"Ross Richdale - Generation 7" - читать интересную книгу автора (Richdale Ross)

The Proctor sighed. They had survived four attacks over the last summer with their farms wiped out and
domesticated animals slaughtered. Now there were barely enough cattle, dairy cows or sheep to supply
the village, the conditions in these northern latitudes were too cold to grow wheat and even the native
vegetables really needed a warmer climate. Each year became more desperate and, with the clickers
now capable of mounting a winter offensive, it seemed their days were numbered.

The Inner Council discussed the situation throughout the day and into the evening without really solving
the problem. Withdrawal to the underground tunnels seemed the only solution if clickers broke through
the outer defenses.

I'll consult with Jordan Wittenburg and the elders, Andrea finally suggested.
Those stupid old fools who live in dream of a far world somewhere out there, Malone waved her hands
out in exasperation, and a great silver flying machine to take us away for ever to the heavens. It's all
fantasy, I tell you!

We all know your opinions, Malone. Andrea replied in a caustic voice, but there may be some fact
behind the legends. She stood up and fixed the other woman with an icy glare. I'll speak to Jordan. It will
do no harm.

Not much good, either, Melanie muttered as she gathered up her papers, nodded at the two flags
attached to the front wall and strutted out of the chamber.

The attack on New Seattle came at dawn the following Monday, when, without warning, thirty flying
female clickers appeared out of the predawn darkness to attack the outer walls of the village. Before the
lookouts could even sound the siren they were overhead with huge canisters clasped in their four arms.
These were dropped on the south wall and burst in thunderclaps of explosion after explosion. The
wooden logs simply disintegrated in the onslaught and more than two dozen defenders were killed.

My God, they do have explosives! Commander Evans gasped as he stared out the smoking gap to
where the field outside could be seen. Line after line of suited clickers marched towards the gap to the
ominous beat of a drum.

But the chief of the DPF was not about to give up easily. Right flank, form a semicircle outside the
breach! he roared above the roar of the flames. Left flank. Fire duties.

Fifty young men and women, all with shields, swords and crossbows leapt through the flames and outside
to meet the incoming foe while fifty more were already bathing the wood with high pressure water hoses.

Flying clickers heading for the north wall, a lookout screamed through a loud speaker. At least a dozen.

This time, though, the humans were ready. Their own firearms came into action. Twenty mortars
exploded and hurled a wall of stones at the incoming flight of female clickers. Five were hit and crashed
to the ground to be killed by the explosives still held in their arms, another two dropped the bombs
harmlessly beyond the outer perimeter. Four, however, reached the wall. Again, there was a discharge of
explosions and a four-meter gap was blasted in the fence line.

Lower and fire at will, Commander Evans ordered.

He smiled grimly as one clicker disintegrated in the air above him while a second tipped and plummeted
to earth inside the compound.