"George R. R. Martin - A Peripheral Affair" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

“Scouts! Nonsense. The fleet is badly understrength as is, and I can't afford to lose
any more ships if the attackers are still lurking out there. Let's send something that
can fight back, Lieutenant. Something with a little firepower, like a battlewagon. Or
even a dreadnought. Yes, a dreadnought.”

The lieutenant studied the holomap again, his trained eyes making sense out of the
tiny dancing lights with practiced ease. “The Durandal is at Last Landing, sir. And
the Mjolnir is off Duncan's World. We can get either there in a day.”

“Good,” Mandel said. “Beam the Mjolnir . Give Garris a man-sized assignment for a
change. Tell him to use all possible haste. And until we get his report, I want this
place on full battle alert. The KwanDellan might be closing on New Victory even
now.”
****

In a small conference room on the Alliance Starship Mjolnir , First Officer Lyle
Richey handed his captain a thick sheaf of papers. “The reports you wanted, sir.”

Captain John Garris accepted the papers and motioned his stocky, gray-haired
second-in-command to a seat. Garris was the younger man of the two, tall and lean
with gray eyes and thin lips and jet-dark hair cropped in a military crew cut.

He looked very unhappy at present. “Anything in here I should bother to read?” he
asked Richey when the first officer was seated.

“Not much,” Richey replied with a half shrug. “The missing ship was named the
Defiance . Standard scoutship in all respects. It was new, though. One of the newest
ships in the Periphery. That's unusual, but it doesn't explain anything. It makes
instrument malfunction even less likely.”

“Any experimental equipment aboard?” Garris asked.

“None,” said Richey. “There is one thing, though. I don't know what it means, but it's
something.”

“Go ahead,” Garris said.

Richey hesitated. “The ship was undermanned. These scouts are all designed to
operate with three-man crews. They use eight-hour shifts; so in theory someone is
always on duty. But most of the scouts out here on the Periphery have been running
on two-man crews for years. We're just not getting the manpower we request, and the
ship's computer takes care of most of the routine anyway.

“But this ship—this ship was even more undermanned than usual. Less than a week
or so ago, one of its two crewmen got sick. He was detached when the scout neared
Last Landing, and the ship was ordered to complete its patrol sweep with only one
man, until a replacement could be assigned.”

Garris leaned back in his swivel seat and considered that, looking thoughtful. “You're