Struggle. Retribution in the Twilight - стр. 14
He covered the next ten kilometers quite slowly, telling himself to move as quietly as possible, in reality realizing that he just didn't want to see and accept the truth right now. When the industrial pipe showed, he got off his horse and tied it to the nearest tree. Now he moved even slower and even more quietly.
It has to be the Kiwis first, he knows that. They patrol the territory on their own, without the help of anyone else, like the Imperial Army plagues or the SCK, whom they obviously hate. And they're great at hiding, oddly enough, much better than the Maquis. They were so good at it, in fact, that it wasn't quite clear why they hadn't already identified all the rebels and killed them one by one.
Maybe they don't really need it? Really, what are they going to guard and do if there's no Maquis? A final defeat wouldn't suit them… Or is he idealizing them too much? And their abilities in general… At the same time, it's time to check it all out properly....
– Listen, quietly…" someone said in a whisper from behind. – Put your hands up.
Holy shit. How's this? Going to investigate, get a tongue, interrogate, learn something new. And this. Right at the entrance, they took him like a lousy sheep… How professional. Not shouting, but whispering and careful. They know that many people have this defense reflex to try to kill the enemy faster than he kills you. It's just automatic. While there is still a moment, and the invader himself does not want to shoot yet… And then whisper. Just to convey the humble message that we have to surrender. No shouting, no noise, no surprises.
Bolotnikov raised his hands slowly, still even hoping that it might be someone from the Maquis even and other units who decided to make a sortie for a new diversion:
– I'm my own– Relax.
– One of our own, of course, how could it be any other way.
The enemy began to step carefully around him, barely shuffling one foot after the other, and at last appeared in front of the major. He was rather gloomy-looking, small, low, somehow unevenly built and stooped, but with some very shrewd eyes:
– You look familiar, fine.....
– Of course you did. I used to guard the Jackal. Till they started moving him.
– A jackal?
– The jackal, yes. The one who was an SSchekist bitch....
– I know who you mean. Everybody knows who he is.
– All the chivvies know. That's what I'm saying. I'm telling you, it's mine.
Slouch was silent. He was already looking at Bolotnikov a little differently. He was thinking something of his own at that moment: