"Mike Moscoe - The Price of Peace" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moscoe Mike)

distance between the Patton, leisurely crossing this system at one gee like any heavily laden
freighter, and the unknown galloping down on her at three gees. It was exactly where she
expected it to be.
Izzy glanced around at the rest of the bridge crew, tired, worried young faces lit in multi-hued
reflections from their
2 тАв Mike Moscoe
stations. "Well done, all of you. Quartermaster of the watch, jack up the blowers." The hum of
the air circulation fans went up several notches. For the night, the lights and blowers had
been reduced to aid the crew's rest. It was time to get the crew upтАФand the smell of fear off
Izzy's bridge.
"Bos'n. pipe the crew to chow. Announce battle stations in twenty-five minutes." She was
cutting it close, but just as Nelson had calculated how fast the wind would drive his liners
down upon the French and Spanish fleet, physics decreed how quickly a ship accelerating
at three gees could overtake a ship making one gee. When would not be the surprise today.
Who did what to whomтАФnow, that would get exciting real soon.
"I'll be in the wardroom. Call me if anything changes."
"Yes, ma'am" and "Captain off the bridge" followed her. She'd only had this crew for two
months, but they'd shaken down well. If only the damn boat was as good. All her career, Izzy
had dreamed of commanding a ship in space, lusted for it in the worst way. She doubted it
could get worse than the Patton. Izzy shrugged, as she had so many times in the war. No
use complaining about what you can't fix. The potential pirate bearing down on herтАФnow
that was something shed enjoy fixing.
The whiff and clatter of breakfast greeted her well before she entered the wardroom. As she
did, a steward's mate started fixing her usual breakfast plate. Izzy noted he went light on the
reconstituted scrambled eggs and bacon, and blessed him. This morning, she'd share a
hearty meal with her band of officers. Still, she didn't want to lose it as she hurtled the Patton
through battle maneuvers. And leaving half her breakfast on the plate would not be a good
signal to her team.
The exec, Guns, Damage Control, Engineering, Comm, and the leader of her marine
detachment had an empty place at their table; she joined them, removing a white linen
napkin from the dark blue tablecloth, and settling it in her lap as the steward deposited her
plate in front of her. "Thank you," she smiled.
THE PRICE OF PEACE тАв 3
"Think we got ourselves a real pirate?" Guns grinned through a heap of eggs.
"Don't know many merchants that charge around a system at three gees." Izzy smiled in
agreement. "Hell on the bottom line. Right, Vu?"
The bald, round chief engineer, last remaining member of the ship's old merchant marine
crew, nodded like a silent Buddha, then went back to chasing his curried rice with
chopsticks.
Lieutenant Commander Stan Gabon, her exec, wiped his lips with a linen napkin. "Could be
hostile. Then again, it could be a courier ship or a fast private yacht."
Izzy nodded, wondering if this guy had been a nervous ninny all his career, or had just
adopted the role after reading her career brief. "But three ships have disappeared without a
trace, or one squawking life pod. If that ship is a pirate, it's in for a very bad day."
"You got that right," Guns chortled. Surrounding tables joined him. Izzy felt a rush, pure joy at
leading these men and women into combat. For twenty-five years she'd dreamed and
trained. Today, she'd put it all together.
"If this damn bucket of bolts and chips holds together," Comm muttered as the wardroom
quieted. It got real quiet as his words sunk home.
The damage control officer looked grim. "We still haven't figured out why the stern sensor