Struggle. Taste of power - Владимир Андерсон

— I serve the Holy Church… the Holy Church, not the patriarch. It also happens that a patriarch may stumble, that is why there is a Holy Sejm, so that it is possible to replace the patriarch, if necessary, with a more worthy one… I told you about it only to warn you, and no more. — So if we start a trial against him, you'll be a witness?

— Absolutely. — Samokh took the most implacable look. — The patriarch should not allow himself to meddle in worldly affairs, especially through such unacceptable actions.

Ananhr shook her head slowly in the affirmative, looked out the panoramic window, then turned to the metropolitan again:

— Good. So if you're on the side of the interests of the Empire and not someone else's personal interests, what do you say to the recent execution of Colonel Bazankhra?

— Fatal accident. Your colleague, apparently, is not allowed to drink at all. He had too much to drink and began to publicly desecrate the holy faith, and when he was asked to stop, he went on to make direct death threats against members of the Holy Inquisition… I would have let it pass, of course, but, you see, there were plenty of witnesses around who would have reported that I had not taken the proper measures… I don't know what Bazankhr was thinking when he was doing all this madness.

— I see. — I want to ask you again about the intentions of His Holiness Patriarch Nevrokh… After a successful rebellion, did he plan to gain access to direct control of the Donetsk-Makeyevka faction or through Bluh's civilian administration? Was Bluh in cahoots with him?

— I don't know that, Colonel… — he hesitated a bit. — I only know for sure about his involvement in the organization of an uprising to destroy the SCK and you personally… I can say that for sure. I don't know about his further plans.

— It is quite enough, Your Eminence… To bring you in as a witness. — Ananhr's beautiful eyes turned to the guard on her right. — Take him into custody.

— You have no right! — Samokh jumped up from his seat. — I am the Metropolitan!

He turned toward the door and shouted to his subordinates who had recently left the office.

— Don't make a fuss. — said Ananhr while her guards were twisting him. — Four armed commandos can handle six unarmed ragamuffins anyhow.

— You're forgetting yourself, Colonel. — Samokh said with a less heated tone. — I have with me the punitive drill of the Holy Inquisition. If I give the order, they'll sweep this place away!

— Yes, if you just give the order…" Ananhr rose from her seat and walked out from behind the desk. She looked very attractive in her black dress with the SCK insignia on the sleeve, and it was strange that such thoughts were on her mind at this moment. — And until you do, they will stand in place like statues until they starve to death… You have obedience there — the cornerstone of these units… And that you inadvertently did not say that you are not asked, so for this we have our own wonderful drugs. Not as clumsy as the ones you like to slip to your interlocutors… With our drugs you will be in such bliss that you will not even think that something is going wrong… And we will find a worthy use for your wonderful storm of unspoken resources….

Strangely enough, with all these words, the expression in her eyes and face was no different from that of ten minutes ago. Still as calm, confident, and reserved. Education and character. There was no other way that such a thing could have been achieved only by a simultaneous combination of the two.

— Oh, yes, I'm sorry. — Not us, but you will find a wonderful use for the storm of unspoken resources… With our help.

Mercenary

On his return to the Kiwi camp in Gorlovka, Cobra had only one goal: to understand, at least by hints, who could have carried out such a daring attack on his group, while being fully confident in his invulnerability. They had succeeded, apparently as planned, but what was surprising was the unwavering determination with which it had all been done. 32 two corpses had cost him in this attack. He had three regiments of nearly five thousand men under his command, and such a loss was not a big deal, but the emphasis was apparently not on that. Someone wanted to hit his reputation. A commander's reputation for letting his men walk away with their heads.

Yes, with heads. Because all the dead were beheaded, apparently with an axe, and taken away with them. They were found in a ravine near the river half a kilometer from the industrial pipe. They were piled on top of each other, and a small pole with a snake nailed to it had been dug into the middle. It wriggled from side to side, unable to do anything… Someone was demonstrating to Cobra the fact of settling personal scores.

And they were clearly not poppies. He remembered again what Gora had said about the 80millimeter mortars that had fired on them. And if Gora, who wasn't at all military savvy, had guessed such an obvious thing, what had the attackers been counting on when they used them? It would be obvious proof that the Maquis were not behind the attack, unable to transport such weapons over such distances. They must have realized that Cobra would recognize their own, the Kiwis. And would look among them. So what's their plan?

Maybe Tikhomirov could give us a clue? Gora asked him to take his man with him, so that he could better understand the structure of the Khivi and, perhaps, learn some of their methods. The guy looked very smart.

— You'd better