"Dafydd ab Hugh, Brad Linaweawer DOOM: Knee Deep in the Dead (english)" - читать интересную книгу автора

to Mars.
They poured me onto the transport along with the rest
of Fox; plenty of time to fry my butt after we figured out
what the hell the UAC miners were squawking about this
time.
The Corps, the Corps, all glory to the Corps! I don't
think you know what the Marine Corps truly means to
me. It has a bit to do with my father; no, he was not a
Marine, God no. Maybe something to do with growing
up in Orlando, Florida, and Los Angeles, seeing first the
ersatz "Hollywood Boulevard" of Universal Studios
East, then the even phonier real thing out west. Glitter
and tinsel. . . but what was real?
Everything in my life rang as hollow as the boulevard
until I found my core in the Corps.
Honor wasn't just something you did to credit cards. A
lie wasn't called spin control, and spin was something
you only put on a cue ball. Yeah, right, you think you
know more about it than I? I know it was all BS, even in
the Corps. I know the service was riddled up and down
with lying sacks of dung, like everything else. "There is
no cause so noble it will not attract fuggheads;" one of
those sci-fi writers Arlene is always shoving at me, David
Niven or something.
But God damn it, at least we say the word honor
without laughing. At least we have a codeЧ"I will not
lie, cheat, or steal, nor tolerate those among us who
do"Чeven if individuals don't always live up to it. At
least it's there to reach for, even if our grasp falls far
short. At least decency has a legal definition, right there
in the Universal Code of Military Justice! At least respect
means more than leaving the other guy's graffiti alone. At
least we do more crap by six A.M. than most of you
civilians do all day. At least the Corps is the Corps,
semper fidelisЧdamn it, we know who we are and why
we are! Do you?
Arlene never saw it the way I did; hell, no one did. I
was a majority of one.
But you can't understand me unless you understand
this much: there is a place in the world where decent men
walk the streets, where water flows uphill, where miracles
happen behind enemy lines and without air support, and
where a guy (boy or girl) will stand on the wall that
divides you people from the barbarians at the gate, take a
bullet, and shoot back at the son of a bitch what fired it.
Unless you've been there, you'll never know. I want to
take you there.
The long trip to Mars was dull, and the little voice in
the back of my head had plenty of time to ask whether I
would do anything different if given the chance. I had to