"Have you decided to change your positions. Or is this Volinsky humor," Dubrovsky asked.
"No. The positions are the same. — Gabriel continued to speak. — But Manhr is dangerous to us now. Because he is alone, without an empire. But only for now. Until he pays his debts. And only now can he be killed."
Surprisingly enough, it was the most ardent supporter of "killing enemies indiscriminately" who opposed him: "He's a plague. He is one of them. When we kill one of them, they will kill a dozen of us. You said so yourself.
"I did. And I don't deny it… But he's not one of them now. He's one of them now. And when we kill him, they'll take his possessions and rest on that. He's a thief. Who'd want to avenge a thief like that? And to make sure we don't have any questions, we'll get the Maquis involved."
"It would have been all right. — Peter continued to ask. — But how will you convince them too? If they wanted it, they would have done it a long time ago.
"That's already my problem… Right now I need three men on the surface, and Manhr will be dead by the 27th."
Who is about freedom and who is about his wife
When Maria returned to the first sector, in addition to the eight elderly people, she noticed her fiancé with a bandaged arm. Raphael was reading something brownish in color.
Maria slowly walked up behind him and sat down on her knees and covered his eyes with her palms.
Raphael did not calculate the probability of someone returning to the "lounge" (or simply "bedroom" as everyone called it), inhaling and recognizing the smell and tenderness of hands, but simply said "Maria". Loved ones are felt with the heart, not the senses.
They embraced, and for a moment they forgot that there was anything else around. But only for a moment, they couldn't go on: everything around them was too disgusting and disgusting.
"How's your arm?" — Maria asked, stroking the row of bandages wound from elbow to fingers.
"Fine," Raphael replied and stroked her braid that hung from her head and down to the middle of her back. "I know your 'fine'… Does it hurt?"
"No, my love, it doesn't hurt…? Did my father send you here?" "Yes."
"Did you tell him?"
"He already knew when he came to me. I just confirmed it. You didn't have to?" "I must, I must, Mash… Did you tell me about the baby?"
"he realized it himself… I threw up right in front of him…" "Oh, and you're also asking me about my health." "Beloved. It's common in pregnancy…"
"Yeah I know, but whatever."
"That's all the same, Gavriil Vladimirovich sent me here."
"Did you get there without adventure? Didn't anyone from the tower ask about it?" "No. They were sleeping there."
Raphael laughed a little, then said, "That's who we lost to."
"You know, I've been thinking… I think you're overthinking this…" "Mash, that's what everyone's thinking."
"Yes, but you're special… Here, what were you reading just now?"
"Raphael didn't though as he held out a book to her. "Twentieth Century Terrorism. "So what is it?"
"It says so right here."
"Yes I can see that… Beloved." "What?"
"I'm afraid for you."
"And I'm afraid for you and I don't want you to live here."
"And what do you suggest…? It's not our fault it's like this. We just have to get over it."
"No. Stop worrying about it. This is the fourth generation we've been doing just that. It's time to change things." "Beloved, please don't do this. You know how rebellions end. Please, love, don't leave me… We're going to have a
baby soon. Think of him. Please… Don't go and die," Maria was saying it from that part of her heart that can only be spoken to someone you care for more than anyone else in the world; for five days now she had seen him somehow different, she didn't know how, but definitely different, and there was nothing more frightening than that shape.
Residento dissidento
It is not a problem to imagine what a person living at home who "disagrees" with something is like — as a rule, outwardly he does not differ from the "agreeing" person; maybe he even thinks the same way, only in the "other" direction.
But if this "dissenter" took up arms, not because he is so used to it, but because he was brought to it, his appearance changes to "indefinable recognizability". And that means the following:
The first is escaped slaves (and from completely different places: sawmill, mine, rig — anything) becoming themselves within the framework of free runaway;
The second is people from different places, mostly arriving on their own, entering the established subculture there, while acquiring qualities they might not have thought of before;
Third, having escaped from slavery, people who fall under the influence of a new charismatic leader unknown to themselves, striving for the one and only true, first of all for himself, goal — the freedom of all mankind without exception.
In general, all separately taken groups of maquis are united on energies of certain persons — leaders. There were not a few cases when after the death of the leader the group collapsed, and already separate particles merged into those where there was a "similar" leader: in fact, in general, the people, if they are the people and not a mass unbridled on politics, do not care how tall the leader is, and what his views on the structure of the World, as long as he led to the goal that is vital for them — to free the Earth from the plagues.
This was the case with the "Wolf" group, which not so long ago joined the "Bohdan Khmelnitsky" group. Now the total pressure territory of this association extended to the entire former Eastern Ukraine plus the Kursk, Belgorod, Voronezh and Rostov regions.
There was a lot of talk about their leader Viktor Khmelnitsky. First, whether he was a descendant of the national hero of Ukraine, in whose honor the group was named. Secondly, where he was from, i.e. from what mining zone and what kind of occupation. Thirdly, what contacts he had and whether they existed at all.
Victor did not engage in dialogues on any occasion, and the third point caused him bewilderment. "What kind of a fool would I be," he answered sharply but calmly. — if I told you about my connections. Or do you consider the Chums to be outright inept, incapable of planting an agent in our group? No… Even if they were, it would still be foolish to talk about it.
He addressed the rebels frequently, each time giving them strength by his steady and firm voice alone, which perfectly matched his stout figure and imperturbable face.
Here's a brief example of his speech (July 2, 2168, after the attack on the railroad train carrying the 22nd Imperial Chum Storm):
"Three hours ago, I gave the order to attack a train of chums traveling from Volgograd to Donetsk. An hour later, I watched thirty-five of our brothers fight for freedom. Now they're dead. Dead every last one of them. But free… God gave for this opportunity. One way or another, by staying alive or dying, but fighting, we will still be free.
Our brothers died as heroes fighting for freedom… our kin dying now in the mines and mines. I have never hidden the truth from you. Nor will I do so now… Only two plagues were killed in the attack. Just two… Yes, some will say, "Our brothers died for nothing. They only killed two." But they didn't. Because this is war. And you can't win a war without casualties. And without great losses there will be no great victories — in the last attack, having lost three, we destroyed forty. And that's not the only example.
To minimize the cost of today's losses is to be blind. One of the chums killed was Rumhir. Does everyone know him? My first task for this group was to destroy him. And they did it. Vladimir Krasnov, having climbed into the train, blew it up with him. Our brother died, but he accomplished the task. Who will now say that the feat of thirty-five sons of the Earth means nothing? I, like all of you, am sorry for those who died. But this operation was necessary as air… Our time will come soon. The dead children of Earth have brought it closer than ever, and we will not forget their lives and their deaths.