"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автораbehave, and behave exactly as they do."
"I've been trying to," said Maxim sadly. He paused and added: "It's difficult to get used to the idea. We don't do things that way." "By the way, how's your wound?" Guy tried to change the subject. "It's healing quickly," replied Maxim absentmindedly. "Listen, Guy, let's go straight home after this operation. I miss Rada a lot. Don't you? We'll drop the others off at the barracks and then head for home in the truck." Guy inhaled deeply. At that instant the loudspeaker's silver box, hanging almost above their heads, roared out the duty officer's command: "Sixth Company, fall out on the drill field! Attention, Sixth Company." "Candidate Sim! No more talk!" Guy barked. "Get into formation!" Maxim started to rush off, but Guy caught him with the barrel of his gun. "Please, Mac, remember," he said. "Like the I others! No different! The captain himself is going to observe you today." Within three minutes the company was in formation. It had grown dark, and searchlights played over the drill field. Truck engines rumbled softly at the formation's rear. The brigadier, accompanied by Captain Chachu, reviewed the company in silence, inspecting every legionnaire, a procedure followed before the start of every operation. He was calm; his eyes were narrowed, and his lips were turned up at the corners in a rather kindly way. Then, without a word, he nodded to the captain and left. Waddling and waving his crippled hand, the captain planted himself before the formation and turned his swarthy face toward the legionnaires. Guy's spine. "You have a job to do. Do it well. Company, attention! To your trucks! Corporal Gaal, front and center!" When Guy reached the captain and snapped to attention, the captain said softly: "Your platoon has a special assignment. When you arrive at your destination, remain in your vehicle. I myself will take command of your platoon." 6. The shock absorbers were in terrible shape, and the ride on the miserable cobblestone roads was particularly jolting. His submachine gun pressed between his legs. Candidate Sim held Guy by his belt solicitously, reasoning that it would be unbecoming for the corporal, so concerned about his image, to go flying head over heels. Either Guy did not object or he failed to notice his subordinate's precaution. After his conversation with the captain, Guy appeared to be very disturbed about something, so Maxim was happy that the orders required him to remain at Guy's side and render assistance if necessary. The trucks passed the Central Theater, rolled along the stinking Imperial Canal, then turned down Boot Street, a long thoroughfare deserted at this hour, and began to zigzag through the winding streets of some suburb that Maxim had never seen before. Recently he had visited many sections and had come to know the city well. He had learned a great deal in those forty or so days and finally understood the difficult position he was in. It proved to be far less comforting and far more incredible than he had |
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