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

Cobras. The transport had included a generous selection of military reference material, and Jonny
had spent several hours reading all he could about the Army's Special Forces. Nowhere had anything
called the Cobras been so much as hinted at.

Cobras. What could a unit named after a poisonous Earth snake be assigned to do? Decontamination
procedures, perhaps, or else something having to do with antipersonnel mines? Whatever it was, it
wasn't likely to live up to the expectations of the past weeks.

Someone slammed into his back, nearly knocking the card out of his hand. "Get the phrij out of the
road," a lanky man snarled, pushing past him. Neither the expletive nor the other's accent were
familiar. "You want to infiloop, do it out of the phrijing way."

"Sorry," Jonny muttered as the man disappeared into the flow. Gritting his teeth, he sped up,
glancing up at the glowing direction indicators lining the walls. Whatever this Cobra unit was, he'd
better get going and find the meeting room. The local-time clocks were showing 1512 already, and it
was unlikely any Army officer would appreciate tardiness.

Room C-662 was his first indication that perhaps he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. Instead of
the battalion-sized auditorium he'd expected, the room was barely adequate to handle the forty-odd
men already seated there. Two men in red and black diamond-patterned tunics faced the group from
a low dais, and as Jonny slipped into a vacant chair the younger of them caught Jonny's eye.
"Name?"

"Jonny Moreau, sir," Jonny told him, glancing quickly at the wall clock. But it was still only 1528,
and the other merely nodded and made a notation on a comboard on his lap. Looking furtively
around the room, Jonny spent the next two minutes listening to his heart beat and letting his
imagination have free rein.

Exactly at 1530 the older of the uniformed men stood up. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," he nodded.
"I'm Cee-two Rand Mendro, Cobra Unit Commander, and I'd like to welcome you to Asgard. We
build men and women into soldiers here—as well as flyers, sailors, Star Forcers, and a few other
specialties. Here in Freyr Complex, we're exclusively soldiers... and you forty-five have had the
honor of being chosen for the newest and—in my opinion—most elite force the Dominion has to
offer. If you want to join." He looked around, his eyes seeming to touch each of them in turn. "If you
do, you'll draw the most dangerous assignment we've got: to go to Troft-occupied worlds and engage
the enemy in a guerrilla war."

He paused, and Jonny felt his stomach curling into a knot. An elite unit—as he'd wanted—and the
chance to help civilian populations—as he'd also wanted. But to be dropped in where the Trofts
already had control sounded a lot more like suicide than service. From the faint stirrings around the
room he gathered his reaction wasn't unique.

"Of course," Mendro continued, "we aren't exactly talking about space-chuting you in with a laser

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