Struggle: The Path to Power - Андерсон Владимир 2 стр.


This rebel was quite encouraging to the man who had become miffed with himself, and he decided to walk through the camp.

When he went outside, Misha found the place full of people. Why did everyone come out like it was a holiday?

After walking past a few cabins and saying hello to a dozen wonderful and not so wonderful people, he came across someone he never would have wanted to see and wouldn't have approached, but that person wanted something, so she approached herself.

Captain Raniere. He's a real loudmouth. Every time something came up in conversation, he'd start an empty argument. Just about nothing. I don't know why, but on some genetic level he was trying to prove that his point of view was right and everything else was worthless. Not only that, but if there was no business to be done anywhere and no one called him, he would come in with completely useless questions and almost demand answers, especially from the lower ranks.

Having experienced this more than once, Misha prepared to open his mouth and send him away.

"Have you seen Kostya?"  Ranierov asked.

A rather odd question, and the answer was a negative nod of the head with a continued forward motion.

 You've heard of Wolfsbane, right?

Maybe we should give him a chance. At least this time he'll say something nice.

"I heard," Misha replied haltingly.

 They're all right, aren't they?

 Uh-huh. Probably just a little bit more and that's it

 That's it?

 And we will win.  The voice came a little timidly, but from the heart.

At this Ranierov grinned: "Shall we win?! Ha! You're all fantasists here! You like to think about your feats. That's maximalism"

There was neither strength nor sense in speaking further Misha switched off his hearing and moved on. He kept shouting something, but it didn't matter: he'd had enough. Somewhere in the middle there was a pinch and an ache. It was the pain of resentment; it lodged somewhere in my stomach and pressed deep down. It's unclear where that depth is, and where it's allowed to press, but it's getting stronger and stronger, and it's not going to go away.

"Why did I talk to that man again. It's the same thing every time. And each time it gets harder. We say, 'We're dreamers.' We dream? "Maximalism." This stupid psychoanalytics; they invented words to explain unknown things and unknown why, and now they use it We're trying our best, and they wipe their feet on us. If only they had found a place where it was still clean, they would have dirty the whole place Doesn't someone like him have no one who died in the war, doesn't he want to continue and finish what whole generations laid down their heads for? Does he like to confuse others instead of doing what life obliges him to do? That's what we're all doing here learning. To love, to fight, to overcome well, we have to fight, so what if we can't cope? We have to cope. We must win!"  this was going through his brain in waves, and despite all his convictions, the pain did not subside.

Grisha, one of his subordinates, sat on a bench near his porch and ate bread. It was stale and withered, but still real bread.

Seeing the commander, he jumped up and saluted in a military manner over his cap:

"Greetings, Comrade Captain."

"Sit down already, what's up," Misha didn't like all these honors, even though he understood perfectly well how important all these formalities were. But he especially hated formation training. When it came to the elementary techniques of formation step, he had no questions about the expediency of practicing them, but he had once read that the ancients gave it a certain delicate importance: they created special units that dealt only with this, organized special performances. What kind of nonsense is that? It's an army. Let them learn to shoot and hide. And to lie still with their eyes wide open. It will save their lives They won't defeat the enemy with their antics with prehistoric rifles.

"Grish, tell me, what are we doing here?"  Misha asked, sitting down next to him on the steps.

Thoth apparently thought he was being tested for ideological suitability and replied along the lines of, "We are fighting for freedom, our cultural heritage, and we"

 Give up the propaganda. We are Unit 14, not the KPM (Makah Propaganda Committee; its task was to agitate the people working for the chumas, including calling for rebellion). You tell me what you think."

"Я? Sorry, I don't know, Comrade Captain.  During this answer Misha made such a face that one could think he was talking to a person who was completely distant from everything that was going on.  Honestly, I ran away from the factory, because I was afraid that next time I could not stand it, when the plagues begin to throw up the volume of smelting, and scream. We rarely met the norm, after all. I wouldn't have been able to withstand a couple more blows".

It was dangerous for someone like him to continue his revelations almost all his gestures showed that he was ashamed of something he wanted to tell, but couldn't. Misha interrupted because it wasn't the first time he'd seen it. He knew that this was what his subordinate wanted to reveal, and that it would be better if he did it without coercion.

The rebel wandered back through the camp, replaying what Ranierov had told him in his head as if it would never come out and be forgotten.

Natalya Koshkina, a senior lieutenant from the sanitation department, ran into him. She was only twenty-five years old, but she was a good judge of character. One glance was enough for her to realize that help was needed: "Mish, why are you so glum?"

When she said such phrases, adding her marvelous facial expression, the mood lifted by itself. Not everyone in the group liked her, but she held no grudges and always tried to be supportive when she needed it. It seemed alien to her not to help because of an unfulfilled relationship. "Even if there were no war now," she said to those who didn't quite understand her.

 we wouldn't survive without each other. We're here to help others."

Though Misha didn't like her position entirely "Really, how can you help, for example, Ranierov?". He respected her and could never even afford to argue with her.

 It's nothing, it's nothing.

 You didn't have lunch, did you?

 No, I didn't have lunch.

 Then I, uh.

 No, no, Natasha, don't. You don't have anything to eat.

 Do I have to talk you into it?  she asked sincerely and a little resentfully.

 Natash, I really don't want to Misha hasn't eaten anything in almost 24 hours, but "taking" food from anyone, much less her, would be a crime.

 Stop it. I know you haven't eaten anything.

 Oh, come on. It's no big deal.

 You haven't eaten, and I'm missing a whole pot of soup. Let's go!

 Uh, I, uh.

After that she was tired of arguing and persuading this altruist, and she took him by the hand and dragged him to her house.

The Maquis changed their location at least once a week, and it was rare for anyone to set up a place to live while in any neighborhood. This was in no way true of Koshkina.

Entering her house Misha didn't understand what was going on: everything was so wellgroomed and cozy. And the most interesting thing was that it was impossible to say why. Maybe because of the towel with the image of a tiger hanging on the wall, maybe because of the tablecloth with roses and big, the size of a fist, ladybugs on the table, and maybe just a rag for shoes at the entrance. A lot of these wonderful little things can't be called luxury in any way it's more like the humanity of the soul, that's all.

Natasha walked to the clay tile in the far corner of the room. Her movements were strikingly appealing to the eye. Her footsteps were soft and yet very confident. It was as if everything around her was coming to life.

Her military uniform didn't spoil her in the least: black full ankle boots, dark tights, visible only at the knees, and then a green skirt and the same tunic. Black hair in a thin braid in the back.

Seeing all the beauty around him, Misha stood only and cleaned his shoes to no end, not taking a step away from the door.

Turning around the hostess smiled, "So what's stuck in there?"

 I'm just

 Just get out of here.

And for good reason: in addition to everything else, the soup turned out to be exorbitantly delicious. Soup with cabbage and potatoes and everything. Just like the real thing. Just like they used to make it.

Natasha sat next to him, waiting for something. Maybe a compliment. Maybe something more. It was as if she didn't show it, but it was obvious she needed it. The warmth of the person next to her. That was what she wanted most of all right now.

And it was necessary first of all to add warmth to her heart. And then he noticed that he was not eating from an ordinary plate, not from an aluminum plate like everyone else's, but from a wooden plate painted with red paintings, as if the Old Slavonic traditions had been resurrected from nowhere.

 Natash, I didn't notice something right away These are such beautiful plates.

Her mouth turned up in a smile, but it was obvious that it wasn't what she was expecting,

"Really? You like it? It's khokhloma."

"It's very pretty. Do you carry that with you?"  Misha realized at the same moment that he had asked a disastrously stupid and inappropriate question: during the Maquis crossings, they were allowed to take only the necessary things, but this was just an instruction you can, take as much as you want, just don't dare to fall behind; it turned into a reproach.

"No, I found it here," Natasha responded so friendly to the question that the tension eased itself. Now he wouldn't have to feel like a stale censor.

Misha decided to smooth over his intemperance entirely, "It's a shame you don't wear them. They're wonderful plates." As soon as he said it out loud, he realized that he had said something nonsense. And he was so incomprehensible to himself that he blushed.

She seemed to like it. She turned her eyes playfully away, turned her head slightly to the side, and opened her mouth slightly: "Did you notice anything else?" She wanted to add, "The way I look at you," but a woman always expects that she doesn't have to say it herself, that a man should notice it himself.

It didn't get to Misha, "I guess not"

 Mish, what will you do when the war is over?

The presence of the war had no effect on the relationship between the strong and beautiful halves of humanity: they loved, married, raised children Natasha was a very beautiful girl, and many people tried to court her, but serious relationships did not work out, because she wanted first of all understanding from a man, and even somehow believed in fate. She looked at everyone and realized that she hadn't found the right one yet. Time did not stand still, at her age many people had already given birth and raised not even their first child, but she was still a girl.

And the whole point was that she didn't know what she wanted at all. On the one hand, she didn't want to be with just anyone, but on the other hand, she didn't know for herself what "not just anyone" meant to her. What should she compare it to? She'd never been with anyone, seriously. She'd slept with a few guys, but she hadn't really gotten any joy out of it, and then what? That was the "next thing" she didn't understand at all. All guys had the same thing in their heads, but there must be one who would understand her. Though at the same time again it should be understood that "all men are bastards" But this is also stupidity: not all of them are bastards I mean, well, there should be the one who who who who what? Here this very stupid circle was closed again: what should her ideal guy be like? In order to understand what he should be like, she would have to be closer to him. And how to be closer if she wasn't sure? She'd been puzzling over all of this for so many years now, as soon as she got her period. And during her period itself, she didn't realize what was happening to her at all. During this period her desires and at the same time her misunderstandings were growing at the same time. She wanted something and wanted it very much, but it was unclear what it was. It was such a strong feeling that sometimes it seemed to her that she did not need anyone at all. But just at the moment when she started to think in this way, her desire would change dramatically again, and she would want to find her only one again. And all this constant throwing to extremes led her to believe that it would never end at all. And if she could put an end to it, that would be half the problem, because when she saw Misha, her head started to think in a completely different way. She liked him, but she didn't know what to do about it. It seemed like she wanted to be with him, but maybe it would only last a couple months and then it would be over. And she was scared of breakups. She was terrified of it. That's why she didn't want to start anything. So she was always walking around, trying to wait for something from him, not realizing what it should be. And at the same time, when she began to think about him, she periodically wanted to see something "bastard" in him, or wanted to accept something unique and favorite.

The whole thing had run through her head hundreds, if not thousands, of times. In the end, she wanted to see him again, to wait for something from him that she didn't know. But she knew for sure that in doing so, he must be crazy about her. She didn't understand what kind of attitude she had towards the person she loved, when he had to be literally "captured", but she just couldn't do it without it. And she understood perfectly well that it was a kind of mockery of him, when she wanted to be with him, and he wanted to be with her, and they both knew it, but she acted as if she didn't quite understand him, as if she didn't understand what was really between them, and he was making a pitchfork that it was the right thing to do. It's almost an Amazonian approach: "I love you, but I'll torture you", and yet again it's unclear why. On the one hand, she wanted to "test" him: if he would tolerate it, then he loved her; on the other hand, she wanted to know how much he should tolerate it, so that it was really considered to be a test, because it always seemed that "it wasn't enough" and "we should see more". But even this was not enough for her thinking, because when she began to think again about what she wanted "as if at all", she again realized even more what she wanted, and then she began to think about Misha again, and that she really loved him. In general, she tried not to use the word "love" in her thoughts, as it seemed to her that it would be a wrong expression of her state, but nevertheless it sometimes slipped in, and exactly when she was thinking about him. And on the one hand she liked it very much that it slipped through, it even made her feel better, but on the other hand on the other hand she started to be drawn back to that stupid "other" side but the further the word "love" sounded more and more often, and she began to realize that one fine moment she would say to herself the answer to the question "With him?" the word "Yes".

The situation with Misha was similar. Lately, he knew what he wanted. He had enough girls, and each of them didn't understand him, didn't want to understand him, and couldn't do it.

It drove him crazy, and that's why all the breakups.

So at the moment his greatest desire was to act more carefully, if only to avoid bringing the matter to a scandal.

Назад Дальше