"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автораof Ratso's gang, single handed. He's open in his dealings with others,
good-natured, and absolutely unselfish. And extraordinarily gifted. Points against: We've absolutely no idea who he is and where he came from; either he remembers nothing of his past or he refuses to tell us. And he doesn't have any documents. But why should that bother us? After all, the government now controls only the borders and the central region. Two-thirds of our country is still torn by anarchy and plagued by starvation and epidemics. People are fleeing those areas and none of them have documents - the younger ones don't even know what documents are. And how many of them have lost their memory! And how many degens! But we know one thing for sure, the most important - Maxim is not a degen." "Well, corporal?" asked the captain. "Yes, sir!" said Guy rather recklessly. "May I?" He picked up the note containing his suggestion that Maxim be checked and tore it up slowly. "Cor-rect decision! Well done, legionnaire! Notes, reports, checks - rubbish! Combat will be the proving ground! When we get into our tanks and head for the atomic trap zone, we'll find out damn quick who is with us and who isn't." "Yes, sir," said Guy without particular conviction. He understood the old soldier, but he felt that the hero of the coastal actions was mistaken. Combat, of course, was important, but one's integrity was something else. Anyway, the question had nothing to do with Maxim's case. Maxim was honest to the core. "Massaraksh!" barked the captain. "The Health Department certified him legionnaire has complete trust in his friend. If he doesn't, he's certainly no friend and he ought to kick him out. I'm surprised at you, corporal. OK, back to your platoon. There's very little time left. I'll watch the candidate myself during the operation." Guy clicked his heels and left. Safely outside, he smiled. The old soldier had taken the responsibility on himself after all. Now, with a clear conscience, he could consider Maxim his friend. Mac Sim. His real surname was a mouthful. Either he had imagined it in a delirious state or he actually was related to those mountain people. H'm, what was the name of their ancient king. Zaremichakbeshmucaray. Guy walked over to the parade ground and scanned it for his platoon. Tireless Pandi was driving the men through the top-floor window of a dummy three-story building. They were soaked from the effort, and with only an hour left before the operation, that wasn't so good. "As you were!" shouted Guy from afar. "As you were!" yelled Pandi. "Fall in!" The platoon fell into formation quickly. "Attention!" Pandi shouted. He marched up to Guy smartly and reported: "Corporal, the platoon is learning to take a town by assault." "Stand at attention," ordered Guy, trying to express disapproval by his tone of voice, as Corporal Serembesh was so skilled at doing. He strode back and forth in front of the formation, hands clasped behind his back, looking into the familiar faces of his men. Bulging eyes - gray, brown, blue - followed his every movement, ready |
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