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

"Then it is not a lord's destiny to be wise, elder. One day I will be too slow at a challenge,
andтАФ" he hissed and made the motion of a slicing blade with his handтАФ "that will be the end of
me."
"Wisdom is relative, lord. You are wise enough for what you do."
"And you, elder? Is the Fist of the Ones Above ready?"
"The sacred connections are made, the sacred modules all show the light-of-function. The
Ones Above promise that it will cut deep into the belly of the human devils. The explosion
should be spectacular."
"Let's hope so, Scarbeak. Twostone is a fine warrior. I wouldn't like to waste his life on a
fool's mission."
***
The first sign of real trouble came when the hangar lights flickered, followed by the sound of
a distant boom. Tyrus looked up from where he was crouched, inspecting one of the Bolo's two-
meter-wide treads, and wondered if the area was prone to thunderstorms. At the same moment, a
quiver seemed to go through the huge machine, as though all of its secondary systems were being
cycled through their test cycles at once.
Tyrus shook his head and went back to his inspection, knowing as he did that it was pointless
make-work. It was late. He should be home, helping the boys unpack. Fact was, he didn't want to
see Lee, and he strongly suspected that she didn't want to see him. They'd had a fight that
afternoon. She'd never wanted him to take the transfer to the Taft Colonies, even though it was
the only way to keep his job with the company. When they were diverted to mining colonies on
Thule, she'd blamed him. Taft at least had alien ruins for her to explore, some chance for her to
continue her often-interrupted career as an archeologist. Taft had an established family
environment for the kids. Thule was one step up from a shanty camp, a sprawling, walled, cluster
of prefabs, brothels and miner bars. A cold feeling of dread knotted in his gut. He was going to
lose them. He knew it.
The lights flickered again. More thunder. Or something.
"Unit DRK moving to status two alert mode. Awaiting instructions."
Tyrus looked up and blinked. A hundred meters away, a small crew was overhauling a sonic
pulverizer cannon. Nobody else was close. Another one of those acoustic tricks the hangar was
famous for?
"Unit DRK awaiting instructions."
The sound seemed almost to be coming from inside his head. Beamed sonics? He looked at
the gleaming curve of the Bolo's hull, and spotted an emitter rod aimed straight at him. He
shivered, somehow suddenly feeling like a rabbit in the hunter's crosshairs. "You can talk?" Of
course it could talk. All Bolos could. But the book said this one had been lobotomized or
something, placed into a standby mode that made it as passive and stupid as a ground-car. There
were recorded voice responses, but it certainly shouldn't have been initiating speech.
"You are Tyrus Ogden. I am keyed to respond to your biometric profile. Awaiting orders,
commander."
He frowned. "I'm not your commander, I'm your operator. You're a mining machine, a
tractor."
"I am Bolo, Mark XXIV of the line, activated 2970 at the Fifield Armorworks, New Prescott
Colony. My hull designation is DRK. I am commonly addressed by my commanding officers as
'Dirk.'"
More thunder. The overhaul crew stopped their work and began to talk rapidly among
themselves. "Go back to sleep, Dirk."
"I cannot. Threat level is increasing. Moving to status one alert mode. Full Combat Reflex
Mode is now on standby."
He dropped his tools and stood. "What threat? The thunder?" This was just the sort of thing