"John Dalmas - The Regiment A Trilogy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dalmas John)

cover it.
"Two regiments of T'swa, actually, which really catches my interest. I'll
certainly want at least one feature on them."
T'swa mercenaries. Varlik had seen a T'swi once, up close: a heavyset
elderly man with skin incredibly dark, the color of a blued gun barrel;
straight, close-cropped hair gone white; nose bold, hawklike; wide,
thin-lipped mouth; unnaturally large eyes shaded by bushy, jutting brows.
Despite his white business suit he'd looked so different, so striking, that
the image, long unlooked at, was easily recalled.
When Varlik had commented on the man's appearance, someone had told
him he was the T'swa ambassador to the Confederation. Tyss was the
only gook world allowed diplomatic representation. The ambassador had a
staff of two or three, housed in a cubbyhole somewhere in one of the
peripheral government complexes. It was doubtful that they did anything.
The T'swa had been granted the privilege centuries earlier by one of the
Consars, probably Consar XVII, "the Generous," acting as suzerain and
administrator general for the Confederation.
"The Department of Armed Forces," Fendel was saying, "admits that this
is only the second time in well over a century they've contracted for a
T'swa regiment. The last time was in the Drezhtkom Uprising, some eighty
years ago."
His eyes stayed on the younger man's face, watching for any sign of
reluctance or even tentativeness. He didn't want to send a reporter who'd
spend his time there in an air-conditioned, safe-area headquarters.
Lormagen's eyes were steady as he nodded.
"If you're interested," Fendel continued, still testing, "and if I decide to
send you, I'll want you to leave day after tomorrow on a military supply
ship. It's a twenty-six-day trip, and I'll want you there while the fighting's
still going strong. Those T'swa are likely to finish off the local gooks pretty
quickly when they arrive."
"Yes, sir. Day after tomorrow, no difficulty. I'd like very much to have the
assignment."
Fendel sat back then, decision made. "Fine. It's yours. Call Captain
Benglet at the Army's Media Liaison Office and find out the departure
details. The supply ship leaves sometime in the afternoon. And while I'm
not expecting full-length video features, of course, take plenty of cubes.
This assignment has strong visual potential."
He dismissed the young man then and watched him leave. There'd been
no trace of unwillingness. They'd said they wanted someone with energy
and imagination; Lormagen definitely had the energy.
Imagination! Fendel returned to his screen. An odd thing to want in a
newsman, or in anyone for that matter. But there were those whose
position put them beyond argument, or nearly enough for any practical
purpose.
2
Excerpt from "The Story of the Confederation," by Brother Banh
Dys-T'saben. IN, The Young Person's Library of Knowing About.

You have already heard, my friend, of the Confederation of Worlds. But as
yet you do not know very much about it. The Confederation of Worlds is