Struggle: The Path to Power - Владимир Андерсон

did not regard the plagues as living beings at all, and simple mechanical functions like speech or movement were treated by him as something they had stolen from earthly life. His feelings were similar to the loss of an important object, as if he had lost a shovel with which he had to dig a whole hole, a thing that was needed but could be replaced.

And when Vanya lied to him straight in his eyes that he would help him if he carried out his errands, that he was in no danger, he did so, guided not by the fact that "people are suffering now, and I must help them." He became like that; like intelligence and with the same exact spirit: cynical and ruthless — "numbers go around here, and everyone has a use." That he was helping people, that so much of this war depended on him, sat somewhere quite deep in him already. He wished for freedom for all, but that had fallen by the wayside. Now Tikhomirov was doing it because he was drawn to "build a system", "his system".

And now he needed a new agent. The first time he'd been lucky: a fool who'd bought into the Inquisition's fears. There wouldn't be a second time — he'd be caught and executed.

***

13:40 Break at the plagues.

Vanya entered room #113 of Circular 18B, the maintenance staff room. There he made an appointment with Dmitri.

He obviously hadn't gotten his drugs in a long time, and he looked as stunted as an old man with cancer. His eyes don't see and his blood doesn't flow.

Apparently, he hasn't managed to turn anyone in lately… And who can be turned in when the prefect is sitting in the mine and telling everyone to keep quiet and work?

— So, don't you get enough of your heroin? — Vanya asked, looking at him as before. This is a wolf that has been kicked out of the pack, looking for a new leader who will kick it in a new way, sometimes maybe giving it a chance to nibble on a bone it doesn't need.

— What do you want? — He struggled to speak. He was twitching from side to side, his pupils dilating and constricting… And to get to this state, he's taking this stuff?

— No, you need that… Do you want to get your own powder?

— Yes! Yes. Give it!

— Show me your tongue.

Turned blue and all flaccid — not the tongue, but rather a reminder of it.

What if we look at his corrupt brain?

There is no venality to be found there, only a passion for pleasure, only a desire to lose what one did not possess. That's what any drug gives you.

— You do some things, you get some…

— No. Give it to me! Dimitri tried to grab it, but it's not the same. There's no strength, no speed, no ability to do anything — it's "no drug".

Vanya didn't hit him hard, but accurately chopped him in the jaw: on the head and off to the side.

How disgusting to look at… What had become of him. Who could this man be? Here he is lying on the floor, unable to hold himself up one bit, unable to get up or sit down or even say anything, but only begging for what made "it" out of him. What a low circle, and how long have they been walking on it?

— What a stupid world they have. — Vanya thought and said out loud. — Do you know anyone here who is dissatisfied with the SS?

— Disgruntled?

— Among the plagues.

The thought process was hampered by the mind's blockage.

— There is… Yes… Prinhr.

No way. He's on the S.S.C. watch list, he's under the radar.

— More.

— Donhr.

— Who's that?

— One of the captains.

— Imperial?

— Yeah. (chuckles)

— Why didn't you turn him in?

— I need to know the reason for his displeasure before I turn him in.

— Just like that?

— Yeah. He's a tent. I don't.

— What makes you think he's not happy?

— I heard. Accidentally. In conversation.

— What was the conversation about?

— I don't remember…

— Where is he now?

— Gone, I think.

— Where to?

— I don't know.

— When he comes back, report back. Who usually gives you heroin?

— It used to be Changhr. Now it's different. I don't know his name.

— You don't know the owner's name… Okay… How often do they change?

— It's the first time.

— Why was he replaced?

— He's dead.

— By whom?

— They said Bulgarians.

After discussing a few more candidates, it appears that none but the second one is a good fit. Donghur. And we'll have to wait for him. Or we'll have to listen to him.

— Do I get heroin?

— You will. Not now, but when you do something.

— What?

— Not now.

right now. I'll tell you when the time is right.

This was the "unknown" that Dimitri was striving for, and that would torment him even more. Maybe he would have liked to pounce on Vanya now, to tear him apart, just because he didn't have heroin. But he didn't have the strength. Nothing. Not even the strength to scream about it.

— How long have you been working for them?

— Two years. I need heroin. I said I knew… Please.

Vanya punched him once more in the jaw and thought: "He's already experienced. He's almost played

his own game. I got hold of him just in time…"

Zhivenko

Leaving Poltava Zubkov's group moved to Kharkov, to this not only ancient but quite famous city.

If we take a closer look at the five largest Ukrainian cities, we will find that Kiev is the soul and mother of the whole land; Dnepropetrovsk is the strength and spirit of the Dnieper, after it the Dnieper, having absorbed Orel, Kilchen and Samara, becomes the way it meets the Black Sea, long ago called the Pontus Euxinus; Odessa — the center of trade and all-European relations of