"John Ringo - The Legacy of the Aldenata 5 - The Hero" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ringo John)

pirates, feral Posleen still romping around from the war that had almost wiped out humanity, and the new
Blob menace, these troops expected to see action at any time. The weapons were cared for because
they were the difference between life and a cold e-mail to their survivors.
The weapons' receivers were coated with a chameleon surface that assumed the colors and pattern
of anything in the vicinity. As they were laid on the table, they shifted to match, becoming all but invisible.
Ferret cursed and said, "The surface stays active damned near forever, even when there isn't enough
juice left to shoot with." He pressed the surface switch to drop the weapon to neutral gray.
Gorilla, being one of the technical specialists, said, "No, it won't last forever. It will last a while,
though. The surface is small and the environment in here doesn't take much shifting. But I wouldn't try to
get that long out of an intruder suit. Otoh, it's easier to detect."
Ferret replied, "Teach your granma to suck Posleen; 'The expert scout uses guile and deception
rather than relying on technical devices.' " Shrugging his shoulders he turned back to his weapon.
The troops' sure fingers handled the parts without effort, as they would even in the dark. The dull
coated barrels with their internal grav drivers and small bores were shoved to the middle of the table and
the receivers to the edge, in a standard layout. In the frame of these, smaller parts, trigger assemblies and
sights were set in positions personalized by years of practice. The punch guns were rather simple: an
energy unit that slid out and wasn't to be messed with and the frame. Each soldier had his or her own
favorite layout, but all were clearly the product of the same basic training. Dagger sat off at a table by
himself, his sniper rifle being cared for by hands that almost caressed it. Dagger was like that. Always
part of the team, always alone.
Thor pulled the breech of his grav-gun and stared into it while waving his glowing light ball across
the table and down to illuminate it from the bore. As he inhaled the astringent tang of burned metal
wafting from the tube, he cursed at what he saw. The main problem with the weapons was that the
ammunition they had used was substandard. The factory-recommended ammunition was depleted
uranium coated with a carbon-based witches' brew and charged with a tiny droplet of antimatter. The
antimatter droplet was released by a shot of power and then the charge was scavenged from the AM
disintegration. However, the Islendian Republic did not have the facilities to produce such sophisticated
ammo, so the grav-guns were driven off external packs and most of the rounds used were simple
depleted uranium with a graphite coat.
The problem was that at the incredibly high speeds of the rounds, the carbon and then the uranium
sublimed and coated the breech and bore of the rifle with a substance that was damned near
uranium-carbon alloy. And nearly as hard to get off . . .
Thor reached into his ruck for a bulb of soda from his "emergency" rations, and paused. "What the
hell?" he muttered, finding something hard and not bulb-shaped. He grasped it and pulled it out. It was a
rock, about five kilograms' worth. Just a rock.
"You rat bastards," he said disgustedly. It was a running gag. Every time they came back from a
mission or a field exercise, some jackass was able to slip a local boulder into his gear. He must have a
pile of forty of the damned things in the corner of his barracks room now. No one knew why he kept
them. Neither did he, except that they were mementos, sort of. He even had one from Earth.
Everyone laughed aloud, except Dagger, and even he snickered. Gorilla said, "Another rock for
your collection, Thor."
"Yeah, yeah. Rocks, concrete core samples from the engineers, always something. Sooner or later
someone's going to get me busted for smuggling a Rumakian Sacred Piece of Granite or some shit. And
I'll make you guys cough up the duty."
"You'd have to," Ferret said. "Dagger would have allyour cash." Everyone laughed at that, even
Dagger.
The hazing about the shootout picked up again.
" 'Hi, my name is Thor, and I can't hit the broad side of a warehouse.' "
" 'Dagger, shoot me now before I try to beat you again.' "
" 'Duh, me Thor, me think me shoot straight.' 'Dat's okay, said the young maiden,' not wanting to