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

right.

Gators had fallen behind, following the canal. They would for another
thousand yards, then would take the cross canal. No one had told deJahn, but there
was a soarer-boat patrol base on the east side of the delta. Each gator could take out
one, maybe two, of the boats. Boats gone, or fewer of them, and there'd be a
chance to bring in the dreadnaughts--the salties. Handful of them, and there
wouldn't be a patrol base. With the rivers in spec-ops' hands, be an open vector
lane for all the ricelands in the area, and the J-wasps could immobilize the quantum
wetworks at Chuo-Klyseen.

DeJahn forced his mind back to the chimbats. They needed to follow the
overgrown path to the right... more right. He exerted the pressure of danger to the
left, and the lure of food, big juicy mosquitoes to the left. Heat built around him. He
had to ignore it, center the chimbats on course toward the target.

Thirty-two hundred and closing. That was a quick link-flash to the major, to
keep him from sending an inquiry while deJahn was setting up the attack.

Nineteen hundred yards, and all the chimbats "saw" was trees and insects, and
the "brightness" of water in places from an afternoon rain.

The trees vanished, replaced by paddies that didn't hold rice, or water, except
for the thinnest layer, but various electronic and biosensors. Beyond the paddies was
the interdict station. It didn't look like much, not in the sensie-integrated mosaic in
deJahn's mind, just a gray square on an artificial square bluff seven yards above the
soggy soil of the delta. Four thatched huts--the kind no one had lived in, even in
Seasia, in generations--set around a graveled courtyard. Gravel? In a delta?
Chimbats' sonar showed the harder composite walls that supported the bluff edges,
and the mix of steel and plastic hidden under the pseudo thatch.

Pseudo bats, pseudo thatch, pseudo bluff. . . frig! Was anything real?
 The mission was real.

DeJahn exerted pressure, creating the sense and image of insect prey just
below the roofs of the pseudo thatch.

Chimbats angled down, wings near-silent, fangs filled with solvent and venom.

Light! So brilliant that deJahn's eyes boil-burned in their sockets.

Except it wasn't light. Sound! That was it. Screaming sound, blinding the
chimbats. Feedback blasted through him. Felt like his eardrums were bursting, and
long needles lanced through his eyes, coming out the back of his skull.

Frig! Major'd said the chimbats were new types ...

Blackness wiped it all away.

An alarm buzzed ... sawing into him. It buzzed again.