Struggle. Taste of power - Владимир Андерсон

And it was high time to talk to him too… Since they had so successfully found this traitor to their own disadvantage. The traitor was from the penalty battalion, and even though they found him themselves, they were reprimanded for the fact. Fair? Fair enough. They won't complain… But at the same time we can ask this….

Zubrilov picked up the telephone and ordered his adjutant to call Major Bolotnikov to him. He appeared in a couple of minutes, just a moment before Zubrilov had time to drink another shot and put the bottle with the trimmings away in his desk drawer.

— Major Bolotnikov has arrived on your orders.

— Come in, Major. Have a seat.

Bolotnikov walked over and sat down in the chair opposite. His face showed no anger, no hatred, not even some kind of censure. He was definitely in control of himself and, apparently, was ready for anything.

— Do you know why I called you, Major? — Stroking his chin Zubrilov said.

— I can't know, Comrade Chief.

— That's all right… That you can't know… But I want to ask you something… You've just identified a traitor among your own. In the punishment battalion… He was knocking on the plagues… Is that right?

— That's right.

— That's right… — Zubrilov stretched out, and his hand was about to reach for the bottle in the bedside table to pour himself another drink, but stopped in time. — And tell me, Major, what's worse than snitching to the plagues or working for them?

— Both are crimes. There's no point in making a distinction. No matter how much you help the enemy, if you do it, you are an enemy yourself.

— Yes… — the commander-in-chief realized that it would be impossible to bend the major in the right direction, and decided to switch to another tactic. — That's all so… But come on… I'll ask you directly. What do you think, what is happening now in the group "Donetsk-Makeyevka", when they are extracting and supplying twice as much to the plagues as before. Is this a betrayal?

Bolotnikov looked at him directly and confidently. It was very original that this was the second person in a row to look at him in some such way. They look more like fanatics than soldiers fighting the plagues. You have to realize that the world is not black and white at all, but has many shades. And whoever doesn't realize that will always be at a loss with all their ideals.

— There are many things that can be called treachery, Comrade Glavkom. — replied Bolotnikov. — But I wouldn't call the work of people who get stoned for failing to fulfill a plan treachery. Grisha surrendered his own, being among his own. Miners do everything to survive, that's all.

— Are you not aware, I believe, that it was Gora who wrongly turned Ranierov in to us? — I know. Gora turned in someone he thought was a traitor, based on his calculations….

— That's right… You're right… Based on his calculations… And what calculations does he have when he went from being a brigadier to being a prefect. And when he became a prefect, he got not one mine, but seven… Tell me, what's his calculation now?

Bolotnikov's eyes showed that he understood what Zubrilov was getting at. He understood, and he couldn't help but understand. Because from a certain moment it had become clear to everyone. He who gains power and influence will only want more of both with time. And it is absolutely inappropriate to deny it, when in the course of time you only see the only evidence of it.

— I don't care about his calculations. — Bolotnikov answered as calmly as before. — I am at war with the plagues to free the people. I can have no other goals.

— Are you going to tell the chiwis you're fighting for the people too? Or do you think they also get stoned for not fulfilling the plan? In Kremenchug, it was the Kiwis who fought you. How did it feel? Did it seem like someone was forcing them?

— If you want to give an order, Comrade Commander-in-Chief, then give it. And such talk is not for me. — The major stood up and stared straight ahead. It was clearly impossible to convince him of anything. But at least a seed of doubt, we clearly planted him. How long they have to grow.

These seeds.

— You have one task for now, Major. — said Zubrilov, stroking his chin. — Find a place. A place in the Donetsk-Makeyevka group, where you can still fight with plagues, not people.

Inquisitor

The punitive drill of the Holy Inquisition was distinguished from the Inquisitors only by its heavy armor and military chevrons on the forearm with the image of the Black Stone on a white background. It was trained better by the commanders of the Imperial Army and the SCK. All former. Already after their seniority, the church involved them in individual work. And gave them all the resources. Absolutely everything to achieve one goal — the punitive drill of the Holy Inquisition must be better than any drill of the army, the SCK, the Hivi or the Maquis. The plagues in this drill must know all the techniques and tactics of combat that any of the opponents opposing them could know. And it wasn't a matter of prestige or competition — it was a matter of survival. Those who could not keep up with the rhythm or could not reach the necessary standards were not just kicked out, they were executed by their own coworkers by stoning to death. This is how obedience was formed in the plagues from the "unspoken resource", and this is how this unit became the first invisible fighting unit of the empire.

Samoh's plan was to break a narrow path in the outer perimeter positions to the main administrative building of the Diza sector, and then kill Ananhr in a