"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автораto execute his orders. Ibis was his life, these twelve strong men - six
full privates of the Fighting Legion on the right flank and six candidates aspiring to be regular privates on the left flank; all wearing smart black jump suits with shiny buttons, glistening combat boots, and berets tipped jauntily over their right eyebrows. And in the center of the formation, on the candidates' right flank, lowered Maxim, his favorite, even though it was wrong for a platoon leader to single out one over the others. "Hey, what's this? Those strange brown eyes of his aren't rigid like the others. Well, all right, he'll learn that in time... And what's this?" Guy went up to Maxim and jabbed at his open top button. Then, standing on tiptoe, he adjusted his beret. "Damn, there goes that stupid grin again. Well, give him time, he'll outgrow it. After all, he is the youngest recruit in the platoon." To avoid any semblance of favoritism, Guy straightened the buckle on Maxim's neighbor, although it was unnecessary. Then he stepped back three paces and ordered the platoon to stand at ease. "Men," said Guy, "today we're going to take part in a regular operation as part of the company. We're going to neutralize the agents of a potential enemy. The operation will be conducted according to Plan Thirty-three. I know that you regular privates remember your part, but I think it would help to refresh the memories of those candidates who neglect to fasten all their buttons. Each platoon is assigned one entrance to the building. The platoon divides into four teams: three teams of three for the inside job, and a backup team outside. The inside teams of two privates and one candidate will go through all the apartments systematically, and remember, without making a the candidate will guard the front door; a private will occupy the rear entrance and not permit anything to divert him: and the team leader will inspect the apartment. The outside backup team of three candidates commanded by the platoon leader - in this case, me - will remain below at the building's entrance, prepared to render immediate assistance to any inside team requiring it. You know the makeup of the inside teams and the backup teams. Attention!" He withdrew one step. "Fall into teams!" After a brief shuffling, the platoon regrouped into teams. Each man stood in his proper place. No one had fumbled with his submachine gun, slipped, or lost his beret, as usually happened during exercises. Maxim, with a broad grin on his face again, lowered above the backup team's right flank. An absurd thought suddenly occurred to Guy - that Maxim viewed the entire operation as an amusing game. Damn it, it couldn't be true! It was just that damn idiotic smile. "Not bad," grumbled Guy, giving Pandi an approving look. The old man had done a fine job - really drilled the men. "Attention! Platoon, fall in!" A brief shuffling again, neat and precise - beautiful - and the platoon stood before him in a straight row. Good! Simply remarkable! A shiver ran through him. Hands clasped behind his back, he strode up and down in front of the platoon. "Legionnaires!" he said. "We are the strength and hope of the All-Powerful Creators. In fulfilling their great mission they have only us to rely on." This was the truth, the real truth; and there was a certain |
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