Struggle. Taste of power

The chief of the Slavyansk column was on an outing near Luhansk, looking into a Maquis sabotage seven months ago. At that time, the SCK and Imperial Army units had been ambushed: the Maquis had fired on them and blown up a tunnel. Then the tunnel also flooded. He claimed at the time that he had only lost two of his Boers and several Imperial Army Boers, but in reality it was much worse. Almost ten times worse. He had to use all his powers to shut up both Minister Donhra, who had to "redeploy" 38 of his Boers on paper. And the chums from the Ministry of

Transportation and Material Supply, who in reports had to depict completely the wrong things to be repaired, and take materials about the servants to be repaired from completely different places. And supervision from the central apparatus, which came to check and assess the losses. It was good that there were those who were not likely to make a peep without being asked, given what had been dug up on them.

Zakinhr looked at the tunnels, where repairs had just been completed a couple of days ago, and remembered what he had been through. He had been walking on the edge of the abyss, for the loss of two legions of 18 Boer SCK and seven legions of 46 Boer of the Imperial Army would not have been forgiven even conditionally. He would have been shot and tortured, because no one would have believed that it was possible to lose so much on purpose. Even though it wasn't on purpose. He was just beaten by the Maquis then… Yeah, it happens. There are times when the Maquis win, and they win big. Then the Slavyansk column was left without its assault forces, and all that was left were security drills in each of the sectors and a few special purpose drills in Gorlovka. We had to revise the entire security structure in the region…..

And the bet was on the Kiwis. Expand their presence, allocate additional resources to them, and organize the whole thing with self-governance of one sector and then the whole faction. To free the security drills from there… At the same time, of course, to remove any possible influence of the Inquisition there. But that wasn't the first priority. It was at the same time, though it should have seemed to everyone who was even a little bit aware that it was about the confrontation between the Church and the SCK… And who knew that this very step would aggravate all the relations between them…

Zakinhir wondered now if he would have done the same thing if he'd known how it would turn out, and he wasn't so sure anymore. Back then, he had thought that only coolness and subtle calculation had helped him survive. Now the other side of the coin was demonstrating that he had simply dug himself another hole, much deeper than the first. Allies in a war against the Church are not easy to find, unlike allies against the Maquis. And it's too late to backpedal now. And what are the options?

It is unrealistic to return chums to the mines of the Donetsk-Makeyevka group. There are not so many plagues in the subordination, and the miners there have become very strong. They now produce twice as much as before. There's no need to guard them. Know your stuff, get your resources. The Center and all the ministries liked it very much. Except for the Church, of course… You can't go back to the way it was… And you can't explain everything to the Church either. Now their goal is Anankhr, and they are eager to achieve it. And obviously to achieve something more than just to tickle the nerves of a member of the Central Committee of the Empire….

The only thing left is to go to the end and fight back against the Church more and more harshly. So that they would be afraid to go any further. Let them really think that self-government in the Donetsk-Makeyevka group is a pre-planned action. And Zakinhr organized a provocation against Dolonokh, the priest of the main temple of the Empire, located in the capital — Chum-Batu, at the mouth of the Volga River.

Dolonoch was neither a metropolitan nor a priest of the central administration of the Church, but the temple of which he was abbot was the largest, most famous and important temple of the entire Jah faith, the Temple of the Black Stone named after the Grand Inquisitor Torquedoch. In this temple were held the ordinations of metropolitans and patriarchs, as well as services for the benefit of the most important persons of the Empire.

I had to bring in my old informant, Juninhr, who had served as a notary and had been present at many church trials, including the torture of the Inquisition, certifying the "legitimacy" of the secular authorities. He didn't know much, but as a witness he was pretty good. As in this case.

Zakinhru managed to dig up an old case of an interrogation during the "week of repentance" in which Dolonoch was present. The procedure had been certified by Uninhr as a notary.

Everything seemed to be conducted according to the regulations, but some circumstances could say that the process was biased, such as the fact that some items were used several times during the torture, which was forbidden by the instructions, and the justification was that the items had been used "incorrectly" before. In addition, the start time and end time did not match the time of the service — it turned out that Dolonoh had to leave at least twice during the process, which meant that either he was not the one conducting the service or the interrogation was not taking place in his presence. Either option was unacceptable. But at the end of it all, the chum tortured and then executed by the Inquisition was an employee of the Ministry of Transportation and was being held as a witness in a treason case. His burning thus interfered with the process of investigation of an important case, and in turn could well be blamed on the intentionality of this step to cover up the traces of the crime.

Everything "from" and "to" in this case, of course, was turned upside down by Zakinhr. The time that was not beaten for questioning with worship was simply adjusted — the notes were made by hand, and a few lines were slightly changed in them, for the good of the handwriting and the figures themselves suited the possible correction. Chum, who was executed, was in reality "still" a witness, and he had not yet been reclassified as a defendant. And, no less importantly, the case was about treasury theft, not about state treason, which also radically changed the essence of what had happened.

But in this way Dolonokh himself was brought to the article on high treason and was now kept in a special isolation center of the SChK in Chum-Batu. The signal to the Church was unambiguous — the SCK would get to anyone it wanted, if necessary. And right now, Zakinhr was really hoping that this would cool their ardor in some way, at least by changing the target from Ananhr to someone else. That said, the most surprising thing was that he had yet to receive any signals from the SCK Center. No approval or reprimand. It was as if he had been given a free hand to act on the principle of "if you win, we'll join you, and if you lose, it's nothing to do with us". A possible reaction from the higher-ups, but it was particularly frightening. They clearly had their own agenda against the Inquisitors, and to expect him to straight-up hit the mark would be irrational. It was entirely possible that they'd just trade him in a couple moves, win influence a bit, and then designate more or less similar to what the status quo had been before.

But he hadn't clung to this place so tightly that he'd just become someone's pawn. And now he knew that if it came to a direct threat to him, he'd raise the stakes again. And make himself a force to be reckoned with. He was even willing to pretend to be a somewhat disconnected psycho, just to make it work… And he would certainly do that if he had to. Fabricate cases against whoever he can, accuse them of colluding with the Maquis or whoever. He'll take out his most ardent opponents quietly, and make it clear that he'll stop at nothing… That's what he'll do. After all, he's the head of the entire column, and he still has enough power….

Zakinhr looked up at the new tunnel vaults. Powerful supports holding the walls together and holding tons of concrete and earth above his head. Not long ago there had been rubble and a mass of water, brownish water mixed with chunks of cement with rebar sticking out of it. That was behind him… But for a moment, he thought he saw something dangling somewhere at the top.

It was only 7 or 8 meters there, and it seemed that some object was moving there from side to side. Shadows to the right, to the left. Is it a play of light or is something really moving? Scekist looked in the distance, then around, then turned back — everywhere was either empty or his guards were there. Nothing and no one else. And no dangling light sources… Then something rumbled behind his back.

He turned around and saw a piece of concrete rebar just a meter away from him. He looked up, and where something had just flashed, there was a small notch in the ceiling where the piece of rebar had come from.

— Fucking employees! — Zakinhr yelled. He was nearly killed by the negligence that was rampant throughout the empire, especially when someone rode horses in achieving their plans in the shortest possible time. He remembered an incident from his past and laughed in surprise.

When he first started his service in the SCS, he was entrusted with keeping an eye on one of the chiefs of the Ministry of Material Support. They had enough reason to believe that this clerk was stealing, even if only a little, but quite regularly.

He followed him very roughly — he noted all the points of his appearance, all the persons with whom he had contacts. It's all timed, coherent. Even in the framework of the table on a separate sheet. In short, the material was exhaustive.

Taking into account that the task was quite typical and did not go beyond the standards of operational work, a few freshly graduated from the academy of SSchekists were involved in it.

They said, you follow him, and you follow him. You'll see how such things are done.

Then they gave the command to detain him. There was no solid evidence against him, and the younger generation was to be taught that such things, if there was sufficient confidence, could be extracted on their own, so to speak, in the middle of the hunt.

The object was entrusted to the youngsters to take over and they were to start working with bias. Which they did. Of course, they spared no effort or expense. By the time Zakinhra and his chief arrived to take over the "work", the subject had already confessed. Looking at them, the chief nodded affirmatively, and then decided to look at the subject himself. That was where his surprise came when, instead of the original target, he saw one of the academy trainees who had been sent to observe the work of their future colleagues. They had simply mistaken the ultimate target for this failed spy.

— Fucking employees! — their boss yelled at the time. — You got the wrong guy!

Zakinhru thought it was very funny now, especially since he had given out exactly the same phrase.

— It's the same everywhere. — thought the head of the Slavic Column. — Everywhere we have the same employees…..

Inquisitor

The Samoha railroad train was traveling quite slowly. At an average speed, it was possible to get from the Corsa sector to the Deese sector in an hour and a half. They had been traveling for three. There was no hurry. The rumors had to get out in time, they had to intimidate, and in a way that would make all the nearby S.S. officers realize that they'd be better off just folding up peacefully and not interfering with his work. In the end he showed that he only needed one chum.

He will also need only one in the Diza sector. Give it to him and he would be gone. No surprises…

He'd been thinking about this formation and despite previous success, he didn't quite like it. This one had been Nevroch's recommendation. But he could be wrong too, especially since that latent influence that was in the Korsa sector in the Deese sector no longer existed. There aren't any high-ranking bosses there who once dreamed of being priests… But on the other hand, the

SSchekists are common plagues. They also want to live a quiet life, so that no one can prevent them from resting on their deserved laurels in their old age… Yes, and they are afraid, among other things, that they will be torn apart if they just give Ananhr to the Inquisitors… Did Nevrokh not think about this?

The train slowed down. Then another. And another. And then it stopped. Half a minute later there was a knock at the door. He had the center carriage, occupied entirely by himself, furnished and decorated as befitted a high minister of the Church. The communication between the front and rear of the train was by means of the roof alone, specially equipped with railings on the sides. This was, of course, very convenient, but on the other hand it made it stand out from all the others.

— Come in. — The Metropolitan said loudly.

His assistant showed up, a very young but very faithful novice taken on duty from the Empire's central temple in Chum Batu:

— Your Eminence, the tracks have been destroyed. About 10 to 15 meters of railroad track… There are Hiwi units on duty nearby. They said there was a Maquis raid yesterday. They beat them off, but they blew up the tracks. What are we supposed to do?

— Get me the guy in charge from the chiwi… And don't forget the translator.

So much for the news. Of course, he expected something like this, but not like this. Some poppies, you see. After they've just been trashed? That they'd just show up and blow up some tracks? 10–15 meters can be repaired in one day at most. But a raid like this, you could lose a whole group. Considering how many Kiwis there are in the area now, and how entrenched they are, it's unlikely that any of even the most zealous rebels would risk it now. No matter how much it might hurt their honor issues… So, either the Kiwis or the S.S.C. were blown up, which doesn't really make much difference….

What if he'd arrived at once, instead of waiting in Korsa's sector first, and had not waddled all the way back here? If he had done it his own way instead of listening to his patron? It happens that even such experienced minds as Nevrokh are wrong about something… But are they? Maybe it really was the Maquis. And then not only would have blown up the tracks, but perhaps even him and the train? Not all of them, of course, but his carriage stands out… We should take these railings off the roof — let them get there as they want, or wait for the next stop. It's not so important that someone goes from the tail to the head of the train while it's moving. But showing everyone where the supervisor sits is not a good idea. Especially when passing through neighborhoods full of saboteurs….

_A few novices entered the room first, then a couple of chums from the punitive drill, and then a not particularly sturdy-looking man in camouflage. He was unarmed now, but judging by the outfit and the unloading bags, he'd had plenty of weapons up to this point.

— Ask him how long ago the paths were blown up," Samokh told the novice who knew Russian.

Heavey listened attentively and answered immediately:

— Ten hours ago.

— And how many Maquis have you destroyed?

— About twenty people. We don't have an exact number. The Maquis take the bodies of the dead with them.

— How long will it take you to recover your tracks?

— We've already sent for a repair crew. We'll have it fixed in a day or two… But you should be wary of the Maquis. They may attack again.

No exciting news. Of course, he said it as expected. Whether it was a Maquis invasion or not, the answers would have to be. Since he's standing here in front of him and calmly telling it all. I wonder how these chiwis behave with their handlers from the SCK? Do they report calmly, or do they show up with their enemies' heads in potato sacks? Or do they get down on one knee and stare sullenly at the floor until they are allowed to speak? How does that happen? I also wonder how many of them there are? Well, the CCC has never given an exact number. One, two legions or so. But that's what they tell other people. And in reality? In practice, when has the CCC ever told the truth?

— Tell him there's no point in posting guards for us. We're going back. And tell them to fix that road, because we'll be back again tomorrow.

The novice conveyed all the instructions to the chiwi and then departed. Samoh called to him the captain who was in charge of the punitive drill, Rambanhra:

— We're gonna head back now. Make sure we're out of their sight. We need to go back about two kilometers. And stop the train. You got it?

Rambanhr tapped his boots and looking straight ahead, asked:

— Permission to proceed, Your Eminence?

— Do it.

"I 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 to take over a whole section of territory that they'd controlled with mixed success for nearly a month and a half, until their position had been exposed by the Hiwi, wiping out two companies at a time. And if the Maquis wanted to return, it wouldn't be to spoil someone else's property, but to get serious revenge for past losses.

And they wouldn't risk the group for such a waste.

No, that was not what the Kiwi was trying to portray. It was not for nothing that he had thought earlier that it would be bad for them if the inquisitors were here to try Ananhr. He had even prepared to do something about it himself. But he hadn't expected the chiwis to be so bold. And if they did, the stakes are even higher for them than they are for him. That means they're not going to give in to the Church of Ananhr. And if that's the case, they're perfectly capable of covering her on the surface right now. While he's covering all the approaches underground. It all looks pretty solid. But this Inquisitor Samoh, the one that the "church minister" warned about, is not a simple man, and he will not back down.

No, it was a good thing he'd thought of taking every precaution against infiltration into the mines of the Korsa sector back then. It was worth it, after all. And he picked the right people. People who would want to redeem themselves. So there was no doubt they could blow themselves up in an elevator. No hesitation. It's all about the guilt. That's what it's all about. Guilt makes their life impossible. They want to atone for it. And for more than it's worth. To cover everything. To wash it all away and not leave a trace… And the easiest way to wash it away is with blood. Especially their own. Which they were allowed to do… Still, there is no more important skill in leadership than the skill of selecting the right people for their roles.

Gora was now watching his men repair the tracks and knew full well that it would take them six hours. That was how long, because he had ordered it to be done in six hours. And they could have done it in three and a half hours without hurrying. But he said six.

And all around him stood guarded by his men. It was the first time he had ever stepped so openly away from the mine exit with an armed group of men under his command. It's an indescribable experience to know that you're not guarded by just anyone, but by those who are completely under your command. It's a whole other level of security. A level that you don't just own, but that you create for yourself… Even the air you breathe seems different. It's like you've created it for yourself…

And he, the prefect, was in charge of it now. Seeing orders carried out and making sure it was the right thing to do. All of that together is what it means to be in your place.

Was his son ever in his place? Was he in his place when he went after those canned goods? Or when he had his first and last gunfight in the plague cave? Was it his place, or did he find himself in the wrong role?

I'd like to think it was some awkward coincidence of fatal accidents. I really wanted to… But it wasn't. His son wanted to be like this. He didn't just want to pursue freedom for others. He wanted to give his life for that freedom. To give his life for others. And why?

There is a huge difference between him and those who are now on duty in the freight elevators with grenades, preparing to blow it up with them if necessary. And that difference is guilt. Raphael had no guilt. He was an exemplary miner and a great friend. He made you want to do something better. Something that would make the world and everyone better. And amazingly enough, that's exactly what happened in the end…

It turned out that not just one mine, but a whole group of mines began to live not just a normal life, but a decent one. And everyone around considered it a merit of Hora, but Hora himself knew very well that without Raphael's death none of this would have happened. Everyone would have died trying to fulfill the labor norm. And Raphael's death changed the very approach — Gora decided that it was necessary not to survive, but to win… To change something, one must win. First of all, you have to defeat yourself.

The men are in their places… Gora looked at the repairmen again, then at each of the guards in turn, at their weapons, at their loose gait along the perimeter. All in their places… And as sad as it was to admit, even Raphael was in his place. In his distant afterlife. Because if he had stayed alive, nothing would have changed. Sad as it is to say.

In the distance, the chiwi were showing off. They were covering the perimeter at a decent distance, and the fairly open area was now covered on all sides. Like ants. Workers and soldiers. They were scrambling about, not thinking about the value of their lives or what the next order would be.

I wonder if things work the same way for the chiwi. Some repair and build, and some fight? Or do almost all of them fight, and only a couple units of engineers build something, and that's just temporary, hastily? Somehow they organize their logistics and supplies, even if the plagues give them everything they need…Such archons are usually quite industrious guys when left alone. They must have their own stove and beds with comfortable mattresses. Though it is hard to imagine this when you see them with bundles of ammunition, grenades and grenade launchers.

A group of people, 20 people in all, began to approach from one side. Slowly and without any sudden movements. It was as if someone wanted to come over to say hello. And after a few minutes, Gora recognized one of them as Cobra. Yeah, looks like they really were just coming to say hello. You just don't walk around with news like that.

— What people… Mr. Prefect himself decided to make sure everything was running smoothly," Cobra said, smiling. Before, he'd seemed a bit of a show-off, pontificating left and right without meaning to. But now the message didn't seem pretentious at all. This message in reality, apparently, was supposed to relieve the tension, quite expected in his interlocutor. We are tough guys here, of course, but we are mortals too, and we can't dodge bullets either. And we also know how to appreciate other people's interests. At that moment, Gora thought about the fact that for all that, Cobra had never once crossed the boundaries of the prefect's interests, but sought to negotiate. And on terms that would be favorable to both of them, and that both of them would want to abide by.

In the couple weeks that the Kiwis had been using the miners' underground infrastructure, Cobra had never once called himself to request an emergency corridor for his units. And the volumes he'd specified had been followed exactly every time. And by the looks of it, that had already paid off for him. Otherwise he would have asked if it was critical to ship more or not on time. No. He was fine with it. And it was obvious that he wanted to keep it for the future.

— One's own eye always sees sharper. — replied the prefect.

— You bet. You bet…" Cobra glanced toward the road leading away from the mine. — Our great friend Metropolitan is out there somewhere… He said he'll show up tomorrow. But no one in the Korsa sector knows anything about his arrival. He's a slow learner.

Cobra was hinting at something very important — worth being on guard for. Samoh's ultimate target is here. And he'll be here today, tomorrow, or whenever. No matter how much he gets in the way. And we'll have to decide how far we can go.

— They tried to go down into the mines of the Korsa sector," Cobra continued. — And they didn't succeed… You know, you really excite me, Prefect. You've got strong hands. You can't let me go if you want to. Isn't that right?

— So…" Hora nodded, and then moved a little closer, so that no one standing nearby could hear, and said. — Would you let him in if you were in my place?

— You know, I'll be honest with you… I wouldn't have gotten that far. Not to the point of not letting you in. No. That's the obvious action. Very much so. But only when you have the means to do it. And you had the means to do it. I wouldn't have… I wouldn't have thought of it beforehand like you did… Guards, barriers, yes. But training people to blow themselves up at the right moment… I don't have the skill you have. And I haven't seen such a thing… We'd be glad to train everyone like that — blow themselves up as we order. But it doesn't work. Even in a last resort, when there's nothing left to lose, not everyone explodes to avoid being captured. Even though we use the two grenades thing. And this despite the fact that our guys know what awaits them in this captivity… But yours just explode on order… When I heard it, I didn't believe it was like that. The others don't believe it now. They think you put some kind of detonators to blow things up remotely… But I saw it in your eyes right away. How you can control people… And that you specially selected someone who wouldn't blink an eye before pulling the pin off a grenade when ordered… You're a real puppeteer… A goddamn puppeteer….

Mercenary

Cobra noticed that these words somehow encouraged his companion. It was as if someone had finally recognized him in her. Then he's got it right. That's what the Mountain wants most of all — to control and subjugate. People and territory. And he's obviously clever for hiding it all so secretly. On the surface, he's a simple functionary — better to do as he's told. But in reality, he's a real leader with big plans.

— Damn, because I'm sitting underground? — asked the Mountain in reply.

— Because that's the devil's behavior… I'm not a chiwi to say that, of course. We're devils ourselves… But you seem ready to outdo us… You know… I don't mind… You can be bigger and stronger. Just don't break our agreements. Okay?

— Our agreements are fine with me… Did your people complain to you about anything?

— No. — Cobra smiled. — They say there are such tunnels, they've never seen anything like it in their lives. They say you look like you've got a lot of resources. They say you can withstand a much larger volume without question… But you see, I didn't demand more from you….

Gora looked at him directly and expectantly.

— And I'm not going to demand it. — continued Cobra. — The paths are yours. And the mines are yours. I have no claim to them…..