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

brigade commander; Private Pandi will be in charge. In short, watch Pandi
and do exactly what he does.
"If it were up to me, I wouldn't have assigned you to this post, It's
never given to candidates, but the captain ordered it. Keep a sharp lockout,
Mac. I can't figure out the captain. Either he's trying to push you up
quickly - he talked a lot about you at yesterday's operation review with
platoon leaders and cited you in an order - or he's checking you out. Why,
I don't know. Maybe it's my fault - the report I submitted. Or maybe it's
your fault - for blabbing so much." He inspected Maxim anxiously. "Clean
your boots, tighten your belt, and put on dress gloves. Oh, you don't have
any - candidates don't get them. OK, run over to the supply room. Make it
snappy. We leave in thirty minutes."
At the supply room Maxim met Pandi, who was changing a cracked beret
insignia.
"Take a look at this guy, corporal!" said Pandi to the quartermaster,
clapping Maxim on the shoulder. "Ever seen the likes of him? Nine days in
the Legion and a citation already. They put him on duty with me in the
interrogation room. Probably ran down here for white gloves. Corporal, give
him a real good pair. He's earned it. This guy is a hero!"
The corporal grunted, dug through the shelves piled with supplies,
tossed several pairs of white cotton gloves on the counter in front of
Maxim, and said contemptuously: "Here! You call yourselves heroes, with
those lunatics you catch? Sure, when their guts are splitting with pain, all
you have to do is pick 'em up and shove 'em in a sack. Even my grandfather
could be a hero there. With his hands tied behind his back."
"Your grandfather would have hotfooted it out of there like crazy if
someone jumped him with two pistols," said Pandi. "I almost thought the
captain was done for."
"Done for!" grumbled the quartermaster. "After six months on the
southern border, you'll really be done for. You'll have had it, boy. Then
we'll see who hotfoots it out like crazy."
When they were outside, Maxim asked in a most respectful tone: "Private
Pandi, sir, why do the degens have such pains? And they all seem to get them
at the same time. How come?"
"It's fear that does it. They're degens. Understand? Mac, you've got to
read more. There's a pamphlet - The Degens: Their Habits and OriginsThe
Degens: Their Habits and Origins. Be sure and read it or you'll never get
anywhere. Courage alone won't get you very far." He paused. "Look, we normal
people get excited, angry, or scared, and nothing happens. Maybe we sweat or
tremble. But their bodies are abnormal. Degenerate. If they get angry at
someone or get the jitters or anything like that, they suddenly get terrific
headaches and pains all over. Maddening pains. Get it? That's how we can
identify them. And, of course, we arrest them. Say, those gloves are OK.
Just my size, too. What do you think?"
"Too tight for me, sir," complained Maxim. "Let's trade."
The exchange pleased both of them. Suddenly Maxim remembered how Fank
had writhed in pain in the car. And patrolling legionnaires had arrested
him. "What could have frightened him? Or angered him? He didn't seem
agitated, drove the car calmly, even whistled. But he turned around and saw
a patrol car. Or was that afterward? True, he was in a terrific hurry and a