"Charles Ingrid - The Sand Wars 04 - Alien Salute" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ingrid Charles)

"What?" Harkness practically gargled in his sputtering rage.

Jack ignored him until the monitor scrolled up the info he wanted.
"There!"

The copilot froze the screen.

Some subspace ham had spread the word the best way he knew how,
and Jack's face tightened in appreciation. He had no way of knowing yet if
Thraks had attacked anywhere, but here at least were corridor coordinates of
the latest warship placements. "Navigator—"

"Alij, sir."

"Order up a graphics overlay. I'll bet my armor you've got Thraks sitting
there, waiting for us."
 Alij moved to the computer and made his verbal requests.

"Damn." Harkness smacked a beefy fist on the back of his chair. The
bridge quivered in response. "Any chance of collision?"

Jack said, "I doubt it, but they'll be firing as soon as they can track us."

"They'll never catch up with us."

"They won't need to. They'll catch you turning the corner for braking,
and trap us on the right angle, during the vector changeover."

Harkness' expression flickered. Grudgingly, he said, "Thought you
weren't a pilot."

"I'm not. But I've fought Thraks before and I know how they can attack
vessels."

The pilot said nothing. He looked to Alij as the computer began to show
graphic overlays of corridors and windows. Alij, without knowing what he
was doing, began to nod vigorously as Jack's suspicions were confirmed.
"Yes… yes… here they are… yes…"

The pilot squeezed his bulky body upward into a firm stance. He nodded
at Jack. "Thank you, captain."

"You're welcome, Harkness. We're not out of this yet. A transport vehicle
like this is most vulnerable when it pulls out of hyperspace and turns that
corner to begin braking… and it's my bet the Thraks aren't going to blow us
out of the sky."

"No?" A bushy eyebrow went up.