"L. E. Modesitt - Spec-Ops" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

Group one.

Just as he linked, he could feel the biofield constrictor sweep across the
snators of group one.

He mentally lunged for disengagement... Disengage!

Fire! Like being bitten by a thousand scroaches. Light! Brighter than novafly
exploding before his eyes.

DeJahn jerked. His eyes were open, saw only purple blackness, link-deep with
no link. Every nerve in his body was a line of fire. Where was cool? Darkness?
Easy... easy...

Whose voice? Knew the voice. Couldn't place . . . couldn't find.

"Who?" His voice rasped. Not his voice. Could tell he'd been screaming.
Frig! Didn't want to be a screamer.

A hand touched his. Warm, welcome . . . Yet . . . the warmth was fire,
knifelike, daggers like the fangs of a chimbat, like the venom of a chimshrew.

"You'll be all right, deJahn ... be fine. Just disengagement link-shock..."

Just disengagement link-shock . . . link-shock . . . Sure, you'll be fine. This
time.

"Friggin ... disengage ..."

"You'll be all right." Meralez squeezed his hand once more. This time, there
was no pain.

He managed to tighten his fingers around hers for a moment.

He would be fine. He was a tech.