"I, Mengsk" - читать интересную книгу автора (McNeill Graham)

CHAPTER 4

PRINCIPAL STEEGMAN WASTED NO TIME IN GETTING the proceedings started. Once every boy in the upper year was seated, he clasped the lectern with both hands and leaned forward, in what Arcturus knew he hoped was an authoritative stance. In reality, it just emphasized how short he was, but either no one else had noticed or no one had thought to tell him.

“We are fortunate indeed," began Steegman, his nasal tones grating on Arcturus's nerves, "to have representatives from the brave Confederate Marine Corps here to talk to you today. It is a great honor for us to have them here, and I know you will give them a rousing, Styrling Academy welcome."

This last comment was clearly an order, and the assembled boys gave an enthusiastic round of applause as Steegman retreated from the lectern and one of the marines stepped forward, his heavy steps booming on the wooden floor of the stage.

He reached the lectern and removed his helmet, revealing that he was, in fact, a she.

And a strikingly pretty she.

The marine placed her helmet on the lectern and smiled at the assembled boys, who now appeared even more interested in this morning's talk. Behind her, the curtain parted to reveal a large projection screen, upon which the red and blue Confederate flag was displayed, billowing dramatically in the wind against a golden sunset. Stirring music played in the background, piped over the assembly room's PA system.

"Good morning, my name is Angelina Emillian," began the marine. "I'm a captain with the 33rd Ground Assault Division of the Confederate Marine Corps, and I'm here today at your principal's request to talk to you about a career in the Marine Corps."

Captain Emillian marched to the front of the stage and planted her hands on her hips. "I know what you're thinking."

A nervous titter ghosted around the assembly hall, suggesting that Emillian might not want to know what many of the boys were thinking right at that moment. "And it's 'Why in the name of all holy hell would I want to join the Marine Corps?' Right? After all, as graduates of this school, you'll no doubt be expecting to go into some cushy, well-paid job. And it's dangerous, isn't it? You might get killed. The Corps is for losers who don't have any other options open to them, isn't it?"

Arcturus saw Principal Steegman's eyes widen in surprise. Captain Emillian's presentation obviously wasn't starting in the way he had imagined and for that reason alone, Arcturus found himself warming to this pretty marine captain.

"Well, if you're thinking that, I've got some news for you, boys. You're dead wrong."

Captain Emillian swept her gaze around the room, her confidence and steely demeanor capturing everyone's attention.

"The Confederate Marine Corps embodies three principals," said Emillian, slapping her fist into her palm to emphasize each one. "Strength. Pride. Discipline. Those ideals have enabled the Confederate Marine Corps and the Colonial Fleet to defend Confederate interests along the galactic rim for more than a century and a half. And right now, you're thinking that marines are just resocialized panbrains, but I'm here to tell you that's just not true. Marines come from all walks of life, from every level of society, but they are united by one thing—their devotion to the preservation of the Confederate way of life."

As Emillian spoke, the projection screen behind her displayed images of laughing marines as they abseiled down cliffs, played padball, or skied down snowy mountainsides. To Arcturus's eye, they appeared to be having so fantastic a time it was a wonder they managed to do any soldiering at all.

"The Corps offers countless opportunities for young men and women to see the sector and gain valuable real-world experience. We will train you. We will teach you. We will shape you into an efficient warrior, garnering respect and admiration from your peers. During your service, you can choose where and what you learn. And when you come out after your short service period, you'll have a strength of character that you'll find nowhere else."

The projection screen now showed marines working through an assault course, men and women with rippling muscles and movie-star good looks. Once again, they appeared to be having the time of their lives, despite the rigors of the physical exertion, and Arcturus wandered who had shot this promotional film—clearly someone not averse to incredible visual hyperbole.

"The Corps has an honorable tradition of service and there are a great many benefits to joining up. Pay and conditions in the Marine Corps have steadily improved over the years and barely fifty percent of recruits ever see active combat. But armed with the latest weaponry and armor technology, a marine has little to fear from the kinds of folk that need fighting. And don't forget that your service becomes pan of your permanent record. Combine that with the reputation of this fine institution and you have the key to open any door you want once you muster out. A life in the Marine Corps is one lived without limits, a life lived for the greater good of the Confederacy and everyone in it. You can be part of that, boys. You can make a difference. You can be all you can be."

Despite himself, Arcturus found himself swept up in the general enthusiasm that filled the assembly hall. The endlessly repeating images of handsome, fulfilled soldiers and Emillian's charismatic delivery combined to make him feel that a life in the military might not be such a bad option.

Captain Emillian stood back and saluted the assembled boys, and the two marines standing behind her repeated the gesture. Thunderous applause erupted and Arcturus found himself standing with the other boys as they rose to their feet to give Captain Emillian a standing ovation.

She smiled and gave a shod bow, turning to shake Principal Steegman's hand. Arcturus wanted to laugh at how ridiculously insignificant the man looked next to the armored marine.

Steegman returned to his lectern and raised his hands for silence, which was forthcoming only after a few minutes of clapping and wolf whistles. When the boys sat down, Steegman said. "Thank you, Captain Emillian, for those stirring words. I'm sure you have given our senior year a lot to think about."

Again, scattered sniggers broke out amongst the assembled boys.

"And now," continued Steegman, oblivious to the effect his ill-chosen words were having, "I want you to take some time to collect some of the literature kindly provided by the Confederate Marine Corps. Classes will resume in one hour, so you'll have plenty of time to gather anything you wish and talk with the marine recruiting sergeants."

Arcturus followed Steegman's gaze and saw a number of tables stacked high with pamphlets and books set out along the side of the assembly hall. He'd not noticed them before, his attention captured by Captain Emillian and her dog-and-pony show. Tall, attractive marines of both sexes in immaculately pressed dress uniforms of navy blue and gleaming brass stood behind each table, hands clasped tightly behind their backs.

"Dismissed," said Principal Steegman, and there was a rush of bodies as the boys of the academy stood and made their way eagerly over to the tables.

Arcturus followed the herd, curious to see what might be on offer.

"Hold still, will you," said Katherine Mengsk, fastening the red toga around her husband's shoulder with a bronze clasp. "This is hard enough as it is without you fidgeting all the time."

"Pain in the damn neck is what it is," said Angus. "Remind me why I need to wear this?"

"Tradition," replied his wife.

"Tradition," spat Angus, as though it were the filthiest swear word he knew.

"You can't very well give the Close of Session speech to the Senate in that old suit of yours, now can you, dear?"

"Fine," said Angus. "But why are you making me wear it now? The speech isn't for another two months."

Achton Feld concealed a smile at Angus's pouting and complaining as his wife turned him this way and that to alter the cut and hang of the ceremonial robes of a senator of Korhal. The robes were heavy and uncomfortable-looking, but the governmental apparatus of Korhal had a long tradition of pomp and ceremony where its procedures were concerned.

"Because, dear," said Katherine patiently, "it needs a few adjustments. It's been a few years since you wore it and you are not as sylphlike as once you were."

"So you're saying I'm fat," said Angus.

"Not at all," replied Katherine lightly. "Merely more statesmanlike."

Angus looked unconvinced, and Feld rose from his chair and made his way to the Skyspire's balcony window as he felt his employer's gaze linger on him, daring him to laugh at his discomfort.

Feld shifted the holster beneath his jacket, wincing as his shoulder pulled stiffly from where the doctors had removed six Impaler spikes from him. He'd been told he was lucky to be alive: four inches to the side and his lungs would have been perforated.

Months of agonizing skin grafts and bone reconstruction surgery had given him plenty of opportunities to curse that luck when tin pain meds wore off and left him with bone-deep ache that not even scotch could obliterate.

Katherine continued to fuss over Angus and Feld left them to it, activating the force field that protected the balcony and heading outside. The energy shield had cost a small fortune and not only protected the balcony from ballistic projectiles, energy weapons, and electronic surveillance, but also kept out the winds that howled around so high a structure.

Feld made his way over to the handcrafted ironwork barrier at the edge of the balcony and gently rested his elbows on it as he leaned out and admired the view.

As far as views went, it was up there with the best of them.

The upper balcony of the Mengsks' tower was on the one hundred and sixtieth floor of the building, some eight hundred meters above street level. The mountains to the north reared up like the ramparts of a giant's castle and to the south the landscape became progressively greener until it reached the azure line of the ocean.

On a clear day such as this, the distant coastline was visible and you could see the summer villa as an oblong of white through the optical viewer that sat on its tripod on the edge of the balcony.

The city of Styrling was laid out before Feld in a grid of silver, with soaring lowers rising to either side of the Skyspire like stalagmites of steel and glass. From here, the sheer scale and life of the city was apparent, and that such a vast conurbation had been built in so short a time was testament to the ingenuity and dedication of the people of Korhal.

That it had been achieved in the face of rampant Confederate corruption made it all the more impressive. Feld loved Styrling: from here he could see the green of the Martial Field, the site of Korhal's establishment as a member planet of the Confederacy. That day had been filled with so much promise so many years ago, but now, as a parade ground for Confederate marines, the Martial Field served only as a bitter reminder of how bad things had become.

Across from the Martial Field was the Palatine Forum, home of the Korhal Senate. Its bronze roof shone like a beacon, shimmering like molten gold in the sunlight.

"Inspiring, isn't it?" said Angus, appearing at Feld's side on the balcony. "Reminds you what we're trying to achieve."

For a big man, Angus Mengsk could move silently when he wanted to. Feld hadn't heard him approach.

"Yeah, it's some view," agreed Feld.

"The jewel in the crown of the Confederacy, they call it."

"I've heard. And now you want to pluck that jewel."

"Right from under them," said Angus with a smile. "It's not their jewel to keep. Not anymore."

"And what will we do if we win?" asked Feld.

“If we win?" said Angus. "Don't you think we can defeat the Confederacy?"

"I don't care anymore," said Feld, standing up straight and stretching his shoulder. "I just want to hurt them."

"Oh, we'll do that, my friend. Have no fear of that," promised Angus.

"You really think we can bring them down?"

"I do." Angus said, nodding. "I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't believe that. It may not happen in our lifetimes, but what we start here will be the beginning of something truly exceptional. Even a landslide has to start with a single pebble, eh?"

"That's true," conceded Feld.

"The influence of the Confederacy is spreading." continued Angus, warming to his theme as he always did when talking of his hatred of corruption, "but the people with the power to lake action are the very ones who won't recognize that there's a terrible malignancy at the head of that power.”

"Why do you think that is? It must be obvious, surely?"

"Of course it is, but recognizing the problem creates a moral obligation to then do something about it," said Angus. "And too many people have too vested an interest to take action."

"But not you?"

"The Old Families and the Council can make things difficult for me, yes, but all the Mengsk businesses are largely self-sufficient. We own every part of the process involved in my factories, from the hovercar plants to the AAI production lines. There's nowhere for them to squeeze us."

"Not legally."

"I've no doubt that the Confeds will throw money at any number of pirate bands or mercenary troops to cause us trouble off world, but we've come too far to give up now. Pretty soon we'll be able to do more than plant bombs or ambush lone squads of marines. Soon we'll be able to declare war."

Feld heard the unmistakable relish in Angus's tone and wondered if the senator truly appreciated what was at stake in taking on the awesome power of the Confederacy. Lives had already been lost, and Confederate troops were cracking down hard all across Korhal.

Early morning raids on those they suspected of terrorist activities were commonplace, and only Feld's rigorous insistence on watertight security and isolation among the various active cells had kept the integrity of the fledgling resistance movement intact.

Though Korhal wasn't yet under anything that resembled martial law, it wouldn't take much to force the Confederates' hand.

"Let's walk before we run," cautioned Feld. "If we rush things, we risk losing everything.”

"You're right, of course," said Angus. "But the moment is coming where the scales will start to tip, and if we don't act when it comes we'll miss it. And it's coming soon, Achton. The guns and tech being brought In from Umoja makes us stranger every day. Our men are now almost as well equipped as the marines."

That was true, reflected Feld. Every day, shipments of “industrial parts” for the Mengsk factories came from Umoja via a number of dummy corporations and along circuitous freighter routes. Innocuously labeled and accompanied by all the correct documentation, these freighters' cargo containers were laden with the guns, ammunition, explosives, armor, and technology that allowed the Korhal freedom fighters to wreak havoc on the Confeds at the behest of Angus Mengsk.

"I never thought Ailin Pasteur would come through like he has."

"He's a good man, Ailin, and not to be underestimated," said Angus. "I've no doubt he's helping us more for the Umojan cause than our own, but I'll take whatever I can get."

"He's still coming back for your Close of Session speech?"

Angus nodded. "Indeed. He and Juliana are returning to Korhal at the end of the week.”

"His daughter's coming?" said Feld, making no effort to hide his irritation." That wasn't in the security briefs. It'll complicate things. Why wasn't I told?"

"I just heard this morning," said Angus, his tone neutral. "Apparently my son has asked Ailin's daughter to accompany him to his graduation ball. And, irritatingly, she has accepted."

Feld looked away, cursing Arcturus for adding this unnecessary burden to his already overworked security staff. In addition to the extra security measures he had instituted since the attack on the summer villa, Feld had assigned men to keep watch on each member of the Mengsk family.

Katherine was relatively easy to protect, as she kept close to Angus, and Dorothy was escorted to and from her preschool playgroup, but Arcturus seemed to delight in making Feld's life difficult, and this was surely another of his schemes lo test Feld's patience.

"Great," said Feld. "Another problem I could do without. As if you weren't making things difficult enough."

"I know what you're going to say, Achton, and the answer's still no."

Feld knew he was fighting a losing battle with Angus, but that didn't stop him from trying.

"Look," said Feld. "You need more guards when you make your walk to the Forum. You're too exposed, and if you don't let me put more men on the ground beside you, I can't guarantee your safely."

"I told you," said Angus, his tone suggesting he was growing weary of having this argument. "I won't walk to the Senate surrounded by armed soldiers. I can't look as though I'm traveling as a war leader. For now I need to be seen as the voice of peace."

"But—"

"But nothing," said Angus. "That's the end of it. I've already consented to the ruinous cost of a personal force field, which I'm not happy about, but I will not be surrounded by soldiers. The Forum is a place of democracy and debate, and Lennox Craven will call me a tyrant or a usurper if I walk in with armed men at my back."

"It's your funeral," said Feld. "I'm just telling you what I think. Hey, I could have taken a cushy job on Brontes getting paid a fortune to babysit rich kids, you know."

"So why didn't you?"

Feld sighed. "Hell, I'd have died of boredom, you know that."

"You're a man of action," agreed Angus. "And you are my friend, so it means a lot to me to know how worked up you're getting over my safety."

"Just remember, that force field's going to give you only a few minutes' protection, just enough to get you to the Forum."

"Yes, so you've told me a dozen times already."

Feld shook his head with a rueful smile. "I still get paid if you die, right?"

"Honestly, Feld, I swear you're worse than my mother ever was."

"She was a sensible woman, your mother," said Feld.

"Pah, there's nothing to worry about, Feld," said Angus. "You're jumping at ghosts, nothing more."

The press of bodies around the tables had eased now and Arcturus lifted one of the pamphlets. An animated graphic of the Confederate flag billowed beneath the words. "The Confederate Marine Corps—A Place for Heroes."

The two marines who had stood immobile behind Captain Emillian circulated throughout the assembly hall, demonstrating aspects of their armor and allowing students to handle their AGR-14 gauss rifles.

Arcturus replaced the pamphlet as the marine recruiting sergeant loomed over the table. He could smell the polish of the brass on the man's uniform and the sweet, slightly sickly aroma of gun oil. The marine's face was open and earnest, but devoid of any real personality.

"Thinking of joining up, son?" asked the man.

"Maybe," said Arcturus. "I haven't decided."

"It's an honorable profession, son," said the marine, and Arcturus noticed the telltale bump of resocialization scars just above the neckline of his uniform's collar as he bent down.

"When did you enlist?" asked Arcturus.

"Six years ago, and never looked back," said the marine automatically, and Arcturus caught the whiff of words said by rote. "Best decision I ever made, son, let me tell you. I've traveled all over the Koprulu sector, seen all kinds of worlds, and met me plenty of interesting folks."

"And killed them?" finished Arcturus mischievously.

"Well, let's put that to one side just now," suggested the marine. "What's your name, son?"

"Arcturus Mengsk."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Arcturus. Now, what you need to think of are all the opportunities the Corps can offer you. Travel, self-respect, honor, discipline—"

"Well, have you?" interrupted Arcturus. "Killed anyone, I mean?"

"See here, Arcturus," said the marine sergeant. "Being a marine means you got to kill people sometimes, but only those as deserve it. When bad folks are trying to kill me or my buddies, it ain't no choice. When someone's got a gun pointed at you, well, there's only thing you can do, right?"

"I suppose it depends on why they're pointing the gun al you,” said Arcturus.

"Making trouble, are you, Mengsk?" said a voice behind him, and Arcturus recognized the supercilious tones of Principal Steegman.

"Not at all, sir," said Arcturus, turning on his heel. "Just finding out what I'd be getting into."

"A stint in the military would do you a power of good, Mengsk, said Steegman. "Knock some of the smart-ass out of you. Bit of military discipline would soon sort you out."

"I wasn't aware I needed sorting out, sir."

Steegman leaned in close, and Arcturus had to resist the urge to cough at the overpowering reek of the man's aftershave.

"I know your type, Mengsk," hissed Steegman. "If I had my way, I'd have you all drafted. A dose of military training is just what a boy needs to turn him into a man."

Before Steegman could press his point, a shadow fell over him and Arcturus looked up into the face of Angelina Emillian. Up close, she was even more impressive, the bulk of her combat armor giving her an extra foot of height over Arcturus, who wasn't exactly small.

She absolutely towered over Principal Steegman.

"And what unit did you serve with, Principal Steegman?"

"Excuse me?"

Captain Emillian smiled sweetly, displaying perfect teeth in a perfect smile. "I merely asked what unit you served with. In your time with the military."

"I, uh...haven't," said Steegman. "I mean, that is to say, I couldn't."

Arcturus bit his lip to hide his amusement at Steegman's discomfort and kept his eyes downcast. When he looked up, he saw Steegman staring at him, his face florid with embarrassment.

"I wonder if I might have a word with Mr. Mengsk," asked Emillian. Steegman nodded curtly and all but fled from the marine captain.

"I think I love you," said Arcturus with a broad grin.

"You wouldn't be the first," returned Captain Emillian.

Arcturus watched Principal Sleegman's departing back and said. "He's always made out he served in the military, but I'd always suspected he was lying."

"To be fair, he did apply to join the Colonial Fleet, but he failed the entrance exams and couldn't pass the physical. And between you and me, the physicals for the fleet are a cakewalk."

"Well, thank you for sparing me from him, Captain," said Arcturus.

"Mr. Mengsk?" said Emillian as he turned away.

"Yes?"

"I didn't save you from your principal's attentions out of the goodness of my heart. I do actually want to speak with you."

"Oh? Well, of course," said Arcturus, pleased the captain had singled him out. He could see his fellow students looking over with envious eyes and relished the attention being lavished upon him.

"Thank you, Sergeant Devlin," said Emillian, addressing yhe marine still standing to attention behind Arcturus. "That will be all."

The marine sergeant snapped a smart salute. "Yes, ma'am."

With that, Captain Emillian strode off, her hands clasped behind her back, and Arcturus was forced to step lively to catch up with her.

"Do you always bring resocialized marines to recruitment drives?" asked Arcturus.

"Most of the time," said Emillian. "They don't make great speakers, but they do a good job in giving the right answers to students’ questions."

"So what did he do?" asked Arcturus. "Sergeanl Devlin, what did he do?"

"I don't know," replied Emillian. "Those files are sealed. Once you're a marine, resoclalized or otherwise, your past life is irrelevant. You're a marine, plain and simple."

"How very egalitarian, but I don't think that's entirely true, is it?"

"No, it's not, but would you rather bear how he murdered his entire family with a butcher knife? Or maybe that he enjoyed molesting small boys in the park?"

"I see your point," said Arcturus, looking over his shoulder at the bland face of Sergeant Devlin and imagining it contorted with rage, a bloody knife in his hand.

"The few, the proud, the psychotic..." said Arcturus.

"You're trying to make fun of us, but it won't work, Arcturus," said Emillian with a smile.

"No? Why not?'

"Because I already know you're thinking of joining up."

"I am?" said Arcturus. "And how would you know such a thing?"

"I know more about you than you think. I've seen your test scores and read your psych profile. I know you have fine leadership skills and a confidence that makes people want to follow you. I know that you have a problem with authority figures you consider your inferiors and that your IQ is at the upper end of genius level."

"Those files are classified," said Arcturus, more irritated at her spot-on assessment of his personality than at the violation of his privacy. He didn't like to be so easily read by others.

"Yes they are, but Principal Steegman allowed us to read up on his final-year students before we came here today. Makes selecting likely candidates for recruitment much easier."

"Isn't that against the law?"

"Almost certainly."

Arcturus was surprised at Emillian's easy admission and smiled as he realized why she'd allowed it. "You're trying to put me at ease by sharing a secret," he said. "If you've read my psych profile, then you think I'll trust you more if I think you're being honest with me and appeal to my sense of rebelliousness."

Captain Emillian nodded. "Very good. Is it working?"

"A little," admitted Arcturus, enjoying the back-and-forth he was sharing with this attractive warrior woman.

"So tell me, Arcturus," said Emillian, slopping at one of the sergeants' booths and lifting a handful of different flyers. "What do you want to do with yourself once you leave the academy?"

"I was thinking of becoming a prospector, traveling to the fringe worlds and exploring the edge of space. There's planets there that even the Confederacy hasn't set foot on. I want to leave my mark on history—name a planet, discover something no one's ever seen before. You know, the usual..."

"A prospector," said Emillian. "Thai's an honorable profession. Did you know the Corps can help you with that?"

"Really? How?"

"Most of our tours take place out on the fringe worlds. We deal with miners all the time. You'd be able to pick up some real firsthand experience dealing with mines, miners, and the like. Not to mention the training you'd get on your downtime. The further education facilities on our fleet ships are second to none, equipped with the very best in neural interface mnemo-tutors. You could learn entire new skill sets while you slept."

"Sounds interesting," said Arcturus, surprised to find he was actually intrigued.

"You could do a lot worse than the Corps," said Emillian, handing him the flyers she'd picked up. "With your test scores, you easily qualify for officer training. And once you've completed your basic service, you're free to leave if you want and use the skills you've learned in the military and apply them in civilian life."

"Ah...my 'basic service'..." said Arcturus. "How long would that be?"

"The Corps offers a range of flexible terms," said Emillian smoothly. "It all depends on your circumstances and the current threat level as defined by High Command."

"And what's the current threat level?"

Emillian smiled. "Low," she said.