Struggle. Taste of power

Mercenary

Cobra noticed that these words somehow encouraged his companion. It was as if someone had finally recognized him in her. Then he's got it right. That's what the Mountain wants most of all — to control and subjugate. People and territory. And he's obviously clever for hiding it all so secretly. On the surface, he's a simple functionary — better to do as he's told. But in reality, he's a real leader with big plans.

— Damn, because I'm sitting underground? — asked the Mountain in reply.

— Because that's the devil's behavior… I'm not a chiwi to say that, of course. We're devils ourselves… But you seem ready to outdo us… You know… I don't mind… You can be bigger and stronger. Just don't break our agreements. Okay?

— Our agreements are fine with me… Did your people complain to you about anything?

— No. — Cobra smiled. — They say there are such tunnels, they've never seen anything like it in their lives. They say you look like you've got a lot of resources. They say you can withstand a much larger volume without question… But you see, I didn't demand more from you….

Gora looked at him directly and expectantly.

— And I'm not going to demand it. — continued Cobra. — The paths are yours. And the mines are yours. I have no claim to them…..

— I wonder how it is that you've moved over time from "we" in the sense of all hivy but "I don't claim" when it comes to your own interests… I, as you realize, don't particularly care, but I wouldn't want to you know in a month or two negotiate with someone of yours in a new way….

Cobra made a little face, as if he had eaten something sour, and replied:

— Yeah… You wouldn't like it… Not everyone here is like me… Forward thinking. Some want everything now and don't really care what happens later… Berkut, for example… If you come across it, you'll see what I'm talking about….

— If you don't praise yourself, no one will, eh? — The prefect grinned, and it was obvious that the mercenary liked that phrase in some way. — You only have nicknames. I see you don't use names. Is there some reason for that, or can't he remember why?

— You know, the reason is one and very simple… You can't get a name dirty if you don't have one… That's why we have only nicknames. — Cobra replied, squinting a little and looking away.

You're all that dirty, aren't you? I don't get it. Is it a guilty conscience? Where is there a conscience these days? Let alone someone who appreciates it.

— It's not a matter of conscience, dear prefect. It's about memory… It's not important for everyone to leave behind a good memory. But no one wants to leave behind a bad one.

— Interesting approach to the case. And it's all very well, of course… But I wonder if you remember your own surnames well… So that at least you have something to remember.

— You're a clever prefect. Clever… I guess I wasn't wrong when I decided to make a deal with you first… You kept your surnames at the mine, too, didn't you just remember the numbers that the plagues gave you?

— Yes, we did. We kept calling ourselves what we used to. Maybe we survived because we kept our own face. Not the plague fangs on our flags.

— While we're on the subject of plagues…" Cobra spoke even more quietly, even though no one could hear them. — They don't fight very well. The Imperial Army especially. It's all about numbers. They put up artillery and fire it until it's red… The SCK has elite divisions, but they're few… Without us, they can't hold it all….

It was clear from the Mountain's eyes, though vaguely, that this was huge news to him.

Assuming, of course, that he believed those words. But Cobra was not going to deceive him:

— Now we're covering the entire Donetsk-Makeyevka group. All the ground units. And we don't let the Maquis come even close… Beyond Bakhmut they come only by sabotage groups. And you already know what happened to the largest of them… And while the plagues were in charge, the Maquis were visible even in Gorlovka, right here at our side. And the groups were quite different in volume. The plagues didn't get out of their positions there. All around the facilities and near the roads… And we drove the poppies away behind Bakhmut. They're sitting far away now. — Metropolitan means you fear the metropolitan… Like me…..

— Like you…

Cobra hadn't spoken so frankly to anyone in a long time. And there was no one to talk to. There were only snitches and scribblers around. Some of them are trying to lay as nothing to do, and make up on the way, which was not. The others, graffomaniacs, do nothing but talk for nothing, discussing what has already been said a hundred times before them. Which one of them is there to discuss what with? Shall we give food to both of them? Is it necessary? However, someone obviously needs it, since these two cohorts of people are so prosperous… And businessmen are hard to find… Gora turned out to be a very businesslike man. And he's not afraid of anything. They usually sit in a bunker and give orders. And they don't even know how they are carried out, because they get everything on paper and in words. They'll just be commanding paper battalions. But they will save their lives… And others, on the contrary, do nothing but rush everywhere, and do not think about what will happen to all their activities, if an explosion does not go off inadvertently, and a bullet does not fly into their heads. That's probably why they don't have a lot of well-thought-out moves… But Gora is not like that at all. He cares about security, and thinks strategically, and does not sit in a bunker for nothing….

Cobra began to remember his friends and suddenly remembered Jackal… Yes, he was a great friend. So many times saved… Yes, how saved. Saved from the last asshole, and did not ask for anything for it … And at least tell me who nailed him, that he needed intercessors from the SCK. You should have told me before you do something you can't fix later… Maybe something was different. And now there's no Jackal. He's got a nickname for himself, too, of course… He's never been a jackal. Unless he gives something of his own… His boys, however, all went to Raven. Or, rather, they were given to Raven… Maybe it was all because of him….

He noticed that in the distance, on the northwest side near the industrial tower, just on the side from Gorlovka that he had just mentioned, his men were not visible. They were, of course, hiding themselves, and you wouldn't see anyone at a glance, but he knew them perfectly well, and what their positions were. He might not have seen all of them, but he must have seen someone…

There were people along the road to the north and west, but no one to the northwest….

You know, Prefect, we should take a break… With this repair. I don't have a good feeling about this…" Cobra said aloud, so that the others could hear him, and gave a command over the radio.

Gora turned in the direction Cobra was looking and almost instantly commanded his own:

— Company, to battle! Ten o'clock. Do not fire without command.

The miners and the guard company immediately took up positions and pressed themselves to the ground. By now, Cobra's men had spread out even wider in a radius. Nothing followed. The sun was still shining, the wind was blowing slightly. No shots fired, no movement.

In the distance to the northwest, the silhouettes of a man in one position or another began to appear little by little. Cobra was more than certain that his men were no longer there. That someone had taken them out very quietly and pinpointed them… Plagues didn't do that: not the Imperial Army, not the SCK. The Maquis could in theory, but in practice… Their skills are far worse than the Kiwi's at this. They could fight, ambush or sabotage, but quietly exposing their flanks, especially against the Kiwi… No. They couldn't do that quietly. Not a single shot. Then who? The Inquisition's punitive drill? He'd never seen them in action, but to think that plagues could operate so stealthily was impossible.

But, on the other hand, since this metropolitan has only one drill with him, and he feels more than confident with it, who knows. Maybe they really have perfected their skills to such an extent that they have learned to operate silently….

A slight whistle was heard, as if from afar.

— Mines! — Cobra shouted to everyone.

A few moments later, the first one exploded nearby. It didn't seem to hit anyone, but a second one came right after it. Then another and another. In a minute it seemed as if this cannonade had been going on all day. The mortars on the other side were obviously few in number, but those who used them had chosen to equalize the intervals between them so as to keep their positions under constant fire.

— Everyone change frequency to 2… Charlie Group, take up positions on the right flank of the pokeweed (industrial pipe). Foxtrot Group, take up positions on the left flank of the pokeweed. — commanded into Cobra's radio, then switched to the first frequency, realizing what he was about to hear. — Bravo Team, report the situation.

A little silence. Despite the explosions all around, it seemed to be silence. And finally there was an answer:

— Change the frequency… You haven't done anything yet. You're already changing it. — The voice on the radio was happy and seemed familiar. — Well, hello to you from Unit 14. Your boys from that Bravo got minced to a pulp. And the mines are just for dessert… Actually, that's it, asshole, you don't have to try to take us in pincers….

The connection was broken. Still, the voice was familiar. Very familiar. The speaker tried to change it, and successfully enough, but still the feeling of familiar manner of speaking remained… He pretended that it was revenge from the Maquis… Unit 14 means. And with mortars… And they know about the retaliation plan right away. Interesting how the Maquis turned out to be…

— Groups Charlie and Foxtrot, team 177 (move very carefully, probably the area is mined) — commanded Cobra.

The mortar fire stopped. The Prefect lost one man killed and two wounded. Cobra none of those covering him personally and the entire Bravo group of 32 men. All killed, none captured or wounded. Somebody worked very well together. And knowing what they were doing and who they were dealing with. They booby-trapped the bodies, too. Not a single aisle, bush or branch, just the bodies. Bombs and grenades under the corpses. You turn him around and everything explodes. It's not for nothing that Cobra changed the frequency and gave the command 177, otherwise the casualties would have gone over a hundred.

When he received the report of the occupation of the industrial pipe and the complete destruction of Bravo's group, Cobra stood next to the prefect and watched as the miners repaired the road again and several men carried the dead and wounded toward the mine entrance.

Someone didn't need the road right now. — said the Mountain. — It was one of us. Or maybe both of us.

— You don't think it's a poppy right off the bat, do you?

— And look at the mines… 80 caliber… How far can you go with mortars like that?

The prefect was talking. He sure did. The road from Bakhmut to Gorlovka is not close, and even more so to the Diza sector. And we have to leave with all these weapons… And we have to leave even faster. And even further away… The prefect was talking. Those aren't Maquis.