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

Two stormtroopers stood with their backs to the door. Kyle spent a fraction of a second considering whether it was ethical to shoot them from behind, then fired as one of them started to turn. He nailed the second guard as well, moved through the hatch, and felt the door close behind him.
It was dark in the courtyard. Sheer walls rose ahead of and behind him. Two sets of ghostly white armor appeared to his right. They fired and Kyle fired in return. His weapon was on automatic now, consuming energy at a prodigious rate, but equalizing the odds. The imperials fell and blaster fire slashed from above.
Kyle turned, spotted four troopers on the walkway above, and flinched as a bolt singed his shoulder. Logic dictated that this was it, the end of his life, since no one could shoot that straight or fast . . . Unless - the thought acted like a trigger. Time slowed and his senses grew more acute. The Force was like a river that carried all before it. Those who lived in harmony with its currents were strengthened - while those who stood in opposition were tossed like chips in a flood.
Kyle stood within an eddy, chose his target, and fired. Not a long burst, but a single, perfectly aimed shot. The bolt found its mark, as did the rest.
Kyle felt pressure from the right, turned, and fired again. The stormtrooper threw his arms out as if crucified and landed on his back.
The agent exchanged his nearly empty assault weapon for one snatched from the ground and ran for one of two steel reinforced doors. It opened to his touch and his heart lurched as the Imperials swiveled in his direction. Was there no end to them?
Surprised, and apparently unaware of the battle that had been fought in the courtyard, the troopers fell while still trying to bring their weapons to bear. Kyle grabbed their reserve power paks and scanned the room. There was only one way to go - the lift.
The agent checked his weapon, touched the control panel, and aimed at the lift door. When it opened he expected to see a full squad of stormtroopers armed with everything up to and including rocket launchers. The lift opened and the platform was empty.
Relieved, but still apprehensive about what he would encounter one level up, Kyle entered and turned his back to the wall. It was a short ride but Kyle was ready when it was over.
The officer, a thin man with a badly scarred face, died first, and was quickly followed by a trooper who asked for his name, and a commando armed with a doughnut.
The key lay within inches of the officer's fingertips. It pulsed with internal light and felt warm in Kyle's pocket. The trip down was mercifully uneventful as was the quick dash across the dimly lit courtyard. Lights marked the door as did the bodies sprawled in front of it. It opened smoothly and closed behind him.
A quick check of the control area on his left, and the hallway on his right, was sufficient to assure Kyle that his earlier adversaries remained undiscovered. Or were they? The impulse that caused him to look upward came at the same exact moment as the blaster bolt that blistered the paint beside him:
Kyle classified himself as an idiot for not noticing the upper-level window the first time he had passed that way, nailed the sniper with a sustained blast, and heard an alarm start to bleat. So much for surprise - speed was the single remaining ally.
The agent dashed forward, approached the door that refused to open the first time he tried it, and inserted the key. The door opened, a commando raised his weapon, and Kyle struggled to respond.
The low-level processor counted off the final seconds, released current down a wire, and unwittingly destroyed itself. The resulting explosion didn't cause much damage, but did throw rocks into the air, and made an imposing boom. The motion, combined with the sound, set off no less than five perimeter alarms. Searchlights swept the night, flares popped high in the air, and security droids quartered the ground.
The officer-of-the-day, or night as the case might be, a major named Horst, had just received word of an intruder and had been assured that the matter could and would be taken care of. What he didn't know was that the officer who had offered those assurances was now dead.
Thinking that the intruder was being handled, Horst decided to deal with the perimeter alarms himself. The duty AT-ST and two armored vehicles were ordered to respond, along with two squads of commandos. A Rebel raid perhaps? Horst hoped so. He grinned like the wolf he thought he was.
Kyle knew he had been a hair too slow, a tiny bit overconfident, and waited to die. The commando, certain of his kill, squeezed the trigger, and squeezed it again. Nothing happened. Stumped, and curious as to the nature of the problem, the Imperial checked his safety. It was the last mistake he ever made.
Kyle stepped over the body and entered the lift. Blue-white light poured down from above, and a square illuminated the floor. As before, the turbolift carried Kyle upward more quickly that he really wanted to go, and opened onto a spacious lobby. An open window ran along the opposite wall. Knowing he'd have to turn his back to it in order to explore the rest of the area, Kyle approached it.
A single glance was enough to establish that the area beyond was the walkway from which four troopers had fired into the courtyard.
Two stormtroopers, just arrived, stood over their bodies. Kyle shot them, turned, and went to full auto as more Imperials appeared from the right.
Luck, inertia, and adrenaline were all with him as the troopers staggered and fell. The stink of ozone and burned flesh filled his nostrils as he sensed motion and fired again. The droid, caught in the middle of an errand, beeped pitifully and scurried for safety.
Kyle, frightened by his own reflexes, resolved to be more careful. Troopers were one thing - civilian workers another. He hadn't seen any thus far, but he knew they existed. Nothing would atone for an innocent life lost.
Kyle took a moment to reload and pick up some power paks before activating the red wall switch. A glassless window overlooked the downstairs hall. Kyle looked down, saw a section of wall slide upward, and realized how vulnerable he'd been earlier. A single commando
could have potted him from above.
Kyle considered the jump versus the lift, and settled on the jump. It wasn't too far, and it would save precious time. He slipped his arm through the assault weapon's sling, swung through the opening, and hung from his fingertips. It required a conscious act of will to let go.
Jan waited until what she judged to be the perfect moment, brought the Crow out of the ravine, and locked the ATST in her sights.
The Crow's heat signature bloomed against the cool night air, and the AT-ST pilot was quick and looking for trouble. He made a half step to the left, fired his side-mounted blaster cannons, and smiled as the bolts went home.
Jan grimaced as coherent energy punched through the lighter's shields and triggered a cacophony of alarms. She fired in return, urged the ship forward, and redoubled her efforts. Twin lines of blaster fire converged on the walker's command module and something exploded. Light frosted the area as debris soared and tumbled away. The walker's legs, left standing alone, fell on a scout car.
Major Horst, horrified by what he'd seen, and more than a little frightened, ordered a retreat. He was a little too late. Jan, her eyes narrowed with determination, renewed her fire. The command car made an excellent target.
Kyle ducked into the heretofore protected area, "felt" the trooper before he actually saw him, and aimed for the spot where the imperial would appear. The soldier obliged, staggered as if drunk, and fell facedown on the floor.
Cautious now, and hyper-aware, Kyle approached a waist-high wall. He looked over and down, spotted two troopers on a gently curved staircase, and fired one shot at each. They fell and tumbled down.
Satisfied that the stairs were momentarily safe, Kyle placed his back to the core around which the stairs had been wound, and moved to the right. Speed was of the essence, he knew that. He took the stairs two at a time. He heard a shout, followed by a wild spray of blaster fire, as a trooper discovered his comrades and sought revenge.
Kyle crouched low so as to present the smallest possible target, eased his way forward, shot the Imperial in the legs, and raced on past.
The stairs ended in front of a metal door. Kyle touched the access panel, fired his weapon through the quickly growing gap, and saw two troopers backpedal and fall.
The agent felt nothing in particular as they died and realized how numbing the violence had become. Shoot, kill, shoot, kill, always wondering if it would be his turn to die. The helmets made it easier somehow, since with the exception of the officers and commandos, his enemies died faceless, more like targets than people.
Another flight of stairs presented itself followed by another door. Kyle hated the doors by now, stupid metal things behind which danger inevitably lurked, and through which he must pass. How many more would he have to endure? How many more could he possibly survive?
The door opened, Kyle moved through, and felt his pulse quicken. He saw banks of electronics, tables covered with light circuits, and acres of raised flooring. He was close now, extremely close, and the excitement started to build.
An officer turned, saw Kyle, and died. A commando spun, attempted to run, and took a bolt through the back. Two troopers, one tall, one short, came at the run. Kyle targeted the tall one first, put him down, and switched to number two. His aim was only a hair off, but that was sufficient. The glossy white armor did what it was supposed to and bounced the bolt away. Kyle tripped, sprawled on the floor, and felt, rather than saw the energy beam sizzle through the spot where
he'd been.
The next shot, more luck than skill, caught the trooper square in the midsection and knocked him over.
Shaken by the close call, Kyle scrambled to his feet, and stumbled forward. The grid-style ceiling stretched away, monitors hung like overripe fruit, and that . . . What the heck was that? It looked like a globe. Only somehow transparent.
As Kyle drew closer he realized that the apparition was a three dimensional depiction of the very thing he'd come for - the Imperial Death Star - as it would look when finally completed. A sure sign that his objective was within reach.
The air grew thicker now, as if evil had substance. It seemed to push him back. Kyle reached for the Force, found where it pulsed, and reentered the flow. It carried him through the holo and into the hall beyond.
The troopers seemed in a hurry to throw themselves in front of his blaster bolts and crumpled to the floor.
An officer appeared from behind a console, ran forward as if to intercept him. Kyle fired a carefully aimed shot. He caught little more than a glimpse of Odom's face as he fell, hoped the footage would look believable, and stepped over the half-conscious body.
Odom watched his friend's boots walk away, wondered if he'd done the right thing, and knew that even though he hadn't fired a shot, his hands were red with blood. Lives had been taken, and lives had been saved. How would the scales tip? Only time would tell. The thought brought comfort even as the pain from his wound pulled him into darkness.
Kyle circled the large U-shaped desk, found the switch where Odom had promised it would be, and flipped it on. He heard a motor whine, watched the wall start to rise, and saw what he had come for. The red-, green-, and gold-colored memory matrix had the look of an overstuffed T hanging suspended in U-shaped arms. The wall behind it was gold in color and bore delta-shaped patterns. Kyle vaulted onto the intervening table, dashed forward, and jumped down as the lights began to pulsate. His boots thumped against the floor and momentum carried him forward.
His fingers tingled as he reached through the force field, secured a grip on the matrix, and pulled it free. The module felt warm against his chest. He had it! The matrix was his! If he could fight his way out, if Jan was waiting for him, and if they could escape.
Though larger than he might have wished, the matrix weighed next to nothing, and Kyle had little difficulty carrying it. The assault rifle was a problem, though. So he dropped it and pulled his blaster.