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

good.”

“Okay, we’ll keep shooting until we’re jacked back into the shuttles. Hope that doesn’t
make them sailors nervous.”

Stark grinned. Those sailors are probably already plenty nervous because of the artillery
dropping around them. “Who’s monitoring the shuttles?” he called to the watchstanders. “How
are they?”

“Ready to boost,” a private reported. “No damage except some surface scratches from
shrapnel.”

Stark switched scans again restlessly. The fire from the warehouse area kept growing
heavier. So far, no direct cannon fire had advertised the presence of enemy armor, but that had
to be close. Blue symbology clustered around the shuttles as the ground troops returned to
their transports. Stark fought down an instinctive impulse to order the soldiers to disperse,
knowing a concentration of targets was impossible to avoid if Milheim’s infantry wanted to
board the ships rapidly. The clusters of symbology shrank quickly as the soldiers raced aboard,
replaced by tick marks alongside the shuttle symbols indicating numbers onboard. Go! Go! Go!
Get the hell out of there!

“Got something going on over here,” Vic noted. “Shuttle Bravo, what’s the holdup?”

“Got a jam in the cargo loading hoist,” the shuttle pilot reported. “Trying to clear.”

“How long? How long to clear the jam?”

“Dunno. Could be five seconds, could be five minutes. Or longer. This gear is a real bitch
sometimes.”

Vic looked over at Stark, who shook his head wordlessly. “Shuttle Bravo, forget the armor.
Get the tank crew on board with the infantry.”

“Roger. Understand I leave the tank and get all personnel on board.” It was hard to tell
whether the pilot felt relieved or frustrated at having to dump the armored vehicle.

Sergeant Lamont’s voice didn’t leave any doubt, however. “Stark! You can’t leave one of
my hogs behind!”

“We don’t have any choice,” Stark answered. “We can’t afford the delay.” As if to
emphasize his words, enemy soldiers finally began spilling onto the field, evading forward in a
last-ditch attempt to disable one or more of the shuttles. “Can’t you put that tank on auto or
somethin’ to help hold those guys off?”

“Yeah.” Lamont sounded as if he’d lost a friend. “Okay, I’m putting it on an
auto-defend/destruct sequence. It’ll raise hell until we take off and then self-detonate its fuel,
air, and ammo supplies. Sorry, man.” The last words seemed addressed to the forlorn tank as it
shot away from the shuttle and began throwing rounds into the advancing enemy ranks.

The last of Stark’s infantry tumbled into their shuttles, firing until their weapons were