"S. M. Stirling & David Drake - The General 01 - The Forge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stirling S. M)

with the power of flight. Cautiously, he swooped downward. The
beautiful ancient buildings lay tumbled, or burning, or shattered
in zones of overlapping circles out from the center of the fading
ball of flame. He moved until the radius of complete destruction
was behind him, watching like a god as little swooping vehicles
came to collect the wounded; hideously burned figures writhed
or lay still, and the ground-cars that had zipped along the
roadways of turf were tumbled like toys, some driven through the
fronts of houses.

There must have been a wind like a hurricano, he thought;
the scene matched the description of the terrible storms of the
far southern Zanj Sea. Fire like the heart of a star, then a killing
wind. Raj had received the rudiments of a classical education,
despite the pragmatism of his country-gentry family. There was
only one thing that fitted that description: fusion bomb, the
agency of the Fall.

Then other flying cars touched down. He grunted in shock as
he recognized the blazon on their sidesтАФa double lightning flash,
with the numerals 591 betweenтАФ the insignia of the 591st
Provisional Brigade. The barbarians who held the Old Residence,
the original seat of planetary government, on the other side of
the Midworld Sea. But those aren't barbarians, he thought
dazedly, as the hatches opened and troops stormed forth. He
could recognize their arms and armor, too. The clockwork and
compressed-air automatons that lined the walls of the Hall of
Audience were formed in that shape, and bore such arms. Lines
of fire stitched back and forth as other troops in similar gear but
bearing the insignia of the Federation Guards charged to meet
them.

enough. The voice interrupted him as he watched the
Brigade troops smash the last resistance and move on to sack a
huge structure whose foundation outlines matched those of the
Governor's Palace he knew. His viewpoint moved without his
willing it, and locked on the face of a man lying with half his
chest burned away despite his powered battle-armor; the mouth
worked behind the visor, but nothing came out of it but clotted
blood.

next.

There was a silent snap, and he was back in his original
position. The city was intact again, unscarred by the fusion
bomb, but as he looked more closely he could see that the
outskirts had been abandoned, overgrown with green Terran
vegetation and the reddish brown-green of native plants. Fewer
of the flying eggs zipped byтАж This time the attack was from the
sea, in giant square vessels that floated on flexible skirts in