Книга только для ознакомления
. Xris detached his weapons hand, placed it in the correct slot, and replaced it with a tool hand. The compartment door closed.
Making some minor adjustments, Xris walked to the maintenance 'bot, read the message on the monitor: Maintenance check complete. All systems within operational parameters.
"Couldn't have timed it better if I'd tried!" Xris gloated, and actually laughed.
He looked out over the tarmac, searching for Tycho. A flash of sun off the barrel of the beam rifle was the only clue to the alien's location. Tycho's skin had turned black, in order to blend in with the tarmac.
0910.
Smooth. Very smooth.
Xris moved to the loading doors located on the other side of the spaceplane. They were sealed shut, locked. He found the security keypad, studied it. The numbered and ominously glowing pad was designed to allow access only to those who had authorized fingerprints and punched in the correct code. An alarm would sound if anyone else so much as breathed on the wrong key.
Xris touched a control on his mechanical hand. A durasteel cutting drill extruded from the center digit. He activated the drill, plunged the whirling bit into the "9" button on the keypad. The drill cut through wires and into a metal plate behind. Sparks flew. The keypad went dark. He held his breath.
No siren howled. Slowly, the hatch began to rise.
Tycho appeared at Xris's side, seeming to materialize out of the tarmac itself
|