"Linnea Sinclair - To Dance With Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sinclair Linnea)

McCabe frowned at nothing in particular. "Don't know. I've got something glitchy...
wait. No, now it's gone."

"Where?" Rho'kharis's voice held a note of concern.

"Was about 11 o'clock. Gone now."

"Consider us to be notified. I'll spread the word. Rho'kharis out."

"McCabe out." She waited a moment. "Blue leader to Blue One."

"Blue One, Mac. What's up?"

"Not sure, Marcus. You got anything at all at 11 o'clock?"

"Yeah." The answer came back quickly. "But I could cancel it if your old man won't
come lookin' for us, sugar."

"тАФMarcus!" she said in mock indignation.

"Okay, okay, Mac. You can't kill a dude for tryin'." There was a slight pause.
McCabe could hear the man mumbling to himself. "Nope, doll. Nothin' I can put my
fingers on. Fritz, maybe. Think these babies're overdue for service."

"Fritz? You've got fritz? At eleven?"

"Umm, sort of more like nine-thirty. No. It's gone. Forget it, Tamsin. It's just fritz."

"Forget, my ass," she said as the transmission clicked off. She scanned the
instruments.

Suddenly a scream sounded in her ears. Her name. A warning. She banked the
fighter just as her eyes and her sensors confirmed Blue Two and Four were gone.

Her hands moved quickly over the controls. "Damn it, Blue One! Do you copy?
What the hellтАФ?"

Something roared by her, so close her instruments momentarily maxed out. She
felt her ship shudder as she forced the fighter back into an arc.

"Blue One!" she repeated.

"One here!" The usual jovial Marcus sounded strained. "Damn it t'hell 'n back!
Somethin' got Finar. I didn't seeтАФ"

"Fritz, gods damn it, Marcus. SomethingтАЩs shielding itself as fritzing interference!"
She went to open channel and called her remaining squad back into formation.
Another transmission segued in as she finished.