"Jerry Pournelle - Peace With Honor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pournelle Jerry)

peace with honor

Peace is a very complex thingтАФand it is by no means true that all wars are fought on battlefields, and
all casualties either buried or hospitalized.

JERRY POURNELLE
ILLUSTRATED BY LEO SUMMERS

The man on the tri-v was in full form. His speech had started quietly enough, as Harmon's speeches
always did, full of resonant tones and appeals to reason, the quiet voice asking for attention, speaking so
softly that you had to listen closely to be sure of hearing him. But slowly, oh so slowly, the background
changed subtly until now Harmon stood before the stars and stripes covering the hemisphere, an
American Eagle splendid over the Capitol, and the speaker had worked himself to one of his famous
frenzies, his former calm and detachment obviously overcome with emotion.
"Honor? It is a word that Lipscomb no longer knows. Whatever he might have beenтАФand my
friends we all know what he was, we all admire him for what he wasтАФhe is no longer one of us! His
cronies, the dark little men who whisper to him, they have corrupted even so great a man as President
Lipscomb! And what of our country? She bleeds! People of America, she bleeds from the running sores
of these men and their CoDominium!
"They say that withdrawal from the CoDominium would mean war. I pray God it would not, but if it
did, why these are hard times. Many of us would be killed, but we would die as men! And today our
friends, our allies, the people of Hungary, the people of Rumania, the Czechs, the Slovaks, the Poles,
they groan under the oppression of their communist masters, and who keeps them there? Our
CoDominium! We do! We have become slavemasters! Better to die as men.
"But it will not come to that. The Russians would never fight. They are soft, soft as we, their
government riddled with corruption as ours. People of America, hear me! People of America, listen!"
The Honorable John Rogers Grant spoke softly and the tri-v turned itself off, a walnut panel sliding
over the darkening screen. Grant grimaced, spoke again, and the servitor brought him a small bottle of
milk. With all the advances in medical science, there was nothing Grant could afford to have done for an
ulcer. Money was no problem, but when in God's Name would he find time?



He glanced at papers on his desk, reports with bright red Security covers, closed his eyes for a
moment. Harmon's speech was an important one, would undoubtedly have an effect on the coming
elections. The man was getting to be a menace, Grant thought. Have to do something about him one day.
He put the thought aside; John Grant liked Harmon, at one time they had been best friends. Lord, what
have we come to? He opened the first report. There had been a riot at the International Federation of
Labor convention. Three killed, and the smooth plans for the re-election of Matt Brady thrown into
confusion. Grant grimaced again and drank more milk. The Intelligence people had assured him that this
one would be easy. Digging through the reports he found that some of Harvey Bertram's child crusaders
were responsible. They'd bugged Brady's suite, got enough evidence of sell-outs and deals to inflame
sentiment on the floor. The report ended with the recommendation that the government drop Brady,
concentrate support on MacKnight who had a good reputation, but whose file in the CIA building bulged
with information. MacKnight would be easy to control. Grant nodded to himself, scrawled his initials on
the action form, dropped it in the TOP SECRET: OUT slot. No point in wasting time, but he wondered
what would happen to Brady. Matt Brady had been a good friend to the Unity Party, blast Bertram's
people anyway.
He took up the next file, but before he could open it his secretary came in. He looked up and smiled
gently, glad of his decision to ignore the stupid telecom. Some executives never saw their secretaries