"08 - Metal Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinney Jack)

It was just bad luck that a war had come along. Perhaps it would have been better for Emerson to renege on his promises to the Grants, to have let the kid go off and study music, play piano in nightspots...maybe that way Bowie might have been the last piano player cremated by an alien deathray, or might have survived while the rest of the Human race hurled itself onto the pyre of battle to stop the invaders.
But Emerson didn't think Bowie would see things that way. Bowie had seen the invaders at far closer range than Emerson, and Emerson had heard and seen enough to know that Earth was in a win-or-die war.
Still, the idea of putting the 15th out on the tip of the lance yet again went against Emerson's sense of justice and of military wisdom; this was a commando job, not a tank mission.
Commander Leonard was well aware of Emerson's relationship to Bowie Grant; but promises or no promises, Bowie was a soldier, end of story. Leonard wasn't spelling all this out for everyone in the room, but Rolf had picked up the commander's subliminal message.
Rudolph and Rochelle also understood Rolf's predicament, but they, too, were resolute in their decision: it had to be the 15th.
"I suggest we prepare an options list," Emerson told the staff, "a variety of plans and mixes for the forces involved. "
Leonard seemed to consider that. He addressed Colonel Rudolph: "Get together with the ATACs' CO and hammer out one scenario using the Fifteenth." He ordered Rolf to get the G3 shop to begin assembling alternatives.
Emerson acknowledged the order, relieved. But as the meeting broke up, Leonard pulled Rudolph aside, waiting until Emerson was gone.
"Colonel, I'm directing you to present this mission to the Fifteenth ATAC and Lieutenant Sterling as an order, not a proposal. We can't waste time dawdling." And I can't waste time arguing with my subordinates, nor can I risk Emerson's resigning just now. My neck's on the block!
Rudolph snapped to smartly. "Sir!"
The commander continued in a confidential tone. "We must put aside Rolf's personal matters and get on with the war."

"What d'ya think-that I'd volunteer us for this mission?" Dana said to her squad after the orders had come down from Headquarters. "Somebody has to recon that fortress-"
"And we're that somebody," Sean finished for her. "HQ wants to know who it's fighting."
"They'll be fighting me if this keeps up," Sergeant Dante threatened, clenching his big hands and adopting a boxer's stance.
The primaries of the 15th were grouped in their barracks ready-room, trying to find someone to blame for HQ's directive. Dana had already had it out with Colonel Rudolph, citing all the action the team had seen lately, their need for R & R, the sorry state of their ordnance and Hovertanks. But it all fell on deaf ears: when the supreme commander said jump, you jumped. With or without a chute.
"Hey, Sarge, I thought you wanted to keep fighting," Sean reminded him.
Dante glared at him. "I just don't like being used like a pawn in Leonard's game of `name the alien.' We've gotta go out there and risk our lives to save their reputations."
"How literary of you, Angelo," Dana said sharply. "What the heck does reputation have to do with any of this?" She gestured out the window in the direction of the downed fortress. "That ship is at least a potential threat. What are we supposed to do-turn it into an amusement park ride?"
"How are we even going to get in?" Louie Nichols thought to ask.
The team turned to regard the whiz kid of the Southern Cross, waiting for him to suggest something. With his gaunt, angular face, top-heavy thatch of deep brown hair, and everpresent wraparound opaque goggles, Louie came closer to resembling an alien than Dana herself. Some members of Professor Cochran's group actually believed that Louie had patterned himself after the infamous Exedore, the Zentraedi Minister of Affairs during the Robotech War.
"It's difficult enough analyzing their technology. But getting inside their ship...How are we supposed to pull that off?"
Angelo looked at Louie in disbelief. "Get in? How are we gonna get out, Louie, how are we gonna get out?! I don't think you realize there's a chance we may not return from this mission alive."
Sean made a wry face. "Pity...she's gonna miss me when I'm gone."
At the same time, Louie exclaimed, "Gone?!" Bowie asked, "Isn't that a song?" and Dana said, "Knock it off."
Sean acknowledged the rebuke with a bemused smile. "You're right," he told Dana. "This mission is more important than my miss. What's it matter, right? We're tough."
"That's the right stuff," Dana enthused. "And there's no other way to pull this mission off but to, well, to just do it!"
The sergeant was nodding in agreement now, wondering where his earlier comments had come from. If Dana the halfbreed could get behind it, he could, too.
"All right," he said rallying to the cause. "We'll make them rue the day they touched down on this planet."

The 15th had a little over twelve hours to kill, and sleep was out of the question. Dana had her doubts about giving anybody permission to leave the barracks, but realized that keeping them cooped up would only give them time to ferment and perhaps explode. She issued "cinderella" passes-good until midnight-along with dire threats about what Nova's MPs would do to anybody who screwed up in town or came back late.
Sean left to visit a good friend who found prebattle good-byes aphrodisiac. Louie Nichols sat down to tinker with his helmet video transmitters. Angie nursed drinks and cigars in the dark privacy of his own quarters. And Bowie Grant insisted on treating Dana to the finest beers to be had in Monument City.
Twenty minutes later, Dana and Bowie were lifting frosted, conelike pilsner glasses of pale, foamy beer and clinking them together in a toast to better times.
Bowie contorted his face for a clownish look. "I figured it was the least I could do after what you did for me yesterday."
As Dana lowered her glass her hand brushed something that he had slid over to her.
"What's this?" It was a gorgeous little blossom of delicate red, hot pink, and coral, and tones in between. "A flower?"
"An orchid, Dana. For good luck."
She pinned it ceremonially onto her torso harness, near her heart. "You're sweet, Bowie. And maybe too sensitive for this line of work. What d'ya think?"
Bowie drew a deep breath. "Well, I prefer music to space warfare, if that's what you mean. You know this wasn't my idea."
Dana looked hard at her handsome friend, thinking back through years of peaceful and playful memories, back to when their parents were still on-world-when her memory of them was still alive...
She debated for a moment, then it occurred to her-as it did more strongly with each action she fought in-that for her, Bowie, the 15th, the Human race, tomorrow might be the last, for any or all of them.
Bowie had been making mistakes lately in a very uncharacteristic way. Dana was no shrink and she couldn't take away all Bowie's resentment of the military; but the way she saw it, it would be good for all concerned if he let off a little steam on some piano keys.
"So go find some piano in an on-limits place and play for the people," Dana said- suddenly. "And quit gaping at me like that!"
Bowie's eyebrows beetled. "Don't put me on about this, Da-"
"I'm not putting you on. Just remember: I gave Nova my word; I'm responsible for you. Don't mess up or we both take a fall. And sign back in at the barracks before midnight, read me?"
"Roger that," Bowie said, and was gone.

Feeling a good two kilos heavier after knocking back several more glasses, Dana (Bowie's gift orchid boutonniered to her uniform) returned to the barracks compound, left her Hovercycle in the mecha pool, and elevatored to the 15th's quarters. She looked in on Louie, but decided not to take him from his gadgeteering, and made for the ready-room, where she found Angelo nursing a drink in the dark, silently regarding the distant fortress, a black shape all but indiscernible from the ridgeline's numerous stone outcroppings and buttresses.
The sergeant sat with his arms folded, legs crossed, a sullen but contemplative look on his face. He was unaware of Dana's presence until she announced herself, asking to speak to him for a moment.
"About tomorrow's reconnaissance mission," they said simultaneously. But only Angelo chuckled.