"S. M. Stirling - Draka 01 - Marching Through Georgia" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stirling S. M)

conquered and the "pacification" began; there would be nothing
but butcher's work there now, best left to the Security
Directorate and the Janissaries.

Sofie Nixon, his comtech, lit two cigarettes and handed him
one at arm's length, as close as she could lean, padded out with
the double burden of parasail and backpack radio.

"No wrinkles, Cap," she shouted cheerfully, in the clipped
tones of Capetown and the Western Province. Listening to her
made him feel nineteen again, sometimes. And sometimes older
than the hills—slang changed so fast. That was a new one for "no
problems.

"All this new equipment: to listen to the briefing papers, hell,
it'll be like the old days. We can be heroes on the cheap, like our
great-granddads were, shootin' down black spear-chuckers," she
continued.

With no change of expression: "And I'm the Empress of Siam;
would I lie?"

He smiled back at the cheerful, cynical face. There was little
formality of rank in the Draka armies, less in the field, least of all
among the volunteer elite of the airborne corps. Conformists did
not enlist for a radical experiment; jumping out of airplanes into
battle was still new enough to repel the conservatives.




Satisfied, Sofie dragged the harsh, comforting bite of the
tobacco into her lungs. The Centurion was a good sort, but he
tended to… worry too much. That was part of being an officer,
of course, and one of the reasons she was satisfied to stay at
monitor, stick-commander. But he overdid it; you could wreck
yourself up that way. And he was very much of the Old
Domination, a scion of the planter aristocracy and their iron
creed of duty; she was city-bred, her grandfather a Scottish
mercenary immigrant, her father a dock-loading foreman.

Me, I'm going to relax while I can, she thought. There was a
lot of waiting in the Army, that was about the worst thing…
apart from the crowding and the monotonous food, and good
Christ but being under fire was scary. Not nice-scary like being
on a board when the surf was hot, or a practice jump; plain bad.
You really felt good afterward, though, when your body realized
it was alive…

She pushed the thought out of her head. The sitreps had said