"Michael Z. Williamson - Freehold 3 - Better to Beg Forgiveness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williamson Michael Z)

Of course, the smoking, drinking, and lolling about with elbows on the wall, or lying unconscious on the
grass, spread-eagled and snoring, didn't help that image. The entire team groaned.

The female sergeant who'd looked jealous earlier now snickered and said, "Better you than us,
contractors."

"Thanks, troops," he said with a nod. He wanted to be on as good terms as possible, because they'd
have to work together. He gathered his team by eye. Bart had the controller for the pallet and brought it
forward on capacitor.

"Thanks, Lieutenant," he added to the convoy commander as he walked forward. The rest apparently
didn't feel like talking, at least not to their hosts.

The troops were behind, as were the palace guards, and ahead was the palace itself with more troops
waiting. Still, they moved cautiously from habit. Nothing around here registered as safe.

As they approached, one of the real soldiers—not local—took a half step out.

"ID, please," he said.


Alex stepped up, showed his, flashed his orders on a chit to match those on the screen. In turn, the rest
of them cleared themselves in.

"We need to unload our gear," Alex said.

"Yes, sir. Right through the arch and you can go through the double doors." The attitude here was a bit
more professional. The guards were Marines, he noted with a tinge of pride. No, he was not a Marine
anymore, dammit.

"Thanks." He kept his thoughts to himself. This wasn't the place.

The entrance was up a few steps. Bart negotiated the pallet over them with skill, and then through a
massively armored entryway. The outside doors were for show. Inside that were vaultlike doors, a
portcullis, a vehicle trap, fighting shields that could deploy from the walls . . . 

After a glance, Elke said, "The walls are armored against explosives, and have periodic breaks to let the
pressure vent before it reaches inside."

"So it would smear any attackers?" Jason asked.

"And then spew them like stew, yes," she said, while pointing at a joint. "See here?"

"I'll take your word," Jason said. He was technically trained, but that was pretty esoteric. Alex had no
idea on the subject, other than the basic manuals for placing charges.

Well inside now, surrounded by enough assets for a small town, some semblance of order was achieved.
They each shouldered a ruck, a duffel, and weapons, leaving one of the NCOs to watch the rest, which
he assured them would be delivered. The pallet would go through a cargo route upstairs that was less