"Jack McKinney - Sentinels 03 - Death Dance" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinney Jack)

old-fashioned blind luck. More to the point, he felt that he had an intuitive understanding of this enemy-a
second sense birthed during his brief exposure to the brainlike device his own Ghost Squadron had
captured on Tirol.

Edwards reminded himself of the several good reasons for exercising restraint. Apart from the fact that
the actual size of the Invid fleet remained unknown, there was this Regis being to wonder about; her
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whereabouts and motivations had yet to be determined. Besides, he sensed that the Regent had
something more than peace negotiations in mind. In any case, the data Edwards had furnished the Invid
regarding the Sentinels' ship had already linked the two of them in a separate peace. But Edwards was
willing to play out the charade-even if it amounted to nothing more than an opportunity to appraise his
potential partner.

He dismissed his musings abruptly and returned to the balcony console, where he received an update on
the shuttlecraft's ETA in the fortress docking bay. Then, giving a final moment of attention to the room's
numerous screens and displays, he hurried out, adjusting his alloy faceplate as one would a hat, and
tugging his dress blues into shape.

The docking bay had been transformed into a kind of parade grounds for the occasion, with everyone
present as decked out as they had been at the Hunters' wedding extravaganza. There had been no
advance notice of what, if any, protocols were to be observed, but a brass band was on hand
nonetheless. The impression the Plenipotentiary Council wished to convey was that of a highly-organized
group, strong and decisive, but warlike only as a last resort. The twelve members of the council had a
viewstand all to themselves at the edge of a broad magenta circle, concentric to the shuttle's touchdown
zone. A majority of the council had ruled against the show of force Edwards had pushed for, but as a
concession, he had been allowed to crowd the bay with rank after rank of spit-shined mecha-Battloids,
Logans, Hovertanks, Excalibers, Spartans, and the like.

The shuttle docked while Edwards was making his way to a preassigned place near the council's raised
platform; since he had been the council's spokesperson in arranging the talks, it had been decided that he
represent them now in the introductory proceedings. Edwards had of course both seen and fought against
the enemy's troops, and he had met face-to-face with the scientists Obsim and Tesla; but neither of these
examples had prepared him for his first sight of the Invid Regent, nor had the Royal Hall's communicator
sphere given him any sense of the XT's size. Like the lesser beings of the Invid race, the Regent was
something of an evolutionary pastiche-a greenish slug-headed bipedal creature whose ontogeny and
native habitat was impossible to imagine-but he stood a good twenty feet high and was crowned by an
organic cowl or hood, adorned, so it seemed, with a median ridge of eyeball-like tubercles. Dr. Lang had
talked about self-generated transformations and reshapings that had little to do with evolution as it had
come to be accepted (and expected) on Earth. But all the Protoculture pataphysics in the galaxy couldn't
keep Edwards from gaping.

A dozen armed and armored troopers preceded the Regent down the shuttle ramp (a ribbed saucer
similar in design to the troop carriers), and split into two ranks, genuflecting on either side of what would
be the Regent's carpeted path toward the council platform. Recovered, Edwards stepped forward to
greet the alien in Tiresian, then repeated the words in English. The Invid threw back the folds of his
cerulean robes, revealing four-fingered hands, and glared down at him.