"John G. Hemry - Stark's War 3 - Stark's Crusade" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hemry John G)

Something was missing, something that nagged at Stark, so that he automatically glanced
toward one corner of the squad leader’s HUD, looking for something that wasn’t there. The
timeline. It had become so routine, a readout linked to the operational plan that informed
every individual soldier the second they began to fall behind the rigid schedules devised by
planners who likely had never seen the battlefield. A happy green when the soldier was on
timeline, most soldiers were used to seeing it in increasingly accusing shades of yellow, orange,
and red. Being off timeline was a major distraction for a combat soldier, so Stark and his
improvised staff had decided to see what would happen without one. So far, the world hadn’t
come to an end.

“I read all primary defenses eliminated,” Lamont reported. “Whadayya think, Milheim?”

Sergeant Milheim, commanding the ground soldiers from Fourth Battalion on the landing
field, took a moment to respond. “Yeah. We’re not taking any fire, anyway.”

“Well, then, let’s start blowing things up!”

“Concur. Fourth Battalion, plant your charges on the targets specified in your Tacs. Keep an
eye out for hostile visitors while you’re at it.” The soldiers of Fourth Battalion scattered even
more, heading for locations where their Tactical Computer Systems indicated communications,
weapons, and supply equipment should be.

Stark pulled his view back again, scanning the display for indications of an enemy
response. Every soldier’s suit, every tank, every shuttle contained sensors, and the inputs from
those sources were all fed to places like this to be fused together into a single picture. Blue
symbols marking Stark’s troops swarmed over the field like ants at a picnic. Several small
clusters of red enemy symbology sat motionless, tagged with extra symbols, indicating their
status as prisoners. At a few sites along the edge of the field, green symbols indicated probable
civilian employees of the landing field fleeing for their lives. Stark shook his head. “I don’t see
nothing.”

Reynolds studied the display. “And that bothers you.” It was a statement rather than a
question.

“Damn right. There oughta be something else in place defending that field. Lamont!
Milheim!”

“Yo.”

“Roger.”

“Listen up. There’s something else out there. Keep your guard up.”

“I don’t see anything,” Milheim offered.

“Neither do I. So where would a quick reaction defensive force be that we wouldn’t see it?”

“Cargo warehouses,” Lamont announced. “Nice, warm, and hidden until they’re needed.
You think?”