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

"No, sir." Sarge made a husky noise at the back of his throat. Sarge wore
the Ivanhoe crestтАФa noncommittal comment on what he thought of his
lineage and his home world, but it made no difference to Storm. The men
who joined the Knights came from every walk of life and the only criterion
was whether a soldier was good enough to use a suit. If he was, and if he
survived basic training, his past became a sealed record, if that was the way
the man wanted it.

The sand made Jack thirsty. He waved his arm. "All right, everybody
spread out. Advance in a line. If the Thraks are here, that'll flush тАШem. Keep
alert. Watch your rear displays and your flanks."

The com line crackled as Bilosky's voice came over in sheer panic. "Red
field! Lieutenant, I'm showing a fracking red field!"

Storm swiveled his head toward the sound, cursed at the obstruction of
the face plate, and re-turned a fraction more slowly so that his cameras could
follow the motion. "Check your gauges again, Bilosky. It's a malfunction.
And calm down." The last in a deadly quiet.

Bilosky's panic stammered to a halt. "Yes, sir." Then, "Goddammit,
StormтАФthose Milots have pilfered my suit! Every one of my gauges is
screwed. I'm showing a red field because I'm running on empty!"

Storm bit his tongue. He chinned the emergency lever at the bottom of
the face plate, shutting down the holograph field. Then he pulled his arm
out of the sleeve quickly and thumbed the com line switches on his chest
patch so that he could talk to Bilosky privately. Without power or any action
to translate, his suit stumbled to a halt. The Flexalinks shone opalescent in
the sun.

"How far can you get?"

Not listening, Bilosky swore again. "Goddamn Milots. Here I am fighting
their fracking war for them, and they're pirating my suppliesтАФI ought toтАФ"

"Bilosky!"

"Yes, sir. I've gotтАж oh, three clicks to go, maybe. Then I'm just another
pile of junk standing on the sand." He turned to look at his superior officer,
the black hawk crest rampant.

Storm considered the dilemma. He had his orders, and knew what his
orders told him. Clean out Sector Five, and then stand by to get picked up.
The last of Sector Five ranged in front of him. They could ration out the
most important refills for Bilosky once they got where they were going.
"We'll be picked up by then."

"Or the Thraks will have us picked out."