"Timothy Zahn - Cobra 1 - Cobra" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

"I heard," Pearce Moreau said quietly.

"And it only took them three weeks." Jonny squeezed the laser he still held. "Three weeks."

"You can't extrapolate the progress of a war from its first stages," Pearce said, reaching over to take
the laser from his son's hand. "The Trofts will learn that controlling a world is considerably more
difficult than taking it in the first place. And we were caught by surprise, don't forget. As the Star
Forces call up the reserves and shift to full war status, the Trofts will find it increasingly hard to
push them back. I'd guess we might lose either Palm or Iberiand as well, but I think it'll stop there."

Jonny shook his head. There was something unreal about discussing the capture of billions of people
as if they were only pawns in some cosmic chess game. "And then what?" he asked, with more
bitterness than his father deserved. "How do we get the Trofts off our worlds without killing half the
populations in the process? What if they decide to stage a 'scorched earth' withdrawal when they go?
Suppose—"

"Hey; hey," Pearce interrupted, stepping around in front of Jonny and locking eyes with him.
"You're getting yourself worked up for no good reason. The war's barely three months old, and the
Dominion's a long way from being in trouble yet. Really. So put the whole thing out of your mind
and get back to work, okay? I need this hood plate finished before you head for home and
homework." He held out the laser welder.

"Yeah." Jonny accepted the instrument with a sigh and adjusted his de-contrast goggles back over
his eyes. Leaning back over the half-finished seam, he tried to put the invasion out of his mind... and
if his father hadn't made one last comment, he might have succeeded in doing so.

"Besides," Pearce shrugged as he started back to his own workbench, "whatever's going to happen,
there's not a thing in the universe we can do about it from here."



Jonny was quiet at dinner that evening, but in the Moreau household one more or less silent person
wasn't enough to change the noise level significantly. Seven-year-old Gwen, as usual, dominated the
conversation, alternating news of school and friends with questions on every subject from how
weathermen damp out tornadoes to how butchers get the back-blades out of a breaff hump roast.
Jame, five years Jonny's junior, contributed the latest on teen-age/high school social intrigue, a
labyrinth of status and unspoken rules that Jame was more at home with than Jonny had ever been.
Pearce and Irena managed the whole verbal circus with the skill of long practice, answering Gwen's
questions with parental patience and generally keeping conversational friction at a minimum.
Whether by tacit mutual consent or from lack of interest, no one mentioned the war.


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Cobra

Jonny waited until the table was being cleared before dropping in his studiously casual request.
"Dader, can I borrow the car tonight to go into Horizon City?"

"What, there isn't another game there this evening, is there?" the other frowned.