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

"And Cabell?" said Exedore.
"Yes," Lang seconded. "Surely a rescue team-"
"I'm sorry, Doctor," Rick broke in. "You, too, Exedore. But I want to know what we're dealing with before we send anyone in."
Edwards snorted. "We'll say some kind words over his grave," he said loud enough for Exedore to hear.

In the tradition of that apocryphal cavalry who were always arriving in the nick of time, the Skull Squadron tore into Tirol's skies from the shuttles that had transported them to the edge of the envelope, and fell like wrathful birds of prey on the enemy's Pincer Ships and Shock Troopers. Cheers from Hovertankers and mecha commanders filled the tac and com nets as the Guardian-mode VTs dove in for missile releases and strafing runs.
Captain Miriya Parino Sterling led her team of red fighters against a group of blue-giant Command ships that were going gun-to-gun with Breetai's Zentraedi cadre. The smoking remains of Battlepods and strike ships littered a barren, now cratered expanse of high plateau where the Invid had successfully breached the GMU's forward defense lines. Miriya's Alphas hit the massive twin-cannoned mecha where they lived, chattering undercarriage guns stitching molten welts across cockpit shields and torso armor, and red-tipped heat-seekers finding the ships' vulnerable sensor mouths. Explosions geysered fountains of white-hot alloy into the waning light as ship after ship fell, leaking viscous green fluids into the dry ground. Renewed, the Battlepods leaped to regain their lost ground, trading energy salvos with the larger ships, their orange and blue bolts cutting swaths of angry ionization through the moon's thin atmosphere.
Elsewhere, Max's blue team backed up the Wolff Pack's devastated Hovertank ranks, reconfigured to Battloid mode for close-in combat, while overhead, solitary Veritechs went to guns with the less maneuverable Shock Troopers. Ships boostered and fell, executing rolls and reversals as they engaged.
Even the GMU's main gun was speaking now, adding its own thunderous punctuation to the battle's murderous dialogue. A second and third wave of mecha burst from the base's forward ramps-Mac II cannons, Excalibers, and drum-armed Spartans-but the Invid would neither fall back nor surrender.
It was all or nothing, Max realized as he bracketed two of the alien ships in his sights. Missiles tore from the Battloid's shoulder racks and found their mark; the ships came apart in a dumbbell-shaped cloud of flame and thick smoke. In the end, once the RDF's debris was carted from the field, it would look like a slaughter had taken place; but in the meantime men and women continued to die.
Max ordered the Battloid into a giant-stride run, pulled back on the selector lever, and imaged the VT through to fighter mode. He went ballistic, instructing his wingmen to follow suit, and was about to rejoin Miriya when Vince Grant's face appeared on one of the cockpit commo screens.
"You've got new orders, Commander, straight from the top."
"Uh, roger, Home. Shoot."
"Your team's to recon the Triangle. Just a flyby with a minimum of sound-and-light. Do you copy, Skull One?"
"Can do, Home. Waiting for your directions."
"We're punching them in now," Vince said.
Max's onboard computer came alive, stammering vectors and coordinates across the display screen.
"And Mac," Vince added. "Be sure to keep in touch."

Evening's shadow was once again moving across Tirol's face; a crescent of Fantoma loomed huge in the southern skies, its ring-plane a shaft of evanescent color. The battle was over-for the time being, forever, no one could be sure, any more than they could be sure who had won. If it went by the numbers, then the RDF had been victorious; but there was no known way of conveying that to the five hundred who had died that day.
Jack had been returned to his outfit and was out at the perimeter now, finally out on Tirol's surface, where he felt he should have been all along. There was a good deal of activity going on around him-mecha tows and transports and AFCs barreling by, VTs flying recon sweeps-but he still wasn't content. He had been assigned to take part in a mine-emplacement op, which meant little more than observing while Gladiators planted and armed AM-2 Watchdogs across the field. (These anti-mecha mines of high-velocity plastique had been developed by one Dr. R. Burke-who was also responsible for the Wolverine assault rifles-and came complete with an Identification Friend or Foe targeting microchip housing a library of enemy ground signatures, even those recently cooked up by the GMU's computers to indicate Invid Scouts and Shock Troopers.) So instead of giving the Gladiator his undivided attention, Jack had slipped away to eavesdrop on a conversation that was in progress at one of the forward command posts. Jack understood that the enemy had been soundly defeated, but things were a still bit sketchy with regard to follow-up plans. He sensed that something important was up, and in a short time he had the astounding details.
A message had been received from Tirol's occupied city-sent by some sort of rebel group, from the sound of it-giving the location of the Invid's central command. The Skull had been ordered to recon the site, but nothing was in the works to save the rebels themselves, who were apparently holed up in the very same neighborhood. Having seen a crude map of Tiresia, Jack knew the place would be easy enough to suss out. And if a small team-even one man-could infiltrate, the rebels would be as good as free. All it took was the right man.
But chief among the things Jack didn't know was that his actions over the past hour had been observed at rather close range by Karen Penn. And she stuck with Jack now as he began to angle his way behind the command post and into the forward supply area. He waited until the sentries were preoccupied, then moved in and grabbed hold of a Wolverine and an energy-pack bandolier. Karen drew her hand weapon and decided it was time to confront him.
Taken by surprise, Jack swung around with his hands raised, prepared to assume the position. But realizing it was Karen, he simply shook his head and shouldered past her. Karen armed the handgun, which came to life with a short-lived but unmistakable priming tone. It stopped Jack in his tracks.
"Now, you want to talk to me, Jack, or the unit commander?"
"Look," he said, turning around carefully, "there's something I've got to do." He explained what he knew about the communiquщ and the rebel group, and how a small group could get in and out unnoticed.
Karen listened without comment, then laughed shortly and deactivated her weapon. "You're certifiable, you know that?"
Jack made a face. "I'm going in alone, Karen."
"Oh no you're not," she said, grabbing a Wolverine from the rack. "'Cause I'm coming with you."
Jack showed her a grin. "I know where there's a coupla Hovercycles."
Karen pulled the bandolier's straps taut. "Lead on, hero," she told him.

Obsim peered into the trench the enforcers had opened in the floor of the Royal Hall. Fifty feet down they had broken through the roof of a narrow corridor, a stretch of the mazelike subterranean works the brain had discerned.
"The Inorganics will locate the Tiresians within the period," the brain informed Obsim when he reentered the Hall's central nave.
"I am pleased," Obsim said, trying on a regal tone.
"There are other concerns..."
"Prioritize."
"A group of airborne mecha are closing on our position."
Obsim glanced at the communicator sphere, where a holo-image of six blue Veritechs was taking shape.
"Advise, computer."
"Protect the brain. Activate the shield."
Obsim tried to calculate the resultant energy drain. "You are so instructed," he said after a moment of reflection.
Bubbles formed, percolating in the brain's tank.
"It is done."

Max had his team complete two high-altitude passes over the city before dropping in for a closer look. Schematics of Skull's topographical scans had revealed that Tiresia's Royal Hall was an enormous structure indeed, a truncated pyramid almost a thousand feet tall capped by a classical Roman-like shrine. It dominated the city, which was itself a kind of circular mandala set into Tirol's bleak surface. Scanners had also picked up dusk activity in the city's street; but whatever was moving around down there was smaller than the Invid ships the Skull had thus far gone up against.
"All right, let's stay alert," Max said over the net as the team followed him down. "Keep an eye on each other. Blue Velvet, you've got the number-one spot."
"Roger, Skull Leader, I'm on my way," the mechamorph responded.
Max watched him peel away from the group, roll over, and drop in for the run. They were all closing on the Hall, scarcely five hundred feet above it, when a translucent envelope of scintillating energy suddenly mushroomed up in front of them. The envelope expanded to encompass the entire Hall, and with it, Blue Velvet's lone Veritech. The rest of the team broke hard and climbed.
"It's a force field of some kind," Max said. "Blue Velvet, get yourself out of there!"