"Ian Douglas - Inheritance Trilogy 1 - Star Strike" - читать интересную книгу автора (Douglas Ian)

“Aye, aye, sir,” Vallida replied. But Ramsey still heard the anger in her voice.

Likely, he thought, it was just the stress. This was always the roughest part of a Marine landing, the long,
agonizing wait, sealed into a tin can that was flying or swimming toward God-knew what kind of
defenses. Did the Alighani Muzzies know the Marines were coming? What was waiting for them at the
objective?

How many of the men and women sealed into this Specter were going to be alive an hour from now?…

Don’t even think about that, Ramsey told himself. It’s bad ju-ju….

Not that he actually believed in luck, of course…or in the power of nectricot curses. But he didn’t know
anyone who’d survived the hell of modern combat who didn’t engage in at least a few minor superstitious
behaviors, and that included Ramsey himself. He never went into combat without a neumenal image of his
Marine father watching from a minimized mindwindow. Totally irrational, he knew.

His mental gaze shifted to the tiny, mental image of Marine Master Sergeant Danel Jostin Ramsey,
resplendent in his dress blacks…an image recorded just days before the landings on Torakara.

The Specter gave another hard lurch. According to the feed from the cockpit, it was raining outside now,
and lightning flared behind the clouds ahead. The mission planners had chosen to insert through a large,
tropical storm, taking advantage of lightning and rain to shield the assault group’s approach for a precious
few seconds longer.

“Listen up, people,” Lieutenant Jones’ voice said over the platoon net. “We’re three minutes out, and
about to drop below the cloud deck. Remember your training, remember your mission downloads. Keep
it simple! We secure the spaceport, and we hold until relieved. Ooh-rah?”

“Ooh-rah!” the platoon chorused back at her.

Seconds later, a loud thump announced the release of the battlezone sensor pods, and the main tactical
feed came on-line as thousands of thumb-sized microfliers were shot-gunned into the skies ahead of the
assault group. Ramsey opened a mental window, and entered a computer-generated panorama of ocean,
and the coastline to the north. Red pinpoints illuminated the coast, marking generators, vehicles, and
other power-producing facilities or units. The spaceport was marked in orange, the Fortress in white,
with sullen red patterns submerged within the graphics, indicating the main power plants.

As he watched, more power sources winked on. That might be an illusion generated by the fact that
more and more BZ pods were entering the combat area, but it also might mean the enemy had been
alerted and was waking up.

But so far, the skies were quiet, save for the flash of lightning and the sweeping curtains of rain.

Remember your training. Yeah…as if that were a problem. Remember your downloads. Their mission
parameters had been hard-loaded into their cephlink RAM. It wasn’t like you could freaking forget….

Keep it simple. Secure the spaceport. Hold until relieved.

Nothing new there, either.