"William R. Forstchen - Wing Commander 06 - Action Stations" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forstchen William R)

"Senator, may I respectfully point something out, sir?" the boy interrupted.

Senator More paused and looked over at the ensign, and Banbridge was reminded of an ancient video
actor, hundreds of years dead, and his line, "Go away, kid, yer botherin' me."

But one of the vid cam operators turned on the young ensign and the others turned as well. More smiled
benevolently, but Skip could see the dart of his eyes to the boys name tag. The kid had just committed
career suicide.

"Sir, with all due respect, I believe you are one of the representatives from Primus Three?"

The senator nodded as if indulging a child who had asked the most foolish of questions, that any idiot
would know the answer to.

"You are exactly two jump points from the border with the Kilrathi."

"The Cats?" More replied with a laugh. "Third rate power. If we have to fight them, it will be a minor
affair, a minor affair which the fleet can handle with ease."

"But if they should attack," the ensign pressed, "an attack could be at your world in under four days
standard, sir. That is how thin the margin is and, given current appropriation levels, the defense is very
thin indeed. One mistake, sir, and you would lose all of your voters in a single explosive flash."

"Son, don't lecture me about my voters," More snapped. "They're tired of the taxes imposed by the
Confederation and the overpriced toys you fly around in, and it will come to a stop. The Wildcat fighter
costs fifty million a piece, son, fifty million. I guess, though, a boy like you doesn't realize just how much
that is?"

The young ensign stood silent, as if ready to withdraw, but the cameras turned back on him. Banbridge
leaned forward to listen.

"I am fully aware of what that money can buy, sir. It's the price of freedom."

More snorted derisively.

"It buys a machine to justify you and your admirals."

"Sir, I am in training so I can one day fly a Wildcat. The good Lord willing, I'll make the grade. And
when I get my wings, sir, I want to point out one thing."

He paused as if willing to let More interject, but then forged ahead.

"There is a one in three chance, sir, that within five years I'll be dead. The reason, sir, is that the fleet
board begged your committee for the additional ten million for a Wildcat upgrade. The engines are
outdated, stress flaws are becoming increasingly common. In short they're already five years past their
design limits. The Wildcat is thirty years old and its replacement, thanks to cutbacks, won't be fully
on-line for at least five more years. Therefore we are in a bind, sir. Since neither the upgrade facility for
the Wildcat nor the main factory for its replacement went to your district, you turned on the plan and
have locked it in committee for three and a half years, sir."