"Jack McKinney - Robotech 10 - Invid Invasion" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinney Jack)

claps of thunder in their wake.
Scott found himself overwhelmed by a novel form of terror, so unlike the fear he was
accustomed to that he stood screaming into the face of it, his feet seemingly rooted to the
ground. This had nothing to do with enemy laser fire or plasma annihilation discs; it had nothing
to do with combat or close calls. This was a larger terror, a deeper one, springing from an
archaic part of himself he had never met face to face.
Unnerved, he ran for the safety of the Veritech cockpit as lightning struck and ignited
one of the trees, toppling it with a second bolt that split the forest giant along its length. He
lowered the canopy and hunkered down in the VT seat, hugging himself for warmth and security. Eyes
tightly shut, ears filled with crackling noise, he shouted to himself: What am I doing on this
horrible planet?
As if answering him, his mind reran images of the command ship's fiery demise, that slow
and silent fatality.
"Marlene," he said through tears.
His hand had found the holo-locket she had given him on the bridge. But his forefinger was
frozen on the activation button, his mind fearful of confronting the ghosts the device was meant
to summon up. Still, he knew that he had to force himself to see and hear her again...before he
could let the past die.
The metallic green heart opened at his touch, unfolding like a triptych; from its blood-
red holo-bead center wafted a phantom image of Marlene.

"Scott, my darling, I know it isn't much, but I thought you'd get a kick out of this
trinket. I'm looking forward to living the rest of my life with you. I can't wait till this
conflict is all behind us. Till we meet again, my love..."

The voice that had been Marlene's trailed off, and the shimmering message returned to its
place of captivity. Scott closed the heart and clutched it tightly in his fist, wishing
desperately that he could so easily de-rezz the images held fast in his own heart. Outside, the
storm continued unabated, echoing the dark night of his soul. Lighting fractured the alien sky,
and rainwater ran in a steady stream across the protective curve of the VT's canopy.

In the morning Earth's skies seemed as blue as the seas Scott had seen from space; the air
smelled sweet, washed clean of last night's violence. But this was little consolation. Fear and
sorrow had lulled him into a fitful sleep, and the stark images of Marlene's death were with him
when he awoke.
At a clear stream near the crash site, he filled his canteens with water. Taking in
morning's soft light, the spectacle of the forest itself, the profusion of bird life, he suspected
that Earth could be a tolerable place, after all, but doubted that he would ever feel at home
here. He promised himself that he would turn his thoughts to the mission and only the mission from
this point on. Insanity was the only alternative.
He returned to the Veritech and stowed the canteens with the survival gear he had already
retrieved from the mecha. He had enough emergency rations to last him the better part of an Earth
week; if he didn't come across a settlement or city by then, he would be forced to forage for
food. And given what little information he had about edible plants and such, the thought was
hardly an appetizing one.
He turned his attention now to the one item that was likely to rescue him from edible
plants or privation: the Cyclone vehicle stored away in the fighter's small cargo compartment. A
well-concealed sensor panel in the fuselage gave him access to this, and in a moment he was
lifting the self-contained Cyclone free of the cargo hold. In its present collapsed state the
would-be two-wheeled transport was no larger than a foot locker, but reconfigured it was