"Dafydd ab Hugh, Brad Linaweawer DOOM: Endgame (english)" - читать интересную книгу автора

black of our standard-issue combat suits and Sears
and Roebuck's muted orange flightsuits, which they
had worn ever since the mission began. Everything
else was the color of dingy gray socks that hadn't been
washed in a month.
"Okay, S and R, what the hell did you mean about
us being shot at?" My tongue couldn't help exploring
the new hole in my mouth, where the tooth had been;
the hole still throbbed, but the sharp pain was gone.
Gotta get S and R to fix this, I promised.
"Meaned what was said; they were firing at us shots
from cannons."
"Energy weapons, artillery shells, what?" Extract-
ing usable information from Sears and Roebuck was
worse than sitting through a briefing by Lieutenant
WeemsЧmay he rest in peace for a good long time.
"Were firing the slugs from the electromagnabetic
accelerating gun."
"Um, a rail gun?" asked Arlene, picking up on the
answer faster than I. Anything to do with exotic
technology or weaponry was A.S.'s subjectЧshe
could lecture for hours on ogre tanks and orbiting
"smart spears," and she sometimes did.
"Yes, the rail gun," confirmed Sears and Roebuck. I
sort of knew what a rail gun was: you took slugs of
depleted uranium, encased them in a ferromagnetic
shell casing, and accelerated them to several kilome-
ters per second velocity using electromagnets. The
resulting "gun" could damn near put shells into
orbitЧthey moved so fast, they punched through any
sort of imaginable armor like a bullet through thin
glass. It was a horrific weapon we had never been able
to make work properly. The first shot always de-
stroyed the target, but generally also our rail-gun
prototype!
I licked dry lips. If the enemyЧNewbies or
Freds?Чcould build a tactical-size version, our com-
bat armor would be utterly useless; if we ever took a
shot, we'd be toast.
The desert was evidently deserted; but the solitude
did not begin to compare to the vast loneliness of the
starry void. I stared at the desolation, taking some
comfort in the feel of ground beneath my feet, the
breath of wind against my armor. The air smelled
tangyЧozoneЧbut so far I was breathing all right.
"Hey S and R," I called, softly under such a sky, "is
that ozone from our ship, or is it natural to the
atmosphere?"
"We didn't detect it orbitally," they answered in
unison. I shrugged. If any of us had asthma, it might