"Leo Frankowski & Dave Grossman - The War With Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Frankowski Leo)

ready?"
"The colonel? Not yet, and if you don't mind my saying it, sir, the ladies always take
a few hours longer than the men do, what with all the makeup and wigs, and trying on all
the shoes and so forth. I can escort you to your hotel, if you want, or show you around the
town. It's all part of the service."
"A walk outside would be nice. You said something about makeup. Should I do
something about my bleached-out skin?"
"I have some skin dyes available if you want, sir, but if I may suggest, it might be
best to leave it as it is, and simply avoid the sun for a few weeks. Your color of skin is the
mark of a hero in New Croatia."
The last thing I was issued was a pocket communicator, complete with an inertial
positioning system. A global positioning system couldn't work here, since all satellites
had been knocked out long ago, when the war started. Regulations required me to carry it,
so that the military, and my tank, could find me if they wanted me. Thoughtfully, Kasia's
number was already loaded into button number two. I called her, and told her to take her
time. She said that she intended to, that she loved me, and that she was busy, now.
I pressed button number one. "Agnieshka, you've just become my social secretary.
Find me the nearest Catholic priest."
"Wouldn't you rather . . ."
"I'd rather that you followed orders." I was still a little ticked at her.
"Yes, sir."
"And after that, find me a real estate salesman who knows all about ranch land."
***
There was a church a few blocks from the Serviceman's Center that I was decanted in,
and with the attendant as a guide, I didn't get lost as I otherwise would have done.
Despite the fact that the city of Nova Split was less than twenty years old, the city's
founders had laid the streets out like those of a medieval town, with curving roads of
varying width meeting at odd angles, and no two things ever the same as anything else.
Some streets had street signs, hand carved on the corners of buildings in different styles,
but most streets didn't. No two buildings were the same, or even in the same architectural
style, that I could see.
I suppose that it was all very quaint and picturesque, but it sure wasn't stranger
friendly.
The people were friendly enough, though. Total strangers in lederhosen and Tyrolean
hats acted as though they knew me well. They came up to shake my hand, and tell me,
through my attendant turned interpreter, how much they appreciated what I had done for
New Croatia. I guess that they had all seen the movie, which showed me saving the
whole damn country.
All I could do was to smile and mumble something polite, which seemed to satisfy
them. The women were even worse, since all of them were decked out like English
prostitutes, even the ones who were old and fat. Not what anyone could call esthetically
pleasing.
All the attention was flattering, but it made part of me felt very cheap.
I mean, I hadn't fought a war for these people, and I certainly hadn't saved them from
anything. All I'd done was participate in a con game that had taken their money, and
given them in return a huge engineering project that might someday be very useful, but
which, in fact, they had never asked for.
After the tenth hand shaker, and the fourth old woman who insisted on being kissed, I
asked my guide if maybe we couldn't get on with seeing the priest.
He agreed, and made excuses for me for a while as we walked down the street. Then