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

have been a problem. But I never had any, Arlene's
was cured by the doctors at NAMI, and Sears and
Roebuck could take care of themselves.
"Which way toward the dinks who were shooting at
us?" Arlene asked. Sears and Roebuck turned slowly
through the entire 360-degree panorama, then
pointed basically along the twenty-seven kilometer
trench our ship had dug. Arlene turned to me, raising
her brows like a pair of question marks.
Toward or away from danger? Didn't seem to be
much of a choice. S and R had detected no signs of
civilization on the planetЧno powerlines, power-
plants, canals, or structures larger than two or three
stories. If there was anything smaller, it wouldn't have
shown up on their quick microwave scan. So far as I
could tell, the only sign of intelligent life was the gun
battery that had pounded our ship into rubble.
Oh, what the hell! "Let's at least eyeball the wogs
and see who they are. My guess is they don't belong
here any more than we do."
The air temp on the desert Arlene dubbed the
Anvil of God was livable; Sears and Roebuck hadn't
lied. But they never claimed it was comfortable ...
and 60 degrees centigrade certainly didn't qualify.
Our helmets kept the direct sunlight off our heads,
and we had several days' worth of water if we used the
recirc option, pissing into a tube and recycling it back
to the drinking nipple. Arlene was not happy about
doing that. Being a female, this meant she had to strip
and pee into a bedpanlike device, whereas I just wore
a sheath. There were no trees, so no privacy. She
could have turned her back, but in a typical act of
defiance, A.S. just did it right in front of me and the
Klave. I pretended nonchalance, as if women urinated
in front of me all the timeЧArlene had done it
before, anyway, in combat situations. But in reality I
was shocked and embarrassed every damned time ...
but I sure wasn't about to let Arlene know that! I
would never hear the end of it.
We cut off the furrow about two klicks laterally and
paralleled it, figuring that whoever was shooting at us
would follow the skidmarks to see what he had shot
down. The armor monitored the outside air, regulat-
ing heat venting to prevent us showing a hot signature
on an infrared optical device, and we kept the mikes
cold and ultrashort rangeЧoutside of five to seven
meters, the fuzzy signal attenuated into the back-
ground noise. We had a reasonably good chance of not
getting caught, and, damn it, I wanted to see those
bastards with their itchy trigger fingers, see them up