"David Weber & Steve White - Starfire 2 - Crusade" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weber David)

argue that point even now - they rememoer only the shame of defeat and prefer still to think of
Humans as chofaki - but my grandsire died defending Tanama against the Rigelian First Fleet
with a single Alliance task group, and his Terran units died with him. None fled, and the names
of their commanders are inscribed among my clanтАЩs fathers and mothers in honor.тАЬ He regarded
Johansen levelly. "I believe he would approve of you.тАЬ

"Your words do me honor, litter master,тАЬ Johansen said quietly.

"True honor is in the heart which understands them, cubling,тАЬ Khardanish returned the formality,
then twitched his tufted ears in humor. "But listen to us! We grow too grave, Lieutenant.тАЬ

"Perhaps.тАЬ Samantha sipped her own wine, leaning back from the low table on the cushions
which served Orions in lieu of chairs, then grinned wryly. "But if weтАЩre growing more like one
another, weтАЩve paid enough along the way, sir. This very systemтАЩs history is proof of that.

Khardanish nodded. A hundred and fifty Orion years before, a Terran fleet in Lorelei had cut off
and trapped a third of the KhanateтАЩs battle-line. Forty years before that, an Orion flotilla had
penetrated the Terran frontier undetected during ISW-1 and surprised an entire Human colony
fleet here. There had been no survivors.

"Perhaps,тАЬ he suggested dryly, "that is because we have always been alike in at least one
regard, Saahmaantha.тАЬ His liaison officer raised an eyebrow in the Human expression of
interrogation, and he gave another chuckle. тАШBoth of us are incredibly stubborn,тАЬ he said simply.

A gentle vibration quivered through the superdread-nougnt Alois Saint-Just as Engineering ran
her final drive test, and her captain watched his read-outs with profound satisfaction. There was
honor in commanding even the smallest unit of Task Force One, but to command the flagship -!

He turned his eyes to the tactical display. Only Saint-JustтАЩs squadron mates Helen Borkman and
Wu Hsin lay close alongside, but the dots of other ships dusted the three-dimensional sphere
with a thick coating of data codes, and the nav beacons marking the warp point pulsed amid the
minefields and asteroid fortresses. A thrill of pride ran through him, and he forced himself to
settle back, watching the chronometer tick off the last few hours.

"Captain to the bridge. Captain to the bridge.тАЬ

The computer recording was both calm and unhurried; the wail of alarms was neither, and Least
Claw Khardan-ish erupted from his quarters, still sealing his vac suit. A luckless maintenance
rating bounced off a bulkhead as his captain ran right over him and bounded into the central
access shaft, cursing softly but with feeling. He loved Znamae, old as she was, but her
accommodations had been designed by eight-thumbed zarkotga. Destroyers had no mass to
waste on intraship cars, and his quarters were the full length of the hull from her bridge. It was
bad enough to take so long to reach his station, but the unseemly haste it forced upon him could
not be reassuring to his crew.

He slowed abruptly as he spied the bridge hatch. By the time he reached it, he was moving with
a warriors measured, purposeful stride.

Son of the Khan YahaarnowтАЩziltakan, ZnamaeтАЩs exec, looked up with obvious relief as
Khardanish dropped into his command chair and racked his helmet. He was, he noted sourly,