"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автора

fascination in it. It gave one a sense of superiority to the rest of
society. "The Fighting Legion is the iron fist of history. It has been
called upon to sweep aside all obstacles on our proud path. The sword of the
Fighting Legion has been tempered in fire; it burns in our hands, and only
streams of the enemy's blood can cool it. The enemy is cunning. He is
cowardly, but stubborn. The All-Powerful Creators have commanded us to smash
this treacherous resistance, to tear out by the roots those forces that drag
us down into chaos and depraved anarchy. That is our duty and we are happy
to fulfill it. We make many sacrifices. We disturb the tranquillity of our
mothers, brothers, and children We deprive the honest worker, the honest
civil servant, the honest tradesman and industrialist of much deserved rest.
They know why we must invade their homes, and they welcome us as their best
friends, as their protectors. Remember this, and do not let anything divert
you from your mission. A friend is a friend, but an enemy is an enemy. Are
there any questions?"
"No!" bellowed the platoon.
"Attention! Thirty minutes to rest and check your equipment.
Dismissed!"
The platoon scattered and headed for the barracks in twos and threes.
Guy followed slowly, and Maxim, smiling, waited for him a short distance
away. "Guy, how about a fast round of the word?"
Guy groaned to himself. He'd have to shut this kid up! Gag him! God,
imagine a candidate bugging his corporal with such idiotic nonsense a
half-hour before an operation.
"This isn't the time for games," he said as coldly as possible.
"Are you upset about something?" asked Maxim sympathetically.
Guy shook his head in exasperation. What the hell could he do with him?
It was utterly impossible to silence such a good-natured giant, who was on
top of everything else his sister's savior and a man far superior to himself
in everything but military drill. Guy glanced around and then pleaded:
"Listen, Mac, you're putting me in a damned awkward position When we're in
the barracks, I'm your boss, I give the orders, and you obey. I've been
pounding that into your dumb head."
"But I am ready to obey you. Go ahead, give an order! I know what
discipline is."
"I already have. Check your equipment."
"Excuse me Guy. But that isn't the order you gave us. You ordered us to
check equipment and rest. Have you forgotten? Well I've checked my equipment
and now I'm resting. So, how about the word game? I've thought up a good
one."
"Mac, get this! A subordinate has the right to address his superior
officer only according to regulations. And only in regard to military
matters."
"Yes, I remember. Paragraph Nine. But that's only when we're on duty.
At the moment, we're resting."
"How do you know I'm resting?" asked Guy. They stood behind an
enclosure, where, thank God, they could not be seen. No one could see this
tower leaning against the fence and tugging his corporal by the buttons.
"Look, Mac, I rest only at home, but even there I would never permit a
subordinate to... now let goof my buttons and button up your own."