"13 Sentinels 01 - The Devils Hand" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinney Jack)

...reports entry to Valivarre system."
"Systems status," she said weakly and by rote. "Secure from launch stations."
Some of the techs came to even more slowly than she did, bending to their tasks as though exhausted.
"All systems check out, Admiral. Dr. Lang is onscreen."
Lisa glanced up at the monitor just as the doctor was offering his congratulations. "I've taken the liberty of ordering course and velocity corrections. Hope you don't mind, Lisa."
Lang seemed unfazed by their transit through hyperspace; it was one of the strange things about a jump: like altitude sickness, there was no way to predict who would and would not suffer side effects. She was certain that a number of the crew were already being removed to sick bay. Surprised at her own state of well-being, Lisa shook her head and smiled. "We've made it, then, we've actually made it?"
"See for yourself," Lang said.
Lisa swung to study a screen, and there it was: a magnified crescent of the ringed and marbled jadelike giant, with its distant primary peeking into view-a magnesium-white jewel set on the planet's rim. A schematic of the system began to take shape, graphics highlighting one of Fantoma's dozen moons and enlarging it, as analytical readouts scrolled across an ancillary screen.
"Tirol," said Lisa. The moon was closing on Fantoma's darkside. Then, with a sinking feeling, she recalled the EVA blip.
"Still with us," a tech reported in an anxious tone. "But we're leaving it farther behind every second."
"Dr. Lang," Lisa started to say. But all at once alert signals were flashing all over the bridge.
"Picking up multiple radar signals, sir. Approach vectors coming in..."
Lisa's eyes went wide. "Sound general quarters. Go to high alert and open up the com net. And get me Admiral Hunter-immediately."
"We've got them," Rick was saying a moment later from a screen.
"Do we have a signature?" Lisa asked the threat-board tech. Her throat was dry, her voice a rasp.
"Negative, sir. An unknown quantity."
Lisa stood up and moved to the visor viewport. "I want visuals as soon as possible, and get Exedore and Breetai up here on the double!"

"Well?" Lisa said from the command chair, tapping her foot impatiently. Klaxons squawked as the ship went on alert. She had not forgotten about the EVA craft, but there were new priorities now.
Exedore turned to look at her. "These are not Tirolian ships, Admiral, I can assure you."
Breetai and Rick were with him, all three men grouped behind the tech seated at the threat board. "Enhancements coming in now, Lisa," Rick said without turning around.
The computer drew several clamlike shapes on the screen, pinpointing hot areas.
Breetai straightened up and grunted; all eyes on the bridge swung to fix on him. "Invid troop carriers," he announced angrily.
"Invid? But what-"
"Could they have formed some sort of alliance with the Masters?" Lisa thought to ask.
"That is very unlikely, Admiral," Exedore answered her.
Rick spoke to Lang, who was still on-screen. "We've got company, Doctor."
"The ship must be protected."
"Sir!" a tech shouted. "I'm showing multiple paint throughout the field!"
Rick and the others saw that the clam-ships had opened, yawned, spilling forth an enormous number of small strike mecha. Pincer Ships, Breetai called them.
"I want the Skull scrambled."
"Ghost Squadron is already out, sir," Blake reported from his duty station.
"What!"
The threat board showed two clusters of blips moving toward each other. Rick slapped his hand down on the Situation Room com stud, demanding to know who ordered the Veritechs out.
"General Edwards," came the reply.
"Edwards!" Rick seethed.
Blake tapped in a rapid sequence of requests. "Sir. Ghost Squadron reports they're moving in to engage."

Cabell was puzzled. It was not Zor's ship after all, but some sort of facsimile. Worse, the Invid had sent its small fleet of troop carriers against it, and their Pincer Ships were already engaging mecha from the Zentraedi ship out near Fantoma's rings. Initially, Cabell wanted to convince himself that the Zentraedi had for some reason, returned in Micronized form; but he now dismissed this as wishful thinking. It was more likely that the starship had been taken by force, and he was willing to guess just who these new invaders were. Presently, data from one of the network computers confirmed his guess.
He had pulled up trans-signals received by the Masters shortly after the destruction of Reno's fleet and the capture of the factory satellite. Among the debris that littered a vast area of space some eighty light-years out from Tirol were mecha almost identical to those the would-be Zentraedi had sent against the Invid. These invaders, then, would have to be the "Micronians" whose world the Masters had gone off to conquer, the same humanoids who had been the recipients of Zor's fortress, and with it the Protoculture matrix.
And while Invid and Terrans formed up to annihilate each other, a small ship was leaving Tirolspace unobserved. Watching the ship's trail disappear on his monitor screen, Cabell smiled to himself. It was the Elders, fooled like himself perhaps, into believing that the Zentraedi had returned. For their skins! Cabell laughed to himself.
So Tirol was suddenly Masterless. Cabell considered the battle raging out by the giant's ring-plane, and wondered aloud if Tirol was about to change hands yet again.

In the Royal Hall Invid headquarters, Obsim was thinking along similar lines. These starship troopers were not Zentraedi, but some life-form similar in makeup and physiology to the population of Tirol or Praxis. And yet they were not Tirolians either. By monitoring the transmissions the invaders were radioing to their mecha pilots, the brain had discovered that the language was not that of the Masters.
"Sample and analyze," Obsim commanded.
It was a primitive, strictly vocal tongue; and the computer easily mastered it in a matter of minutes, along with the simple combat code the invaders were using.
Obsim studied the communications sphere with interest. The battle was not going well for his Pincer units; whatever the invaders lacked in the way of intellect and sophistication, they possessed powerful weapons and mecha more maneuverable than any Obsim had ever seen. A world of such beings would not have been conquered as readily as Spheris, Praxis, and Karbarra had. But firepower wasn't war's only prerequisite; there had to be a guiding intelligence. And of this the invaders were in short supply.
"Computer," said Obsim. "Send the mecha commanders new dictates in their own code. Order them to pursue our troops no matter what."
The starship itself was hiding inside Fantoma's ringplane; but if it could be lured out for only a moment, the troop carriers might have a clear shot at it.
Obsim turned to face the brain. "Computer. Locate the starship's drives and relay relevant data to troopship commanders." He contemplated this strategy for a moment, hands deep within the sleeves of his robe. "And prepare to advise the Regent of our situation."