Книга только для ознакомления
. Tycho's thin fingers gripped the arms of his chair; his skin had turned a sick pink not due to color alteration, but to strain. One hundred meters.
"Ah!" Harry breathed softly in satisfaction.
The blast doors shivered, began to rise--at a crawl.
"Come on, baby," Harry said to the doors. "Faster."
The doors were now a little over a quarter of the way up.
"I'm going for it," Harry shouted. "Hang on."
The plane shot through the opening and soared into the black vacuum of space.
"Did you hear a scraping sound?" Tycho asked, his translator squeaking. "I heard a scraping sound. I'll bet we've left a streak of yellow paint on that damn door."
"I think I left a streak of yellow down my pants leg," Jamil muttered.
"We're not out of this yet," Harry cautioned. "There's a Katana fighter coming for us. Not on visual yet, but you can see it on the screen."
Xris looked--a blip on the sighting screen was converging on them.
"Where's the nearest Lane?"
"The one we took coming in. Out past the thousandkilometer marker." Harry glanced at the screen. "We'll be in range before then. And this cargo plane has all the maneuvering capability of a Solosian elephant. No offense," he added, for the computer's benefit.
"None taken, Pilot Luck," responded the computer. "I am aware of the plane's limitations. And it is my duty to report that the Navy fighter is requesting us to shut down our engines and stand by for towing
|
