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

Storm didn't answer for a moment. He was asking a man with little or no
power reserves showing on his gauges to go on into battle, in a suit, in full
battle mode. Red didn't come up on the gauges until the suit was down to
the last ten percent of its resources. That ten percent would carry him less
than an hour in full attack mode. Not that it made any difference to a
Knight. Jack sighed. "We're on a wild goose chase, Bilosky. You'll make it."

"Right, sir." A grim noise. "Better than having my suit crack open like an
egg and havin' a berserker pop out. Right, Lieutenant?"

That sent a cold chill down Storm's back. He didn't like his troopers
repeating ghoulish rumors. "Bilosky, I don't want rumors like that bandied
around. You hear?"

"Yes, sir." Then, reluctantly, "It ain't no rumor, lieutenant. I saw it
happen once."

"Forget it!"

"Yes, sir."

"Going back on open air. And watch your mouth." He watched as the
other lumbered back into position. Then, abruptly, Jack dialed in his
command line and watched as the miniscule screen lit up, his only link with
the warship orbiting far overhead. The watch at the console, alerted by the
static of their long-range comm lines, swung around. The navy blue uniform
strained over his bullish, compact figure. He looked into the lens, his nostrils
flaring. The squared chin was cleft and its line deepened in anger. A laser
burn along one side of his hairline gave him a lopsided widow's peak.

"Commander Winton here. You're violating radio silence, soldier. What's
the meaning of this? Identify yourself."

"I'm Battalion First Lieutenant," he said. "Where's our pullout? We were
dropped in here five days ago."

"You're under orders, lieutenant. Get in there and fight. Any further
communication and I'll have you up for court martial."

"Court martial? Is that the best you can do? We're dying down here,
commander. And we're dying all alone."

The line and screen went dead with a hiss. Suddenly aware of his own
vulnerability, Storm pushed his right arm back into his sleeve and chinned
the field switch back on. His suit made an awkward swagger, then settled
into a distance eating stride. Fighting wars would be a hell of a lot easier if
you could be sure who the enemy was.

Bilosky and Sarge and who knows who else were talking about