walking in circles?" His suit crest winked in the sun as he
looked to his next in command.