Struggle: The Path to Power - Владимир Андерсон

speak our language. — Bolotnikov asked, sitting down at the only table in the middle of the room, right in front of the prisoner. — Or do you speak only in your own way?

Apparently, this kind of questioning was something new to the outsider.

— I'm telling you, Major. I'm telling you.

— Great. — Bolotnikov wagged his eyebrow and, pointing at himself with the fingers of both hands, continued. — Then we can get acquainted. I'm Major Bolotnikov.

— Penalty Major Bolotnikov.

He had expected something like this, but it was really surprising. The whole thing with the punitive officers had started only a week ago, and not even everyone from Squad 14 knew what was going on with the group. And it turned out that even the Hivi already knew about it. There was no point in being dark, especially since the prisoner wouldn't be free anyway.

— Yes. Penalty Major Bolotnikov. What you got is what you got.

— And what you don't have, you don't have.

— And what you don't have, you don't have. — Bolotnikov had already realized that his interlocutor was a high-flying bird, which meant that one could learn much more from him by respect than by force. It was only necessary to approach the matter in the right way.

— So what do you want to know from me, Penal Major Bolotnikov?

The major squirmed a little in his chair, then nodded affirmatively and stared confidently at his interlocutor: "Name. Rank. Why did the Kiwis keep you prisoner? And where were they taking you? For starters, this.

— Name… Yes… I had a name… — the prisoner stared down, and it was clear that it was a painful question for him, so he wanted to emphasize that he was talking to a penalty officer, that is, to someone who also did not have all the power. — The Jackal was my name. That name doesn't mean anything now. But I had no other…

— Go on. I'm listening to you very carefully.

— I'm a hevy myself. I used to be. Until I broke a rule… And they were taking me to punish me for breaking that rule… We're strict about that.

It was well known about the Kiwis that they were not to be surrendered. Not at all and never at all. That each of them always carries two last grenades. One for when they're about to take you prisoner, if there's nowhere else to run. And one for yourself when you've used up the first one. It was both a trick and a sword of Damocles for the Kiwis. They were both proud and afraid of it at the same time. Proud that each of them had always been ready and used it. And afraid that they didn't know when that moment would finally come, or if it would come at all.

— So what did you surrender yourself? And to whom?

— Chumam from SCK.

— To the Chumas? Heavey surrendered to the Chumas? How does that make sense? — The Hiwi were fighting hand in hand with the Chumas. It was hard to see where their spheres of interest diverged, but it was completely inconceivable that there was that level of disagreement between them to allow for a surrender.

— The world is not at all what you think it is. — Jackal grinned. — You Maquis are used to the Maquis fighting a plague empire and the Kiwis helping them, aren't you? Well, the world is much more multifaceted than that. And the plague empire, which looks so monolithic on the outside, is rotten in reality. There are agencies fighting each other worse than you and me. And, rest assured, far more ruthless. And if you had taken this into account when you strike again, you would have defeated us and the Chums long ago… But you still fight the old-fashioned way — see an enemy, shoot him. You see a friend, you shake his hand. And shake his hand where everyone can see it. You think it's strength, but in fact it's just stupidity.

Bolotnikov took out cigarettes from his outside pocket, then matches and smoked: — Will you have some?

The Jackal shook his head negatively: "I smoked mine a long time ago.

What this chiwi was saying was shocking to the core. They had an inkling that what they were doing was not what they were doing to win. That no matter how many chums and chiwis they killed, they were not getting fewer. There were only more corpses, both their own and those of others, and there was no end in sight. It was obvious that the approach was wrong, but there was nothing to change it for. And to understand what inside the plague empire could work against it, obviously, meant to find the Achilles' heel of this system.

— What agencies are you talking about? SCIU and the imperial army?

— Close enough. Of course, they have their differences. But that's just on a local level. They don't really have much to divide. The JFK operates on a small scale, the Imperial Army on a large scale. And they have different interests. The army is after the budget, and the CCC is after influence… And it's someone else who's after influence. Their goddamn Church, and especially the Inquisition. No one is more hungry for influence than the Inquisition. And they don't want to share it with the CCC. These two forces would have destroyed each other long ago, but their style of confrontation is so underhanded that when one of them seems to be outnumbered, it turns out that the other still has hidden powers. And it starts all over again. Now the SCK has the army, the administration, and even some branches of the Inquisition firmly under its thumb. But unlike the BCC, the Inquisition has its cogs absolutely everywhere, and unlike the BCC, these cogs are fanatically loyal to their patron. This supreme patriarch, who can always absolve any sins and bless for any deed… But BCC will not absolve sins, no matter