"Ben Weaver - Brothers in Arms 01 - Brothers in Arms" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weaver Ben)

my first year at the academy, even though most of the second, third, and fourth years I had met seemed
pretty bright, and right there in the South Point Academy CodeтАФa code none of us would dare break at
the risk of immediate dismissalтАФwas the admonishment to be at all times polite and courteous in our
deportment, bearing, and speech. During my second day on Exeter, the rocky moon on which the ancient
Racinians had chosen to build their facilities and on which Generals Ky-Tay and Jotanik of the Seventeen
System Guard Corps had chosen to build South Point Academy, Pvt. Joey Haltiwanger had told me that
the cadre was nervous over the mounting political tension between the colonies and the alliances. ThatтАЩs
why everyone remained so intense, and that intensity grew even more fierce as we struggled to finish our
first yearтАЩs training and get onto the Order of Merit list for promotion.

While that may have been true for some, Pope belonged to a camp all his own. The twenty-year-old
second year stood a quarter meter shorter than most of us, had skin like singed rubber, and had a gap so
large between his bottom front teeth that you swore someone had knocked out a tooth. For a long time I
considered him no more than a disgusting little man, a military clich├й overcompensating for the curses
nature had wrought upon him.

So I was falling, watching the rope drop away from me, feeling the wind rush over my face and flutter
through my black training utilities as though it wanted to morph them into a parachute. And there, down
below, stood Pope, a diminutive grim reaper, scowling, pointing a finger at me, and though I couldnтАЩt
hear him, I knew he swore at me. I gaped at him, my eyes burning, and thought of breaking orders and
activating my skin to save myself. Finally, he hit me with the CZX Forty, and I came to a slow stop about
a meter off the dusty ground.

For a little while there, I hadnтАЩt been sure if Pope would save me. The day before, my poor time on the
confidence course put my squad in third place during the platoon competition.

тАЬWhatтАЩre you doing, St. Andrew?тАЭ Pope asked, still aiming the CZX FortyтАЩs big barrel at me. He
thumbed a button on the antigrav rifleтАЩs stock panel. I dropped to the dirt, tripped, and fell to my knees.
His boot suddenly connected with my jaw, and I slammed onto my back. ExeterтАЩs pale blue sky scrolled
by and got me dizzy. The majority of the cadets training on Exeter had been raised above ground, but
people like my brother and I who had spent most of our lives in the mines of Gatewood-Callista still had
trouble adjusting to all that real, nonsimulated space overhead and had developed mild or even severe
cases of agoraphobia that kept the academyтАЩs shrinks busy. Sure, Jarrett and I had been to the surface
and had seen the heavens, but only on rare occasions, given the cost of renting an environment suit. My
father had bought me a trip up for my eighteenth birthday, hopefully my last celebrated on that
godforsaken satellite, and I had reveled in the night sky and had dreamed of coming to Exeter and
becoming an officer in the Seventeen System Guard Corps so that I could, like so many other
eighteen-year-old colos, shed my second-class roots.

As I rubbed my smarting jaw, I realized that all of my dreams had come terribly true.

тАЬGet your ass up!тАЭ

Spoken like a true leader.тАЬSir, yes, sir!тАЭ I cried.

By the time I got to my feet, nine young men and women about my age had surrounded me and were
staring at the dust-covered pariah before them.

Pvt. Rooslin Halitov, also a native of Gatewood-Callista, jabbed me with a stubby index finger, then
turned up the blue flame in his eyes. тАЬDonтАЩt know about the rest of you,тАЭ he began, stealing a glance over