Struggle. Taste of power

Inquisitor

The Korsa sector looked quite typical for the new realities of the Donetsk-Makeyevka group: there were no more plagues at the mine itself, armed men were on duty in the tunnel, and the administration of the plagues sat on the surface. Samoh didn't think this was something incomprehensible — the SChK had done everything to keep the power of the Inquisition from spreading in this area. At the same time, they could not leave it entirely to chance, and a chief from the SChK was still present.

There was an elevator leading to the surface as usual. However, it was slightly different from what Samokh had seen before. This one had a cabin one and a half times higher and moved more smoothly, and most importantly — faster. That even surprised him — could it be that humans had perfected such a thing? Of course, all this was not from a good life, but the result was obvious — people worked more efficiently when they were not so tight as before in the framework of unconditional obedience. I even had a fleeting thought that the SCK's foray into autonomy was not a move against the Church at all, but a gesture of pragmatism… No, nonsense, of course. They care so much about the speed and volume of coal mining…

Also, the man who operated the elevator was interesting. Especially his eyes. Everyone in the mine now had eyes more alive than before in Samoh's opinion. But this one's were sparking a little. As if he knew something that no one else was supposed to know. The eyes of a man a little detached from his daily problems, and ready at any moment for some desperate action. It was even a little frightening. And it was especially frightening that probably no one else noticed it. People are becoming dangerous. Let go of the leash just a little, and they snap. The careerists from SCK don't understand such things, they think they're invincible….

On the surface, Samoh was met by an officer from the SCF who was as friendly with him as the one in the Crito sector, eventually assigning him a two-room apartment:

— Our arrival is an honor, Metropolitan Priest Samoh.

— I understand, Colonel. — Without looking at him the inquisitor replied. — Have we fully prepared the tracks and platform as we requested?

— Of course, Your Eminence. We're ready for you now.

— All the better. The train will arrive in half an hour. — This answer clearly surprised the SSchekist, but he said nothing, and Samokh continued. — Take me to your patron.

The patron of the local SCS sat in a substantial sized administrative building formerly used by the civilian administration of the plague empire. To the former decoration special services added a little luxury in the form of paintings on the walls and a bust with the image of their founder Dzarinhra, the plague, who five hundred years ago spent half his life in prison for trying to overthrow the current government, and after the revolution was released and invited to create a new body of state security. At that time, the SCK was still called GUCHK (General Directorate of Black Stone), but over time, this name was definitely said to change, too pompous it looked. The methods of SCK changed from exemplary to ruthless even earlier.

— What an honor! — Bazankhr exclaimed, waving his hands in a majestic manner. It was not the first time Samokh had seen this colonel of the SCK — he had once watched Bazankhr drinking with someone at a reception to celebrate the millennium of the Imperial Ministry of Transportation. He had been very cheerful and talkative on various offbeat topics then. Apparently, someone had once taught him not to talk about work matters while drunk. — We would be blessed to have your blessing for our service, Metropolitan Priest Samoh.

— That's not why I'm here. — answered Samokh. — But if you insist, of course I'll give my blessing. A little later… In the meantime, tell me, Colonel. Are there many doubts in the souls of your subordinates?

— There is no doubt when all time is spent in service to the Black Stone. Our employees pray regularly, which gives them strength. And your visit will only strengthen them in the fulfillment of their difficult duty.

I haven't seen any church buildings to pray in. — The inquisitor said, looking around.

— Oh. We have a chapel, which was recently consecrated by one of your clergymen who passed by our location. I've forgotten his name…" said Bazankhr, smiling sweetly. He was obviously lying about both the chapel and the passing priest, which couldn't be the case, but it was impossible not to make up a lie on the fly. He had just been caught in a certain kind of violation of the Church's rites — it was forbidden to pray by oneself without any presence of the Church. Either a proper plague, with a holy right and privy to the mystery, or a place suitably arranged and consecrated, was required.

— Show me that chapel. There I will conduct a prayer service for the good of our cause.

— Of course. I will personally show it to you. — Bazankhr pointed to the door and moved forward, but before he left, he suddenly turned around and said loudly to his deputy. — Oh, and, that errand I said earlier needs to be done urgently. While the priest-metropolitan Samokh and I are in the chapel.

They stepped out into the corridor and moved toward the stairs. There were more and more paintings of warlike plagues, in armor and with cold weapons, striking their enemies.

— Colonel, what is this urgent errand that you need to do on my arrival? — realizing that it was obviously not a short walk, Samokh asked.

— Oh. Of course, improving security measures upon your arrival… You know, there is no such thing as too much security, even though we recently defeated another Maquis battalion in the Diza sector… Your safety is especially important to us.

Samokh had heard about the incident, but according to his sources, it was a Hivi group fighting there, not the JFK. And Maquis casualties were counted as two companies, not a whole battalion. But you can't catch me by the hand about the Hivis, because everyone knows the role of the KFOR in the organization and management of these units. And whether it was a battalion or two companies, you can't prove anything at all — according to the papers, the KFK will reflect the number in a specific figure, and next to it they will add the corresponding Maquis unit, and in this case it will be possible to say that the battalion was not full, and the retreating soldiers just took the bodies of their killed comrades with them — by such simple arithmetic it will turn out to be a battalion instead of two companies.

They went up to the third floor and went in the opposite direction. They reached the end again and began to ascend to the fourth floor. Bazankhr was clearly in uniform, but the six novices accompanying Samokh were already a little out of breath.

In the end, on the fourth floor we reached the middle of the building, found the right door, and then it turned out that the key was somewhere on the first floor:

— How ridiculous. — Bazankhre was indignant. It's all right. I'll get in touch and the key will be brought to us. He pulled out a walkie-talkie and spoke loudly into it:

— This is Basalt-01. Basalt-02, take the chapel keys to the fourth floor, room 408.

Samoh was beginning to get bored with the spectacle:

— Colonel, don't your employees know what room the chapel is in?

— Of course they do. Of course… But it's one thing to know the way, and another to know the number… Nobody looks at the number. Everyone walks here by memory, not looking at the inscriptions…

— So they wouldn't have told them the room number now. They'd have come from memory.

— Your Eminence, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. — almost bowed to the secret police. — It was only to show you the chapel as quickly as possible. I'm really sorry about the keys.

After only a minute and a half, Deputy Bazankhra appeared with the keys. Handing them over, he gave out another piece of news:

— Mr. Colonel, they moved the chapel to the third floor in the other wing of the building, right?

— How? When? — Bazanhr was sharply surprised, feigning a full range of amazement.

— After all, the clergyman said there was too much light in this room and told me to move it to another room at the earliest opportunity. Where it's dark.

Samoh was enraged at what he heard:

— Are you playing games with me, Colonel?! Mocking the holy church?!

The SS man almost bowed again:

— What-oh-you… What-oh-you… I had no idea… I apologize for this misunderstanding. My staff works too fast, sometimes you can't see how fast they follow commands… Please, let me show you the chapel.

Bazanhr didn't even wait for his words to be responded to in any way and rushed to the third floor to the exact opposite wing of the building.

This time the room was really something like a chapel. It was windowless, dusty, and looked more like a closet. It was obvious that it had been equipped in some way, and only to show what was expected to be seen: a small altar, candlesticks and pedestals for placing prayer candles, icons depicting the Black Stone and the priests worshipping it, all very small or pocket-sized.

Samoh was disgusted by the sight, but he couldn't help but recognize that it could still be a chapel. Well, the main thing was yet to come.

— I will pray for our common cause, and you repeat after me. — said the inquisitor to the colonel and walked to the center of the room. — In the name of the sacred Black Stone I conjure… May the Black Stone and all its power, which has given us victory and greatness, be glorified… May we punish and destroy those who have strayed from our sacred faith… May this day be the brightest day in the history of our deeds… May we defeat heresy within these walls and be strengthened in our faith by all means….

The Scekist, standing a little behind, kept repeating and repeating and with each word getting quieter and quieter, which in the end turned into an unrecognizable muttering.

— Now help my men get settled. — Samokh turned and said.

— Of course, of course. We've prepared everything. — The whole platoon will fit in there, and there will be plenty of room for seven tents!

— My novices' drill has arrived. Your subordinates will report to you now.

Samokh's sense of time never failed him, capable of calculating individual events down to the minute. And indeed, in a few seconds, the radio started talking:

— Basalt-01, this is Basalt-06. The new train of the Holy Church has arrived. Three cars. Do you want me to let them through?

Bazanhr hesitated. Neither his gaze nor any of his facial features suggested that he was embarrassed by anything, but that second's hesitation showed that something had not gone as he had hoped:

— Yes, of course… Show them into the reception hall.

On the way to this hall, they were no longer winding their way up and down the stairs. Bazankhr did not turn around at all, nor did he warn them against sharp turns and high steps as they followed him. It was obvious that he was in a hurry to see for himself those who had arrived in such numbers at his subordinate facility.

The picture surprised him beyond belief. If he could have turned pale, he would have been white as milk in an instant. His heartbeat quickened, though he made no sign of it. Yes, this is what happens to all plagues when they first see the "unspoken resource" of the holy Church in this case represented by the heavily-armed punitive brown Inquisition. These novices were stout, big plagues with languid glassy eyes that didn't seem to blink at all. They stood in formation as if in a straight line, unwilling to even shift from foot to foot.

Gentility, chastity and obedience. These were the three basic rules for combat novices from the punitive units of the Inquisition. At the same time, the first two did not particularly worry their superiors: one could save money and lend it at interest, and even have his own small business, one could also enter into relations with the female sex, as long as it was not showy. But obedience was the cornerstone of the combat wing. What the priest said was a holy rule, and what the priest ordered was a holy duty. Orders were not discussed or commented upon. They were sacred. And in the entire history of the "unspoken resource" there had never been a single instance of violating that sanctity.

I see you are surprised, Colonel? — the inquisitor asked.

— Not at all. — I only see brothers who are faithful to the holy Church," answered Bazankhr, turning and looking straight into his eyes. That makes me feel better.

— All the better… But don't worry, they didn't come here for your sake… Moreover, we're all just passing through… I think you understand where we're going.

For all of Bazankhra's continued equanimity, it was obvious that a stone had been lifted from his shoulders, and he stood more relaxed than he had a moment ago:

— Your Eminence, we could go to my office and discuss this.

Samokh nodded, and they headed across the hall to the far end of it, then went through several narrow corridors and finally came to the former office of the karak of the Korsa sector. The office had clearly been stripped of all the luxuries that had gone before and replaced with another, equally lavish one: several paintings of plagues in officers' uniforms, a small bronze bust of the founder of the GHCC, and gold-adorned oak furniture-a massive desk with an equally massive armchair behind it, two high chairs in front of it, and a wide chest of drawers that held several crystal vases and, apparently, several gold statuettes inlaid with emeralds.

— Please have a seat. — Bazankhr offered and seated himself in one of the two chairs in front of the table, leaving his deputy behind him.

Samoh took a seat across from him while six of his novices positioned themselves behind him:

— That's not a bad idea with the chapel….

— All just to please the holy Church…..

— Enough with the pretense, Colonel. — Samokh spoke not loudly, but firmly enough. He could see that he didn't care that his whole drill was not sitting comfortably, but standing silently at attention, waiting for his patron's command. — My novices are loyal, and they know how to keep their mouths shut. Your second-in-command, I presume.

Bazanhr stopped trying to smile and even stopped moving, he seemed to freeze altogether and then coughed a little. Samokh continued:

— I've already said I'm not interested in you. And that this is not the place I'm interested in at all. I think you understand who I'm interested in and where that someone is.

— Of course, understanding…

— Then tell me, whose side are you on? On the side of the holy Church or on the opposite side?

— I… Not on anyone's side… I serve in the SCK, and you can see that I have achieved a lot… These portraits here… — Bazankhr pointed to two portraits of chums in officers' uniforms. — My grandfather and my father. They both served in the JFK, and I am following in their footsteps… As you can see, they are both of very high rank….

— All the more reason for you to tell me everything you know about Ananhr.

— With all due respect, Your Eminence, she's no match for you… She's no match for Neuroch, either, if you must hear it… Her older brother….

— I don't care about her older brother! — The inquisitor interrupted him somewhat angrily. — She has the entire Donetsk-Makeyevka group under her supervision now. And that's all I care about… What forces does she have?

Bazanhr mewled a little:

— She is guarded by a personal drill. I know the chums who serve in it, and I will tell you that they are as much about professionalism as they are about brutality. Otherwise it would be more than one Boer… Besides, the neighborhood is kept under control by the Hiwi.

— Who recently ambushed two Maquis companies. That I know… So only one drill of personal guards. I take it it's from the Guards… Yeah, not bad… How interested are the local chiwi in her?

— They don't know who she is. But they've been made to understand that no Maquis or anyone else is allowed near her. Not without her permission. And that the price for their mistake would be exorbitant… So without her permission, the chiwi won't let you in….

But you let all of mine through with your permission, didn't you?

— That is correct, Your Eminence…..

Samoh smiled:

— All right… Let's forget about this conversation… I think only friendly relations are ahead of us. I won't hide it, I see in you a great leadership ability and a plague worthy of our faith.

Otherwise, we would have had a very different conversation….

This seemed to have a strong effect on Bazankhra, and he relaxed somewhat.

— I'd like to have a drink with you. — said Samokh. — To our friendship.

Bazankhr, as if he had expected something like this, took a bottle of brandy and two glasses from the chest of drawers, poured them both, and, waiting until he could clink them together, drank them in one gulp. His eyes instantly became full of fresh colors of his surroundings, he obviously felt saved to some extent — if only such a picture with the arrived thugs from the Inquisition….

— Let's have another round. — Samokh pointed to the glasses.

Bazankhr immediately poured more brandy, and immediately, again barely waiting for the priest to take a drink, drank it in one gulp. Then he sprawled slightly in his chair:

— You know, Your Eminence… Still, you guys are tough, in the Church… I didn't realize you had units like this….

— We have a lot, Colonel. We just don't show it because we hope the people of our empire will be reasonable.

— What prudence can this cattle have… You do realize, Your Eminence, that without laws and penalties for its violation, there will be no order….

— Let's have another one…

Bazankhr smiled a slightly drunken smile. He was beginning to like the way he could raise a glass with the Metropolitan. Samokh was ahead of him, took the bottle by the neck and poured more for each of them. Without waiting for the inquisitor to take his own, Samokh drank to the bottom.

They sat for another fifteen minutes in a spirit of similar brotherly conversation. Bazankhr talked about his successes, clearly extolling his own abilities and the successful combinations that had brought him to the chair of such a high-level superior. His grandfather and father were quite pleased with him, and thought he was progressing ahead of schedule. He did not think of a wife or children at all, for at this stage they would only be a burden and would prevent him from growing further. He had not had much contact with the Church up to this point, and his main task was administrative functions in the management of fairly quiet areas of the empire, where there was contact with the Maquis. Thus, on paper, he had a very significant track record, without jeopardizing either his safety or the potential for failure. Samokh listened with satisfaction and occasionally praised his interlocutor for his moderation and reasonableness.

— Well, Colonel… — Samokh finally announced. — It was a pleasure to talk to you. I can only wish you further success….