"William C. Deets, Dean Williams Soldier for the Empire (STARWARS. DARK FORCES #1) (eng)" - читать интересную книгу автора

The agent wanted to investigate but knew better than to do so. Whatever it was might sense his movements. And what? Attack? Report his presence? Either possibility would be disastrous.
Kyle held his breath and kept a grip on his blaster. There was silence, followed by a sound similar to the first one, only closer this time. Metal rasped on metal, then moved away.
Slowly, his blood pounding in his ears, Kyle started to breathe again. The machine, whatever its purpose, had left.
The sun sank over the western horizon, stars appeared in the sky, and Kyle felt very, very small. The entire mission was insane. Fear spread icy fingers through his veins. How would a more experienced agent handle a moment such as this one?
Kyle remembered the breathing exercises the Academy had taught him and put the knowledge to work. His vital signs slowed, brain activity flattened, and time stood still.
Kyle was surprised when his eyes popped open, his chrono read 2070 hours, and the moment was at hand. Widely spaced blue-green perimeter lights had come on at some point
during the last half hour. They threw a ghostly glow across the rocks.
Marveling at how rested he was, Kyle turned toward the fence and did some stretches. Then, confident that his body would respond the way it was supposed to, the agent elbowed his way toward the fence. He hadn't moved more than a meter or two when a security droid appeared in the distance. It floated a meter off the ground and was mounted with no less than three auto blasters and a pair of independently controlled spotlights. They chased each other back and forth, probing the shadows for intruders, verifying the integrity of the fence.
Kyle weighed his alternatives. The lock would open in a little more than seven minutes. The droid was traveling at maybe two or three klicks an hour. There was no way to evaluate the variables precisely, so he would have to guess.
Kyle gritted his teeth, resolved to stay low, and low-crawled upwards. Loose gravel rattled away from his boots, his senses seemed unusually acute, and the droid grew larger.
The agent sprinted across the unpaved maintenance road that Fronted the fence and dived into the shadow opposite the door. A quick check showed he had three minutes to go. More than he would have liked, but a necessary trade-off.
The droid moved forward, sensors scanning, searching for anything outside the parameters of what its programming classified as "normal." Was the machine faster now? Or did
it only seem that way?
Whatever the truth, Kyle knew the droid would spot him before the lock opened, assuming it ever did.
Desperate now, and unable to come up with a better alternative, Kyle felt around the ground, found a baseball-sized rock, and stood straight up. He threw as hard as he could, not at the droid, but over its CPU housing, hoping to trigger a motion detector, or failing that, to
generate some noise.
The rock flew straight and true, landed in the scrub, and caused a miniature landslide. The droid turned, aimed its spotlights toward the noise, and brought two auto blasters to bear.
Kyle turned toward the door, looked at his chrono, and saw the final seconds tick away. Then, just as the readout changed from fifty-nine to double zeros the agent heard an
unmistakable "click." Kyle's heart was in his mouth as he gripped the T-shaped handle, gave it one turn to the right, and pushed. The door swung miraculously open and Kyle slipped through. The droid's spots washed over the door only seconds after it closed.
Kyle allowed himself a two-second celebration, checked his surroundings against the mental map created from Odom's descriptions, and started to jog. Half a klick separated the fence from the complex. A surface patrol would sweep through the area in fifteen minutes or so.
That gave Kyle plenty of time to reach the entry point.
The air shaft was Odom's idea. Like similar ducts located throughout the complex, the vent was intended to collect fresh air and carry it to the sublevels below. Security was ensured
by heat and motion detectors mounted inside the shafts. The only problem was that a persistent software glitch had triggered a long series of false alarms. Repair requests had been submitted, and would be acted upon, but that was a week or more away. During the interim, alarms from that particular source were routinely ignored, providing Kyle with the perfect opportunity.
The complex loomed ahead. Kyle scrambled up a bank, leaped an ornamental hedge, and arrived in front of a duracrete wall. The roof was low and readily accessible due to the fact that ninety percent of the building was underground. Kyle followed the vertical surface to a corner, found the horizontal slots intended to make the facility more interesting to look at, and climbed
hand over hand.
The roof was broad and flat. There was a gravel-like substance that crunched under his boots, a cluster of antennas, a reinforced landing pad marked with four flashing lights, and yes, the top of an air duct.
Moving quietly, or as quietly as the gravel would allow, Kyle crossed to the far side of the roof. The duct was protected by a pyramid-shaped all-weather cap. His multitool made quick work of the screws - one to each side of the vent. They gleamed as they hit the roof.
That out of the way Kyle wrapped his arms around the sheet metal, bent his knees, and lifted. There was momentary resistance followed by sudden freedom as the cover popped loose.
Kyle set the structure on the roof and peered into the pitch-black duct. He patted his belt, found the glow rod, and pulled it free. The ladder was obvious. The agent turned, stuck the light between his teeth, and lowered himself into the shaft. He found a rung with his feet, tested the
metal with his weight, and started his descent.
The light wavered back and forth across bare metal as Kyle sank into the darkness. He was committed now - and it was literally do or die.
Jan had retrieved her satchel from the apartment and used most of the contents to build a tidy little bomb. She buried the device near the north side of the security fence. The explosion would take place at precisely 2145 and should be sufficient to draw at least some of the surface forces away from the main complex. Then, at 2200 hours she would pass over that exact spot in the Moldy Crow, hose the area down, and head for the pickup point. It was not an especially fancy plan. But it should be sufficient to the purpose.
Jan was about to enter the Crow's belly when movement caught her eye. Pole-mounted lights bathed the area directly in front of the terminal. The local customs agent was there, as were half a dozen stormtroopers. The official waved a piece of paper and yelled something unintelligible. The Imperials turned, looked in Jan's direction, and started her way.
Jan ran up the ramp, hit "retract," and made for the cockpit. The battle was about to begin.
Kyle saw a large white numeral 1 and knew he had gone far enough. The ladder continued downward through a man-sized hole. Kyle stepped onto the grating provided for that purpose. The access hatch, also marked with a big white 1, stood in front of him. There would be guards on this level, lots of them. Odom had emphasized that.
Kyle drew his blaster, took a deep breath, and touched the entry plate. The door slid open, a commando appeared, and Kyle fired. The Imperial staggered, fired a shot into the ceiling, and fell. It happened so quickly there was no time to be afraid.
Kyle holstered his hand weapon, grabbed the Imperial's assault rifle, and started down the hall. The lights were relatively dim and the walls were bare. The agent knew that he had two main allies: surprise and speed. The trick was to make maximum use of both. The left-hand wall led to a door, a rather important door, one he would return to. There were other things to do first, however. An operations room appeared to the right, an Imperial moved toward the hall, and Kyle fired.
Jan bit her lip as the drives came online, quickly followed by the ship's navigation, weapons, and life-support systems. The emergency start-up sequence was fast, but not as fast as she wanted it to be.
The stormtroopers' commander saw the ramp retract, heard the drives start to wind, and ordered his men to fire. They obeyed and the Crow's shields flashed as the energy bolts struck.
Repulsors flared as the fighter lifted off, and the commander gulped as the bow swung his way. To the soldier's credit he was still there, still firing his nearly useless pistol, when the belly gun cut him in half.
The commando looked surprised, tried to say something, and fell. A pair of officers turned in Kyle's direction, fumbled for their side arms, and crumpled as Kyle shot them. He mounted the platform, checked for ammo, and took what he could.
A quick glance confirmed the first door to his left, another door to his right, and a hall straight ahead. Which strategy should he pursue? Check the hall to eliminate whatever opposition might be hiding there? Or try the first door - followed by the second?
The decision was made for him when a commando appeared at the far end of the hallway and opened fire. Kyle fired in return, saw the Imperial fall, and felt blaster fire fan the side of his face. A second commando, this one backed by an officer, triggered a three-shot burst.
Kyle ducked, went to automatic, and saw the Imperials fall. Concerned that there could be more where those came from, the agent moved up the corridor, grabbed some loose power paks, and followed the hall to the left. The communications center was clear. Kyle checked, assured himself the hall was empty, and returned the way he had come.
A quick turn to the right brought him to the durasteel door with illuminated panels. Odom claimed the red key was required in order to open it, but what if his friend was wrong? Kyle approached the door, touched the access panel, and waited for something to happen. Nothing did.
Kyle was disappointed, but there was nothing to do but retrace his steps, position himself in front of the second door, and prepare for the worst. Once through, he would dash to the other side of a courtyard, open a portal, jump on a turbolift, enter the security station, and grab the key. All under fire. Not a pleasant prospect. The agent touched the control panel and the door slid open.
Jan saw the last stormtrooper fall, turned to port, and headed for the TIE fighters. If she could incapacitate some or all of the pursuit ships, the odds against a successful extraction would fall from totally impossible to very unlikely, which she saw as one heck of an improvement.
The agent fed power to the Crow's repulsors which put another three meters between the hull and the tarmac. All the Imperial pilots were running for their ships by now. Easy pickings if not for the fact that one of the fighters had wobbled off the ground. The ship was pointed in the right direction. Jan could imagine the officer's frustration as he attempted to coax full power from still-cold engines and bring weapons systems online.
Jan forced herself to wait while the Crow stabilized, her targeting systems beeped readiness, and her cannon indicators glowed green. Both pilots fired at the same moment. The Imperial pilot's shot was too high. Jan's hit the TIE fighter head on, detonated a full load of fuel, and blew the enemy vessel apart. The entire spaceport was lit by the resulting flames.
The remaining pursuit ships were rocked by flying shrapnel, bathed in fiery fuel, and torn by Jan's cannon fire. The extraction had begun.