"Jeff Verona - Myrmidons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Verona Jeff)

an
eye on each other. Nobody goes to the latrine alone."
"Sarge --"
"What is it, Cooper?"
The big man swallowed. "I'm not so sure Harris went to the latrine to do
his
business. He might have gone, you know, out there," he said, pointing a
thick
finger at the grey landscape beyond the perimeter.
The cold hand on Cabesa's heart suddenly grew claws. "I understand. Watch
your
backs." He nodded to the troops, dispersing them, then headed back towards
camp, one finger on the bead in his ear. "Spec Four Angel Menendez, come
in."
"Menendez here. That you, Sarge?"
"Yeah. I need a trace on Harris, right now."
"Your wish is my command. Let's see, he's....That's funny."
"What?"
"I'm not showing him on the status board. He's not within two hundred
meters
 of the perimeter."
"Can you track him from the satellites?"
Laughter buzzed in his ear. "What, those pop-ups we put in orbit last week?
They've all been shot down. All I've got is the uplink to the Fleet." Then
the
voice sobered. "What, isn't he with his patrol?"
"No."
"Shit. Want me to wake 'em up for a search-and-rescue?"
"No." Cabesa switched directions, heading for the armory. "I'll find him."
"By yourself?"
"He's my man. My responsibility."
"We got dust-off in what, four hours and change?" Menendez's voice faded,
then
came back. "Four hours, two minutes. How long are you going to look?"
Until I find him, Cabesa thought. Aloud, he said "Give me three and half
hours. I'm at the armory...." He broke off to nod at the soldier stationed
by
the door of the armory and duck inside. The light was dim here, but his
hands
went out automatically, reaching for the proper places. Homing beacon.
Flare
pistol. Flares. Spare ammo. He hesitated a second before drawing two
grenades
from their storage wrap. Better to have them and not need them then need
them
and not have them.
"You there, Sarge?"
"I'm with you, Menendez."
"I've got a topo map I can download to your visor. It resolves down to
about