"David Weber - Honor Harrington - 01 - On Basilisk Station" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weber David)

On Basilisk Station
by David Weber


This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

Copyright (c) 1993 by David M. Weber

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

A Baen Books Original

Baen Publishing Enterprises
P.O. Box 1403
Riverdale, NY 10471

ISBN: 0-7434-3571-0

Cover art by David Mattingly

First hardcover printing, March 1999

Distributed by Simon & Schuster
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Weber, David 1952-
On Basilisk Station / David Weber.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-7434-3571-0
I. Title II. Title: Honor Harrington on Basilisk Station.
PS3573.E21705 1999 98-32222
813'.54-dc21 CIP

Production by Windhaven Press, Auburn, NH
Printed in the United States of America
PROLOGUE
To C. S. Forester,
With thanks for hours of enjoyment,
years of inspiration,
and a lifetime of admiration.



The ticking of the conference room's antique clock was deafening as the Hereditary President of the People's Republic of Haven stared at his military cabinet. The Secretary of the Economy looked away uncomfortably, but the Secretary of War and her uniformed subordinates were almost defiant.
"Are you serious?" President Harris demanded.
"I'm afraid so," Secretary Frankel said unhappily. He shuffled through his memo chips and made himself meet the president's eyes. "The last three quarters all confirm the projection, Sid." He glowered sideways at his military colleague. "It's the naval budget. We can't keep adding ships this way without-"
"If we don't keep adding them," Elaine Dumarest broke in sharply, "the wheels come off. We're riding a neotiger, Mr. President. At least a third of the occupied planets still have crackpot 'liberation' groups, and even if they didn't, everyone on our borders is arming to the teeth. It's only a matter of time until one of them jumps us."
"I think you're overreacting, Elaine," Ronald Bergren put in. The Secretary for Foreign Affairs rubbed his pencil-thin mustache and frowned at her. "Certainly they're arming-I would be, too, in their place-but none of them are strong enough to take us on."