"Steve Perry - Aliens 01 - Earth Hive" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Steven)

mouth like a spear at his face. Saliva dripped from its jaws in jellylike strings.
“Fuck!” Wilks dodged to his right and swung the plasma cutter up reflexively. The line caught
the thing’s neck, a neck that looked much too thin to support the impossibly large head. How could
something like this even stand up? It didn’t make any sense—
The alien creatures were tough, but the plasma was hot enough to melt industrial diamond. The
head fell off, bounced on the floor. It kept on trying to bite Wilks, jaws oozing slime as it snapped at
him. Didn’t even know it was dead.
“Move it, people! And watch it, the damned thing is still dangerous!”
Jasper screamed.
“Jasper!”
One of the things had him, and it crunched his head like a cat biting a mouse. The little girl—!
“Wilks! Help! Help!”
Another one of the monsters had the girl, it was moving away with her. Wilks twisted, pointed
his weapon at it. Realized that if he shot it, the blood would be an acid shower that would kill the
child. He’d seen that blood eat through armor that would stop a 10mm caseless cold. He dropped
his aim lower, pointed the carbine at its legs. It couldn’t run if it didn’t have any feet—
The corridor was full of the things, Quinn opened up, his carbine on full auto, blasting.
Armor-piercing and explosive rounds tore through the monsters, spanged from the walls, the stink of
propellant filled the air—
Ellis opened up with his flamer, and a stream of fire painted the corridor, splashing from the
aliens and running in molten gobs down the intestined wall—
“Help!” the little girl cried. “Oh, please, help!”
Oh, God!

“No!”
Wilks came awake, sweat drenching his hair and face, running into his eyes. His issue coverall
was wet. Oh, man.
He sat up. He was still in the cell, on the thin bunk, the dark plastic walls securely in place.
The door slid open. A guard robot was there, two and a half meters tall on its tractor treads,
gleaming under the jail corridor’s lights. The robot’s electronic voice said, “Corporal Wilks! Front
and center!”
Wilks rubbed at his eyes. Even a military brig with all its security couldn’t keep the dreams out.
Nothing could stop the dreams.
“Wilks!”
“Yeah, what?”
“You are to report to MILCOM HQ, OTD.”
“Fuck you, tinhead. I got two more days to serve on the S&D.”
“You wish, pal,” the bot said. “Your high-rank friends say otherwise. Up-levels wants you,
OTD.”
“What high-rank friends?” Wilks asked.
 One of the other prisoners in the multi-unit cell, a fat man from Benares, said, “What friends,
period?”
Wilks stared at the line bot. Now, why would the glitter want to see him on the double?
Anytime rank started rumbling, it usually meant trouble for the grunts. He felt his gut churn, and it
wasn’t just the dregs of the chem-binge he’d gone on, either. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.
“Let’s go, marine,” the bot said. “I am to escort you to MILCOM HQ soonest.”
“Lemme shower and clean up first.”
“Negative, mister. They said, “Soonest.”
The burn scar that mostly covered the left half of his face began to itch suddenly. Oh, shit. Not
just bad, but real bad.