"05 - Force of Arms" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinney Jack)

"There's been nothing at all?" Gloval asked again, eyes flicking across the readouts and displays. "Mm. I hope this doesn't mean they're planning an attack." He turned and paced back toward the command chair, a tall, erect figure in the high-rolled collar of his uniform jacket, hat pulled low over his eyes. He clenched his cold, empty briar in his teeth. "I don't like it, not a bit..."
Lisa was his highly valued First Officer; but she was also much like a daughter to him. It had taken every bit of his reason and sense of duty to convince himself she was the logical one for this mission.
The first enlisted tech turned to Kim Young, who was manning a position nearby. She knew Kim and the two other enlisted regulars on the bridge watch, Sammie and Vanessa, were known as the Terrible Trio, part of what amounted to a family with Gloval, Lisa Hayes, and Claudia Grant.
"Kim, does the skipper always get this...concerned?"
Elfin-faced Kim, a young woman who wore her black hair in a short cut, showed a secret grin. She whispered, "Most of the time he's a rock. But he's worried about Lisa, and, well, there's Sammie."
Sammie Porter, youngest of the Terrible Trio, was a high-energy twenty-year-old with a thick mane of dark blond hair. She usually didn't know the meaning of fear...but she usually didn't know the meaning of tact, either. She was conscientious and bright but sometimes excitable.
Lisa's departure had meant a reshuffling of jobs on her watch, and Sammie had ended up with a lot of the coordinating duties Claudia and Lisa would have ordinarily handled.
"Yellow squad, please go to preassigned coordinates before requesting computer readout," she ordered a unit of attack mecha over the comcircuit. The mammoth Robotech war machines were part of the ship's defensive force. Excaliburs and Spartans and Raidar Xs, they were like some hybrid of armored knight and walking battleship. They were among the units that guarded the ship itself, while the Veritechs sortied out into space.
Gloval bent close to check on what she was doing. "Everything all right? No trouble, I hope."
Sammie whirled and snapped, "Captain, please! I have to concentrate on these transmissions before they pile up!" Then she went back to ordering the lumbering mecha around, making sure that the gun turrets and missile batteries were alert and that all intel data and situation reports were up to date.
Gloval straightened, clamping his pipe in his teeth again. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." Kim and Vanessa gave him subtle looks, barely perceptible nods, to let him know that Sammie was on top of things.
Gloval had come to accept Sammie's occasional lack of diplomacy as a component of her fierce dedication to duty. Sometimes she reminded him of a small, not-to-be-trifled-with sheep dog.
Gloval considered the Terrible Trio for a moment. Through some joke of the gods, it had been these three whom the original Zentraedi spies-Bron, Konda, and Rico-had met and, not to put too fine a point on it, begun dating and formed attachments to.
The normally clear lines between personal life and matters of concern to the service were becoming quite muddied. The Zentraedi seemed decent enough, but there were already reports of ugly incidents between the defectors and some of the SDF-1's inhabitants. Gloval worried about the Terrible Trio, worried about the Zentraedi-was apprehensive that; after all, the two races could never coexist.
On top of that, he couldn't shake the feeling that he ought to be setting curfews, or providing chaperones, or doing something paternal. These things troubled him in the brief moments when he wasn't doing his best to see that his entire command wasn't obliterated.
"Shuttle escort flight, prepare for launch, five minutes," Sammie said, bent over her console. She turned to Gloval.
"Shuttle's ready, sir. Lisa will be leaving in four minutes, fifty seconds."


CHAPTER TWO
Of course, idle hands are not the devil's workshop; that is a base canard.
Rather, it is the sort of hand that is always driven to be busy, turning itself to new machinations, keeping the brew boiling, that causes the most trouble. Those who wish to dispute this might do well to consider what happened whenever Khyron grew restive.
Rawlins, Zentraedi Triumvirate: Dolza, Breetai, Khyron

Max Sterling, flight helmet cradled in his left arm, strode through the frenetic activity of the hangar deck and heard Sammie's voice echo over the PA. "Sammie's substituting for the commander," he said.
At his side was a Skull Team replacement, Corporal Elkins, who had been transferred in from Wolf Team to help fill the gaps in Skull's ranks after the last pitched battle with the Zentraedi. Elkins remarked, "I hope she stays calm. Last time she had me flying figure eights around a radar mast."
Max chuckled, then forgot the joke, distracted. "Hey."
Elkins saw what Max meant. The techs had rolled out a prototype ship, something everybody in the Veritech squadrons had heard about. It was like the conventional VT, a sleek ultra-fighter, but two augmentation pods were mounted above its wing pivots..
The conventional VTs were a kind of miracle in themselves, the most advanced use of the Robotechnology that humans had learned from the wreckage of the SDF-1 when the alien-built battle fortress had originally crashed on Earth twelve years before. The SDF-1 had murderous teeth in the form of its mecha, its primary and secondary batteries, and its astoundingly powerful main gun, but the VTs were the ship's claws. And this new, retrofitted model was the first of a more powerful generation, a major advance in firepower and performance.
"Wouldn't that be something to fly?" Max murmured. He hoped it checked out all right in test flights; the humans needed every edge they could get.
"Whenever they're ready to give me one, I'll take it," Elkins said. "Anyway, watch yourself up there, Max."

At the top of the shuttle boarding steps, Lisa said, "I've made notes on everything that might be a problem."
"Don't worry about a thing," Claudia told her. Then she put her hands on Lisa's shoulders. "I'll see you back here in a few days, okay?"
Lisa tried to smile. What do you say to someone dearer than a sister? "I hope so. You look after things." One of the ground crew whistled, and Lisa stepped back into the shuttle's entry hatch.
The mobile steps moved away from the tubby shuttle. Claudia threw Lisa a salute for the first time in so long that neither of them could remember the last. Lisa returned it smartly. The round hatch swung to, emblazoned with the Robotech Defense Force insignia.
There were no other passengers, of course; contact with Earth had been all but nonexistent since the UEDC rulers decided that the dimensional fortress was to be a decoy, luring the enemy away from the planet. Other than a few canisters of classified dispatches and so forth, she had the passenger compartment to herself.
Lisa found a seat at the front of the compartment, near a com console, and asked a passing crewman, "Is this a secure line?"
"Aye aye, ma'am. It's best to make any calls now; never can tell what glitches we'll run into outside."
"I will."

He was wandering a quiet side street of Macross when the paging voice said, "Repeating: Lieutenant Rick Hunter, you have a call."
For a moment he wasn't even sure where he was, shuffling along in civvies that felt rather strange-the first time he'd worn anything but a uniform or a flightsuit in weeks. He'd been brooding a lot longer, trying to sort things out, to understand his own feelings and face up to certain truths.
He went to one of the ubiquitous yellow com phones and identified himself. The incoming call carried a secure-line encryption signal, keying the public phone with it. While the machines went through their coding, Rick looked around to make sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop.
People were just passing by, not even sparing a glance for the compact black-haired young man at the phone. He didn't mind that; he needed a few hours respite from being the Skull Team's leader-some time away from, the burden of command.
He had been a cocky civilian when he first came aboard the dimensional fortress two years before. He had been drawn into military service only grudgingly by Roy Fokker, his unofficial Big Brother-Claudia Grant's lover. Rick Hunter had survived more dogfights than he could remember, had written so many condolence letters to the families of dead VT pilots that he forced himself not to think of them, had stood by at the funeral of Roy Fokker and others beyond counting. He only wanted to shut them out of his mind.
He was not yet twenty-one years old.
The comcircuit was established. "Rick? It's Lisa."
He felt as though he had been under observation as he walked the streets aimlessly. Lisa and Minmei; Minmei and Lisa. His brain failed him in that emotional cyclone where his feelings for the two women swirled and defied all analysis, all decision.
"What can I do for you?" Ouch. Wrong. He knew that as soon as he said it, but it was too late.