"E. E. Doc Smith - D' Alembert 9 - The Omicron Invasion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

for cover.

Within twelve hours of its start, the battle for Omicron was over. The major cities were largely
piles of rubble; the few survivors in any condition to move walked about in a daze from the harsh
bombardment. With the cities had gone the major spaceports and any merchant or civilian vessels that had
been moored there. The smaller towns, except where a group of resistors had been blasted out, were
mostly intact. The citizenry was panicked; some people fled into open countryside, while others cowered
fearfully in their homes, not knowing where to go or what to do. There was no organized resistance force
on Omicron worthy of the title.

Assured, finally, that they would meet no formal opposition, the invading force finally landed.
The fleet of ships -of a design no one on the planet had ever seen before -touched down on a flat plain in
the Long River valley. Curious locals overcame their fear to get a look at the mysterious invaders who had
conquered their planet and defied the Empire of Earth.

The hatch doors on the giant ships slid slowly open -and at that moment, life on the planet
Omicron was radically changed.

CHAPTER 2

Proposals

Earth was tranquil in the viewscreen, a gibbous blue globe filling almost the entire field of view.
The atmosphere seemed like the thinnest of haloes ringing that precious sphere, and little bits of black
space, sprinkled with stars, showed in the corners of the screen. Down below, the Pacific Ocean gleamed
in afternoon sunlight, enhanced by a few white cloud systems. Along the zone of twilight was the western
portion of the North American continent; in the darkness, just barely visible on the horizon, were the
bright lights of some of the bigger cities in the Rockies and the midwest.

The image was only a two-dimensional one, but that was quite enough for the two people flying
casually above the atmosphere in the Mark Forty Service Special. They were not interested in studying the
globe in detail; it merely served as a pleasant visual distraction to complement their more personal
activities.

The cabin of the craft was small and intimate: Two acceleration couches with but a few centimeter
gap between them, surrounded by a dashboard control panel that more resembled a spaceship's than a
groundcar's. The Mark Forty could serve as both, adding to its sophisticated complexity. When it was in
flight mode its windows were sealed tight and became, instead, the viewscreen that currently showed the
image of Earth as the craft orbited serenely above it.
 Helena von Wilmenhorst knew it was against Service regulations to "borrow" a Mark Forty for
purely personal reasons. As a ranking officer in the Service of the Empire, though, she was in a position to
bend a few rules. She had just spent a hard sixty-hour week working for SOTE's benefit, and she felt
entitled to some minor liberties.

On her left, Captain Paul Fortier of Naval Intelligence was uncharacteristically nervous. He was
normally an articulate man, but tonight the handsome dark-haired officer was strangely silent; when he did
speak, he frequently cleared his throat and made hesitant false starts. His conversation seemed rambling
and pointless at times. He refused to look directly into Helena's face, and when she put her arms around
his well-muscled shoulders she could tell he was tense, braced as though for combat.