"J. Robert King - Invasion Cycle 01 - Invasion" - читать интересную книгу автора (King Robert J)

Hoppers could turn in midair, could fly sideways or top-
onward and could fire exploding quarrels from any of
twelve ports. A well-placed shot from a hopper could gouge
a ten-foot hole in the outer armor of a cruiser. Hopper
pilots were strapped to the central node of their craft,
allowing them to pivot through two hundred ninety
degrees. They used their fingers and toes to access the
controls that filled the cockpit. Pilots divided their
attention between strafing runs, vector targeting, and
chamber reloads. Short, wiry, fearless, and focused, they
were bred for this task. Unlike Metathran ground troops,
fliers were not towers of muscle. If Urza had time, he would
have given them hollow bones like birds.
"Form up!" Barrin shouted, signaling from the back of
his dragon engine.
A swarm of hoppers responded eagerly to his signal.
Trailing these frenetic ships were angel platoons. Their
long white pinions carved the air with a slow grace that the
hoppers lacked. Still, these creatures were anything but
slow. With one surge of their wings, the Serran angels

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overtook the hoppers. Magna swordsтАФhalfway between
sabers and cleaversтАФglinted in their hands, and featureless
metal masks covered angelic faces. These otherworldly
creatures were refugees of a collapsed plane. They owed
their very lives to Urza and Barrin and would likely repay
that debt today.
Barrin signaled for a strafing run. Clutching the wire
mane of the dragon engine, he crouched above the
creature's neck and sent it into an arrow-straight dive.
The hoppers and angels flocked afterward.
Below, a dozen Phyrexian ships cruised above the
Benalish plain. A dozen more lay in wreckage amid
burning grasses. If even one craft landed safely, more than
grass would burn. Each vessel carried an army of
Phyrexians. The huge ship in the midst of the armada
carried something even worseтАФplague. In gray, putrid
clouds, contagion cascaded slowly from the craft. Disease
ate every living thing in the wake of the ship.
Barrin's dragon engine tucked its wings. It dived. Air
shrieked about the plunging beast. Angels and hoppers
bobbed in its slipstream. Wings of feather and metal clung
tight to their sides. Angels readied their magna swords, and
Metathran pilots whirled in a frenzy of preparation.
The Phyrexian fleet seemed to swell outward, eclipsing
the plains. Webs of black energy leaped up from the
machines.