"Charles Ingrid - The Sand Wars 03 - Celestial Hit List" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ingrid Charles)

CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
 PART I:
MALTHEN

CHAPTER ONE
^»
No suit, no soldier. We’ve drummed that into you. And now, we’re going to
make liars out of ourselves. The purpose of this exercise,” their commander
said, his voice ringing off the forty-foot-high parade ground walls, “is to
prove that, even if you take away the armor, you still have a Knight.” He
looked across the phalanx, squinting in the too-bright sun of the planet
Malthen, sweating in the almost desert quality heat of the city of Malthen.
“After we’re done with you, it’s far more than the armor or the gauntlet
stingers or the laser cannons that make you what you are.”

Within their rows, the soldiers stood at ease, though admittedly
somewhat ill at ease. They murmured amongst themselves, listening to the
broadcast from the movable platform to their fore, and closely watching the
man who paced through the ranks between them and the commander, for
he was their hero.

He was lean and rangy, muscle still filling out his young frame, for they
were all young—the rigors of being a Dominion Knight for the Triad Throne
demanded a body in its prime—but the eyes of washed out blue held a look
far older than his years, dominating his angular face. He paused, throwing
back his head and looking up, in spite of the too-bright sun. The movement
tossed drops of water from sweat-darkened sandy hair. He frowned. He was
on display here, and he did not like it. For the barest second, his eyes
darkened like the storm of his surname.

Then he looked to his commander—whippet lean, wavy hair of gleaming
silver, a space-tanned face, dressed to the neck in immaculate silvers.

“Where are the equipment racks?”

“They’re on the way. Relax, Jack. This is just a rehearsal.”
 The hero made a low noise of disgust at the back of his throat and began
to prowl again, much to the dismay of the short, round-bodied man
attempting to measure him. Storm pointed at his commander. “If my suit’s