"John Ringo - Council War 3 - Against the Tide" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ringo John)

accessed any of them or done much more than nod at the occasional one that she met outside the female
latrines.
"It's not as well organized as it could be," Tao said, frowning. "Dame Daneh has been bitching about
it for the last several months."
"And when Duke Edmund's wife is unhappy," Destrang said, grinning, "everybody's unhappy. I can
see the mass distribution of latex condoms in the near future."
"We've gotten a little afield here," the female ensign said, unconsciously crossing her legs. "How
much do you think we can work together on this?"
"The engineering project we probably can complete as a team project," Destrang replied. "Herrick's
going to want individual answers. I've got mine for Myanmar in mind already. But you guys are going to
have to come up with them on your own."
"Damn," Tao muttered. "Mind if I look at that book?"
"Not at all," Destrang said, tossing it through the air. "Catch."
"I'm wondering if it's going to matter," Van Krief said, biting her lip.
"Why?" Destrang asked.
"Why did Duke Edmund send for our instructor?" Van Krief replied.
***
"What is that . . . delightful smell?" Herzer asked as he walked into the duke's office unannounced.
"Coffee!" Edmund cried, standing up and going over to a samovar. He poured some black liquid out
in a cup and handed it to the captain. "Taste!"
"Bleck," Herzer said. "Tastes like used oil."
The duke was looking a bit older every year, Herzer thought. He was still moving with fluid grace,
but there was getting to be more salt than pepper in his beard and the motions weren't quite as fluid as
when Herzer had first known him. That seemed like a long time but it had been barely four years since
Herzer and Edmund's family had stumbled into Raven's Mill after the Fall.
"Try some sugar," Edmund suggested, ladling in a spoonful. "And cream," he added, dumping a
dollop in the cup.
Herzer stirred and then sipped again, smiling appreciatively. "Now that's more like it."
"Not as good as a cup of tea, damnit," Edmund replied, walking back around the desk and sitting
down. "But there have been ships coming up from the Southern Isles with it. Unfortunately, they've all
been calling at Blackbeard Base where those Navy bastards have been diverting it. But Jason managed
to get his hands on three hundred kilos for me in the last shipment. Just arrived. How's the class?"
"Good," Herzer admitted. "They think, which is a blessed relief compared to the first group of
jugheads that got sent. They don't take what I say for granted so I set them to doing research projects
until the reality sinks in. Of course, most of them haven't seen the edge of a blade wielded in anger, but I
think they'll do."
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"And all qualified Blood Lords?" Edmund said.
"They have to be to attend the Academy," Herzer pointed out. The advanced infantry training course
for the growing UFS legions was a ball-buster on purpose. Its graduates were the hard core of the
legions, an elite that had proven that they would stop at nothing to excel. The course had proven its
worth in the first months after the Fall, defending Raven's Mill from a force ten times their size and
stopping it butt cold.
But the course was not just about "fight until you die and drop" but about creating a force that could
outmaneuver the enemy in almost any terrain. A force that could drop a hard legion of utter bastards on
the enemy's rear and cut off their supplies until they died on the vine. Or run an enemy, even an enemy
on horses, ragged. The final exam was four weeks of tortuous marching and camp-building on the route
of one of the greatest generals of all time, a man who had personified using inferior force to destroy his