Читать книгу "Struggle. Taste of power - Владимир Андерсон"

wonder what action they are planning for tomorrow?" — Samoh thought. He would go back, come back the next day. And what would they tell him: we didn't have time to fix it, or the Maquis had blown up the tracks on another section? Unless, of course, it was a Maquis attack… But it doesn't look like one. It's out of place. If it was easy to blow up the tracks, they'd have blown up the whole place. If it wasn't so easy, they wouldn't even bother. No. It's not the poppies. It's these shapeshifter artists. At the behest of the CCC, of course. They're here to defend Ananhir, so they've come to their senses. They're fast… But what's fast? You gave them a head start. I guess Nevrokh's advice to wait a little longer was wrong… I guess it was wrong.

Still, there's something about these chivvies that impresses him. He's never seen them in person like this before. Just rumors. Blew them up, beat them back. They don't look so easy in reality. The guy who came to report was definitely not the most important, but he answered precisely, quickly, to the point. Not a word too much. He was obviously preparing to answer all the questions. And there's nothing to catch him on. Cunning types. Very cunning.

Once upon a time, when Samoh was still a young boy, he thought about a career in the military. First to march, then to fight with his fists. Then firing single shots and bursts. To attack in groups and with artillery support. To make your ears ring. Then stand in the blood and mud and stare at everything around you with frantic eyes. And grab the air as if it will never be enough….

But his father, a rather pious and highly influential chum, decided for him. He decided that a career as a priest would be much more attractive and fruitful for him. His father was never wrong about that, but it was still a little difficult for him… It seemed to him that his actions should be more decisive, so that he could grab and tear if necessary. A priest is not supposed to do that, unlike a military man. But even in this case he found a use for his character in acts of inquisition….

When he found out that the Church had a certain "unspoken resource" represented by paramilitary units that could clean up problems with fire and sword, it was truly a holiday in his street. All that remained was to bring the situation to the point where this resource could be used, and this required the approval of the Holy Seimas….

How difficult it was for him, even as a metropolitan, to try to push through the decision to use it every time. An unspoken resource. And the name was such that it would be impossible to mention it once again. And in time everyone began to perceive him as the main supporter of this method. It was even useless for him to suggest this option first, because it seemed to everyone that he did not care enough, that he only thought about shedding someone's blood once more… And finally, he began to periodically remind the patriarch about it. That it's the only real way to make the CCC reckon with him. That they don't understand any other language, and catching small fish on heresy doesn't affect anything at all. You have to be headstrong, menacing and precise. So they know who's boss. Only force, real force, can definitively show that only the Church can have the last word.

And now here he is. With his own person burning out this heresy at the head of the punitive storm of the Holy Inquisition. As the train came to a stop again, Samoh thought about how, just a few years ago, he would have wished he had someone adding to his problems along the way, putting sticks in his wheels during his holy campaign. It was more interesting than just being a winner. It's always more interesting to be a winner who not only did everything he set out to do, but overcame a number of challenges in doing so. With honor, with intelligence and perseverance. Like he had done… And now he was very proud of the fact that he could do it. All that was left was to finalize things with Ananhr…..

There was another knock at the office. It was Rambanhr:

— Permission to enter, Your Eminence.

— Come on in.

— We're here. We're about a kilometer and a half out. We're under the cliff. You can't see us from here. You can't see if we've gone any farther.

— Great… The Black Stone has blessed us for this good deed. Unload your boys, we'll go on foot. Make sure they're ready to shoot properly in case of trouble. And push through. But they're only ready. Because the goal is to get to Deese's sector quietly and without anyone noticing. And no one will think that we can be prevented from getting there.

Prefect

When the prefect ascended to the surface for the second time in a month, the first thought that came to his mind was that it was not a good sign to do so with such regularity. After all, his realm was underground, and there was nothing to get used to about sunlight. But there were simply no options for not checking for himself.

The recently undermined tracks had to be repaired. Again. For the second time in a month. The Hiwi told him about another Maquis sabotage, as a result of which 12 meters of track had been mangled by the explosion. For this reason, the Metropolitan Priest's visit to the sector had been postponed.

The story didn't appeal to him from the start. The last time the Maquis had settled in this vicinity, it hadn't been to blow up a useless stretch of road, but