"Keith Laumer - Bolos 6 - Cold Steel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laumer Keith)

for the folly of firing on a Bolo of the Dinochrome Brigade. I am hardly a defenseless drop ship.
There is a sudden lurch, and then I am in near freefall. The first sled has given out, either its
power cells depleted, or damaged by a reentry burn-through. No matter. There is one last use I
can make of it. I remotely fire the links holding the lower sled to the upper. My audio detectors
pick up the rending of metal even in the thin air. Then the sled slides out from under me, a metal
mattress the size of a schoolyard, its bottom charred and still glowing white hot in places. I
transverse one of my secondary batteries, lock onto the sled, and fire a half-second pulse.
The sled explodes into flaming chunks just as the first missile closes on my position. I watch
as the missile, and two of its companions, alter course to home in on the false target I have
provided for them, their nuclear fireballs blossoming a safe kilometer above me. That still leaves
four missiles closing on my position. I increase my battle screens to full power, and compute
firing solutions for the remaining missiles. I begin to transverse my secondary batteries. I have
four point three seven seconds until the first missile is in blast radius. Plenty of time.
Suddenly the missiles begin to take high-G evasive maneuvers. I detect a pattern to their
movements, but this requires a critical one point-three seconds of observation and analysis. I am
able to bring my batteries to bear on three of them. I begin a roll program, placing my own hull
between the missile and the sled, selectively reinforce my battle screens, and shutter my more
sensitive sensors against the blast.
The explosion rattles my structure, subjecting me to a momentary peak acceleration of 19
G's. It is fortunate that my commander remained safely in orbit, but I am unharmed. The energy
from the explosion sizzles against my battle screens, and in a moment I can feel the converted
energy surging into my storage cells. There has been a one point two percent degradation of my
upper turret armor, but I am otherwise unharmed. The critical question now is, did the explosion
damage the second contra-grav sled?
My visual sensors unshutter, and I see the horizon growing less curved by the second. I have
been in freefall too long. Even with full sled function, I am in danger.
I tentatively apply power to the sled, alert for any problem, but the contra-gravs engage
smoothly. I am slowing, but not quickly enough. I increase power to one hundred percent, then
into overload, one hundred and ten, one hundred and twenty, one hundred and thirty.
The cells are draining at an alarming rate, and I am detecting an overheat condition in the
contra-grav accelerator coils. The situation is critical, but there is little I can do. I must trust that
the contra-grav sled is flawless in its manufacture and maintenance, that it was not damaged by
the missile, reentry, or by the separation of the first-stage sled.
I take one last opportunity to do aerial deep scans with my sensors, focusing on the dead
central colony, looking for any sign of my elusive enemy. I detect the remains of many ground
vehicles, several shuttles trapped on the ground, large mining and construction machinery, and
one other trace, an armored durachrome war hullтАФ
Two point three four seconds to impact. I am still falling too fast. Below me, I see a green
carpet of jungle canopy, a silver thread of river slicing through the trees. I retune my battle
screens. In theory, they can absorb some of the kinetic energy of my landing, acting as a last-
resort shock absorber, but to the best of my knowledge this has never been tested.
My last thought before I hit the ground is of those final sensor readings. No matter what
happens, they give me hope. I do not know how, but the readings were unmistakable. There is
already a Bolo on Thule.
***
Lord Whitestar moved through the night jungle by instinct, navigating by the smell of certain
plants, by the echoes of his own footfalls off the trunks of trees, and the occasional flashes of
starlight through the canopy above. The Ones Above had warned them that they must show no
light to the sky above, no fire, no torch, as the devils would be watching. Even the wonderful
weapons that the Ones Above had given them had to be taken into the nests for repair. The lights-