Struggle. Taste of power

Inquisitor

The Samoha railroad train was traveling quite slowly. At an average speed, it was possible to get from the Corsa sector to the Deese sector in an hour and a half. They had been traveling for three. There was no hurry. The rumors had to get out in time, they had to intimidate, and in a way that would make all the nearby S.S. officers realize that they'd be better off just folding up peacefully and not interfering with his work. In the end he showed that he only needed one chum.

He will also need only one in the Diza sector. Give it to him and he would be gone. No surprises…

He'd been thinking about this formation and despite previous success, he didn't quite like it. This one had been Nevroch's recommendation. But he could be wrong too, especially since that latent influence that was in the Korsa sector in the Deese sector no longer existed. There aren't any high-ranking bosses there who once dreamed of being priests… But on the other hand, the

SSchekists are common plagues. They also want to live a quiet life, so that no one can prevent them from resting on their deserved laurels in their old age… Yes, and they are afraid, among other things, that they will be torn apart if they just give Ananhr to the Inquisitors… Did Nevrokh not think about this?

The train slowed down. Then another. And another. And then it stopped. Half a minute later there was a knock at the door. He had the center carriage, occupied entirely by himself, furnished and decorated as befitted a high minister of the Church. The communication between the front and rear of the train was by means of the roof alone, specially equipped with railings on the sides. This was, of course, very convenient, but on the other hand it made it stand out from all the others.

— Come in. — The Metropolitan said loudly.

His assistant showed up, a very young but very faithful novice taken on duty from the Empire's central temple in Chum Batu:

— Your Eminence, the tracks have been destroyed. About 10 to 15 meters of railroad track… There are Hiwi units on duty nearby. They said there was a Maquis raid yesterday. They beat them off, but they blew up the tracks. What are we supposed to do?

— Get me the guy in charge from the chiwi… And don't forget the translator.

So much for the news. Of course, he expected something like this, but not like this. Some poppies, you see. After they've just been trashed? That they'd just show up and blow up some tracks? 10–15 meters can be repaired in one day at most. But a raid like this, you could lose a whole group. Considering how many Kiwis there are in the area now, and how entrenched they are, it's unlikely that any of even the most zealous rebels would risk it now. No matter how much it might hurt their honor issues… So, either the Kiwis or the S.S.C. were blown up, which doesn't really make much difference….

What if he'd arrived at once, instead of waiting in Korsa's sector first, and had not waddled all the way back here? If he had done it his own way instead of listening to his patron? It happens that even such experienced minds as Nevrokh are wrong about something… But are they? Maybe it really was the Maquis. And then not only would have blown up the tracks, but perhaps even him and the train? Not all of them, of course, but his carriage stands out… We should take these railings off the roof — let them get there as they want, or wait for the next stop. It's not so important that someone goes from the tail to the head of the train while it's moving. But showing everyone where the supervisor sits is not a good idea. Especially when passing through neighborhoods full of saboteurs….

_A few novices entered the room first, then a couple of chums from the punitive drill, and then a not particularly sturdy-looking man in camouflage. He was unarmed now, but judging by the outfit and the unloading bags, he'd had plenty of weapons up to this point.

— Ask him how long ago the paths were blown up," Samokh told the novice who knew Russian.

Heavey listened attentively and answered immediately:

— Ten hours ago.

— And how many Maquis have you destroyed?

— About twenty people. We don't have an exact number. The Maquis take the bodies of the dead with them.

— How long will it take you to recover your tracks?

— We've already sent for a repair crew. We'll have it fixed in a day or two… But you should be wary of the Maquis. They may attack again.

No exciting news. Of course, he said it as expected. Whether it was a Maquis invasion or not, the answers would have to be. Since he's standing here in front of him and calmly telling it all. I wonder how these chiwis behave with their handlers from the SCK? Do they report calmly, or do they show up with their enemies' heads in potato sacks? Or do they get down on one knee and stare sullenly at the floor until they are allowed to speak? How does that happen? I also wonder how many of them there are? Well, the CCC has never given an exact number. One, two legions or so. But that's what they tell other people. And in reality? In practice, when has the CCC ever told the truth?

— Tell him there's no point in posting guards for us. We're going back. And tell them to fix that road, because we'll be back again tomorrow.

The novice conveyed all the instructions to the chiwi and then departed. Samoh called to him the captain who was in charge of the punitive drill, Rambanhra:

— We're gonna head back now. Make sure we're out of their sight. We need to go back about two kilometers. And stop the train. You got it?

Rambanhr tapped his boots and looking straight ahead, asked:

— Permission to proceed, Your Eminence?

— Do it.

"I wonder what action they are planning for tomorrow?" — Samoh thought. He would go back, come back the next day. And what would they tell him: we didn't have time to fix it, or the Maquis had blown up the tracks on another section? Unless, of course, it was a Maquis attack… But it doesn't look like one. It's out of place. If it was easy to blow up the tracks, they'd have blown up the whole place. If it wasn't so easy, they wouldn't even bother. No. It's not the poppies. It's these shapeshifter artists. At the behest of the CCC, of course. They're here to defend Ananhir, so they've come to their senses. They're fast… But what's fast? You gave them a head start. I guess Nevrokh's advice to wait a little longer was wrong… I guess it was wrong.

Still, there's something about these chivvies that impresses him. He's never seen them in person like this before. Just rumors. Blew them up, beat them back. They don't look so easy in reality. The guy who came to report was definitely not the most important, but he answered precisely, quickly, to the point. Not a word too much. He was obviously preparing to answer all the questions. And there's nothing to catch him on. Cunning types. Very cunning.

Once upon a time, when Samoh was still a young boy, he thought about a career in the military. First to march, then to fight with his fists. Then firing single shots and bursts. To attack in groups and with artillery support. To make your ears ring. Then stand in the blood and mud and stare at everything around you with frantic eyes. And grab the air as if it will never be enough….

But his father, a rather pious and highly influential chum, decided for him. He decided that a career as a priest would be much more attractive and fruitful for him. His father was never wrong about that, but it was still a little difficult for him… It seemed to him that his actions should be more decisive, so that he could grab and tear if necessary. A priest is not supposed to do that, unlike a military man. But even in this case he found a use for his character in acts of inquisition….

When he found out that the Church had a certain "unspoken resource" represented by paramilitary units that could clean up problems with fire and sword, it was truly a holiday in his street. All that remained was to bring the situation to the point where this resource could be used, and this required the approval of the Holy Seimas….

How difficult it was for him, even as a metropolitan, to try to push through the decision to use it every time. An unspoken resource. And the name was such that it would be impossible to mention it once again. And in time everyone began to perceive him as the main supporter of this method. It was even useless for him to suggest this option first, because it seemed to everyone that he did not care enough, that he only thought about shedding someone's blood once more… And finally, he began to periodically remind the patriarch about it. That it's the only real way to make the CCC reckon with him. That they don't understand any other language, and catching small fish on heresy doesn't affect anything at all. You have to be headstrong, menacing and precise. So they know who's boss. Only force, real force, can definitively show that only the Church can have the last word.

And now here he is. With his own person burning out this heresy at the head of the punitive storm of the Holy Inquisition. As the train came to a stop again, Samoh thought about how, just a few years ago, he would have wished he had someone adding to his problems along the way, putting sticks in his wheels during his holy campaign. It was more interesting than just being a winner. It's always more interesting to be a winner who not only did everything he set out to do, but overcame a number of challenges in doing so. With honor, with intelligence and perseverance. Like he had done… And now he was very proud of the fact that he could do it. All that was left was to finalize things with Ananhr…..

There was another knock at the office. It was Rambanhr:

— Permission to enter, Your Eminence.

— Come on in.

— We're here. We're about a kilometer and a half out. We're under the cliff. You can't see us from here. You can't see if we've gone any farther.

— Great… The Black Stone has blessed us for this good deed. Unload your boys, we'll go on foot. Make sure they're ready to shoot properly in case of trouble. And push through. But they're only ready. Because the goal is to get to Deese's sector quietly and without anyone noticing. And no one will think that we can be prevented from getting there.