"John Ringo - The Legacy of the Aldenata 1 - A Hymn Before Battle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ringo John)

the Soldiers and Sailors Act . . ."
Yup, that's Jack. Thanks a million, ole boss o' mine.
"That didn't seem to be a problem. He seemed to be kind of upset at losing you right
now. Apparently they just got a new contract he really wanted you to work on . . ."
Yes! Mike chortled silently. We got the First Onion upgrade! The site was a plum job
the company had been chasing for nearly a year. The account would guarantee at least a
solid two years of lucrative business.
"But I convinced him it would be for the best," the general continued. Mike could
hear other conversations in the background, some argumentative, some subdued. It
seemed almost like the general was calling from a telephone solicitation company. Or
several of his cohorts were making the same calls. Some of the muted voices in the
background seemed almost desperate.
"What's this about, sir?"
The answer was met by silence. In the background a male voice started shouting,
apparently displeased with the answer he was getting on his own call.
"Let me guess, OPSEC?" Any answer to the question would violate operational
security directives. Mike scratched at a spot of ink on the varnished desktop then started
working the gripper again. Blood pressure . . . . It was security and dominance games like
this that had partially driven him away from the military. He had no intention of being
sucked back in.
"Be there, Mike. The SigInt building attached to FORCECOM."
"Airborne, General, sir." He paused for a moment, then continued dryly. "Sharon is
going to go ballistic."
***
 Mike was cleaning broccoli when he heard the car pull up. He wiped his hands and
opened the door to the carport so the kids could get in, waved and went back to the sink.
Cally, the four-year-old, made it through the door first and got a big, wet hug from
daddy.
"Daddy! You got me all wet!"
"Big, wet daddy hugs! Arrrh!" He gestured at her with soapy hands as she went
shrieking towards her room.
In the meantime Michelle, the two-year-old, had toddled in and handed him her latest
creation from preschool. She got a big, wet daddy hug, too.
"And what is this masterpiece?" He looked at the scrawl of green, blue and red and
flashed a quick helpless glance at his wife, just coming through the door.
"Cow!" she mouthed.
"Well, Michelle, that's a very nice cow!"
"Mooo!"
"Yes, mooo!"
"Juice!"
"Okay, can my big girl say please?" Mike asked with a smile, already headed for the
refrigerator.
"P'ease," she answered, mildly.
"Okay," he reached into the fridge and extracted the cup. "No spill."
"Mess!" she countered, clutching the no-spill cup to her chest.
"No mess."
She carried the cup into the living room for her afternoon video. "Pooh!"
"Cinderella!"
" 'Rella!"
He heard the video player start, courtesy of the older girl as his wife walked back into