"slide61" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John - Gaea 03 - Demon 1.1.html)SIXThe Luftmorder in Tethys did not know he was the flugelführer of the Tenth Fighter/Bomber Wing of the Gaean Air Force. It was not a designation given to him by Gaea. He only knew he was the leader of the squadron. He had a vague awareness there were other squadrons, but it was of no importance to him. His mission was well-defined—and he didn’t work well with other Luftmorders. It was not in his nature to do so. He was the flugelführer.Orders had been coming through. They would involve re-fueling at bases under the command of other Luftmorders. The thought was distasteful to him, but Orders were Orders. He knew there was an army, now marching through Cronus. He knew that, at some point, Orders would come telling him to attack that army. He knew there were enemies in the sky. This did not frighten him. It all made him feel warm and contented. About the only nuisance in his life were all the angels that had been coming around lately. They flew quite close, cluttering curiously. Green ones and red ones. He was contemptuous of them. Their jelly-bodies would make amusing targets for his red-eyes and sidewinders . . . but there were no Orders. He was contemptuous of the angels. They had so little power. They were so inefficient as flying machines. They had begun building nests that hung, as he did, from the cable. There were three of them below him, great bulging structures that seemed to be made of mud and wattle. He considered them eyesores. But he had tried no more shots. He awaited his mission. SIXThe Luftmorder in Tethys did not know he was the flugelführer of the Tenth Fighter/Bomber Wing of the Gaean Air Force. It was not a designation given to him by Gaea. He only knew he was the leader of the squadron. He had a vague awareness there were other squadrons, but it was of no importance to him. His mission was well-defined—and he didn’t work well with other Luftmorders. It was not in his nature to do so. He was the flugelführer.Orders had been coming through. They would involve re-fueling at bases under the command of other Luftmorders. The thought was distasteful to him, but Orders were Orders. He knew there was an army, now marching through Cronus. He knew that, at some point, Orders would come telling him to attack that army. He knew there were enemies in the sky. This did not frighten him. It all made him feel warm and contented. About the only nuisance in his life were all the angels that had been coming around lately. They flew quite close, cluttering curiously. Green ones and red ones. He was contemptuous of them. Their jelly-bodies would make amusing targets for his red-eyes and sidewinders . . . but there were no Orders. He was contemptuous of the angels. They had so little power. They were so inefficient as flying machines. They had begun building nests that hung, as he did, from the cable. There were three of them below him, great bulging structures that seemed to be made of mud and wattle. He considered them eyesores. There had been four. He had loosed a red-eye at one, to test its strength. It had come apart like rice paper. The red and green feathers that drifted out of it and the alarmed squawks of the survivors had amused him. But he had tried no more shots. He awaited his mission. |
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