Quantum Future (continued)

Chapter 5. Swarm's Law

    The city of astronauts will fall into desolation. People will leave, their houses will be taken apart by looters, the fire will go out, and granite steles and alleys will be overgrown with grass. While workshops and factories live and breathe, until they were cut into scrap metal to please the new owners. But I'll show you the future, let's go Denis.



    The main alley of the park, surrounded by birch trees, is paved with solid red and white tiles. The center between the paths is occupied by decorative blue spruces. Intelligent engineers and other scientists stroll slowly along the paths. They are diluted by mothers with strollers and couples in love. Children run along memorials with slanted granite slabs and gold letters, along a shining star with fire and red carnations. Usually they only slow down in corners with military equipment. For this, and it is worth going to the park - to climb on real tanks and guns.



    Denis especially liked the heavy BMP, which found refuge here after the Martian war. It attracted with its unusual red and black camouflage, an elongated hull, a slightly raised stern and a predatory "pike nose" of two armor plates converging in a wedge. It had a massive turret with a twin cannon and rocket launcher, black wide tracks of experimental carbon tracks. The rear hatches were covered by the tower, they were high enough so that a paratrooper in a spacesuit could immediately unload on the battlefield, and little Denis jumped inside without bending down at all. True, almost all the equipment was dismantled, of the interesting, only the place of the shooter remained in the rotating turret turret. The red and black car was a favorite of half of the children, so sometimes they even had to fight for the shooter's place. Denis was never afraid to fight, but,from an early age, he observed the code of honor of the Space Marine overheard from his grandfather. He never finished off a defeated enemy, did not beat the weak and did not attack two of them on one. It was only as he grew up that he realized that this code was not meant for real war.



    The park looked strange today. Ate broke, monuments decayed, weeds and small birches made their way from the cracks. And the engineers and mothers became translucent, passing through the thickets of the bushes spreading along the paths. The tracks of the BMP were torn, it rusted dejectedly on the broken rollers. Red and black slabs that mimicked reactive armor, shattered, lay in heaps in the surrounding grass.



     - I do not like this game? I want it to be the same.



     - This is a future that cannot be avoided. And it will never be like before.



     - I want this car! - little Denis angrily stamped his foot.



     “You will get other cars, many others, if you come with me. But this one will have to be left here.



     - But you certainly can't take this one too ...



    Translucent people and BMPs suddenly faded. Denis blinked desperately. A spider-like robot with helplessly drooping manipulators swayed overhead, the walls were white with sterile cleanliness, there was a sharp smell of alcohol and antiseptics. The father yanked the last connector out of his implant on his left leg.



     - Come on, Denis, we need to leave as soon as possible.



     - Today I will not play with Aunt Sonya?



     - No, it won't work today.



    Father took him in his arms and ran out into the corridor. At the end of the corridor they were overtaken by a lathered doctor in an unbuttoned dressing gown. He threw himself at his father's feet and grabbed his clothes.



     - Comrade, Kaisanov what are you doing! We haven't finished the procedure.



     - The procedure is over.



     - No! You endanger the child, return immediately!



     “My child will be safe away from here.



     - Comrade Kaisanov, you signed up, this is treason!



     - There is no one to change, the Emperor is dead, turn on the news.



     “It's not officially confirmed ... And even if he's dead, it doesn't absolve you of your obligations.



     “If he's dead, then the Empire is also dead.



     “She is not dead as long as at least one soldier who protects her is alive. And you swore to defend the Empire even at the cost of your life. Or have you forgotten your vows ?!



     - If someone calls me personally, I will go and protect. But my son did not take any vows, he has the right to his own life.



     “You took that oath for him!



     - It was illegal and done under pressure.



     - Oh, that's how you spoke. Remember also about human rights. Or did your Martian masters sing to you?



     - What are the owners, what are you carrying, Major! You are completely crazy, look, even the guards scattered. In an hour you will be left alone, to continue your crazy experiments.



     - These are not crazy experiments, this is a spark from which the flame of the Empire will flare up again and turn to ashes all enemies, external and internal ...



     - Farewell, comrade Lazarev.



     - Run, traitor, run! But you will not hide from fate! And know that the deed has already been done, the Empire has already won ...



    Denis opened his eyes. Kolyan snored nearby. Clouds ran across the dark sky, sometimes a pale moon jumped out of them and almost immediately disappeared back. Through the window, silhouettes of young birches and dilapidated granite monuments could be seen. The turbine whistled a little more and died down. The driver turned to Denis. He could drive perfectly well without headlights even in the middle of the night, both of his eyes were replaced with artificial lenses. Pasha was a fighter capable of any adventure. Breaking orders, fighting Moscow bosses is no question. Once he was in the forefront of those who decided to go against the Moscow government, which abolished the Empire. Then he was not yet a wise experience fifty years old veteran. He began his military career in the land forces of the Empire, which fought the aftermath of the Asian nuclear war. In those divisionswhich then turned into battalions. He was unable to save his eyes, part of the skin on his face and bald head, which was eaten away by scars from chemical burns, but all the limbs were intact and even the brain was hardly hurt, according to his own assurances. A pretty good result after thirty years of continuous war with the Eastern Bloc and various Martian fosterlings. Everyone appreciated Pasha's experience and flair, although the authorities disliked them for a straightforward assessment of the mental abilities of this very authorities.Everyone appreciated Pasha's experience and flair, although the authorities disliked them for a straightforward assessment of the mental abilities of this very authorities.Everyone appreciated Pasha's experience and flair, although the authorities disliked them for a straightforward assessment of the mental abilities of this very authorities.



     - We're here, Dan. Your house is through the park behind the mall and the stadium. I can adjust it closer, but your client may have a night vision device or something better.



     - We got up fine. I'll go alone and take a look.



    Denis opened the door and climbed into the cool autumn dawn.



     - Can you take a NVG or a dragonfly? - Pasha turned to him in surprise.



     - I forgot, - Denis slapped himself on the forehead.



     - He forgot ... If you are a fool, my friend, then do as I do - take it and write it down. How to use did not forget?



     - No. Give me a dragonfly and a walkie-talkie.



     - Better take the headset from the helmet.



    Denis put a headset in the form of a flexible ribbon on his head so that the microphones were pressed against his temples. He stuffed the dragonfly and the tablet into his pockets.



     “If I were you, I would wear armor and grab a rifle.



     “If Arumov’s people are there, I won’t even climb.



     “If you don’t see Arumov’s people, it doesn’t mean that they are not there. However, yes, cowards like me invented armor and helmets.



     - Don't worry, I'm quick.



    Denis got out of the car and ran through the dark park. He tried to find the silhouette of an infantry fighting vehicle in the dark, but he saw only warped piles left over from steles and pedestals. Maybe the cars were taken away by local residents, or maybe they were standing further in the park. Denis didn't remember very well. He stopped at the corner of an abandoned shopping center. Then there was an open stadium and there was direct visibility from the windows of the desired house. Sonia Daimon showed up immediately.



    “You have to infect him! You almost got burned. "



    “You just have to infect someone. Do you think he will understand everything because I forgot to take the equipment ”?



    “The problem is not only with him. Have you already figured out what you are going to tell Timur? How will you explain your miraculous healing ”?



    “Don't push it, I'll think of something. You better check the apartment and if there is someone there, infect him. "



    Denis took a container out of his backpack and shook its contents into the air. The yellow dots slowly scattered around, forming an uneven dome with a radius of thirty meters.



    "You must learn to manage the swarm yourself."



    "Let's learn another time while you're doing great."



    "This is only until I got my own body."



    "And what will happen when you receive it"?



    “I am the queen of the swarm. My job is to grow a swarm that will turn day into night, rising from its nests. "



    “Excellent, in other words, you will sit in a cozy nest, where from time to time they will dump the next heap of corpses that died for the great Empire, and my business, in fact, is to pour into the embrasure.”



    "If Sonya Daimon will fight and win ..."



    "Yes, I remember: it will be Sonya Daimon's empire. After all, my father took me out of your brainwasher on time. "



    "Your father has become a traitor."



    “Hey, you are the queen! Don't open your mouth at my father! "



    "As you say. I follow orders until you become a traitor yourself. Try it, the controls are very simple. "



    "Swarm control" - thought Denis and his soul was immediately thrown out of the body. Fortunately, not far away, it hovered at a height of a couple of tens of meters. The wind blew him back a little so that he had to constantly steer. Vision became completely panoramic, it was possible to mentally rotate the surrounding picture in any direction. The sounds also increased, and mice swarming in the grass could be heard. Dan had never tasted so many smells. For half he couldn't even think of a name. From here he could smell a dozen car odors: fuel, rubber, metal, leaves and grass, asphalt and plastic.



    “It's simple, - Sonya hovered in front of him. - The swarm is divided into hives, while there is no continuous coverage of the territory, the hive is all that is around you. In the coverage area, you can mentally move almost instantly and inspect any object with the necessary detail, just imagine how you are moving or approaching something. Behind the coverage area, movement is possible at the speed of the swarm. To establish a coverage area, mentally highlight any area in yellow. For such a small hive, the zone cannot be large - a hectare, one and a half is the maximum. In the yellow zone, the hive automatically scans for the presence of living beings and equipment. When the scan is complete, the borders are marked in yellow, the paler the color, the less detail and depth of scan. If you want to increase the level of detail, use a richer color, or set the detail from zero to one hundred.If the area is too large and beyond the current capabilities of the swarm, the backlight will flash. To reduce the coverage area, mentally highlight the area with gray. To take control of a living creature, highlight it in green, to attack - in red. You can control your own body by giving commands through the swarm, just mentally move it where you need it. Any other creature controlled by the swarm is also controlled. Roy also recognizes mental commands. To return to your own body, use the command: "direct control". Use Hive Memory to call up a list of past orders and actions. Use the "law of the hive" or "the law of the swarm" to see the general rules and algorithms set. To combine or split hives "new hive". The accuracy of any command can be rated from zero to one hundred so that the swarm learns to better recognize them.You can use the intellectual resources of the infected to work out implicitly specified commands by assigning them access rights to a particular hive or swarm. But, they will fulfill them to the extent of their understanding, well, and mow, of course, too, to the best of their ability. "



    "Who is in charge of the recycling station now?"



    "Mikhalych. I assigned him the appropriate rights. "



    "I hope he doesn't sell the swarm for a couple of bottles."



    Denis highlighted the image of Sonya hanging in the air in bright red. The yellow dots around them turned red, gathered in a tight ball and rushed to the attack. True, the ball almost immediately disintegrated and the bugs began to circle randomly around the given area, shimmering either yellow or red.



     Sonya's ghost pursed his lips haughtily.



    “Firstly, I am a queen, I cannot be attacked. Second, physically, I'm still part of your own biomass. And thirdly, you do not need to give the swarm meaningless orders, so you will only break the recognition and turn into a monkey with a grenade. "



    "Yes, my queen."



    “And yes, I should have said right away. The sensitivity to orders from zero to one hundred is set by the "swarm sensitivity" command. For now, I recommend setting it to fifty when you sleep, or the swarm is not needed at ten. Learn to think clearly and quickly so that you can give commands as clearly as possible for the swarm. "



    “The sensitivity of the swarm is fifty,” Denis obediently said to himself. - Okay, let's go.



    He mentally moved the swarm forward toward a street that ran parallel to the park. The movement, as promised, was at the speed of a trained fly. On the broken street, not a single lantern was burning, only the vague silhouette of an apartment building loomed ahead.



    "Night vision".



    Roy understood the command correctly, but the world did not turn green, as in the usual night vision system, but black and white. The resolution was excellent, Dan saw three apartment buildings and even another abandoned park to the right of the street. On the left, the street ended up on the highway they had taken. The moving dots were still bright yellow. Most of the windows in the central house were boarded up or knocked out. Several of the parked cars looked abandoned.



    Denis mentally illuminated the entire street, houses, stadium and shopping center in yellow. Roy immediately blinked indignantly.



     “The area is too big, use the square scan,” advised Sonya. "Or release some more arguments."



    “I have only four banks, we'd better coast our wonderful swarm. Scanning squares, detail fifty. "



    In front of the houses appeared the line "scan by squares - expected time 92 minutes." The main part of the yellow cluster moved towards the park on the right. Denis turned back, a thin yellow thread tied his body left by the shopping center. He selected the desired area again.



    "Scanning squares, detail thirty."



    The time on the line has changed by 35 minutes.



    “Well, at least something of the training is left in your head,” Sonya muttered with satisfaction. - The scale of all scales for the swarm is by default logarithmic, you can set the base of the logarithm yourself for any scale.



    "Don't overestimate my education."



    "Forget it, just know that the scales are not linear."



    "Direct control".



    Denis jerked back into his own body and found that it was slightly frozen. For the sake of appearance, he threw up a dragonfly and went to bask in the wheelbarrow.



     - So far nothing is visible, - he informed Pasha. - Let's wait a bit.



     - Well, let's wait.



     - I think I'll get dressed.



     - Equipment in the trunk.



    Putting on an armored suit, a helmet and stuffing magazines for the AK-85 into the pockets on the armor, Denis noticed that the yellow line stretches through the park to the houses. The line with the remaining scan time hung in the same place.



     - Is it okay that you took more stores? He asked Pasha.



     - Barrels and equipment from your order, do not deny yourself anything. By the way, I prefer the fifty-eighth, after all, the 2.15 caliber will be more reliable. In the eighty-fifth caliber, the patient is small, it stitches everything through, there is no sense.



     - Next time I will order the fifty-eighth.



    They stared into the darkness for a while. Denis looked at the dragonfly's tablet for a look. Then he decided to break the silence:



     - What's the deal in the battalion?



     - As usual: we are at war with someone, we trade with someone.



     - The main enemy - Arumov?



     - Everywhere enemies. That Muscovites are pressing, that thugs from the Eastern Bloc. In my opinion, Arumov, of course, is a serious kid with connections and technologies, and the Eastern Bloc is kind of nonsense. They have long been accustomed to them. There are some renegades running around the wasteland, shouting something about the god of death. Just think ... But I will say this: my war has been going on for thirty years and all this time I just crawled further and further west. During the time of the Empire, we went to Korea and Beijing. Already with the battalion, I remember, we went on raids to Baikal and Bishkek. Now what? Once again, for the Irtysh, we are afraid to stick out. Yes, the people were crushing, of course. I just hear: “We have nothing more to do, to drive these spirits away! We've got business here! " And if they are not chased, they multiply exponentially. Yes, we regularly defeat them heroically, they only know how to fill up with meat,but what is the result? They stupidly send in new meat and roll on, slowly but surely. Are they really gods of death?



     - Give it up! Ordinary scumbag cultists.



     - Yes, those scumbags! Those who live near the Eastern Bloc observe the rituals of the lords of death thoroughly. And “holidays” are arranged and sacrifices are made. Otherwise, you will instantly become acquainted with death in all its guises. With acid rain, with plague locusts, with chemistry from which a person turns into a frostbitten zombie. Zombie attacks are, of course, all the rage.



     - My shotgun is always with me.



     - It's not funny. Imagine: yesterday there was such a peaceful shepherd's village nearby, and tomorrow these shepherds, like mad dogs, rush to your positions. Foam at the mouth, complete insensitivity to pain, they want to gnaw without arms without legs. And there, after all, women and children, half explode, half spit out some muck. The horror is complete, the guys from Kharza tell if they get too drunk. So, of course, they are silent, the brand must be kept, like you can't get through us. Just think, they chopped up a small stirring barrow in front of the checkpoint ... But the checkpoint was eventually abandoned.



     - There is no god but the god of death. What else needs to be said for the appeal?



     - And I serve the true God ... But now you can say anything at all or be silent. Now officially, all sentient beings belong to the cult. Even if they are still talking heretical about where they turned this god of death.



     - These overlords are insolent.



     - You can't argue with them on the main point: we will all be there. Sooner or later, this plague will take over the world.



     - Why don't Muscovites or Martians help you? Will the Martians really allow the Eastern Bloc to reach Europe?



     - Well, this will be when ... in a hundred years. Now, nothing personal, just business. They help us with one hand, with the other. And about the Martians there is not even a question, they began to supply this punks after the war. If not for them, there would not have been any Eastern bloc. And how many are now howling from them about how the evil battalions shoot unarmed peaceful shepherds. Nobody is talking about the fact that this is already a zombie with scorched brains. Or about what the Eastern Bloc itself does with the prisoners.



     - How so, the Martians are infidels with chips? How can the righteous masters of death trade with them or receive any help?



     - I beg you, we declare the next handout as a tribute and that's the end of it. And whoever disagrees, welcome to the sacrificial circle.



    Denis saw a yellow dot blinking in the scanned area behind the park.



    Swarm control.



    He instantly slid along the yellow thread to the buildings. The windows of the desired apartment were boarded up, like all the neighboring ones. But under the boards the swarm showed steel blinds, and while the yellow dots were powerlessly scraping against their plates.



    “We have to go up to the apartment,” said Sonya.



    Denis looked around, the area was almost scanned, only the shopping center and the highway exit to the left remained unmarked. Several yellow lights circled lazily near the park. Dan zoomed in, they were skinny stray dogs.



    "And what are the dogs for?"



    "Just in case. Animals can be dangerous too: carry mines or spy equipment. "



    "Let's mark the rats then."



    “Rats don't get into detail thirty. Come up to the apartment!



    "Can we wait for a full scan?"



    “Arumov's militants are not here,” Sonya confidently concluded. “I will set up swarm posts in the surrounding streets. And you give the order to gnaw at the protection and get up. "



    Denis highlighted the blinds in red and most of the points began to gather at the window.



    "Direct control".



     - Pasha, I want to go up to the apartment.



     - Go alone, I have this hamster. Timur said not to leave him in any way. If you want, I can stop by that street.



     - Don't, we'll sleep. Start the turbine, then pick me up.



     - Take the thermomine, open the door. No fluff!



     - To hell!



    Denis took the thermomine from the trunk, several smoke and frag grenades for the grenade launcher. The passive exoskeleton of the armor made movement a lot easier. It was even easier to run than empty, although maneuverability suffered a little. He jumped the street in front of the house with one jerk, but did not have time to brake and with a crash flew into the old iron door of the entrance. "Idiot," Sonya hissed. He opened a slightly dented canvas and yellow dots immediately flowed inward, revealing only a dark, smelly staircase. Some of the apartments in the entrance were completely without doors and in the openings were seen destroyed rooms littered with debris. The apartment I needed was on the fourth floor, closed by a simple wooden door.



    Denis imagined the window from the outside and saw that the yellow dots had finished eating away at his passage. The first bug poked its antennae inside. The decor in the room was spartan, with only a table and a safe against the side wall. He saw the thin back of a man sitting at the table. He was drinking tea, in front of him was a small laptop. Suddenly the man looked up, towards the hole where the swarm was breaking. Immediately there was a hiss, the room was clouded with some kind of gas, the sight whirled helplessly and a second later collapsed to the floor.



    “What a sly bastard! Break down the door! " Sonya's mental scream echoed with palpable pulsation in her temples. A titanium-soled Kevlar boot broke a rotten piece of wood and got stuck inside. Denis knocked down the remains of a tree with his butt; under it was a massive smooth slab with a combination lock. "Faster, thermomine"! Sonya, like a real Valkyrie, circled under the ceiling, she even howled slightly with rage.



    "Don't shout by the arm!"



    Denis ran a little up the stairs and turned away. A bright glow filled the entire entrance. The heat was felt even through the armor. After a couple of seconds, a melted hole gaped at the site of the castle and a piece of the wall. Dan kicked the door gently, trying not to get caught in the red-hot drops. One of the heat-leaking pins below was still holding the door. I had to kick with all the foolishness, the armor hissed under the spray of metal. As he tumbled inside, he was immediately shot in the chest by a thin silhouette in the gas fog. The silhouette was finishing buttoning a padded spacesuit when he was distracted. The pistol bullet only slightly shook Denis, he raised his machine gun and fired a short burst at the ceiling.



     - Stop, we must talk! I'm from Max!



    "Yes, shoot him!" Sonya hissed.



    Denis threw himself into the fog, hoping to get a hand-to-hand man, he rushed into the next room. Dan caught up with him there and together they crashed into the closet. There was a crash and thud of some object that fell from the hands of the enemy. Dan took a step back and aimed the barrel. Through the glass of the suit, he saw a thin, dark face and a long nose. Nothing else could be discerned in the surrounding fog.



     - All do not twitch, we will talk.



    Suddenly Dan felt the ground sinking from under his feet, he held on, but he immediately swayed again. The suit began to sideways toward the far wall.



     “Wait, I'm shooting,” Dan hissed.



    "Yes, shoot already!" - Sonia screamed desperately from somewhere far away. Dan stepped forward, but his leg broke and he collapsed to the floor. There was a click of another lock. Dan was lying on the floor and coughing. With one last effort, he buttoned up his gas mask. It became a little easier. Dan staggered to his feet and wandered through the fog. At the far wall of the room, he rested against another iron door. The only thermomine has already been consumed. Consciousness continued to float in the surrounding mist. He wandered back and accidentally kicked the dropped object. Dan knelt down and began to rummage around the floor. Coughing, he crawled out of the apartment. In his hands was a small black box. Roy didn't answer. Dan as he could, stumbling and grabbing onto the breaking railings, rolled down the street. He unfastened the mask and began to slowly release the cough.Pale Sonia Daimon materialized.



    "What is this stuff?"



    “I don’t know, some kind of rubbish specifically against the swarm. This gas is definitely not on the imperial register. There are not enough special individuals for detailed analysis. "



     - Pasha, how do you hear?



    Pasha's voice vibrated in his skull.



     - In touch? What do you have?



     - Drive here, the client leaves!



     - Got it!



    Denis reached with the remains of the swarm into the space behind the house. But he obeyed badly, as if the unexpected gas attack inspired the beetles with a hitherto unknown fear and lack of confidence in their abilities. He managed to see only a car leaving the residential area towards the plant.



    “You didn't kill him! - Sonya yelled. "You let him go!"



    "My kill limit has been reached for today."



    "Where are the rest of the controversy?"



    "In a car."



    "You cretin! Try to send the dogs after him!



    "Dogs ..."?



    Dan guessed what it was about and looked with his inner vision for stray dogs. They were sleeping peacefully in the park to the right. He marked the dog in green and the thin caravan of dots reached out to them.



    “Ah, we won't have time… I see two off-road vehicles moving in our direction from Yaroslavka,” Sonya reported.



    The screeching of brakes sounded nearby. Denis jumped into the UAZ.



     - What's happening?! - shouted the awakened Kolyan.



     - Come on, Pasha, chase the client, he leaves in the direction of the plant. Even the thugs of Arumov did not appear at the right time.



     - No, Dan, we're leaving.



     - Pasha, I need this person ...



     - Sorry, Dan, Timur said no noise and dust. We have already inherited bless you.



    "Infect him"! - the ringing voice of Sonya Daimon again echoed with a throbbing pain in his head.



     - Shut up already! Dan barked out loud.



     - What?



     - No, Pash, I’m not for you, Kolyanu ... Let's go shorter ahead. Let's leave through Korolev Avenue, it was not enough to cross with Arumov's gang.



     - They are here! They are here! We're fucked! - Kolyan squealed with renewed vigor. - How many are there?



     - Two jeeps. And shut up at last, be kind.



    Passengers shook around the cabin. Pasha tried to keep a decent speed on the road killed in the trash. In front of Denis's inner gaze, huge SUVs with extinguished headlights drove at full speed, not caring at all about the safety of the chassis. They were already turning into their street.



     - Pasha, to the left, quickly!



    Pasha pressed the gas all the way and jerked the steering wheel to the left, almost overturning the UAZ. They stood behind the end of the third house. An overgrown park rustled to their right. Dan, just in case, found the dogs, green lights were already spinning over three, the rest just blinking helplessly. The swarm's resources were depleted.



     - Let's go slowly along the park.



    Denis marked the dogs and ordered: "Follow me." One of the jeeps slowed down at the desired entrance, and the other confidently moved on.



     - One goes to us ... He sees us similarly.



     - Drones, their mother! - Pasha swore, pressing the gas.



     - Now it’s definitely a khan! - Kolyan whined, doomed.



     - Lie on the floor and shut up! - Dan barked, pushing Kolyan under the seat.



     - The rear window folds back, there are stops under the barrel, - Pasha said without turning his head.



    Denis folded the back of the chair and climbed back. It was very uncomfortable, the mountain of supplies under the tarpaulin interfered. He found the window latches and stops. The street running back was dangling in a red dot sight with a NVG like a drunken brute, despite the emphasis.



     - Fuck where I go.



     - I'll stand behind the next house. Hit the head.



    Pasha braked sharply, although Dan prepared himself, he almost flew back to the salon. Finding the jeep in the sight, he saw that he had stumbled into the courtyard to the corner of the house, a hundred meters behind. Old, thick wood successfully closed his front door. Silhouettes fell behind the jeep from the other side. Denis released a long, almost useless line. The claps of shots hit the nerves perceptibly, even through the helmet. From the angry, frequent clapping, I myself wanted to howl and grab my teeth into the enemy's throat. He saw fiery arrows ricocheting off the asphalt, knocking bits out of wood and melting in the engine of the car. He grabbed the grenade by touch and rolled it into the grenade. “Wow, I haven't fired for a long time, but I remember everything. How not to play, ”thought Dan, trying to knock down a little adrenaline. He was practically hit by the wheels of a jeep, but at the site of the explosion, only a cloud of suffocating gas was formed.“Smoke, damn it. Forgot ... ". Suddenly he saw a flashing red dot flying towards them.



     - Get down! He yelled.



    Time has slowed down. The red dot hit the ground with an undershoot and jumped, but Dan was already pressed into the rubber mat. A hail of glass shards poured over him from above.



     - Alive !? - Pasha shouted.



     - Fuck! Drive!



    Dan rolled another grenade and fired it at random into the cloud. The grenade bounced off the wall of the building and exploded in the air. He threw his last hope into the attack - infected dogs. Through the howling of the turbines and the screams of Kolyan, a barking was distinctly heard before them, and then a shrill plaintive squeal. And then another one.



     - Dan, there's a microwave gun in the trunk, we need to shoot down the drones!



     - We can't leave, we must surrender! - Kolyan yelled from under the seat.



    Denis put his head and hands under the tarp.



     - Where is she?!



     - The biggest crap!



    With difficulty he pulled out the heavy arquebusine. Instead of a barrel, it had a row of magnetrons, in a massive black case, with cooling fins and a narrow horn at the end. And no less heavy batteries in the stock. A powerful collimator sight with a night vision device was installed on the rail, and an incomprehensible lamp was attached to the right side.



     - Turn on the spotlight, on the right, you need to highlight them. And check the whole sky.



    Denis turned on the IR illuminator and the power of the gun. The warning whistle went off and the green indicator under the barrel came on.



     - Kolyan, stop kicking me.



     - Keep this thing away! She will fry my brain.



     “You don’t have any brain!



    The sight captured and highlighted the target, Denis aimed the mark at a bright circle with a luminous dot.



     - Don't touch the salon! - Pasha managed to bark.



    Denis pressed the key. There was a disgusting crackling sound, teeth ached, and the skin was palpably pinching. It seemed to him that he saw how the cone of night air trembled in the beam of the cannon. The luminous point went down.



     - Kolyan, your division! What the fuck are you grabbing!



     - My vision is gone, my skin is burning. Cut this shit out!



     - Let's not drive! You're in a shielding suit. Stop it, I said, or I'll shove a gun up your ass!



    Denis took the trunk to the left. Another dot appeared at ten o'clock. He squeezed the trigger again, the skin was again noticeably tingling, and it seemed his head began to ache.



     - That's it, I'm going to fry now!



    Kolyan climbed into the front seat, shoving and kicking. Denis continued to stubbornly search the night sky with a searchlight. Locks in the scope no longer appeared.



     - Fight back yet.



    Dan cut off the cannon's power supply with considerable relief. An empty dark street and houses with boarded up windows ran back.



     - It was necessary to shmalnu out of it in a jeep, he would not have gone far without electronics.



     - It was necessary, - Pasha agreed. - Are you sure they were Arumov's people?



     - There is no one else, they knew about the hut. In general, only Tom knew. I don't know if he had time to tell his boss before we hit him.



     - Most likely this creature has already come to life.



     - Yes, they flew at full speed.



     - We surely, khan, why was it necessary to fry my brains? Kolyan whined again. - We had to get out while there was time. Now they will block all roads.



     “Stop whining, I'll shoot you myself,” Denis cut him off irritably.



     - Actually, he's right, Dan. Arumov can raise the ears of all the cops, they will not let us leave. I'll call Timur and try to fight in the ruins of the East.



     - Call Timur and tell him that we are going to Nizhny. We meet where we agreed on Gorkovka. I'll do it with the cops if we are slowed down.



     - Really? How do you get on with them? In such a situation ... the whole battalion doesn't have that much dough.



     - I'll do it, I give my word.



    Denis hugged the backpack with the swarm banks more tightly.



     - Kolyan, where is the plastic box?



     - I don't know any boxes.



     - I threw her on the floor.



    Denis fumbled under the seat and pulled out his only prey. The box was flattened, with rounded edges, about the size of a small computer block used for full immersion. The only connector at the end looked like a power connector. The plastic was smooth and durable, not a single scratch remained on it.



     - What is it? Not a mine? - Pasha asked.



     “I don’t know, hardly a mine. My client dropped it when he ran away. I think this thing was very important to him.



    “Hey, Sonya, you don’t know what it is”?



    "Look for some kind of depression in the head."



    Denis ran his fingers along the smooth surface and came across a small notch. He pressed down and outwardly raised the handwheel, recessed inward with such a small gap that it was almost impossible to notice it. Denis tightened the handwheel to a click, and a gap appeared on the body, formed by the raised cover. Denis picked her up carefully. The inner surface of the lid was covered with a strange material, similar to translucent uncured rubber, which itself spread evenly over the lid. Inside were two optical connectors and several electrical ones, not similar to standard computer ones.



    "What is it"?



    "Some kind of Martian electronics ..."



    "Couldn't be more specific?"



    “More specifically ... Most likely, some kind of gadget for the Martian neurochip. After all, the Martians have special chips, not the same as those of ordinary people. This is indicated by the connectors and markings. To be more precise, it is difficult to say, the swarm is not a specialist in Martian technology. "



    "So how are we going to infect the Martians?"



    "Where are you going to infect them?"



    “It's obvious on Mars, we have a war with them. Sooner or later we will have to get into their den. "



    “So we will study Martian technology. Roy is able to learn. "



    "Perfectly! But still, at least you can define the purpose of this thing ”?



    "Suppose it's a human memory storage module?"



    "Flash drive type? Why is she so healthy? Exactly Martian, maybe ours?



    “A flash drive can store video or sound, and human memory is a huge set of images and associative links. The brain cannot directly access the bits on the USB stick. We need a complex interface that involves a major restructuring of the cerebral cortex. Only real Martians can supplement their brains with such expansion modules. You can't connect this to an ordinary chip. "



    “Is this the memory of some Martian? Hopefully someone very important. "



    "Maybe".



    "Can you read it, or at least find out whose memory it is?"



    "No, we need equipment and specialists on Martian chips."



    “Where to find them in Moscow”?



    “I don’t know, think.”



    



    Kolyan ate pasties from a roadside cafe, sitting in the back seat of the UAZ, opening the door and enjoying the bright, but barely warm autumn sun. We can say that he did not absorb, but ate pasties, the fat flowed down his chin, which did not add to Denis's appetite. So I didn't really want to eat, and the sight of Kolyan evoked unpleasant associations with a hungry monster indiscriminately devouring everyone around. Gusts of wind flew from the endless field on the left side of the track, rolling in waves of dead grass. They pleasantly chilled the face and howled in the cracks of the body. Sometimes they swooped in with such fury that they palpably rocked a heavy machine. On the right, the roadside cafe was surrounded by a dense spruce forest. Nearby stood a battered wheelbarrow without glazing, in which Pasha was sleeping. Several yellow dots crawled lazily through the cars - all that was left of the second can after meeting with the cops.



    Timur and Fyodor were just leaving the cafe, loaded with bags of food. Rifles dangled behind them, Timur put on shoulder straps with one red stripe of the platoon commander on his armor, and a battalion sign on his sleeve: a red-blue triangular shield separated by a horizontal line. The upper, blue half featured a stylized golden sun rising over the horizon.



     - Did you even pay for the zhrachka? - Kolyan asked through a chomp.



     - Did you pay? - Timur shrugged his shoulders.



     - I paid. I'm not hung from head to toe with barrels and grenades.



     - Fedya, give him a pistol with one round.



    Fyodor, with his trademark, absent-mindedly indifferent expression on his face, reached into the trunk.



     - Yes, okay, I just asked.



     - Dan, did you eat?



     - I’m not hungry.



     - Let's get away for five minutes.



    Timur walked around the corner of the building so that the wind and prying ears would not interfere with the conversation. Sonya Daimon hung over his left shoulder, her intense gaze speaking for itself.



     - In the next village we will throw off Kolyan to one lad, and we ourselves are going to the midfielder. There Lesha is now in charge, he, of course, is the right comrade, but he does not know our business, so we need to agree on the testimony. He will ask what and how, and then report to the battalion commander.



     - And what testimony do we have?



     - We came to Kolyan, and the Arumov bulls fell down there along with you and began to wrap their flippers for us. Like we’ll take you where we need to go and talk about your left handed hassles. Well, word for word I had to solve them. Fedya will fire at me a couple of times with a shotgun to make the armor shine. There is no need to say too much, I myself will announce all the details to Lesha.



     - What about Kolyan?



     - We released Kolyan right after the kneading and what happened to him out of the box.



     - Good.



     - And by the way, why the heck did they drag you to Kolyan?



     - I lied to them that I gave my grandmother to Kolyan for one service. And Kolyan ordered the weapon himself. Just a trick, so they don't bury me right on the road.



    Timur hesitated a little, looking into the distance, and asked:



     - Dan, how did you get on with the cops? I still can't figure out what it was. They flew like mad dogs: all to lie down, fire to kill. And in five minutes: bon voyage.



     - I know their commander, even on business with Jan. He is indebted to us.



     - The one who stopped us?



     - Well, the one who commanded the raid.



     - What kind of debt is this? If one of those eagles knocks Arumov, whom they released, they will mix your commander with shit.



     - He was in a large, unpaid debt.



     - And how are the nanobots? I see no fear in your eyes of a painful death from poison.



     - The poison has already been neutralized.



     - Truth?



     - Remember, I talked about biological weapons. This is not exactly a biological weapon ... in short, these are also nanorobots, like Arumov's, only more advanced. They can be sprayed anywhere, and then used for reconnaissance and observation, or to poison opponents. Or they can fight poisoning and alien robots. The latest development.



     - Do you carry them in your backpack?



     - Yeah.



     - Interesting ... We had a version that Arumov figured out all our dealers and outbids using small RFID tags or robots. According to rumors, the Martians have such, it is enough to pour them into the goods from the supplier to light up the entire network.



     - Quite possible.



     - Where did you get them?



     - An old friend. True, the product is exclusive and expensive. I was lucky that he was able to bring a new batch to the recycling station.



     "Can't your friend fit a couple more sets?" The battalion would benefit from such nanotechnology. At least to understand how to defend against it. It will be unpleasant to meet this shit in battle.



     “I'll try, but he's very careful. We should first sort out our problems.



     - Speaking of problems: why did the Arum bulls decide to kill you? You wanted to throw Arumov on the grandmother? No, I certainly don't mind, it's a good thing, but somehow not very clever.



     - There is a more complicated story. You, perhaps, have heard that Arumov is stirring up the project of super-soldiers with one rotten Martian office? With a Telecom division in Zelenograd. I accidentally got into his business ...



     - A super-soldier, such as Martian cyborgs?



     - Super soldier, such as imperial ghosts. They use their genotype, but slightly modified.



     - Imperial ghosts! - Timur's slanting eyes widened noticeably. - Are you sure?



     - What surprises you?



     - Nobody has seen the ghosts since the collapse of the Empire, they were all destroyed.



     - So not everything, or the NII RSAD created new ones.



     - You speak so confidently about it. Have you seen them yourself?



     - Did you see ... you don't believe me?



     - Have you seen the queen?



     - What other queen?



     - Queen of ghosts, without her it is impossible to create ghosts.



     “I have no idea what the other queen is?” They just use their genotype, turning ordinary people into something similar.



     “Are you sure they’re using the ghost genotype?”



     - I'm pretty sure. I say, I saw these creatures, if they are not imperial ghosts, then I don’t know ...



     - Okay, then we’ll bother. It is time.



    Timur with a thoughtful look went to the cars, having lost interest in further questions about Arumov. The information about the ghosts obviously somehow changed his plans, but Denis was at a loss as to the reasons for this change.



    Kolyan with a thoughtful look walked around the trunk of the first car, in the second Pasha was serenely sleeping. Timur ran up and raised his fighter with kicks and bad words.



     - What are you sleeping! Where is Fedya?



     “I don’t know…



     ” “He went to shit,” Kolyan reported with a gloomy look. - And he told me to look after Pasha.



     - In your repertoire ... Okay, Pasha, start the turbines, as soon as Fedya comes, we will start.



     - And devour? Are we going to the midfielder?



     - No, you have to get off the track. More details later.



    Timur pulled out a large satellite phone from the trunk and ran out of line with it.



    "You're incorrigible! Sonya hissed. “You mustn't chat about the swarm with strangers. Roy is a secret weapon, this is his main strength. He is quiet and inconspicuous, wins where the soldiers and missiles are powerless. "



    "I didn't say anything about the swarm."



    “Do you think this story of yours about nanobots is such a perfect cover? You talked too much. And what will happen next? - Sonya hissed gloomily. "He needs to be infected."



    “I forbid. New law of the swarm: a ban on infecting any fighters of the Zarya, Kharza, North and East battalions. Any infection only with my direct consent. "



    "The law has been passed and the swarm does not like it."



    “I didn't doubt for a second. Better tell me what's going on? Why is Timur so tense because of the ghosts?



    "Infect him and ask."



    "Who is the Queen of Ghosts"?



    “Conventionally, a female ghost. She can, shall we say, produce germ ghosts, but that's not the point. The genotype of the ghosts is encrypted, the key to the "cipher" is hormones, which are produced only by the queen. Without them, it is impossible to clone a ghost, and the ghosts themselves cannot renew body cells. Without regular injections, they fall into suspended animation and are practically non-functional. "



    "So Telecom has a queen"?



    "Maybe".



    "Why were you silent before?"



    “How did this information help you? Think better about how you will excuse yourself when your precious Timur puts a pistol to his head and wants to get new comments on your cool stories ... "



    " I'll deal with Timur myself. "



    They failed to leave. Sleepy Pasha tried to hastily cram cheburek and coffee into himself, Timur was carrying on some tense negotiations on the phone, and Fedya was hanging around somewhere when a whole column of armored cars and two armored jeeps appeared on the road ahead. Through the optics one could see the pennant of the Zarya battalion in the first vehicle. Timur jerked for a microwave gun and mini-missiles, but a loud commander's bass was heard in the headset of his helmet.



     - Call sign Dobryak, I call Timur, answer ... Timur, we see you perfectly. I have four squads of fighters and an order to deliver you to the midfielder.



     - Whose order?



     - Order of the battalion commander ... And I want to see Kolyan alive, don't do anything stupid, okay.



    The armored cars surrounded them, trapping the UAZ by the side of the road. However, Timur did not try to escape, resigned to the fact that he seemed to be outplayed. A huge fighter in armor jumped from the step of the first car, with two stripes of the company commander on his shoulder straps. He was really huge and could easily handle a large caliber machine gun as a personal weapon, although he preferred jet flame throwers. And now, behind his back, dangled a multiply charged "shaitan-pipe" with a revolver magazine for six homing mini-missiles. There were so many bronze stars on the heavy chain for raids against the Eastern Bloc that they turned into an extra chestpiece. And on a wide belt dangled steel claws, fangs, cranial plates and other trophies, ripped from the adepts of death. The sun of the battalion was minted on his helmet, and guns and sickles with hammers on the armored shields. Lesha,with the call sign "Dobryak", was exiled to command a midfielder as punishment for violent support of the war party.



    Friends usually called him Lesha-good-evening. He honestly earned this title by regular, successful passes deep into the rear of the lords of death. He and his fighters knew a lot about how to catch the enemy in the outhouse with his pants down, to politely greet with the words "Good evening, bastards ..." And, of course, chop them with steel needles.



    Fighters in chameleon raincoats climbed out of the car. Denis managed to distinguish only Sima and Hals, one was carrying a long-range Gauss rifle, and the other was carrying batteries to it. Timur grimaced at them. He disliked such rifles, considering them a foul weapon that too relaxes the fighters. They fired very far and were less dependent on wind, distance and other factors due to the tremendous speed of the projectile. But on the other hand, they were capricious in service and could fail at the most inopportune moment. In addition, they were usually used as anti-sniper weapons and all sorts of green salabons with similar devices and flocks of drones sent a lot of cool snipers to the land of the eternal hunt.



     - Do you have new cars? - Timur nodded to the jeeps. - They are similar to those on which the battalion commander and his cocks are chasing.



     - The battalion commander is here. He and his cocksters really want to talk to you.



     - Even so, the battalion commander tore off a fat ass for the sake of chatting with some platoon commander.



     - It looks like they called him from Arumov and inserted such a cap that he rushed here on a turntable with all his retinue.



     - What kind of battalion commander is this that some Moscow condoms can bend?



     - But for now he is a battalion commander, Timur. And ... you have to surrender your weapons.



     - Surrender your weapon! What do they show me?



     - Violation of the order. Hand over your weapons Timur ...



     - So that they bury us in the nearest forest or send us to Arumov? Wouldn't it be better to pull the check straight away?



     - Ah, Timur, you can answer for such a market! I've done a lot in this life, but the very latest dog knows I've never broken the charter. Any fighter has the right to fair analysis.



     - Well, what about Denis? He's not a fighter, does he have the right to be honest?



     - I don't know, the battalion commander will decide. He gave his word that everything will be according to the charter.



     - Do you give your word? If suddenly the battalion commander sends the statute away ...



     - Timur, why are you cheating me ?! - Lesha was clearly angry and clenched his pood fists. - Do you want to push my foreheads with the battalion commander? If the battalions are still bickering inside, we will quickly end. And you know perfectly well that for such cases, they will just dig in indiscriminately. In short, hand over your guns. Now!



     - Okay guys, give up.



    Timur was the first to take off his rifle and unload it.



    “Let the swarm out,” Sonya hissed as Denis unloaded his rifle.



    “You’re out of your mind, I’ll be shredded with ten barrels if I climbed into my backpack.



    “I would have released it early, or infected the rest! I could hide behind them. "



    "Fuck off! I'll release it later. "



    "Of course, when Arumov will cut you into shreds ..."



     - Timur, where is Fedor? He should be with you.



     - I do not know ...



     - Order him to surrender.



     - Sorry, Lesha, without a weapon I'm not his commander.



     - If you have not lost the bayonet, you are still a fighter and commander.



     - He went to the toilet, to the shoveling, - Fyodora Kolyan readily surrendered, earning an unkind look from Timur.



     - Kord, take the compartment, turn this hut upside down.



    A tall, skinny fighter in a chameleon cloak waved his hand to his people, but saw fit to express doubts:



     - He could have dumped into green. He is still a bastard, he loves to disappear at the most opportune moment.



     - Then you will stay combing.



     - We will, of course, read it, but, Lesha, you know ... if someone's luck can interrupt yours, then only Fedor's luck.



     - You let’s not reason, but do your job.



     - Yes, do business!



    



    Usually at the battalion's strongpoint a platoon of fighters toiled from idleness, no more. Nizhny Novgorod was not the fiefdom of the battalion and it was not possible to collect any significant quitrent for defense from it. The city was used only as a transit point. But now the long buildings dug into the ground hummed like a disturbed hive. Opornik was located on the outskirts, at the entrance to the city from the east. On the right, not far away, there was a railway that led to the relatively well-preserved Kazan, which Kharza's battalion had long dreamed of taking under the protection. And on the left it was a stone's throw to the swampy floodplain of the Volga. The green around the piece of iron was cut down within a kilometer radius. The abandoned dacha villages around were a little in the way, but their wooden houses were easily sewn through even from platoon weapons.The barrack and the warehouse were surrounded by two rows of concrete blocks with thorns, in which several pillboxes were organized, covering all sectors of the shelling.



    Only two armored cars returned to the midfielder, the crews of the remaining vehicles were mobilized for an unsuccessful search for Fyodor. Pasha and Kolyan were driven in the lead car, and Denis and Timur were chilling in another. Denis was tightly clutching his backpack. Opposite was a very young soldier, constantly adjusting the belt of his machine gun. He did not seem to show much aggression, but Timur's dismissive look did not allow him to relax. The second fighter, short and square, occasionally tossed with Timur with meaningless friendly remarks. Denis even remembered his call sign - Girya.



     - Recently ... a soldier took the oath? - Timur hissed in the direction of the young, looking at his stripe and shoulder straps with one gray stripe.



     - It's none of your business when I took the oath! - the young man tried very hard, but his voice still broke a little.



     “They took the oath last week,” Girya drawled lazily. - A whole company after a year of training was immediately given bayonets. Although, they are not like in the raid, they were not even in battle.



     - I see, our battalion commander will soon begin to hang his boarders.



     - Well, it's not for us to tell the battalion commander, but the charter seems to be written in blood ... Okay, he brought a whole platoon of greenery here, but what if they are sent to the wasteland.



    The young fighter, red as cancer, stubbornly stared into the bulletproof glass, where two fighters at the checkpoint in completely closed armor were discussing something with Lesha.



     “And soon the military exercises for newcomers will be canceled,” Kettlebell continued to say. - They will shoot idle whales, otherwise they will suddenly be injured. The spooks will kiss them in the ass, and not make an ax-head.



     - Hard times are coming ... The



    arrival saved the young fighter from further offensive comments. The armored car stopped on a concrete parade ground and everyone was ordered to sweep out. A huge transport helicopter towered nearby. The blades of his propellers sagged almost to the ground. The wheels of the multi-axle chassis were larger than a person's height. Elephanta were well armed, crammed with electronic warfare and decoy targets, and carried up to thirty tons of cargo. They could pull a company or two out of a failed raid. With the help of cannibalization of old vehicles, the battalion barely kept two or three elephanta in good working order, and one of them was driven here.



    And nearby, to the great surprise of Denis, there were several horses that were completely inappropriate among the heavy equipment. Horses, of course, absorbed some of the advances in cybernetics: their skulls were made of titanium alloy, the ridge was reinforced with an external exoskeleton, joints were replaced with hinges, and the hooves were made of alloyed caterpillar steel. They were protected by blankets made of kevlar scales. The horses were small, shaggy and incredibly stocky. Judging by their sculpted muscles and thick veins, their diet consisted of more than just organic grass. It was the first time Denis observed a cartage transport at the battalion's location.



     “A present from Kharza,” Timur chuckled. - Of course, you cannot compare with the Elephants, but in a raid it is sometimes easier to have cattle that do not require a barrel of kerosene to stomp further.



     “This is not because of a good life,” Girya muttered. - Muscovites, Martians - bastards are shaking from all sides, with supplies the ass is full. Soon we will live in wagons and graze sheep ...



     - And there is your van with an order, - Timur pointed to a nondescript white van lurking in the shadows near the warehouse.



     - And how will he help us?



     - At the moment, nothing, - Timur shrugged.



     “Take them to the barracks,” Girya waved to the young soldier.



     - Why the barracks? And where are you going ... They were told to keep an eye on them!



     “They told you, don't let it go. And I'll go eat, but don't worry, I'll be back soon.



    All Lesha's fighters emphatically engaged in other matters, leaving the young one to deal with the prisoners.



     - Well, are we going or what?



    Timur waved in the direction of the barracks with an inviting gesture. The barracks was almost completely dug into the ground, only from above, through small embrasures, daylight made its way. Timur proceeded to the refrigerator, opened the beer and lay down insolently on the bunk. It seemed that the prospect of a conversation with the battalion commander did not frighten him at all.



     - Hey, fighter, take a beer.



     “I'm on duty,” the young man answered grimly.



     - This is not a service. What do you even know about the service?



     “I know everything there is to know.



     - Did you have a drill?



     - Was.



     - It can be seen ... Be equal! Attention! Were they given you to shoot? Or did they not trust you with military weapons?



     - I have a military weapon in my hands. Do you want to check?



     - Let's check, - Timur with a challenge stared at the guard. - Look at the fridge, just make sure you don't miss ... You have been taught how to shuffle correctly in front of your superiors. And wipe each other's asses. But that doesn't make the green rookie a fighter. And you are not a fighter.



    Only a coward or a person who directly violated the oath could be told that he was not a fighter. In relation to even ordinary soldiers, it was customary to answer for such a market. This could end in a duel or a serious punishment for someone who does not know how to keep his mouth shut. But for those who endured such attacks, nothing good shone. The young man gritted his teeth, but clearly did not understand how best to proceed: either to pounce on Timur with fists, or to run to complain to the commanders. Both were written on his face, and both were equally bad.



    “It's time to release the swarm,” Sonya hissed again. - Come on, while the young man is confused, infect him.



    “Fuck off, he's not guilty of anything. In addition, he received a stripe without being in a real battle. "



    "Seriously, will you wait until they strip you down to your underpants and throw you into the basement?"



     - I'll go to the toilet.



    Denis confidently headed towards the exit.



     - What?! - soared young. - To stand!



     - Why are you so nervous? - Timur hissed. - Are we going to piss here?



     - You must go under escort.



     - Well, go, hold the door. I will rest here, I will not go anywhere.



     - No, we'll wait for my partner to come.



     - Kettlebell or what? I'll go get him myself.



     - So, let's go all together, - found a young man.



    There was another hitch at the toilet. In a fit of service zeal, the guard wanted to go to the toilet with Denis, but was again ridiculed.



     - Don't worry, I'm not Fyodor and there are no trees nearby, - Denis waved his hand and disappeared behind the door.



    In the booth, he immediately began emptying the swarm cans. There were so many beetles quickly that they clung to the walls, their buzz clearly spread in the air. If someone decided to ruin at this moment, he could not avoid infection. The only, small window is huddled under the very ceiling. I had to send the whole swarm into ventilation, although Denis was afraid that half of the bugs might get stuck in some filters or accidentally find themselves. He threw empty plastic cans into the trash can and for some time thought about what to do with the memory module. He eventually stuck it in the toilet cistern, leaving the alarm from the swarm.



    They came for them in forty minutes. Lesha and Girya, already without armor, just in camouflage, but Lesha did not part with his belt and chain with stars. Two more soldiers loomed behind them, apparently newcomers, whom the battalion commander had brought with him. They were led all the way to the warehouse, past turntables, horses, and many fighters. And, if everyone respectfully parted in front of Lesha, and Timur was cheeringly clapped on the shoulders, then the newcomers were probably not kicked off. They whistled in the trail and once threw an empty bottle. Lesha, of course, ordered to take the provocateur to the basement, but without due condemnation in his voice.



     “The situation is tense,” Denis whispered to Timur. - Maybe you should voice our version of the batch publicly.



     - No, Dan, this will already be an open riot. We must wait for the battalion commander to say.



    In front of the battalion commander's lair, they were finally forced to remove their armor and searched. A fat bald man with marsh-colored eyes, from the battalion security service, was searching, apparently one of the cocksmiths. He did not shake at all: he forced him to take off his shoes, turned Denis's backpack inside out and studied his tablets for a long time. He pointed to the nanobot control tablet.



     - What is it?



     - A gift from Arumov's militants.



     - Go.



    They were pushed into a spacious room on the second floor. He was freed and a table, chairs, several cupboards and even partitions were installed, which the battalion commander brought with him. The large window was washed and even curtains were hung on it. They were wide open and sunlight flooded the room. The armor blankets were stacked against the wall. All this superfluous decoration did not fit into the harsh subculture of the Zarya battalion, which, moreover, ordered to dig into the ground at every opportunity. The thick carpet perceptibly warmed up the limbs; a robot with vacuum cleaners and brushes was driving along it. A cage with a large, colorful parrot swayed over the table. He opened one eye, yelled: "Come in!" and again fell into a stupor. Timur, assessing the situation, grimaced contemptuously.



    The overweight gray-haired battalion literally drowned in a huge chair at the table. Kolyan was sitting in front of the minibar with a glass of cognac, two new security guards were sniffing behind him, a fat man from the Security Council sat down next to the battalion commander. Pasha was not visible. Lesha and Girya were asked to stay outside the door.



    Once the commander with the call sign "Bulat" instilled fear in his appearance. He was strong and courageous, squat, very sturdy and stocky, as if welded from tank armor. True, since Denis saw him for the last time, he was strongly distributed in breadth below the shoulders, bags were full under his eyes, and the gray mane of hair turned into pathetic shreds. The battalion commander surrendered well and no longer inspired fear in the enemies and respect for the soldiers. Shifting on the carpet, Denis worried only about how his socks, dressed more than a day ago, stink.



     - Speak, Timur, who gave you the order? - Bulat growled.



     - Komrots, Mityai.



     - What order did Mityai give?



     - Find out why Tom wants the money back.



     - And what did you find out ?!



     - Nothing, Tom tried to wrap our flippers and kill Denis. I acted according to the circumstances.



     - You call it by the circumstances ?! Don't make a fool of yourself! You ambushed and knocked Arumov's men down without any further ado.



     - Where does this information come from?



     - Kolya told how it was, you are lying very stupidly.



     - Kolyan is just a huckster, his word is worthless.



     “We’ll see which of us is a huckster,” Kolyan hissed from his seat.



     - You violated the order, you did not give a damn about the charter and your commanders. I sentence you to expulsion from the battalion. Hand over your bayonet!



     - Take it, - Timur laughed in the face of the battalion commander. - It is you, Bulat, who forgot the charter and our traditions. This was not a combat order, but just ... an order. And you can't judge him like that. If you want to figure it out, I agree, I call my defenders: Vigu from the North, Ella from Kharza and Kind from Dawn. Come on, I'm ready to go before the tribunal, but you won't get my knife.



    Timur demonstratively pulled out a long narrow blade from the scabbard at his belt. The fat man with swampy eyes whispered something to the battalion commander, but he shook his head and called Lesha and Girey.



     - Take me to the basement, I'll decide later.



     - There is nothing to decide, - Timur declared loudly. - If you have any complaints against me, let's disassemble it properly. If not, return the weapons to us.



     - Take away.



    Lesha frowned for a while, but in the end he showed Timur to the door.



     - Denis, you stay.



    Bulat went to the bar and took out two glasses and a bottle of cognac.



     - Sit down, Dan, have a drink.



    Denis thoughtfully turned the glass over in his hands.



     - Tell me, honestly, Denis, what should I do with Timur? He muddies the waters, violates orders. How should a normal commander deal with such fighters?



     “I don’t know, I’m not the commander, but if it weren’t for him, Tom and his gang would have cut me to pieces.



     - Why did he want to cut you into pieces?



     - I refused to do dirty work for Arumov.



     “We all have to do some unpleasant work sometimes. That is life.



     - Everyone decides for himself.



     - If everyone decided for himself, our bones would long ago turn white in the fields. You're still very young, Dan, and young people tend to overestimate their strength. Have you ever been to a war? In a real war?



     - I shot and they shot at me. Is this war or not?



     - No, you have not seen a real war. You have not seen how small children are taken out from under the rubble. Blackened, with intestines fallen out, but the worst thing is when alive, with broken arms and legs, whose relatives do not have a single living soul.



     - Modern medicine can cope with any physical ailment.



     - Modern medicine ... In the wastelands people have nothing to eat, they are sandwiched between a rock and a hard place. They were born in war and will die in war.



    Denis put the untouched glass on the table.



     - What are you leading to, Bulat?



     “I'm trying to explain to you ... Do you remember the battalion's oath.



     - The war never ends. As long as I live, there will be a war. And when the hour of the last battle comes, I will remember these words and will not be afraid of what is inevitable. I swear to serve the battalion. I am the blood and flesh of the battalion, my life will fit on the edge of this knife.



     - Correctly.



    Bulat pulled out from his belt his old army-style bayonet with bad steel and a worn-out brown plastic handle. He threw it on the table without any respect.



     - Look! What is special about this piece of iron? Yes, I know, Lesha or Timur will push some pretentious speech about the fact that it is a symbol of our spirit, which will never be broken. But besides thugs like Timur, there are also ordinary people who want the war to end.



     - Empty hopes: the war never ends. That the Eastern Bloc will disappear tomorrow, or Arumov, or the Martians will love us? Why will it end?



     - You can agree with everyone.



     - With those who consider themselves masters of death, can you come to an agreement?



     - You can negotiate with anyone. And we do it all the time. You think the battalion is so tough. We trade with the Eastern Bloc and the Martians, we sell weapons to our enemies, from which they shoot at us. Unless we sell drugs and people, although we do allow transit. We knock out grandmothers from the comics, for protection, of course.



     - You protect them.



     - From ourselves, mostly.



     - I don't see a problem, - Denis shrugged his shoulders. - They will pay dushmans with regular human sacrifices.



     - And they pay anyway. Where there is a battalion, there is a war. Death squads come there, shells fall, and sometimes they fly from the Martians. And the first to die are peaceful people. I have been in the war for almost forty years and I dream of all these faces. Not the faces of my dead comrades, but the faces of little children. There is nothing worse than war.



     - You can lose the war or be captured. It is also painful to die from cancer or other unknown infection. There are many things that are worse than war.



     - Have you never sat in the cold ruins that were your home and did not flinch at every rustle outside?



     - As if you were sitting.



     - Okay, Denis, then you will understand that I am right. If you have time for this.



     - Yes, I agree, the war is terrible. So what?



     “You have to help stop this war. You are not a fighter, but your word means something. Tell the battalion how it really was and Timur will get what he deserves.



     - And I will get a bullet in the forehead from Arumov's militants.



     - I will agree with Arumov, he is a reasonable person. Here, Kolya, he forgave and promised not to touch. Yes, Kolya, I will not detain you anymore. Don't forget to show yourself to Tom and return their things. Mishan, see him off and give out a wheelbarrow.



    The fat man with swampy eyes nodded, took the tablet away from the nanobots and took Kolyan away.



     “A promise made to a man is worthless without a rifle. This is what they say in the battalion, - said Denis when Kolyan left.



     - This is not true, Arumov never broke his word, unlike Timur, who only does what he does to breed those who trust him. You're not that kind of person, Denis. Think a little, I'm not in a hurry ... Aren't you hungry? I'm covering a clearing here for local cops ...



     - There is nothing to think about, this proposal does not interest me.



     - A-ah, I'm wasting my time here! The battalion commander said irritably. - I'm trying to help you. To the basement!



    All the fighters dispersed on the parade ground. A woman was spinning next to the turntable and shouting at the youth who were carrying boxes and suitcases. The apotheosis of their dubious activity was the unloading of a hefty semicircular bath. Apparently quite heavy, judging by the sudden swearing and squeals that came from behind. Denis wanted to look around, but the guards began to shove him in the back. A long narrow staircase led to the basement, next to the barracks. It was cramped in the casemate, one Lesha occupied half of the room, and Girya and Sima were pushing alongside. The cell's bars were open, although Pasha and Timur were inside.



     - Free! - Alex barked at the guards.



     - But the battalion commander ordered ...



     - I'll figure it out myself, or you have nothing to do? I'll find a job quickly. Cool! Step march!



     - Well trained them, - Lesha chuckled when the guards stomped up the stairs. - Straight tin soldiers, lined up and you can drive even until the evening ...



     - Listen, Lesh, something needs to be decided, - Timur interrupted him. - Dan, what is the battalion commander doing there?



     - He wants to thump with cops.



     - Yeah, schA they get drunk, get bolder, and then they'll come for us to take us to Arumov. In short, there will be no analysis. We must face the truth, Lesha, our battalion commander has become a bitch.



     - You understand, Timur, how this can turn out.



     - I understand, that's why I say, let me contact the guys from Kharza and the North. They do not need to shove against their battalion commander, they will take the turntables and honestly arrive for analysis. Well, they will take a platoon or two with them for moral support.



     - It will not end well.



     - Yes, by itself. Either we bend or we fight again.



     - Well you know me, I am always for a terrible end, not endless horror ... Okay, Timur, give me half an hour to grind with the soldiers. Promise you won't go anywhere.



     “Okay, but half an hour, please don't wait.



     - Okay. Kettlebell, stay.



    Lesha and Sima rumbled up the stairs.



     - What did you talk about with the battalion commander? - asked Timur.



     - Yes, he told me how terrible the war is. It's like I'm ten years old.



     - Lately he likes to talk this nonsense. He gets drunk and starts: the war is terrible, little children are dying in the war, we need to negotiate, forget old grievances and other woman's whining. He was not like this before.



     - I remember: we all shuddered from his calls, especially when the payment was delayed.



     - Before, he could give a shit to anyone. I don't know what Arumov did to him, but now he only thumps and whines all day. Well, he also builds family happiness with all sorts of whores.



     “There’s some kind of woman hanging around the turntable. Him?



     - He also carries them with him, he has completely started.



     - All the same, you can't get away from this, half of the fighters have someone.



     - It is clear that there is someone ... But you can't carry them with you. You have one family - a battalion, and there won't be another. The first thing that all sorts of condos like Arumov will do is come to the wives and children and take you by the balls. So they took our Bulat, now he sings like a castrato boy whatever Arumov wants ... And Kolyan is drinking with him?



     - No, he let him go. I think Kolyan is already halfway to Moscow.



     - Bad ...



     - He gave him Tom's tablet and told him to return it.



    Lesha came much faster.



     - The battalion commander gave his word: tomorrow he will take you to the base to hear the voice of the army. Until then, nothing will be done.



     - And you believed him?



     - I have no choice, Timur.



     - Look, then it will be too late.



     - Do you want me to sit here until morning?



     - There is no sense, Giri is enough.



    Lesha opened the weapons cabinet and put the satellite phone in it.



     - You can go out and call when they run out of drinking. The guard will be ours.



     - Good.



    Nobody came for them all day, apparently the battalion commander was going to keep his word, or Arumov agreed to wait. Pasha was sleeping in the cell. Timur chatted with Girey or sat in the Buddha posture and fingered his rosary. Sonya Daimon got Denis with plans to infect and exhaust everyone. Unsuccessful, she forced him to train swarm management, sacrificing the surrounding wandering animals. Several expensive jeeps and cop cars arrived at the midfield. Tables were set on the first floor of the warehouse, loud music and drunken laughter came from there. Denis saw Mishan with swampy eyes at the table, several young fighters and a crowd of local security officials, none of the veterans were there. At ten o'clock the battalion commander went upstairs, apparently his health did not allow him to walk all night. His drinking companions dispersed in just half an hour and it became quiet. Timur pushed asleep Denis.



     - How are your nanobots? Can you control them from here?



     - I can.



     - Look what the battalion commander is doing.



    Swarm control. Find Bulat ". A dense dome of yellow dots has long covered the entire opornik, so Denis's vision instantly jumped into the far room on the second floor of the warehouse. A thin, newly installed partition separated the bedroom from the room where they were interrogated. The battalion commander sprawled on the bed, showing his belly like a whale thrown ashore, and snoring loudly. Next to him lay a young woman in a translucent nightie.



     - Second floor of the warehouse, the farthest room, closer to the river. Through the partition from his office, where we were pissed off. Sucks in a straw.



     - Are there windows in the room?



     - There is one, on the same wall as in the study. Hanged with an armored blanket.



     - Is there anyone else in the warehouse?



     - In the office, the fat security officer goes to bed. And two newcomers on duty. Why do you need Timur?



     - I don’t ask unnecessary questions. Here you are, be kind, do the same.



     - The woman sleeps with the battalion commander.



    Timur's gaze froze only for a moment.



     - Well, that means it’s his own fault.



    Timur quietly whistled to Gira to let him go out to call on the satellite. He was absent for a long time, Denis had time to get all out.



     - Well, what are your plans? He asked as soon as Timur returned to the cell.



     - No, sleep for now.



    Swarm sensitivity ten.



    Denis understood that this night conversation did not bode well for the battalion commander. A normal man in essence, who fought bravely all his life for the battalion, shore fighters and protected civilians whenever he could. And having grown old, he wanted a calm life and a peaceful sky over his head. And also his mistress, the same fool, like Lenochka, who decided to go the easy way. Denis thought that his conscience would not let him fall asleep, but he fell into sleep, barely closed his eyes.



    



    At a large table sat fifteen men and one woman, a white robe casually draped over her shoulders. Vision jumped from one to another, the words and thoughts of different people were heard, except for the tall gray-haired man at the head of the table. Judging by his appearance, he was in the rank of no less than an academician, which did not allow mere mortals to read his thoughts. Most were afraid of an inevitable and difficult decision. Many thought about families, which now have nothing to feed, at least two thought about the only woman in their company. She, although she was a small, thin blonde, middle-aged, and with a bitchy character, but knew how to attract men. Maybe just because there were very few women in the team. Denis understood that in a dream it is normal to hear the thoughts of other people.



     “So, colleagues,” the man at the head of the table said quietly. - I hope everyone forgot contact lenses, earphones from chips, electronic rings, tablets in the offices?



     “We're not idiots,” someone said.



     - Not idiots, but please check again.



    The people at the table rustled.



     “It's too suspicious anyway. The special officer has a red light blinking for a long time: sixteen leading developers are simultaneously out of sight.



     - I would never have dared to gather us if it were not for the certainty that they are too busy now.



     - Yeah, the same thing: they think how to save their asses!



     - Colleagues, - the gray-haired academician continued in a firm voice, - the situation is extremely difficult, we must not leave this room without some decision. The Thunder Emperor is dead, it is known for certain. His empire is crumbling before our eyes, and then we cannot pretend that nothing is happening ... Yes, Sonya, I know your opinion and we all know, but let's listen to the rest.



    “This is not his empire, this is our empire,” the woman thought, but said nothing.



     - Speak out colleagues, what should we do?



     - What to do, what to do! - a nervous type with thin hair jumped up from the chair. - It is necessary to knock down ... We take everything of value and shed it, until the specially moved Cerberus from the MIC decided us as carriers of state secrets. It is necessary to bring down, I say!



     - We also know your opinion, Kamil, - came a sarcastic and slightly squeaky voice of Sonya. - You just have to steal what's wrong and blame everything on MIC.



     - Stole me, stole me! I'm worried about all of us! Well, you guys, you remember what happened to the builders of the citadel. Well?



     “They don’t remember, but they believe stupid rumors. There was nothing with them, the usual disinformation for cover.



    Denis saw a slender blonde through the eyes of a nervous Kamil. He did not like the blonde and was even slightly afraid. There was in her, despite her fragility, something cold and merciless, like a creeping panther. “Sonya Demidova, Art. microbiologist, ”it was written on her negligent badge.



     - Deza! A bunch of people with blackouts, overcrowded mental hospitals. This is misinformation ?!



     - So, colleagues! - the academician slapped his palm on the table. - We finish unconstructive disassembly. Who else will suggest options? Let's brainstorm any dumbest ideas.



     - Maybe according to the instructions: open the envelope and see what is written there? - suggested the youngest man sitting at the table, practically still a young man with down instead of stubble on his face.



    He was a child prodigy and a brilliant mathematician, and in general, he had to put on the Empire, as well as on everything except mathematics and the desire to stir up with Sonya. And now he was wondering with what weight this undoubtedly idiotic proposal could be inserted into the equation of their current relationship. And as if by chance not to fly into the extremum of a function, where a significant number of colleagues will suddenly support him.



     - David, well, you're serious ... - the gray-haired academician shook his head.



     “We’re not criticizing,” the mathematician objected smoothly. It seemed to him that Sonya smiled encouragingly, but the extreme loomed very close. - There is always a possibility that the kind uncle the Emperor outlined in the zero instruction a plan to rescue valuable scientific personnel.



     - Infinitely small, tenth order, - Kamil snorted.



     - Well, who will go to the first section for the envelope? - the academician asked docilely.



     - Yeah, who's the suicide bomber? Camille snorted again.



     - Don't go anywhere!



    With an elegant movement, Sonya pulled out an envelope covered with holographic patterns from the pocket of her robe. In the corner of the envelope there was an inscription “Instruction №0, PO Box 120200”. A surprised sigh rolled across the table.



     - What! - the academician choked. “Where's…,” he coughed. - What did you drag away from the first department ...



     - Such terrible Cerberus from MIC. Empty head and sweaty little hands.



     - Sonya, the envelope must be returned immediately. Give it back!



    The academician reached across the table to Sonia, but she jumped up and raised the envelope over her head.



     - You won't catch!



     - One of the scientists sitting behind tried to gently grab Sonya by the waist, but immediately got a heel on his leg and hissed in pain. Sonya gracefully jumped onto the table and quickly fluttered to the very end, descending where no one could reach her. She beckoned the academician with a finger with a red marigold.



     - Sonya, stop! What kind of kindergarten?



     - So, all of you, miserable alarmists, sat down and listen to me. If anyone starts to binge, I swear I'll open the envelope in a second.



     - We have gathered for this, - the academician said in a conciliatory tone and flopped down into a chair. - We are listening to you attentively.



     - Nothing is over. The empire can still be saved. And we must help those who are trying to do this, and not flee with cowardly tails between their legs.



     - Who the hell is trying to save her? Who the fuck is trying? - Camil waved his hands.



    Sonya raised her hands threateningly with an almost torn envelope.



     - Yes, tear as much as you want! The protectorate troops have already landed in the Baltic States, and there is no way to hear reports of fierce battles. The government in Moscow calls for dialogue and a popular referendum. Not long left.



     - Of course, your Polish prostitutes will be the first to run to kiss the Martian ass.



     - You fool! Stop insulting my people, I'm not going to talk in that tone.



     - Several army units in Siberia have gone out of subordination to the government and are seizing warehouses with weapons and special ammunition. They announced that they would fight the invaders and hideouts to the bitter end. And they will go to Moscow, if need be. We must join them and help. We have a terrible weapon, in capable hands it will decide the outcome of the war.



     - We don't have full access to the command system. The emperor and agents are registered there, - the academician gently reminded. “And we still haven't deciphered huge chunks of the genotype.



     - Are we scientists or who? Let's find a way to get around the limitations of the command system. Imagine what control over the swarm means, each of us will rule our own Empire!



     - Roy is not stable! Someone shouted. - Forty years already ... They cannot be avoided. Siberian battalions, what nonsense! Who is preventing you from entering into negotiations? Yes, the Martians are from us in a wet place ... The



    discussion finally turned into a disorderly dump. Everyone shouted at each other, the gray-haired academician unsuccessfully beat the table and called for order. Sonya jumped on the table again and began to screech at her opponents.



     “Scientists, soaked in shit,” said a thin, crooked-nosed man with dark skin.



    For some reason, everyone was quiet. Even Sonya turned at him, however, without letting go of Camille's already not too lush hair. The man took out synthetic cigarettes, flicked a lighter and blew out a cloud of sweet smoke.



     - Here, Sonya, tell me: who are you?



     - I? Scientist, candidate of biological sciences.



     - That's right, and I'm a senior programmer. But Oleg - the man nodded at the gray-haired academician - is a biophysicist and chief designer. And among us are mathematicians, electronics engineers, chemists, but for some reason I don't see a single colonel or general.



     - Fuck those colonels! The sense of these oaks is like a goat of milk.



     - That's what I think, Sonya, everyone should do their own thing. Colonels must fight, the Chekists must look for traitors, and we are scientists, must think and develop. It only seems that we will certainly cope with the work of the colonels. We will not pull it precisely because we are too smart.



     - Well, let's go to Siberia, we will develop and think about how to get the swarm to fight on our side.



     - We, my dear, will be forced to dig trenches. There, on the one hand, the Martians will beat, and on the other, the savages from the shelters. There will be no time for high matters. We are eggheads, our place is in a laboratory, or an institute, and certainly not in the Siberian wastelands.



     - What other institute? Are you offering to sit here?



     “The Martians also have institutions, no worse than that.



     - Yeah, so they took you to their warm Martian institute. The troops of the protectorate will send you on stage as an accomplice of the bloody regime. And when they find out what you were doing ...



     - Well, you don't need to run to the Advisory Council or Neurotec, Mars is not an empire, there are many different companies. And half of them do not care deeply what regime was there, bloody or not. For them, business comes first.



     - Marat, do you suggest anything specific? - Oleg could not resist. - Or will we send resumes to the Martian offices?



     - Something very specific. But I'll tell you only if Sonya promises to sit down and listen to the end, and not run to the first section screaming: grab the enemies of the people!



    Sonya pursed her lips gloomily, climbed off the table and fell into a chair.



     - Run screaming ... - she mimicked. - I would like to pass you, I would have passed it long ago. Come on, enemy of the people, tell me what kind of noodles the damned Martians have hung on you.



     - So, there is one large office, not Neurotec, of course, but from the first hundred. She deals with a very interesting topic and does not hesitate to cooperate with the Imperial authorities. The most amazing thing is that they know about our work and are ready to make an offer for all key employees. Their representatives were extremely interested.



     - In us or in our work, Marat? - Oleg asked in the dead silence that hung in the hall.



     - I think in both. It's easier to take people in the subject, and not to rake everything yourself.



     “What if they act like the curators of the citadel? Or do you think that the Martians are not capable of this?



     - They are capable, Oleg, they are capable of anything, but why should they do it? We honestly worked for the Empire for the idea and feeding, by and large. And now let's honestly work for the Martians for normal money. Even if MIC fades into oblivion along with the rest of the Empire and they forget about us, who will we become? Watchmen, peddlers? By whom? Well, I don't seriously consider the insane option of the Siberian battalions. Yes, Sonia, he is insane and you yourself know that very well. Flowers do not grow on the wreckage of the Empire. But there are plenty of rats and jackals. And there there is a chance for a decent life and for the continuation of our work.



     - You speak fluently, Marat.



     - Suggest your options.



     - And what is this office?



     - Mariner Instruments, molecular chip developer. Now their business is rushing by leaps and bounds, thirty percent growth over the past year. In ten years, Neurotek and whoever you want will be blown away.



     - The office, of course, is well-known and I willingly believe that they have enough money to take us all out. But is there any proof of your words?



    Marat took out a piece of clean polyethylene and spread it on the table, followed by a small cylindrical flask for storing living tissues with a green indicator, several connectors and cartridges in the slots. When Marat unscrewed the lid, the light blinked red. Something like a large translucent slug fell out of the flask. The slug was speckled with a network of thinnest veins of green and blue, a bundle of light-guide filaments stretching from the bulb behind it. Marat unbuttoned a pocket on the flask and unfolded a small flexible canvas with a keyboard and a screen. He entered the command, and the slug began to disintegrate into many flat droplets, which slowly spread over the smooth surface of the polyethylene. Marat picked up one of the droplets on his finger, and it spread over his pillow, becoming almost invisible, only green and blue streaks betrayed its location.



     - Molecular chip! - Oleg gasped with admiration.



    Several people crowded around Marat, examining his finger at close range.



     - Does it feed on human heat?



     - From heat and directly from the circulatory system. It is a simple medium of information. In the future, such chips will be sold in any stall, without any medical centers or surgery. Cool, yeah?



     - Cool, - Oleg agreed. - Don't swarm, of course, but cool ...



     - Let's not flatter ourselves Oleg. Roy is not our development, where he came from we can only guess. We have taken apart the simplest, the control interface, and the rest is still a dark forest, although we have been poking around for many years. If anyone is able to get all his secrets out of the swarm, then only these guys are from Mars. And our place is on their team.



     - And what guarantees did they give you?



     - Honestly. What guarantees can there be: a receipt, millions of Eurocoins? What kind?



     “A million would be great,” someone said.



     - I have two hundred thousand, for petty expenses, or for bribing cops and officials. I can get more if needed. But it is better to do without bribes, but simply leave our closed Zazhopinsk to visit relatives or on business. Then we will be taken out of the country in small groups, given new names and Martian citizenship.



     - Okay, as I understand it, we need a unanimous decision. Let's vote. Who is behind Marat's proposal?



    Twelve hands went up at once. The young mathematician looked at Sonya for a few seconds, but then he sighed and raised his hand too.



     - Ah, to hell with you! That I alone will suffer for everyone, - squeaked Sonya and also raised her hand.



    “Traitors. Scientists, bureaucrats, generals - you are all the same, ”she thought.



    Gray-haired Oleg exhaled with relief and also raised his hand.



     - Unanimously. Well, we will take out the data, what happens, we will destroy it.



     “I have twenty m-chips hidden,” said Marat. - Their capacity, of course, is smaller than that of electronics, but enough for the most valuable. The genotype of the swarm is especially important, it must be reserved at least three times on different carriers. The flask has all standard computer interfaces, including wireless ones on the board. After downloading the slug, you need to break it into drops and attach it to yourself, and destroy the flasks.



    Marat took out a small spray bottle and sprinkled it on his finger. The chip stacks back onto the plastic, leaving a tiny drop of blood on the finger. He sprinkled other drops and they began to gather back into a slug around the light-guide filaments.



     - Where is it better to hook them?



     “Put yourself in your underpants,” said Sonya.



     - Sonya, stop it, it's not funny.



     - Excellent advice, - Marat nodded. - Hook under clothes, in places where they cannot be seen by random people. Take out any nonsense on flash drives with technicians, they will catch them and to hell with them. Attach M-chips only to yourself and to the most trusted employees. And most importantly, our Martian friends would be very grateful for the swarm samples. I would even say that this is much more important than all the flasks combined.



     - It's almost unreal, Marat, - Oleg shook his head. - The swarm cannot be endured without the original packaging. And the containers are too big to hide from the guards.



     - Why can't you go without packaging?



     - Roy is not stable! Someone shouted again. - How do you not understand who shoves him in his underpants will be left without an economy.



     “I don’t have an economy,” Sonya giggled. - And I worked with the swarm directly, I practically became akin to it. I can endure a few arguments for our new friends myself.



     “I don’t mind,” Kamil said immediately. - Since Sonechka takes the blow ...



     “Too dangerous, and not only for Sonya, but for all of us,” the voice said again. - Algorithms in the control system are not fully debugged. The underlying memory and protocols from the third level and deeper have not yet been decrypted.



     - Yes, what are you talking about! - Camille exclaimed with mock surprise in his voice. - In the act of military acceptance it is written in black and white that the swarm is fully ready for operation, all comments have been eliminated.



    The speaker paid no attention to the sarcasm.



     “Roy shouldn't be touched at all without end-user approval, either in the package, much less without. Even agents on the command system need to be careful. And it is simply impossible to predict the reaction to ordinary "friends" of the swarm. If he considers the situation threatening, then the "friend" can easily turn into a nest for maturation. And most importantly: we will not understand anything until millions of killer flies come out of Sonya.



     - Yes, I am the queen of the swarm! Unlike you hlyupiks, I tested it at the test site for several years and worked with agents. And I go to the store three times a day. Moreover, now the swarm is asleep, there is nothing to fear.



     - If the shell is damaged, he can wake up, and the disputes are very fragile, one awkward movement and ... - Oleg objected softly. - Are you sure, Sonya?



     - I'm sure. I will treat our swarm very, very gently.



     - Then let's take a chance. But someone has to secure Sonya in the vault.



    “And pour gasoline when the flies come out of it. Better in advance, ”thought Kamil.



    David calculated the weights for ten seconds. But in the end he raised his hand.



     - I can.



    Oleg glanced up at the little immature David.



     - Better let Roma help. Can you help?



    Leading chemist-technologist Roma nodded reluctantly under two meters in height. Although he was plump and clumsy, he weighed three times more than Sonya. She would have preferred David from all points of view, but decided that it would be suspicious to enter into an argument.



     - Well, okay, I'll go instruct my employees. Give me your Martian slug. Meet me at the lab, fat man!



     - That's right, - Oleg agreed. - All by department, only, please, a minimum of information to the rest: what is it and why. Marat, will the Martians take any number of workers?



     - In principle, yes, but you shouldn't drag everyone. Choose the most valuable, and those you trust unconditionally. But the name of our future employer to anyone, by no means.



    When Sonya ran away, Oleg and Marat detained Roma at the door. Oleg gave him instructions in a low voice:



     “We'll shut down the laboratory surveillance system. If the guard comes in, lie to him. As a last resort, call me or Marat ... But most importantly, count the number of disputes that Sonya will hide. Then we will definitely check. Unfortunately, she cannot be trusted one hundred percent.



     - But how? God knows where she is going to hide them ...



    Marat handed him several small circles that stick to any surface.



     - Cameras. Scatter them everywhere, in the laboratory, in the airlock, or in the room where she will change. Be sure to throw a few on her protective suit. And it would be better there he went into the storage and took out the disputes. You say that as a man you want to take over some of the work, huh?



    Roma shook his shaggy head in horror.



     “Okay, but watch carefully from the lab what she does in the vault.



     - Oleg, you know, I'm not very good at such things, Sonya will definitely suspect something. Maybe David will go with her. And he has a much better relationship with her.



     - That is precisely why, David, you can't.



     - Maybe you yourself then?



     - No, I have to control the downloading of information, - Oleg averted his eyes. - In the end, you will make her hide disputes in front of your eyes ... It's okay, she will bear it, it is not the time to pretend to be an innocent young lady. And then, do not leave her a step.



     - Not a step? And if the dispute ...



     - If the dispute bursts, we are all khan, just someone earlier, and someone later.



     - I would prefer later, - muttered Roma, but under the stern gaze of Oleg and Marat he turned around and trudged to the elevator.



    David watched this conversation carefully. He hardly made out the words, but he understood that it was about spying on Sonya. “They seem to have forgotten about the zero instruction. It must be returned or destroyed, should they be reminded? David calculated the coefficients and corrections for a while, and then silently piled him into his office.



    Roma is a huge hairy guy with thick arms, despite his formidable appearance, was a soft and not too decisive person. If Oleg himself was a little braver, he would never have sent Roma on such a task. Roma scattered cameras throughout the laboratory, in the airlock and on Sony's spacesuit. And now he toiled in anticipation, among the tables with centrifuges, microscopes and other analyzers. He even thought to persuade Sonya not to go for any disputes, and then lie something. The Martians will not kill them, in fact. But I remembered about the cameras, which I myself had scattered. Sonya flew into the laboratory like a fury, her robe fluttering behind her.



     - Are you here? She asked.



     - Where else can I be?



     - In my department. Don't you need to talk to people, rewrite data?



     - There Kostya will figure it out, and I need to insure you. Oleg said.



     - Oh, his this Oleg. How can you help if something goes wrong? You can only get infected with me.



    Roma swallowed anxiously.



     - Go to the department or have a cup of coffee, I myself will do just fine. Don't worry, I'll tell Oleg that you insured me like a lion.



     - And if the guards come in? I'd rather sit here, - mumbled Roma.



    Sonya gave him a long, languid look.



     - Do you want to see where I hide the spores? Oleg sent you for this.



    Sonya snuggled close to Roma and put his paw on her lower back.



     - Every moment we will risk being infected. Are you not turned on by the sense of danger?



     - Nope, - Roma shook his head again and looked down at the pocket of Sleepy's robe from which the corner of the envelope was sticking out. Torn envelope.



    Sonya followed his gaze.



     - Zero instruction.



     - Have you read it? What for?



     “Just out of curiosity. What's the difference now?



    A curator from MIK taught Sonya to fight for every fireman, but after each training he repeated: “Don't overestimate yourself, a woman has nothing to do in hand-to-hand combat against a man. Not with your build, for sure. Grab that sharper and hit first. The main thing is, do not lose courage, go to the end ”! He even took her to slaughter a pig, which escaped with a squeal, leaving Sonya to wallow in the mud.



    “We should have trained better while there was time,” thought Sonya.



     - Mm, and what is written there, in the instructions? - Roma asked without much interest, scratching his beard.



     - Yes, all nonsense. Codes for disabling the storage security systems, for example ... And it also says: "Death to traitors!"



    They had to reach too high, the first blow of the scalpel did not reach the target. He cut through the thyroid gland and jumped off the collarbone. Blood splattered on Sonya's face and on the floor. Roma grabbed the neck and stared at her in horror. Sonya turned white and took a step back, shaking. A bloody scalpel fell from his hands. She bit her palm with all her might and howled like a mad cat. Roma rushed away in horror, flew into a rack on wheels, threw off dishes and test tubes from it, flew into the next one. Expensive appliances were falling on the floor. The roar was terrible, the fragments flew in all directions. He did not try to grab or hit Sonya, he just stupidly knocked over the tables, even when Sonya climbed onto his back, feverishly sticking the scalpel incessantly. Rolling over, in an attempt to throw Sonya off, he roared and begged to stop. “Sonya, you're out of your mind! I need a doctor! Sonechka, stop ... ",- Roma wheezed. The scalpel cut into his face and neck, stuck deep into his eyes, and had to pull him out with both hands. Sonya did not have enough skills, she cut her palms herself and slashed Roma for several minutes with breaks, until he finally bled out.



    Sonya wiped her bloody hands and face with her robe. She smeared everything even harder, but at least the blood of others no longer ran into her eyes. The thick smell and salty taste made my head dizzy. The battlefield looked horrible: Roma did not move, but emitted an unpleasant gurgle and hiss. Legs buckled. “I almost crawled to the door, you bastard. I almost screwed up and that was the easiest, how do I handle the rest? Okay, the vault security system, but the procedure for fully activating the swarm ... In this state, I will screw up with the simplest insulin synthesis. And there is a huge time diagram of hormonal regulation, which I performed only on a simulator with a cup of coffee and a soft pillow under the ass. After all, something will definitely go wrong ... alone, without hope and a single clue.How much time do I have… if someone comes in… ”Sonya sank to the floor and began to shake in soundless sobs. “Pull yourself together, you fool! You can't screw up! All these generals, bureaucrats and other whores in expensive suits - they love to star, how to fight for the homeland to the last breath. But they screwed up when the time was right, and you always knew it would. And I was getting ready! Bad, but preparing! All hope is in me: I am the queen of the swarm! And I'm not screwing! "



    The door to the laboratory was ajar, there was absolute silence behind it, the people working inside did not make a single sound. Maybe they're in storage, Kamil thought. With a pounding heart, he went inside. Broken glass snapped underfoot. His eyes saw the destroyed laboratory: several overturned tables, broken microscopes and the body of Roma in front of the door, behind which a trail of blood stretched. Camille almost stepped into a pool of blood.



     - What the…! What the shit?



    The vault surveillance cameras have one cloudy, shivering shroud. Apparently, they are out of order. Suddenly, Camil saw that the multi-ton airlock door trembled like a sheet of paper and began to bend. It was so creepy that my legs instantly became cottony. As if in slow motion, he saw the airlock door twist and bubble, the first holes melt in it, from which an eerie stirring mass falls out. Kamil let out an unintelligible scream and ran, but stumbled over the threshold. He got up on his knees, began to work furiously with wooden, as if alien, legs, but they slipped. Kamil plopped to the floor again and realized that it was too late to run. He was numb with horror. The airlock door had half melted, and somewhere within the boiling cloud, the outline of a small woman could be discerned. She took a step and the cloud rolled forward, blowing away the remains of the doors.



     - God, save ... Don't, - Camil's throat emitted only a soft wheeze. - I will go to Siberia, whatever you want ... Please, just not this, I ....



     "I am a swarm," the ringing of thousands of wings and the rustle of millions of paws answered him, "and you too!"



    It flew like an avalanche, flooding the institute, not missing the most secret corners and distant back rooms. Screaming people scattered in front of her, someone tried to lock themselves in the offices. The most desperate ones jumped from the windows. All of them will faithfully serve the Empire and those who wanted a bright Martian future will definitely go to the red planet ... with the swarm of disputes inside. Cars with inconspicuous containers will disperse in all directions. Only faster, and then everyone will repay their debt to their homeland. At the checkpoint, a tall, gray-haired man tore a shortened AKC from the guard's hands. He managed to put the barrel to his chin and pulled the trigger. A short burst blew his head to pieces.



    



    Denis rolled off the rack. Dust fell from the ceiling. Boots appeared before my eyes. Timur picked up his still-awake comrade and brushed it off. Kettlebell burst into the cell.



     - Damn, someone is working for us!



     - Arta? - Pasha's sleepy voice was heard.



     - Yes dick knows!



    Girya grabbed his helmet and yelled at it.



     - Guard as you hear! Kord, Brawler, answer!



     - Says Kord, alert! - came from the helmet. - Take places according to the combat schedule. A missile strike was delivered to the warehouse. I repeat, combat alert ...



     - Guys, I must run, - said Girya, buttoning up his helmet and taking a submachine gun and a gun from the gun cabinet. “Don't go upstairs yet, I'll send someone with armor and barrels.



     - The war has already begun! - Pasha barked. - For the battalion!



     - For the battalion! - shouted Girya and ran up the stairs.



    Swarm control.



    Sonya Daimon circled like a Valkyrie over the burning warehouse.



    "The battalion commander's bedroom"?



    “A rocket or several drones with a temobaric warhead. Capacities with a large margin. "



    The top floor of the warehouse burned like a torch, casting a huge glow. Hoping to find inside the living, there was nothing to think about. Armored silhouettes scattered across the concrete trenches from the barracks. Drones were flying from the loopholes of the barracks.



    “Sensitivity fifty. Night vision".



    The yellow and green lights of the stray dogs around the midwife woke up, began to bark and rush about stupidly. Some of the most nervous fighters pressed the trigger of a machine gun. Several comrades immediately joined him, and the defensive midfielder exploded in deafening chaotic fire. The commanders managed to calm down the fighters only after a couple of minutes, when only fragments were left of the poor beasts. After such a demonstration of striking power, all enemies, both real and imaginary, undoubtedly had to hide in the bushes. Even local representatives of the law preferred to observe this combat operation from a safe distance. Except for the dogs, no one else bothered the midfielder that night.



    Lesha, Kord, Timur and other free commanders sat in the barracks at midnight, discussing what to do and talking with the headquarters. Someone suggested raising an elephant, which had a good radar, and combing the area, someone else to break through in small groups to the east, until they were bombed here without cover. Timur kept Buddhist calm and suggested not to twitch at least until morning. Denis sat next to me and listened. When the fire was extinguished, a survivor was nevertheless found in the warehouse: at the time of the explosion, the intelligence officer Mishan was on the first floor, he was only concussed and slightly set on fire.



    And in the early morning on the road from the side of Nizhny Novgorod, a lonely passenger car appeared. After the warning shot she stopped, Fyodor climbed out of it and waved his hand. He carefully drove the wheelbarrow inside, onto the parade ground. He was met by Lesha, who, after the death of the battalion commander, commanded a defensive midfielder. To a completely logical question: “Where the hell was he wearing it?” Fedya just shrugged his shoulders and said that he had to meet someone.



     - And what, you met someone ?! - Alex barked.



     - Sure.



    Fedya opened the trunk and dumped out a bloody corpse in a blue overalls. In this broken bag of bones it was difficult to identify Kolyan. A small crowd gathered around and everyone looked gloomily at the corpse on the concrete slab. He was lying on his stomach, his limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, and the only surviving eye looked at Lesha with a silent reproach.



     - Listen, Fedya, this is not the first time I have said: what you are doing is not according to the charter. This is fucking against all concepts! What's going on in your head ?! What the fuck did you break it like that?



     - He didn't say why I had to wait for him. I had to repeat the question ... many times, - Fyodor explained with a calm air. - And then I learned about the explosion from the local news and did it myself, but Kolyan had already gone to the true God ... There is nothing to regret, his suffering in our cruel world is over.



     - Yes, there is no market, no one is going to feel sorry for the unfortunate Kolyan, who was lucky to spend a fun night in the company of a fucking maniac. But, nevertheless, I wonder: what the fuck is going on in your head? What the fuck is there! What is brewing in it when you stand with a rifle behind the backs of my people ...



     - Wait a second, - Timur gently pushed the beastly commander away. - Fedya, so why were you waiting for him?



    Fyodor pulled out of the trunk Tom's tablet, slightly spattered with blood, already unlocked.



     “Correspondence with Arumov’s people,” he explained, handing over the tablet.



    First, Lesha studied him, then Timur, then they let him go in a circle. And everyone read the correspondence with explanations where the warehouse is located, and where the battalion commander's bedroom is. Denis was not too pleased to see his own words, but he did not show it. But the surrounding fighters did not hide their emotions. Periodic shouts of insults at Arumov and Muscovites, and demands for revenge for the battalion commander, quickly grew into an unauthorized rally. The insurgent Mishan hobbled over to the roaring crowd. He was leaning on a crutch, his left arm and chest were wrapped in bandages. Timur noticed him first and threw the tablet at him.



     - What is it? The fat man asked, clutching the tablet awkwardly with his good hand.



     - Read it! - shouted from the crowd.



     - Did you see Kolyan off? - said Timur with a clear threat in his voice. - Explained what to write to Arumov's people?



    Mishan's hoarse laughter rang out.



     - Take me to the show, Timurchik. This shit will not believe the very last fraer. Che, Kolyan you have some kind of lifeless. It just happened by chance, right?



     - After you sent Kolyan, the battalion commander was immediately killed! Did it happen by chance?



     - Don't drive, bitch! Why do I need the death of the battalion commander? It was your interest.



    But the sympathies of the fighters were clearly not on the side of the sveshnik.



     - To his basement! - there were screams from the crowd. - Give Fyodor, he will split him instantly!



    The crowd craved blood and quick revenge.



     - Well finished the bazaar! - Alex barked. - You are sick? What the hell did you get on, go back to the infirmary! Kord, prepare the turntable, then immediately send the wounded and the second platoon to the headquarters. There, everyone will be discharged what is heavier and whoever needs to be split.



     - Someone will surely split, - Mishan hissed without taking his swamp eyes off Timur.



     - And you, Timur, take care of Kolyan.



     - In what sense do you do it?



     “Find his relatives and return the body to them, okay?



     - Lesha, what kind of nonsense, what kind of relatives? What will I tell them?



     - It's your problem! Ask your frostbitten fighter if he can tell you. Will push something about a cruel world. And you, Fedor ... I'll see this again, I swear you'll regret it. Disperse!



    Denis cast a demonic gaze over the support and the surrounding space. Lesha put up a reinforced guard, but it looks like he was no longer preparing for a real attack. It remained only to guess who he considered the real culprit in the death of the battalion commander. From the side of the barracks, Fyodor walked with a black body bag. The gaze lingered on the weapons van, which was still standing by the warehouse. He was not so white and clean anymore, but, in general, he was not much damaged. Denis knew that he had to return: he needed new nests, he had to say something to Semyon and talk to Max, and most importantly, he had to take Lena away. Denis understood that it was stupid, but he could not leave her in the clutches of Arumov. “And where am I going to put her? Will I take you to Siberia? Infinity War is no place for a glamorous steal like her. They'll kill her faster than I can shout "For the battalion"! Denis found Timur.



     - Timur, I need to return to Moscow for a couple of days.



     - I need you here. Do you understand that this is not the end of the story? When the army gathers, they will choose a new battalion commander, and it is necessary that they choose someone like Lesha, and not an SS man bought by Muscovites. Do you see the thin ice I'm walking on? And you want to escape? I need every fighter to support me.



     - I remember what I promised. When the army is assembled, I will return and support you at any cost. There is still time ... at least a couple of days.



     - During these couple of days you will fall into the clutches of Arumov.



     - I won't, at least not alive.



     “Your corpse will not impress the army, they saw a lot of corpses. Everything hangs in the balance, Dan, and every little thing can solve the problem.



     - A trifle will not solve this matter, Timur. Of course, I see the mood of the army, and your word will be heard. But, anyway, it will be one word against many. You will be responsible for every careless sound if you leave the field without the support of the army.



     “Don’t scare me, Dan. Believe me, I decided everything and thought it over a thousand times long before this conversation. In any case, there is no turning back.



     - Yes, the battalion commander has already died. Very well by the way.



     “Sometimes a little blood has to be shed for a big cause.



     - The army is not a stupid crowd, here everyone knows their worth. She can be impressed with fiery speeches, when all battalions and commanders are for, but if many are against, then something more is needed. You need to show them how you are going to win, show them clearly and convincingly, so that other commanders do not dare to go against the opinion of the army.



    Timur's lips stretched out in an evil grin.



     - You have not yet taken the oath, and are you already teaching me what to say? In short, this is an empty conversation: you owe me something and you will go to Siberia.



     “But I didn’t ask you about it, and you cannot command me. Yes, I owe you, I'll admit it and keep my promise.



     - Something that I asked for. And if you die, you won't hold back anything.



     - I will not die. I will come back and help you. And it won't be just words. I'll pull you out if something goes wrong.



     “You make too many promises.



    Timur's eyes narrowed into narrow slits, he drilled the interlocutor for several long seconds. But in the end he waved his hand.



     - I, of course, could convince you, but I will not. There are still many battles ahead and I need loyal fighters. Drive if you need to.



    



    The recycling station has not changed a bit in appearance. The same autumn evening, the same stinking smoke. Denis rubbed his numb face. Terribly sleepy after two almost sleepless nights and a whole day behind the wheel. He did not dare to turn on the autopilot to rest. There were very few yellow dots, and every minute he risked running into the cops or the colonel's people. But the station was simply teeming with yellow lights of a multiplying swarm. Long tentacles stretched from the boiling ball to the surrounding areas. And the park, in the immediate vicinity of the station, was covered with an iridescent yellow spider web.



    At the checkpoint, two gopovy-looking chop men were rubbing, they only had clubs from their weapons. Seeing Denis, they immediately reported to someone, an overweight man in a sloppy black uniform ran out of the building. Dan got out of the cab, the uncle clicked his heels and diligently stretched out, putting his belly forward.



     - I serve the Empire, Comrade Commander!



     - Thank you for your service!



    Chopovets literally ate him with his eyes, so Denis tried to answer as seriously as possible. He hoped that the feeling of the slight absurdity of what was happening was not reflected in any way on his face.



    "Couldn't find anyone better?" - Denis preferred to address comments on the appearance of new subordinates to Sonya.



    “They picked up what was nearby. What does the PSC "Granit" do not suit you? I don’t like it, you can infect the neighborhood further, but I don’t advise you to go to Moscow for now. ”



    Denis looked at the green light above his uncle more closely and the man became translucent: his internal organs, blood flow and heartbeat, electrical waves running through the nervous system became visible. Inside, many small spiders crawled, they weaved a multicolored net, similar to mushroom mycelium, sprouting all over the body. The net was especially densely woven around the upper part of the brain stem and the electronic plates of the neurochip.



    “Roy controls the limbic system of the infected so you can control their condition,” explained Sonya. You see weaving of several colors. They correspond to different states, the more saturated the color, the stronger the corresponding emotion or state. Black is fear, burgundy is anger, purple is stress, yellow is pleasure, gray is general fatigue. You can manually regulate the production of any hormones or neurotransmitters, but for now, just remember the basic colors. For example, during a fight add burgundy, but do not overdo it, otherwise you will bring the infected to psychosis. "



    Denis looked even more attentively and saw a short note above the uncle's head: “Yuri Rogov, 42 years old, married, two children. The physical condition is satisfactory. Chronic diseases: stomach ulcer, hypertension. The intellectual state is satisfactory. Vices - gambling addiction, the initial stage of alcoholism. A behavior correction program is recommended. "



    Vices were also displayed, a demonic snake emerged from the occipital lobes, wrapped around the spinal column and bit into the liver. A mutant octopus with dozens of tentacles entwined almost the entire cortex of the cerebral hemispheres. From a more or less decent looking, there was only a red-blue translucent eagle with gold stars on its wings. Denis mentally pulled the snake, trying to pull it out of the liver. She went out extremely reluctantly and pulled many other unpleasant creatures with her. The uncle turned pale and covered with sweat.



    “Be careful with your test subjects,” Sonya intervened again. - Any behavioral pattern or physical addiction can be forcibly blocked or removed, but it is better to leave this to the analytical system of the swarm. If you mindlessly cut and shred, you will easily break your personality or even ruin the autonomic nervous system. "



    Denis left the cuttlefish alone in Rogov's body.



    “I have only one request: can't it all be shown in some other way? The swarming worms and spiders inside the soldiers of the great Empire are a little oppressive to me personally. "



    "Use the 'interface settings'. You can write any visual images, but I don't advise you to touch anything yet. This visualization is optimal and most illustrative. Learn to manage what is. "



    Denis grimaced as if from a toothache.



    Remove visual filters.



    Before him again stood an ordinary guy from the local cattle-chop.



     - At ease. Unload the van, hide the weapon inside the station. Find me two cars and eight smart fighters. Give them armors and pistols.



     - There is!



    Yuri saluted and barely managed to catch the keys to the van. Denis turned away and went to the recycling station building.



    "Who do they take me for?"



    “Infected? A default suggestion template is used: they regard you as the master of a secret order that was founded by loyal MIC officers. After the death of Gromov, the order hid and waited for the right moment to revive the Empire. They are now dedicated to this order. "



    “And they believe it? They don’t understand that they have been poisoned by a vicious imperial infection ”?



    “People often believe in the incredible capabilities and power of the special services, about which it is customary to speak only in whispers. They believe that they have secret knowledge and hatch global plans. Therefore, this template fits well into the delusions of ordinary people. Roy suppresses the centers of critical thinking about the legend. Plus uses hormonal regulation for positive reinforcement. You can use other standard templates, there are several, up to the agent of Neurotec. You can create your own template. But keep in mind that changing patterns causes cognitive impairment even in not very gifted individuals. "



    "And there are individuals so gifted that they guess how they are used"?



    “Nobody can get out of control, the swarm will not allow. But people with developed intelligence and strong-willed qualities can break down. The swarm will press, they will resist, and eventually their roof will leak. "



    "And what is the likelihood that the infected will go mad?"



    “It depends on the contingent, circumstances and the rate of infection. If a person does not see the swarm at all and the infection is gradual, then the probability is almost zero. For the quick infection that you use now, on average, twenty to thirty percent. "



    "And you offered to infect the battalion and the rest" ?!



    “They go crazy slowly, sometimes it takes weeks or even months. They will have time to complete their task. And accept it already: there are no more friends, women and children. All people are simply tools for the fulfillment of our great mission. Why is this unfair division into categories who can be infected and who can not be "?



    "You know, Sonya, the Martians, the Eastern Bloc, Arumov with his bulls, are just bunnies compared to those who released this shit into the world."



    “Ah, spare me this snot. You're at war! The winners are not judged, and the losers take the rap for everyone. "



    “Have you always been such a bitch? Even before I fed my sharaga to the swarm? "



    "I was weak, stupid and indecisive ... In general, I was a man."



    Mikhalych, who was in charge of the work at the station, looked pretty refreshed. Reading his thoughts drove Denis into an easy stupor: abstract reasoning about the meaning of life, demonstrating a good knowledge of the works of Kant and Hegel. Apparently, as soon as the swarm had overcome alcohol intoxication, Mikhalych's intellect jumped up.



     - Reproduction is going well, but soon more waste will be needed, - Mikhalych reported. - In three or four days, at the current growth rate, the swarm will consume more than it is brought in and growth will stop.



     - And where to get more waste?



     - Landfills and other recycling stations can be used. There are stations near Tver and Ryazan. Order to prepare the capture?



     - Yes, get it ready.



     - Will be done.



     - And yet, find me some barrels, thirty liters.



     - It's already done, the barrels are in the breeding zone. We also prepared a couple of pump-action grenade launchers, I equipped them with ammunition with a swarm.



     - You are well done, seriously ... homeland will not forget you.



    Denis awkwardly patted Mikhalych on the shoulder. It almost shone, the spiders inside it shimmered with an intense yellow.



    "So sweet ... trying to please our drunk," - Sonia immediately began to sarcastically.



    “Well, let at least someone be happy. I myself have little joy from this movement. "



    Denis passed a small door in the pressurized door. In the other half of the workshop there was a thick, ringing fog of a myriad of midges, scanty lighting barely breaking through. The station employees managed to activate the delivery of material, but the furnaces and conveyors were stopped. The decaying corpses of cattle, birds and pigs lay side by side. Spiders of various shapes and sizes crawled in them. Pale, gnarled bushes grew from the corpses. Cobweb-like roots entwined decaying meat and trembled noticeably, gnawing deeper and deeper. Bunches of maturing spores hung from them. There were white streaked flowers that exuded a pungent smell slightly overpowering the stench of carrion. Denis saw how several bushes crawled from a gnawed corpse to a fresh one, carefully picking out the roots. Infected officers removed the bones and brought in new corpses.Denis thought that a normal person from such a picture would shoot himself at the same second. Instead, he watched with indifference as a chain of small spiders crawled under his skin. He immediately felt tiredness and sleepiness receding.



    There were several barrels in the corner. The employees left pieces of meat in them and a dense cloud of midges obediently packed inside. Dan screwed the lids himself.



    Sonya!



    "What"?



    "Raise someone against the gas that Rudeman Saari had!"



    



    Arseny carefully crept into the kitchen in the hope of snatching something tasty from the refrigerator. A task is a task, but one must not forget about oneself. Moreover, the hostess Helen fell into depression and openly neglected the diet of her beloved leopard. He did not take offense and tried as best he could to calm down the sobbing mistress, but even sedative pheromones helped badly. However, there was something to despair from, the penthouse was now guarded in shifts by several militants and were not allowed anywhere. The chip and all communication with the outside world were drowned out. Arumov, in response to any attempts to get an explanation, ordered to shut up and threatened to put him in the basement on a chain. There was no one to complain about him.



    Senya himself was very nervous and every time, as an opportunity presented itself, he requested evacuation from the curator, which he invariably refused. And yesterday afternoon, he saw how the militants were mining the premises with thermobaric ammunition. Even his, unlike a more perfect and stable nervous system, did not tolerate such loads poorly. So now he stubbornly gouged out the refrigerator door, intending to seize stress with brisket, red fish and other delicacies. The first piece of jamon was already in my teeth when several voices were heard from the hallway, one of which was Arumov's.



    Pushing the piece between the wall and the refrigerator, he swiftly slipped into the hallway. Arumov and his interlocutor had already disappeared into the office, and Senya would not have had time to slip inside, but then the open refrigerator yelled. A cursing Arumov came out of the office, fortunately Arseny hid in the shadows, and then, with one more bold dash, rushed into the office. The flat-faced bully sitting in the armchair did not pay any attention to him, so he hid under the closet without any problems.



    Arumov returned with several cans of beer and crashed into a chair.



     - What are we going to do with Max and Rudy? - rasped the hulk.



     - It's not your concern. I want to entrust you with Denis. If not for the circumstances, I would have asked you in full for how you shamefully missed it.



    Tom reached over to the table and picked up a can of beer.



     - I missed it, I'm to blame ... If he really is an agent, we must burn this creature as quickly as possible.



     - It's not easy to do.



     - If I can handle it, I will take more people, I will attract the policemen and cops. Our man in the battalion is sure that he left for Moscow. Probably hovers at a recycling station. Fill it with napalm from top to bottom!



     - And we will attract a lot of unnecessary attention. What if he set up a base elsewhere? Or multiple bases?



     - All the more we must hurry. Not much time has passed, and the station is the perfect place. Your idiot from the institute, why the hell did he take the container there?



     - I wanted to sort it out quickly in order to dump on vacation. Stupid, lazy ass! From quarantine, he will now come out only feet first ...



     - And what about the twins?



     - Yes, the same. With Lapin and others, hell would be with them, but the twins, of course, sorry. In short, we need to deal with the agent. Aren't you afraid to deal with him?



     - I'm not afraid, I will destroy him.



     - It is necessary to establish contact with the agent, and ideally, take control. But don't fix it.



     - Listen, Andrei, you're the boss and all that, but let's not. Then we were freed by a miracle.



     - It was not a miracle, but a competent calculation and brilliant performance. Now we understand very well what we are dealing with. Eh, if I knew in advance that the agent would be activated by the threat of murder. How trite it really is ...



    Tom said nothing and finished the can in one gulp. He did not speak at once.



     “It was a miracle, not a calculation. And I guess it's not about murder.



     - And in what?



     - I told him something ... too much. He wanted to know who we are and what we need from Max? It was, like, his last wish. I said that we are the guardians of the shadow world, and Max is the lord of the shadows. A former overlord, since his quantum project became a heap of unlinked rubbish. And then he began to writhe, and then bawl with himself. I thought he was just acting out of fear, but apparently that was the activation.



     - It was activated by your words? Is that what you said, word for word?



     - Well, maybe not word for word ...



     - Yes, there is something to think about. Really, I have to seriously ask for such cases ... But, on the other hand, you are great.



     - I made a blunder, I admit. Let's just find this thing and bury it as deep as possible.



     - No, we need an agent and we need a swarm, this is the key to victory. In spite of everything, we must take the risk.



     - We have few other problems. People are already at the limit, if rumors about the agent still spread ...



     - And you fucking want me for ?! You don’t want to work with your brigade… ”



    Their argument was interrupted by a quiet ringing from the laptop on the table.



     - Okay, we'll discuss it later. Regarding Rudeman Saari: are you wondering how much this Jewish muzzle will agree to sell a former accomplice? - Arumov grinned, opening the laptop. - Greetings Rudy, how are you?



    For a while, only an intense puffing came from the laptop.



     - I would like to say that it is better than yours ...



     - Everything is fine with me, Rudy. I do not deny myself anything. Do you want to organize a relaxation for an old friend? Yacht, girls, just whistle.



     - We're not friends, you frostbitten bastard ...



     - Okay, Rudy, let's go on business then. Will you bring me Max?



     - To begin with, you must let go of all who survived.



     - Do not be an idiot. Why would I have to keep someone alive?



     - To understand the management at least.



     - We figured it out, then why do I need them?



     - Well, maybe because some people care about trifles like the value of human life! Lives of the best representatives of the worthless human race! Maybe because even in war there are rules, you can't cold-bloodedly slaughter those who no longer resist ...



     - If you insist, I can send a couple of heads, I pickled them as a keepsake.



     - Bastard! Stupid butcher! This is the only shit your Empire is capable of giving birth to! Otherwise, it would have been forgotten a thousand years ago!



    Tom gave the boss a look of skepticism about the negotiation strategy, but he just waved his hand. After Rudi was exhausted, Arumov was the first to break the silence.



     - Do not drive the lichen. What you did is no better.



     “Murder is murder, absolute end. I didn't even touch anyone.



     - You're funny, Rudy. Yes, he didn't, he just broke their personalities, turning them into obedient slaves. Physical violence has nothing to do with it, the methods are more advanced, quantum technologies and all that ... In short, let's get started?



     - And what is our business?



     - Max. We have no other business. How much will you sell it for?



     - Selling? I think I can hear the judgment in your voice?



     - Condemnation? I do not blame anyone, everyone gets what they deserve.



     - You deserve the yacht and the girls, right? Is this the reward for the executioner?



     “Carrying you again, Rudy. Any betrayal has a price, I just ask you to name it.



     “It's strange to hear about betrayal from a man who betrayed everyone. First you were on the side of the Great Empire, then on our side, and now?



     - Shit, I've always been on the same side. I have always done my duty.



     - And what is your duty?



     - People like you do not understand.



     - Where can I understand the accursed Jew!



     - Will you bring Max or not?



     - Yes, twenty million in Eurocoins, or the equivalent in another reliable currency. And the whole amount in advance. You will transfer to the accounts that I indicate.



     “I never doubted your honor. I'll pay you one hundred thousand in advance.



     - The whole amount at once, only then I will bring him to Dreamland.



     - Moscow Dreamland, which is in Fili?



     - And what do you need in the Martian?



     - Sorry, but for such a fit it is necessary not to give twenty lyamas, but in the face. There is always a crowd of people there.



     - Max is not quite a fool, he will not wander about abandoned construction sites. Is it really a problem for you in Moscow bystanders?



     - This is a problem when it comes to the telecom chip. Their SB is not a random uncle Vasya, who can easily be gagged. In short, three lemas, after you write me a detailed report: everything you know about Max, his work in Telecom and his contacts. I'm especially interested in this murky Martian friend. And keep in mind, I know a lot, if I decide that you are fooling me, you will get nothing.



     - Not a serious conversation. Do you want me to leak information just like that?



     - I know almost everything, I have interrogated your colleagues, remember ... I have to make sure that you are worth dealing with at all. Okay, I'm not a poor person, I'll translate it as a gesture of goodwill. And how I get the report - the other two, and we will decide further. Fair trade?



     “Okay… but you know, it's even weirder to hear something about honor from a butcher like you. You bastard, why didn't you leave anyone alive ?!



     “You know, it's really weird to hear all this from a smart-ass fuck like you. You played specifically and led the true enemy to our doors. Don't tell me that nothing special happened.



     - I was careful, it was Max mowing ...



     - Yes, and you did not try to throw it at all. Of course, everyone is to blame except you. I may be a stupid butcher, I will not hide, I like to kill and often kill. Sometimes for fun, sometimes just in case. Over the course of my long life, I have killed at least several hundred who thought they were the chosen representatives of the human race. But you, smart guy, brought eternal happiness for everyone, indiscriminately. And who will ultimately disentangle it?



     - I will send a report and let you know how I will be ready to turn the case with Max.



     - How do you arrange a meeting in secret from Telekom?



     - I have my own methods.



    Without another word, Rudy passed out. Arumov grinned contentedly and opened a can of beer.



     - Do you think he can be trusted? - Tom croaked.



     - Believe? I wasn’t so fucked up ...



     - I mean, trusting him to keep the deal. He hates you to the point of shivering. Now I could not help it. Clearly conceived of some kind of setup.



     - Probably. So let's see who he is still confused with. It is useful to know all the players by sight ... However, it will wait. Take care of the agent while you check the recycling station, establish surveillance if the base is there. Just be careful, undermine yourself at any hint of infection.



     - People are afraid of the replicator. Every time we go beyond the line and every time we feel how thousands of hungry eyes are watching us from there. One day we will bring them with us.



     - Tie it, Tom! They have already been brought in, one too clever Jew and his not too clever accomplice. It's too late to drink Borjomi.



     - We hear their voices. They say we'll be the first on the list ...



     - Who the fuck hears the voices, huh ?!



     - Almost all. I removed Taras. He had a slight tantrum after exiting the replicator.



     - We have an institute for noble maidens here? If you can't manage it yourself, send such hysterics to me.



     - He will calm down. And, to be honest, this is not the first time. You have to do something about this. If I had to choose, I would probably kiss the queen of the swarm on the gums.



     - You just need to die less often. You are too relaxed.



     - We need to turn off the replicator.



     - If you turn off the replicator, who will I command? Squadrons of the dead.



     - I am ready to die for a long time.



     - When our task is completed, die as much as you like. In the meantime, be kind, deal with your people!



     - Have to deal with people! And you, Andrey, don't you hear their voices?



     “I don’t hear any voices, and if I did, I don’t care.”



     - It's because you have no soul, everyone knows that. How did you manage that?



     - What did you manage?



     - Survive without a soul.



     - According to the regulations, a soldier has a rifle with a bayonet and two sets of underwear. There is no question of any soul! I'm tired of this rotten bazaar, Tom. Go to the recycling station! Immediately!



     - I have to get tattoos. The replicator does not reproduce them. And then I'll grab some more grenades and head to the station.



     - Make them later.



     - These tattoos are the only thing that somehow convinces me that I still exist. At least you are ready to understand this?



     - About tattoos? I understand you perfectly, much better than you think. But I don't care about your whining.



     - I am the shadow of the enemy, I am the ghost of revenge! I am a dead hand!



    Tom slammed on the table, crumpled up an empty beer can and left the office. Arumov followed him up. Senya heard the clatter of heels and saw shiny, polished shoes, which were rhythmically imprinted on the parquet floor. Suddenly, already at the very doors, the boots froze. There was a tense silence. In twenty seconds, she turned into tense, the boots did not move, and even the person's breath could not be heard. And Arseny could not stand it, began to crawl deeper under the cabinet. He realized his mistake almost as soon as he heard the rustle of his own movement. Quite quiet, but clearly not dealing with an ordinary person. Instantly, at floor level, eerie, unblinking eyes appeared instead of boots.



     - And I wonder why the nose itches so? My nose always itches when I'm being watched. You are a strange cat after all ...



    And then Arseny panicked. He shouldn't have done this, nothing terrible happened, he just had to pretend to be an ordinary animal. But the damn mind poisoned the pure feline soul with fear. Indeed, who would not be afraid of this look? Only stupid females, like Lenochka, believe that there is nothing special in this look. But Arseny saw the eyes of a dead man without a soul, hungry eyes that also believe and are waiting in the wings.



    And Arseny rushed out from under the closet, with all the desperation he was capable of, leaving deep grooves in the parquet. But Arumov cut him off from the door with two precise, swift steps and pinned him in the corner. Senya hissed and pressed himself against the wall, and then howled. He released everything he could, turning into a toothy, clawed ball, but the man moved with lightning speed. Senya did not even have time to properly slice his right hand when the left one grabbed the cupboard, and a dead gaze stared straight at him.



     “I should have guessed right away. You're too good for an average cat. But for a replicant just right ...



    Arumov's smile was like a grin. At this moment, Arseny had no choice but to wet himself in the most shameful way.



    



    Denis was not afraid to appear at home. Having spent a barrel with a swarm, he covered the territory within a radius of a couple of blocks with a dense cloud of yellow dots. After a deep scan, the list of discovered living creatures and devices would probably take several volumes, despite the fact that the area was half-abandoned. The swarm did not find anything dangerous, and short-circuited all suspicious electronics found near the apartment. Sonya was not too lazy, once again, to lecture on the prohibition to infect people when scanning people without direct approval.



    Dan, using his night vision, carefully brought the wheelbarrow to his driveway without turning on the headlights. He ordered Tamaz, a short, dark-haired guy who had been appointed the senior in the group, to wait downstairs and be on the lookout. Of all the personnel of "Granit", the restrained, confident Tamaz, without pronounced bad habits, liked Denis the most. When he poked the key into the lock on a completely dark staircase, the door of the neighbor's apartment opened. In the lighted doorway stood an unshaven Lech, dressed in tattered jeans and an alcoholic T-shirt.



     - Hey, Dan, where have you been? - came his hoarse voice.



     - So I went on business, and what?



     - Yes, niche, your cat is screaming like a cut for the second day! You can't treat a beast like that.



     - And damn, I'm sorry, one friend had to come in to feed.



     - Yes, rubbing here some dumb types asked you. But they did not start talking about the cat.



     - Collectors, probably, goats ... sorry if you strain what.



     - Yes, no stress. You leave the keys, or something, next time, otherwise, it’s a pity for the beast, and it doesn’t let you sleep. By the way, I didn't know that you have a cat.



     - So, he's not mine ... In general, it's a mess, I'm in a hurry a little.



     - Come on, come in somehow.



     - Yeah, sure.



    When Denis jumped into the apartment, the huge and angry Adolf almost knocked him off his feet. Dan rushed to the kitchen, but found only a smashed refrigerator there. Everything more or less valuable from it was pulled out and gnawed.



     - And I, I see, you did not starve, - Dan was surprised.



    But the cat did not lag behind, he continued to run in circles and periodically bite painfully on the legs.



    “Maybe he needs an urgent communication session? Dan thought. "Sonya, the swarm is capable of infecting replicants"?



    “Of course, replicants have a standard interface for connecting. But telepathic communication must be used carefully. "



    "Why"?



    "This communication channel is fundamentally impossible to encrypt."



    "Do we have a crowd of telepaths walking around Moscow who can eavesdrop on us?"



     “According to my data, telepathic people do not exist, but nevertheless ...”



    Denis snorted irritably and grabbed a heavy cat, he purred like a tractor and readily dug into it with all its claws.



    This time, finding himself in a familiar overgrown garden, Dan no longer wondered where he was. Probably, the fault was Sonya Daimon, who sat on a bench surrounded by several cats, who reacted to her with restrained good nature.



     - Now the rest of the participants in the session will also see me. I'm part of your consciousness, ”she said.



    Denis just shrugged his shoulders. When Semyon appeared from the bushes, at first he did not even pay attention to the extra interlocutor. Semyon was too excited.



     - Dan, where have you gone? I thought you were killed by Arumov's people ... This is happening here!



     - What's happening?



     - Arumov split our flea agent! And he also spoke to some Rudy who agreed to turn in your friend Max.



     - Lena! - Denis breathed out. - He's going to stab her now. We urgently need to get her out!



     - Who are you going to pull out, Dan ?! If you are going to climb into the mouth of Arumov, then, excuse me, without me.



     - Do not worry, Semyon Sanych, Arumov is not afraid of me now. I myself am now more terrible than all the Arumovs put together.



    Semyon just now paid attention to Sonya. She answered him with a seemingly indifferent look, but the bushes and trees rustled from the light breeze, and the cats nervously shook their tails.



     "You're a class zero agent, aren't you, Dan?" Is it true, are you really an agent? Will you challenge the Martians and lead us into an unequal battle? I never hoped that I would live to this moment. Look, I'm not even old enough to drool in a wheelchair. I can still fry the heels of a couple of fucking corporations!



     - Yes, I am an agent, Semyon, the soul of the Empire. But if you knew how black this soul is, you would not rejoice for a second.



     - Well, no one expected the Empire to revive from rose petals and fluttering butterflies.



     “I really am a terrible creature. Three days ago, I would have shot one without hesitation.



     - It will be for you, to scare the old sick man, my heart is playing tricks. Speak as it is, what's so terrible about you?



     - I can not. I really can't, if I tell you more ... You see my inner demon. Her name is Sonya, she squeezed out some of my gray matter. She will eat away everything that is left with terrible force simply for saying that I am an agent.



     - That you are an agent, I already know thanks to the replicant. However, I will not insist. Whatever you represent there, I think it is not much worse than what I have seen in my life.



     “The worst always come from those who play at nobility and justice,” Sonya said gloomily.



    Denis was about to enter into a new senseless argument when another ghost materialized because of the bust of Bauman. In the middle of the abandoned garden, he looked like an alien splash of cartoon graphics in his perfectly fitted black suit and polished boots. His protruding ears, scars on his bald skull and a grin that only vaguely resembled a smile belonged to an operetta villain, but certainly not to a real person. And the fixed gaze seemed to be the flaw of a bad animator.



    Semyon stepped back a couple of steps, the cats arched their backs and hissed, and Sonya hung a meter above the ground. Her arms turned into long, curved claws.



     “It was a mistake to use replicants against me,” said Arumov and sat down on the bench. - Can you introduce your friends, Denis?



     - Are you a replicant yourself? Sonya hissed.



    Arumov brushed invisible specks of dust from the suit.



     - You could say that. By the way, I am very glad to meet you, dear queen. Although, in a sense, we have known each other for a long time. Do you remember me?



     - I do not know anything about programs for the development of telepathic abilities in humans. There were no such experiments in the Empire.



     - Were carried out. But even the queen did not need to know about them. Almost all of them ended in failure. Only one specimen survived.



     - Lies, you were not created in the Empire, otherwise I would have known. You serve our enemies.



     - It's nice to know that I can surprise the queen herself with something. But I have always been on the side of the Empire. None of you can even imagine what I went through for her. And I am ready to cooperate for the common good.



     - Really? - Semyon asked with a sneer. - There is a suspicion that you want to take control of the agent in order to use it for your own purposes.



     - The replicant heard everything, right? Vile bastard ... I have no goals of my own. I have always fought and will fight for the Empire.



     - I will make you one single offer, - Denis hissed. - You will forget about me, about Max and stop climbing with your cooperation. And then, perhaps, I will not touch you.



     “We have the same goal: to destroy the true enemy.



     - Really? So you, too, are at war with the true enemy? Interestingly we are at war with the same enemy?



     - With quantum machines and those traitors to the human race who want to become them. I have already managed to stop the true enemy one step away from victory. But the main battle is yet to come.



     - And how did you manage it?



     - Fear is the most reliable remedy against any living creature. Rudy was afraid, your friend Max was afraid and even the Quantum AI was afraid of something. I see someone else's fear and use it.



    Dan stared into Arumov's eyes, the hungry abyss had not gone anywhere, but he could look into it without trembling.



     - I am not afraid of anything. I have thousands of eyes and millions of hands; you cannot hide from me in underground bunkers and on mountain tops. I will crush any enemies without outside help.



     - Still, I insist on cooperation, - Arumov grinned. - Come to the "Harlequin" club today after 23.00. And yes, you may not be afraid of anything now, but your worthless girlfriend Lena is very afraid.



     - She belongs to me! Sonya barked.



     “Of course, my queen. I’ll happily pack it and deliver it wherever you want, but first we’ll settle some details. Today. And you, Denis, should be alone, all alone, without your little evil friends. See you soon!



    Arumov got up unhurriedly. Sonya tried to stop him, but without much success. Her ghostly claws just passed through the ghost of Arumov. He didn't even turn around and slowly disappeared into the bushes behind the bust of Bauman.



     - You won't go there, will you? This is an obvious trap, - Semyon asked worriedly.



     “We will definitely go, taking the largest hive we can. And shake out of the goat everything he knows, ”Sonya growled.



     “First, Arumov and his people can kill themselves if we try to capture them,” Denis replied. - Secondly, this is a pretentious and very popular club in the West, I hung out there a couple of times. We'll have to infect several hundred people with them. And thirdly, he has a hostage. I will go alone, and the hive will be waiting nearby.



     “Well, okay, I never hoped to live to see victory in our great war. It would be too good. I'll cover you! - Semyon said resolutely.



     - Thank you, Semyon Sanych, but you have nothing to do there. I have several fighters to cover. And you continue to collect information. Try to find out everything you can about the quantum projects of the Martians. And at the same time about Rudeman Saari. Yes, and my man will bring you one device. I suppose that this is a special Martian "gadget" in which you can record the memory of a person. Look for people or an organization who can read it. Only reliable, so that information does not leak.



     - I'll try.



    



    Despite the chilly Sunday evening, the Harlequin had a queue of people wishing to get inside. The majors, arriving in expensive sports cars or executive sedans with a pair of glamorous heifers in the set, passed through the queue. The rest, the club absorbed slowly, and spit out only bright reflections and powerful beats. The old stadium, which housed the club, was rebuilt and equipped with a sliding roof with panoramic glazing, which is now closed. On one side it went out to the large backwater of the Moskva River, and on the other to a dark, unkempt park.



    Denis, lost in thought, stopped on a side path by a lopsided poplar, away from the humming crowd. The reflections of color music did not reach here, and the swarm shorted out the weak lanterns. It seemed that nothing prevented us from adjusting the fighters and the hive in order to overcome the remaining two hundred meters to the club in one dash. But Denis was waiting for the results of a deep scan, this dilapidated park looked too tempting in the immediate vicinity of the target. Two cars with his soldiers stood in residential areas located in front of the park. The fighters were well armed with machine guns, swarm pumps and silent vampires. Three were in armored suits, the rest were in regular armored suits. A huge truck tractor with a tank was also parked there. Mikhalych once again showed remarkable organizational skills, having managed to find a fuel truck in three hours, muddy the pass,load inside a huge hive and send it west, across all of Moscow. Now a suspicious hum could be heard from the tank, even with a cold engine. From it stretched yellow tentacles that studied the surrounding area. Denis understood that the fuel tanker was his only real trump card. A light bulletproof vest under his shirt, as well as a pistol in a hidden holster behind a belt, did not at all give self-confidence. In spite of their equipment, there was also no particular hope for the eight chop officers, they were too useless fighters. Even the swarm's capabilities could not compensate for this. Roy knew how to create a virtual space of the battlefield, show camouflaged or closed targets, probable hit points, estimate range, wind corrections, and so on. But this did not cancel the need for tactical training and skills in handling weapons.In addition, all the chopovtsy, sitting in wheelbarrows, from any rustle shimmered with black and purple flowers in demonic vision, except for Tamaz.



    "Eh, I would have a squad or two of battalion snipers and attack aircraft here," thought Denis. Find the command height, quietly launch the swarm inside the club and shoot Arumov's fighters through the roof or right through the walls. Well, or fire them with mini-rockets. And then a quick assault with a predetermined position of all targets and hostages. Most importantly, there is no need to use large masses of the swarm, which can be seen by ordinary people. "



    “Great plan,” Sonya agreed, perching on the branches of the poplar. - By the way, for a second, you could have at least a squad, at least a whole company, if not for the stupid games of nobility.



    “Fuck off, Sonya. You'd better suggest something sensible. "



    "There is a very reliable tactic for such cases, but again you will not like it."



    "And what a welcome"?



    "Infect as many people as possible outside and inside, pump them up with combat chemistry and a swarm, and then simultaneously throw at Arumov's people."



    “What do you think I'm the fucking master of death? And wouldn't such a case of mass psychosis attract the attention of all the special services and the media ”?



    “Roy will short-circuit cameras and chips at the same time. The club can be burned along with the bodies of the infected. Or hide behind a legend about the terrorist attack on the Eastern Bloc. Quickly drive there, infect some overlord, so that he takes responsibility. Arrange a couple more such attacks to support the legend. And don't look at me like that. Damn you can't please "!



    “This is not a plan, but some kind of local genocide. Do you remember what you said: the swarm is quiet and imperceptible. "



    “This operation, in any case, will not be quiet and imperceptible. We need to take Arumov under control at any cost, he knows too much. "



    “We need to save Lena. Arumov is the second priority ”.



    Sonya slapped her forehead in despair.



    “If we do not take Arumov under control, the consequences will be unpredictable. Roy will have to run from the recycling station at least. "



    “Humble yourself, Sonya, we probably won't be able to infect Arumov. He perfectly understands what to expect and will simply kill himself in case of danger. Just like his people. God knows how many years he kept the nests and did not tell anyone. He won't tell now either. "



    "You, apparently, perfectly read his thoughts and without the help of the swarm."



    Denis did not answer. Before him appeared the inscription: "Scanning complete, detail sixty." A half-kilometer dark park along the river on both sides turned bright yellow. Denis skimmed through the list of discovered electronic devices and living beings.



    "Nothing like Arumov's detectors or observers?"



    “Nothing,” Sonya nodded. - We can bring the soldiers and the tank closer.



    "All this is suspicious, why didn't he prepare?"



    "Did not have time. Let's get the cistern ready and release the swarm. "



    “And we'll sleep right away. Maybe he's following us from a high-altitude drone or with his nanobots. Nanobots don't get into detail sixty, do they?



    “You're just paranoid. Let the swarm out! "



    Denis dismissed Sonya.



    "Scan squares, detail ninety-five."



    He highlighted several random areas around the stadium with the brightest color and the stadium itself with the faintest color, sending several thin tentacles there.



    “You said you could pump up a swarm of infected. And you can pump me up so that there is enough for Arumov and his fighters ”?



    "I can, but when the swarm leaves, it will have to make some technological holes."



    Will it kill me?



    "Of course not! But you will look slightly skinned. And the feeling is not the most pleasant. "



    "Then spit!"



    “Why is this suffering? Let's use visitors. "



    "They will not be allowed to see Arumov."



    “Use the staff, waitresses, security guards, whoever…”



    “No”!



    "Are you going to go to Arumov yourself"?



    "I need to free Lena ..."



    "What the fuck Lena!"



    "Sonya, can the swarm swim?"



    "To swim? He knows how, but what?



    “We will release a hive on the other side of the backwater, it will slowly swim across it and bury itself in the sand on the beach. From the beach only fifty meters to the club. And while I distract Arumov with negotiations, the hive will creep into the club on a wide front. How do you plan "?



    “A plan, like a plan, you can try,” Sonya shrugged. - Except for negotiations. You cannot go there, you yourself will become a hostage. "



    "What if he kills Lena?"



    "And if he kills both of you, would it be better?"



    Roy will save me.



    "If they blow your head off with a shotgun, it won't save you!"



    “Can't the swarm do something like a backup of my identity? How he preserved the identities of devoured developers from the institute.



    “Roy did not retain their identities, only part of their memory. It is prohibited to make copies of the agent and activate them at any moment. "



    "Why"?



    "Why do you need ten Denis, each of whom will consider himself a real Denis"?



    "This is not an answer".



    “Roy can record your memory and save it, for example, for another agent. You can use the swarm itself to store memory, you can use the infected, but if you die, the swarm does not recognize such a copy as an agent. This is a limitation of the command system. "



    Denis sighed heavily.



    “How complicated everything is. Why introduce such a restriction? It makes the system vulnerable. People die in war, it is very risky to bet everything on one flesh and blood agent. "



    “A normal agent does not climb into the heat himself to save some woman, he sends the infected forward. Roy does not have the technology of exact copying of personality and consciousness. The agent is you, not Yuri Rogov with the memory of Denis Kaisanov. Allowing uncontrolled copying and transferring of a person is like entrusting a swarm to a random person. Let me remind you that many agents were created for the insurance, but you specifically have one attempt. "



    “Well, to hell with you! I'm going to die for the Empire personally. "



    Dan sent the fuel truck driver to the other side of the backwater, and ordered the chop officers to take up positions in the park, around the stadium. Their bodies blazed so blue-black that even the swarm could hardly suppress these attacks of panic. A small crimson was present only in Tamaz's aura, and he lit up more when he received mental orders from his new master.



    A small hive left after the cistern left began to gather around Denis. Very soon he found himself in the center of a humming cloud. Denis gave a command and felt columns of insects crawling along his legs and arms. At first it was slightly tickling, and then sharply stabbed, in many places at once, when the swarm began to gnaw its way inside. Denis twitched every time when a particularly restless group tried to get comfortable inside his body. There were more and more of them, very strange sensations from the fact that the internal organs were moving and contracting under the pressure of this crowd, were replaced by frankly painful ones.



    Enough! - Sonya shouted worriedly.



    Denis threw away the remains of the hive and took a step forward. There was something rustling and creaking in him, the insides sickeningly dispersed in different directions from any sudden movement. Denis raised his hand to his face, in the gray tones of night vision, he clearly saw the bumps and weaves rolling under the skin, similar to swollen veins. He ordered the extra swarm to get away, the skin on his palms snapped in several places and thin, wriggling trickles flowed among the dark trees. The spiders quickly sewed the tears together, but the picture of what rags would remain from his limbs when all the bugs rushed outside pursued Denis to the very doors of the club.



    He hesitated again in front of the road that ran along the very wall of the stadium. The guards just pushed out of the fence one of the especially persistent visitors, who was going to get inside.



    “Why are you rubbing here? - Sonia asked discontentedly, hovering over the crowd. "Are you waiting for Arumov's people to invite you?"



    “I’m thinking how to get inside so that Arumov’s militants don’t spot me.”



    “What is there to think! Infect someone from the staff and go through the service entrance. "



    One of the yellow tentacles that had been rummaging along the wall for convenient slots suddenly twitched. An image of microscopic spheres that dotted the window joints appeared in front of Denis.



    “That's it, now Arumov knows that you are here,” Sonya shook her head in displeasure.



    “I hate fucking nanobots! Whether it's our killer flies ”.



    Denis sighed. As he did not want to touch random inhabitants, he had to use the last advice. A guard with a green light overhead led through an inconspicuous door at the end of the stadium. They briefly wandered along the corridors between the closets and changing rooms and left next to the bar. Denis hid in the shadow of a decorative column, and, no longer really steaming, began to scatter yellow tentacles.



    Several levels of dance floors, tables, turrets, jumping people, lounges and VIP zones, all this was randomly scattered around the stadium. Denis has been a little oriented in space since the past, but it was still possible to look for someone here, even with the help of a swarm, until morning.



    Many drones circled under the roof, creating holograms of dancing people or scattering garlands of fireworks. Denis saw such a dense flock of cars for the first time, before they were not in the club. He even flinched when another drone threw out a series of lights, the claps of which momentarily drowned out the frenzied roar of the music.



    He was distracted and a drunken heifer, unable to cope with the pirouette, flew into his arms. The event is undoubtedly pleasant under different circumstances. And now, Denis tried to quickly get rid of her. As luck would have it, she turned out to be rather stubborn. When Denis looked up, Arumov himself in an ironed shirt and trousers was already showing off nearby. Particularly bright flashes of color music were reflected in his polished shoes and bald skull. The lower half of the face was covered with a stylized maniac iron mask, probably with built-in filters of the highest protection class.



    Sonya hissed and released virtual claws, clearly annoyed that Arumov had managed to sneak up so easily unnoticed. Denis involuntarily threw up his hand and a barely noticeable cloud flowed between his fingers. Arumov first staggered back, and then took a step forward, grabbed Denis by the sleeve with his left hand, and thrust his right into his face. It contained a grenade without a pin.



     - The retarder is unscrewed! - there was his dull roar from under the mask. - The pomegranate is thermobaric, we will have pieces of charred meat.



    Denis gave the command, the cloud obediently scattered and moored on the columns and walls.



     - You want to play with me! - shouted Arumov again. - What part of Lena do you like better: boobs, thighs, ass? I can send any.



    Denis rested his forehead on the mask, ripped out his sleeve and grabbed Arumov's fist, the swarm instantly reacted to a flash of rage, his fingers clenched with such force that Arumov's bones crunched under them.



     - I can go to a fucking institute and infect everyone, somebody knows where your lair is!



     - Okay, Dan, chill!



    Arumov tapped Denis on the muscles that were stiff with stone convulsions and took the pin out of his pocket.



     - Come on, I'll shove this thing back and we'll talk ... Let's go where it's quieter.



    Denis allowed himself to be taken to the other end of the stadium, where the VIP zone was located at the highest level, very close to the glass roof. All the movement could be seen from her at a glance, and nothing blocked the moonlit sky overhead. Arumov plopped down on a white genuine leather sofa. On the glass table in front of him was a battery of expensive cognacs and snacks.



     - Sit down, Dan, let's talk, have a drink ...



     - I'm not going to drink with you, - Denis barked.



     - Why did you come then?



     “You're giving me trouble.



     “I hope you don’t hold me mad about that situation with Max?” Nothing personal, war is war, no means are chosen here. World?



    Arumov fearlessly held out his open palm.



     - Everything is fine, bro!



    Denis squeezed his hand and did not let go for ten seconds.



    “Come on, this is the perfect moment! - Sonya growled. "Infect him!" But Denis, seeing that Arumov did not show a single drop of concern, unclenched his hand and fell on the sofa himself.



     - Here's what, Comrade Colonel: you have your own war, and I have my own. Come on, let's make sure that our two wars do not intersect.



     - We have one war and a common enemy. The sooner you understand this, the easier it will be. I can provide invaluable help, but I can, as you understand, create huge problems ...



     - Mutually. I have not even begun to seriously dig your warm relationship with Leo Schultz, or with Max. And with battalions, nothing else will work for you.



     - Okay, if you don't want to cooperate, let's at least exchange information.



     - Come on. Where is Lena?



     - Why do you need it?



     “The Queen needs her,” Dan decided to lie.



     - If so, I will gladly return it ...



    Before the inner gaze of Denis, the water surface of the backwater of the Moskva River began to ripple and went to the shore, as at high tide. The wave rolled out and dissolved into the sand with a loud rustle. The narrow strip of land in front of the stadium seemed to have turned into a moving carpet, a huge mass of beetles gnawed their way under a thin layer of sand and grass.



     - Tell me, Denis, what do you want?



     - I already said ...



     - No, I mean globally, in general ... What do you want? Win and become the new emperor?



     - Globally, I do not like Martians, - Denis shrugged his shoulders.



     “Strange ...,” Arumov twirled a glass of cognac in his hand. - I have little experience with agents. I thought all agents were the same, like biorobots with standard firmware. It turns out that each agent is on his own.



     - Why create biorobot agents? It's easier to make the swarm fully automatic.



     - Yes, probably ... Do you know what I want?



     - I always wanted to know.



    Denis was ready to listen to any stories: the first columns of insects were already climbing the wall to the nearest window openings.



     “I want to take revenge on those who destroyed the Empire. It was not destroyed by the Martians, it was destroyed by people like them. ”Arumov gestured around the crowd below. - We wanted to live beautifully.



     - Such as they did not decide anything. It was destroyed by people like you, drinking cognacs in VIP zones.



     - Fair enough. Still, the agents have something in common ... It's hatred. Hatred is a terrible weapon, worse than any swarm. But, if you direct it in the wrong direction ...



    "Here is a crap, - thought Denis. - What is he trying to sell me again?



    Arumov abruptly fell silent.



     - You don't keep your word, you should have come alone.



     - I didn't promise anything.



    Not a trace remained of the imaginary relaxation. Arumov performed a good somersault, rolling over the back of the sofa and jumping up already three meters away, closer to the steps. In his hand was again a grenade without a pin.



     - It's a pity, today we will not be able to dialogue. I don't really like dying. Kill me and Lena will pay.



    Arumov backed up to the stairs, and Denis advanced, keeping slightly at a distance. The skin on his arms swelled up in huge blisters.



    "Wait until he leaves," Sonya hissed, "Don't get blown up!"



    Arumov mockingly saluted and rolled down the steps, away from the VIP zone. He cut into the crowd and, throwing the majors, began to make his way out. Denis found his people diving in the park under the trees. He unceremoniously climbed into Tamaz's head.



    “To the central entrance! Alive! Detain Arumov "!



    Roy, without waiting for the command, spurred on the soldiers with a shock dose of wild animals and they ran forward.



    “Sorry, man,” thought Denis. "Someone has to throw a grenade."



    "Yuri Rogov, direct control"!



    Denis almost immediately regretted his choice. The contrast with his own body was striking. Uncle ran hard, kicking fallen leaves and damp earth with his feet. The belly dangled from each jump, severely limiting maneuverability. Rogov's own consciousness howled with horror. Denis, no longer worrying about the health of the fighter, filled it with an intense crimson color. Roy added a couple more combat drugs from himself. A red veil fell before Rogov's eyes and he jerked like a real sprinter.



    He arrived just as Arumov jumped out of the door of the club, taking down the boy who was lucky enough to wait his turn. There was a spiteful mate of the guard, who received a powerful blow in the back and outraged screams from the crowd. The target was literally a few meters away, desperately trying to get into the road, stumbling over the bodies of the visitors.



    Rogov's legs suddenly broke, and he flew into the asphalt with all his foolishness. The blow knocked out his breath. There was no pain, which, however, is not surprising, given the concentration of the combat cocktail in the blood. But the attempt to get up failed. Rogov stared in bewilderment at the shattered stump instead of the right shin. The cries of the crowd, previously indignant, were replaced by cries of horror. People around Arumov fell, large-caliber bullets knocked out pieces of meat from them. Another of Denis's fighters fell, rushing from the trees across the road. The helmet did not save from a direct hit in the head.



    “Back! - mentally Denis shouted to his fighters.



    The black jeep flew into the panicking people, scattering them like pins. There was a squeal of brakes, a slam of the closing door and the strained roar of a retreating engine. The rate of fire after the flight of Arumov did not decrease in the least. Roy barely managed to stop the bleeding in Rogov's broken leg, crawling under the cover of the trees, when the next bullet flew into his shoulder, almost severing his arm. Some of the panicking people tried to seek salvation inside the club. They tore down the fences and a crush instantly formed in the passage.



     - What are you doing, bitch! - Denis shouted.



    Neither staff nor vacationers were observed within the VIP zone, so his calls were wasted.



    Music thundered on the dance floors, alcohol poured like a river at bar counters, drunk couples retired in toilets, connoisseurs laid the roads on the tables. Crazy, crumpled people from the crowd at the entrance began to run into this delightful cycle of nightlife. The drone circling under the very roof suddenly froze in place, tongues of flame began to break through from under its screws. In a moment, it turned into a roaring fireball and crashed into one of the bars. A huge torch immediately rose from there. Other burning drones, scattering lumps of melting plastic, began to fall into alcohol racks and recreation areas. The crowd realized that this was not another fire show only when choking smoke poured from all corners of the stadium and the screams of burnt people began to be heard. Gradually, in one or another zone, the music died down. Somewhere else they dancedwhen the neighboring zones have already rushed to the exit. There, the panicking crowd met well with the crowd fleeing from the bullets.



    Denis glanced at what his chop officers were doing. Tamaz sent two soldiers to drive the cars, and with the rest he tried to pull the wounded out under the cover of trees. Roy identified the possible locations of the firing points on the roofs of houses in residential areas, but Tamaz did not even try to work on them.



    “Throw smoke grenades and thermomines into the park in front of the entrance. We need to close the view of the snipers. Then clear the main entrance. "



    “Don't be bullshit! - Sonya yelled. - We must bring down!



    "We must save the people!"



    “What kind of people? Don't be silly!



    Denis brushed her aside and found his swarm, which had accumulated in a senseless shaft under the stadium wall. After scanning the club, he had a fairly extensive database at his disposal. He began to highlight the guards and mark them in green. The clouds of the swarm easily pierced the window panes, but this did not affect the level of smoke. A suffocating cloud has already covered the VIP zone, located almost under the very roof. Something slammed overhead and a small patch of foam plopped onto one of the tables. After that, the fire extinguishing system admitted defeat and ceased to show signs of life. Denis got down on all fours and crawled to the stairs. He still had no problems with orientation and breathing, the swarm showed all objects and pulled oxygen from the surrounding air, filtering smog. For the rest of the people, everything was far from rosy.Some of the DJs and staff tried to shout something calm and evacuation exits, but there was no sense. The huge room was quickly clouded with smoke. The fire extinguishing system was limited to rare spits of foam, so only those who managed to break through to the exit while there was at least some visibility had chances of salvation. Panic and crush grew with every passing second.



    Looking at Denis's torment with the list of guards, Sonya gave a desperate howl.



    “Run already! We will burn here, no swarm will save ”!



    "If you want to help: infect the guards and make them take people out!"



    Sonya waved her hand and took up the guard. Denis selected the main part of the swarm and assigned a new hive, leaving Sonya with a small stub. He threw all the power of the huge hive against the sliding roof. It eaten away fiberglass without any problems, but the smoke left through the bald spots too slowly. In addition, it greatly increased traction from the street so that fires flared up with renewed vigor.



    Denis made his way with difficulty to the service exit. It was already hard to breathe, the lungs were burning. Eyebrows and hair began to burn from the heat. He constantly bumped into the motionless bodies of people. In the surrounding smoke, even with the help of the swarm, it was difficult to distinguish something. All information about the situation was five minutes ago, so the broken furniture and musical equipment became unpleasant surprises. In general, the swarm would not have saved him from the colonel's next dirty trick, but one of the infected guards accidentally stumbled upon a strange group in fire suits, hiding at the service exit. The suits were repainted gray.



    "Don't mess with them!" - Sonia hissed, but Denis has already made a decision. The guard rushed at the nearest man in a spacesuit. It was difficult to even determine the number of opponents in the smoke, but at least three pneumatic darts immediately dug into the guard, and a charge of some sticky mucus flew into his legs. Apparently because of the temperature, it did not harden properly and the guard, urged on by the swarm, lane forward. The men in spacesuits retreated and released new darts. Denis chose a fighter who was behind the main group as his target. He was hiding behind the bar, aiming with a gun at the back of the guard. Denis with a running start jumped onto the counter and without stopping fell on the back of the man's head. He did not even try to soften the blow, smoke and a spacesuit greatly limited his view. He flew off a meter, losing his air rifle,with a crunch hit the mask on the tabletop and fell face down. Denis turned it over, the transparent plastic cracked, through this cobweb one could make out Tom's hateful flat face. Semi-deafened, he tried to push Denis away with one hand, and with the other crawled into the unloading on his belt. Denis, reinforced by a swarm bursting from within, broke his arm in one movement so that the grenade rolled away with a clatter somewhere under the counter. He began thrashing the heads, putting all his hatred and rage into the blows. He felt bones crack and fingers fly out of his joints. The mask flew apart and Tom's scream filled with despair cut his ears, which almost immediately drowned in the stream of the swarm gushing from Denis's severed hands.Semi-deafened, he tried to push Denis away with one hand, and with the other crawled into the unloading on his belt. Denis, reinforced by a swarm bursting from within, broke his arm in one movement so that the grenade rolled away with a clatter somewhere under the counter. He began pounding the heads, putting all his hatred and rage into the punches. He felt bones crack and fingers fly out of his joints. The mask flew apart and Tom's scream filled with despair cut his ears, which almost immediately drowned in the stream of the swarm gushing from Denis's severed hands.Semi-deafened, he tried to push Denis away with one hand, and with the other crawled into the unloading on his belt. Denis, reinforced by a swarm bursting from within, broke his arm in one movement so that the grenade rolled away with a clatter somewhere under the counter. He began pounding the heads, putting all his hatred and rage into the punches. He felt bones crack and fingers fly out of his joints. The mask flew apart and Tom's scream filled with despair cut his ears, which almost immediately drowned in the stream of the swarm gushing from Denis's severed hands.The mask flew apart and Tom's scream filled with despair cut his ears, which almost immediately drowned in the stream of the swarm gushing from Denis's severed hands.The mask flew apart and Tom's scream filled with despair cut his ears, which almost immediately drowned in the stream of the swarm gushing from Denis's severed hands.



     - Eat, bitch!



    From the left in front, flashing red dots flew, which made Denis duck and rush back. He could not stay on his feet, breaking through the bar, sprawled on the floor. The red dots continued to fly and Denis reached for the huge hive operating on the roof. A large piece of transparent panel with the remains of a frame collapsed into a group of people shooting at him. And then a hefty swirling ball plopped down, almost instantly burying the spacesuits under it. Unfortunately, even that many beetles could not instantly infect opponents. The blast wave threw Denis away like a kitten, he flew until he met the remains of some kind of equipment.



    He woke up, his lungs were burning, his whole body was burning, pieces of furniture and plastic were burning around. He could hardly distinguish his disfigured body in this heat. He got up on all fours and crawled to the epicenter of the explosion. He could see the muscles and tendons on his skinned, burned hands. An invisible Sonya screamed in her ear:



    “You are crawling in the wrong direction! Turn around "!



    “I'm going after this creature! If he's alive, we'll interrogate him! "



    "You yourself are dying!"



    "Send me Tamaz or guards!"



    Hands broke and Denis fell awkwardly on his side. At the very floor there seemed to be some grains of oxygen. With his last strength, Denis reached out to the swarm and sent him to the ruins of the bar to help the dying enemy.



    



    Denis stood in the backyard near the garbage dump and tore off his burnt clothes along with pieces of skin. Then it was the armor's turn. He almost did not feel physical pain, but from a feeling of impotent anger he wanted to howl at the moon. The bitterness of defeat still creaked on his teeth with an acrid fume. All the news feeds were filled with fire at the Harlequin. The fire has not yet been completely extinguished, but fifty corpses have already been found inside, and at least twenty people were left lying outside, killed by snipers. The number of wounded, according to the most conservative estimates, exceeded one hundred and fifty. No other epithets, except for "mediocre operation" and "complete failure", came to mind as a result of the clarification of relations with Arumov.



    The fighters kept aloof; the sight of his burnt, in places peeled skull, with bugs and spiders scurrying around in wounds, must have been a bad fit with the template of the struggle for a brighter future. Even the aura of Tamaz was completely clouded with black and gray flowers, and the imperial eagle drooped and looked like a plucked chicken with golden stars on its wings. The two wounded soldiers looked even worse. The swarm no longer tried to save the guy who had been shot in the head. Pieces of helmet and bones were stuck deep in his brain and, the only thing he could hope for was a vegetable existence. Yuri Rogov, who lost half of his limbs, groaned in the back seat of the car. From time to time he bulged his eyes and began to scream something incoherently and try to crawl away. Then two fighters barely held him and injected another dose of promedol. Roy did not have enough resources for his own fighters.This infuriated me the most. The only trophy that could be attributed to the success of the operation at least with some stretch was dumped into the trunk. Roy threw all his strength into Tom's broken torso. The suit protected him from burns, but the internal injuries were dire. He looked like a corpse that had lain for a couple of weeks in the tropical heat, everything around him stirred and swarmed, but these flies and beetles were not fighting for a tasty piece of his mortal remains, but heroically saving his life. Denis wanted to dump the carcass on the ground and kick it until the hated mug turned into a bloody mess.He looked like a corpse that had lain for a couple of weeks in the tropical heat, everything around him stirred and swarmed, but these flies and beetles were not fighting for a tasty piece of his mortal remains, but heroically saving his life. Denis wanted to dump the carcass on the ground and kick it until the hated mug turned into a bloody mess.He looked like a corpse that had lain for a couple of weeks in the tropical heat, everything around him stirred and swarmed, but these flies and beetles were not fighting for a tasty piece of his mortal remains, but heroically saving his life. Denis wanted to dump the carcass on the ground and kick it until the hated mug turned into a bloody mess.



    He finished off the armor and donned a new camouflage. It's time to decide what to do next. In the courtyard, only one lantern was burning not far from the dump. A light rain began to drip from the dark sky. All the windows of the houses around were immersed in darkness, but it was impossible to stay here.



    Denis took a closer look at Tom's body. Roy was actively fighting injuries, but the standard infection protocol did not apply. Roy was generally afraid to touch the brain of the Arum fighter, he remained a black spot against the background of a body teeming with life. An unusual fluid was spilled inside the blood-brain barrier. Individual spiders carefully entered the barrier to study its properties, but did not achieve much success. The nanobots dissolved in the liquid immediately responded to the intrusion. The liquid went into a superfluid state, enveloping the invading spiders, and then solidified just as easily. Nanobots controlled these processes.



    “Sonya, stop fumbling with him. Come on, infect him and pump out his memory! - ordered Denis, watching the cautious dances of the swarm around Tom's brain.



    “Roy doesn't know what to do with this thing. Suddenly some trigger will go off and send him to revival. "



    “Is this the thing that allows them to be reborn? Is she transferring their consciousness and memory into a cloned body? "



    "Probably".



    “Timur said that she even works in an underground bunker. Where is the receiving and transmitting station that breaks through meter layers of concrete? "



    "Such stations in the dimensions of a human body are impossible from the point of view of energy."



    "Nevertheless, they are somehow reborn."



    "An amazing liquid ... exhibits quantum effects at room temperatures ..."



    "Sonya, stop staring at her like a ram at a new gate. I need information".



    “To study it, you will have to involve a team of specialists. The Empire did not even come close to such a thing. "



    “You ate dozens of scientists from the institute. Connect their collective mind ”!



    "They are not functional intelligences, just control patterns ... Neural networks trained in swarm control and other useful tasks, if you like."



    “I don’t understand shit! What should I do now, infect the Institute of Physics of the Russian Academy of Sciences? "



    "It would be nice ... For a start."



    "What to do with him? You can at least control him when he wakes up ”?



    “Physically I can, but consciousness is not. For now, I propose to keep it in this state. "



    "I almost died for a useless piece of shit!"



    Denis kicked the wheel of the car in despair.



    Tamaz's pale face emerged from the darkness. He held a helmet in his hands and nervously shifted from foot to foot.



     - What?!



     “Yura is really bad,” Tamaz answered in a quiet but firm voice.



     - Order one of the soldiers to take him to the recycling station.



    Tamaz swallowed nervously.



     - Commander! Let's cure him humanly ...



     - Humanly? - Denis asked.



    Tamaz turned pale even more, but did not look away. Denis realized that he hadn't thought about the doctors or the hospital at all when he went to war. "Of course they are just infected, not people!" Denis let out a choked growl.



    It's good that Semyon, awakened in the middle of the night, found some retired former surgeon who agreed to help. And then an unknown number appeared on Denis's tablet.



     - Arumov. There is a suggestion.



     - What?



     - You will kill my man ...



     - I don't have your people!



     - It's not true, you have it, he has nowhere else to be. You must bring him back or kill him.



     - Well, bring me Lena alive, healthy and without surprises, then your man will die. You can fill it yourself.



     - No, he must die now. I'll give you your girlfriend back, I promise.



     - I don't take your word for it.



     “Trust me, I'll start cutting off pieces of your girlfriend right now. Let's count to ten ...



     - Fuck you, bastard! Believe me, I wanted to shit on the Empire, true enemies and other bullshit. I will infect half of Moscow, I will surrender the swarm to the Martians, but your war will end in defeat!



     - Okay, no dust. Two hours later, in the parking lot next to the third building of INCIS.



     - In an hour at my house.



     “It’s not you who dictate the terms here.



     - In an hour, at my house! - Denis barked and disconnected the connection.



    



    Myron stared intently into the cold, damp autumn night. He noticed that his eyesight seemed to have become sharper over the past two days. Yes, and old injuries of the knee and back did not make themselves felt, although during the turmoil at the club he ran like an elk, hung with armor and weapons, and even pulled the wounded Sanka on him. “Now we serve the Order, and he doesn't care about my sores,” thought Myron and felt the blood flowing through his veins faster and fatigue receding.



    Miron always knew that he was born for something more than an unsuccessful sports career, which was cut short by a series of injuries, and the subsequent sad job at a local PSC, where a familiar coach added him. “I'm a real fighter. How many times have I entered the ring through pain and fear. I would have torn everyone apart if it hadn't been for a damn knee and a hernia ... It's no wonder that I was among the elite, who just wouldn't be tasked with rebuilding the Empire. The Order will appreciate me, not like this mattress of the Horns. It is a pity, of course, that he was shot so brutally. When we save this important hostage, our order will become larger and stronger, maybe I will go to the next level of initiation and get the same superpowers as the commander ... "



    " They're coming! " - came the steel voice of the commander in my head.



    Myron zipped up his helmet and walked out onto the broken road in front of the darkened house. He waited until Kolka took a position in the alley, a hundred meters ahead of him. A car with another soldier and a prisoner was located in the courtyard of the house on the opposite side of the street. He pulled out a fire, lit it and threw it in front of him. The fear finally disappeared, only a cold rage remained.



    Four jeeps pulled up on opposite sides of the street in front of a smoldering green fire. An overweight man with a night vision device pulled over his eyes came out of the first.



     - Where is Denis?



     “I'm for him,” Myron replied insolently.



    Suddenly, a powerful electrical discharge flashed above them, as if a street lamp had shorted out, and a small drone crashed onto the sidewalk. Another fell right on the windshield of the jeep, splashing the militant with plastic splinters. He looked nervously at the dark sky.



    "The commander is working!" - Miron chuckled to himself.



     - Where is the hostage?



    The militant waved his hand, and another bully got out of another jeep, strapped to a small man with a bag on his head. The hostage's figure was almost completely hidden by a shapeless long jacket. Ambal raised his right hand with a grenade clutched in it.



     - Where is our fighter?



    A battered beha stuck out from an archway into the courtyard behind them. The back door opened, and from there a body came out in the remnants of a firefighter's suit, gait and appearance reminiscent of a rotten zombie.



     “Unfasten the handcuffs and take off the bag,” Myron demanded.



    There was a metallic click, the bag flew to the asphalt.



     - Stomp forward, chick, - boomed the hulk.



    Myron only had a glimpse of the hostage's pale face and long blond hair ...



    “Hostages? The Order's new hope is a woman? He wondered. All his attention was focused on the action movies. He realized that their captive had caught up with the hostage by her stifled squeak and began to back away himself. The body stopped ten meters in front of the jeeps, Myron was already aiming at his back. Several militants in armored spacesuits with knapsack flamethrowers at the ready jumped out of the jeeps. Columns of white flame hit the zombies. The torch went up to the third floor. For a few seconds, the body simply burned and melted, and then fell like a log, without making a sound.



     - Everything is fair! We keep our word, - boomed the bully, overlapping the howl of the flame and the cries of the hostage. - Remove the corpse yourself.



    Not at all worrying about maintaining their reputation, the militants, like scared hares, jumped into cars and screeched back, flying into holes on broken asphalt and hitting curbs. A couple of jeeps also collided while performing police turns. The overhead roar of engines quickly faded into the darkness of the half-abandoned neighborhoods.



    Myron ran to the behe, where his fighter tried to calm the hostage. The glow of a flaming corpse illuminated her face well. Tear-stained and slightly wrinkled, but undoubtedly very beautiful, and even properly tuned. Who is she? Myron hesitatedly stopped, looking first at the woman, then up to the attic, where the commander was supposed to hide.



    "Direct control"!



    Denis got up from the temporary bed, made of old boards, dusted off the dust and threw the silent Vampire behind his back, with whom he was going to insure his fighters. Arumov sent a whole platoon, apparently trying to compensate for the lack of training in numbers. But the shameful haste with which the militants reeled off their fishing rods warmed the soul a little after the previous defeat.



    A large yellow cloud hung over the street, from which several thin threads stretched after the dropping off jeeps. Just in case, Denis sent the cloud once again to check the surrounding attics and roofs for enemy snipers. At the exit from the entrance, the fair-haired Miron was already waiting.



     - Thank you, you did a great job.



    Denis encouragingly slapped the fighter on the shoulder.



     - I serve the Empire, Comrade Commander ... - Myron answered uncertainly.



    But Denis was already running to the car. Helen, recognizing him, let out another stifled cry and literally collapsed at her feet. Everyone rushed to pick her up.



     “Dan, Danchik, Dan… It's true you,” she babbled. - Please don't leave me.



     - Lena, it's me, everything will be fine.



    Denis hugged Lena who was hanging on him and came across Myron's puzzled look.



     - Len, wait, now ... Drink some water.



    He unhooked her with difficulty and put her back in the car.



     - So, what is next? - asked Myron.



     - Go to the base. I'll figure it out myself.



    Myron fiddled with the belt of the machine in doubts. Denis walked away with him a couple of steps.



     - The hostage was my agent, she was discovered. It happened. But the Order does not abandon its people! It is our enemies who do not care about people, those who screwed up they drain.



    Denis nodded at Tom's dying bones.



     - I understand, commander. Yes sir!



    Myron beamed and saluted. His doubts were safely evaporated. The soldiers quickly swept Tom's mortal remains into a sack and also disappeared into the darkness. Lena stood in the middle of the street in complete prostration. Denis came up and took her hand.



     - Lena, are you okay? Arumov did nothing to you?



     - God, Dan, what's wrong with your face?



     - Yes, nonsense, burned a little.



     - Is that exactly you?



     - Of course it's me. Are you okay?



     “He kept me in the basement for several days. His guards did not leave me a single step. And then they put a sack on their head and drove somewhere. And they didn't explain anything, they just shouted and beat. I was so scared, Dan ...



    Lenochka again wanted to cry, but at the last moment she changed her mind.



     - Come on, Len, now everything will be fine.



    Denis pulled her hand towards the arch leading to his house. Lena fiddled with her feet like a doll, but at the entrance she stood rooted to the spot.



     - Danchik, please forgive me.



    Denis turned around and looked into her serious face, poorly lit by a dim lantern above the entrance.



     - Forgive me.



     - I didn’t know that Arumov would be so angry because of you and me.



     - Come on, Len, it's not about ours ... Not about what happened in Dreamland. Arumov tried to kill me not at all because of this.



     - And because of what?



     - Too long to explain. So I got you into a bad story.



     - Um, am I innocent?



     - I am guilty, seriously ... Well, just choose your daddies easier next time.



     “Dan, I will never ... never again ...



    Helen tried to explain something, but her words were drowned in a stream of sobs and sobs. Denis hugged her, and Helen herself grabbed him, hugging him even tighter. He could feel her warm breath, the flinching of her body, her big soft breasts through her clothes and jacket. He dug his fingers into her hair, inhaled her scent, bent down and kissed her pliable lips. Lena arched towards him and Denis instantly felt a terrible desire. His heart hit his ribs like a hammer. He dragged Lena up the stairs, almost broke the lock, opening the door. The eternally displeased Adolf, getting tangled underfoot, received such a kick that he flew away with a mash, the armor and the rifle flew away in the other direction. He tore off her clothes, pressed her into bed, heard only her moans and saw only her body. And I completely forgot about everything: about the burnt out club, about the battalions,about a war with true enemies and even about a ringing cloud of a swarm under the windows.



    



    Major Ignat Nazarov stopped in front of the guard post at the entrance to the next zone of the “Institute of the Brain”, widely known in narrow circles. This institution developed domestic neurochips and conducted other experiments to improve humans, often much more daring than those dared by the Martian corporations. There was a red line on the floor in front of the door and the words Perimeter One. The airtight door was so dazzlingly glossy and clean that he could see himself reflected in it. A fit, strong man with a neatly trimmed beard. An expensive suit, a two hundred bucks tie, and a real Swiss watch on his left hand, he spread an aura of confidence and secret power around him. People themselves stood at attention before him. And next to him is Vasily Goryunov, Doctor of Biological Sciences, in a crumpled coat. Short, plump,from the height of his growth Ignat saw bald spots in his liquid hair. A typical "specialist" who works for a penny in a closed box because nothing else in his life worries him. Three fingers on his left hand were completely wrapped in bandages. “I cut myself at the dacha, or what happened there,” Ignat glanced at the rewound hand. "It feels like he cut off half of his fingers there."



     “Sign the journal,” Goryunov asked.



    Ignat met his gaze and shuddered again. Well, such a person cannot have such a frozen, lifeless look. He signed in the magazine and presented the security with a certificate of the first form of admission.



    Ignat was not at all happy with the supervision of this project. Not that he was worried about the local patients, who were slowly going crazy, judging by the reports ... No, they certainly got what they deserved, but the project clearly did not bode well for his future career. Super secret, complex, protracted, without clear goals and deadlines. At the same time, he was awarded the attention of the highest officials of the state. Such stars and shoulder straps periodically flew into the light, demanding concrete results that Ignat was afraid every time that his own would not fly off and then he was soldered off with expensive cognac. He never managed to pull up a single businessman he knew about the project, his "modest" pension savings also suffered greatly from this stupid secrecy. And some more employees, like absolutely harmless-looking scholars,but ... "What but"? - Ignat could not clearly articulate, but trips to the object annoyed him more and more each time. "No, we need to convince the generals as soon as possible that the project is completely rotten and do something more interesting."



    Ignat was the first to enter the next zone, Goryunov trotted after him and muttered without ceasing:



     - The sample of "samples" is too small and poor. It is difficult to achieve results with such material.



     - What do you mean poor?



     “It's not just that fifteen“ samples ”are very few. They also form a highly unrepresentative sample. All these cannibals, serial rapists and pedophiles ... It is difficult to expect from them the necessary flexibility of intelligence and ability to adapt. It would be nice to try induction in people of different social groups, ages, genders. I suppose that the induction of close relatives: sisters, brothers, children with parents would provide a very rich material. Lovers, or vice versa, sworn enemies can also provide food for thought ...



     “Mr. Goryunov,” interrupted Dr. Ignat with undisguised irritation. - Do you think we have a camp of Josef Mengele? You have no idea what leverage the office has pressed to get this, as you please, unrepresentative sample. Be so kind as to work with what is.



     - Of course I realize. But instead of leverage, the service could try a workaround. You could arrange the disappearance of a passenger plane, for example ... This sample would be many times better quality.



    Ignat stared at the doctor. He could not understand what it was: a stupid joke, or the doctor himself had already gone a little. He slapped his lips in a childish way and said:



     - Why did you come if you don't want to help?



    At the same time, his gaze remained the same lifeless.



     - Mr. Goryunov, organizational issues, selection of "samples" are absolutely not your business. Science is your business. I, as a representative of the customer, would like to see the result, not advice on how we should work. I hope we understand each other?



     - Yes, yes, of course! Let me show you. There are results.



    Goryunov seemed to have grown even shorter, nodded and fussed. But his accursed gaze did not flinch even for a moment. It seemed that his awkward, swollen torso was strung on light gray lifeless eyes.



    Boxes with samples were located behind the airlock, where only trained personnel could enter, in protection and with special equipment. They went to the gallery, from which through small armored windows it was possible to observe what was happening in the boxes. They were joined by another local security officer.



     “Sample number four,” Goryunov muttered again. - Smolensk cannibal. Has been successfully induced with samples seven and eight.



    A sullen old man, thin, with a heavy jaw and a sloping forehead, was lying on an iron bed equipped with belts and active grips, staring at the ceiling. He was completely bald, his skull and neck were entwined with a web of artificial vessels implanted into the skin, they wrapped around him from all sides and went under the hospital uniform. Biomedical connectors were visible on the temples, on the neck, on the hands. Several hoses from the connectors went to a cluster of electronic devices, containers and pumps, protected by a powerful metal mesh.



    The old man stubbornly scratched his leg until a red indication came on on one of the devices. He immediately stopped scratching, crawled heavily out of bed and made several circles in boxing, awkwardly clinging to everything in a row with hoses. After walking a little, he climbed onto the bed again. Now he was slowly rocking back and forth, sitting on the bed, emitting a senseless moo.



    Ignat sighed heavily.



     - Is this your result? Is he normal at all?



     - What would you like? He was initially not very normal. Invasion of the memory of two serial pedophiles did not improve his mental state. But at least he tolerated genetic replication well and showed strong telepathic communication with samples seven and eight for half a year. Until samples seven and eight developed severe schizophrenia.



     - That is, in your opinion, this is a worthy result? Can I show it to the customer?



     “We can still work with him,” Goryunov mumbled. - We would like to return seven and eight.



    The officer handed Ignat a folder with papers.



     - Documents for return, customer's visa is required.



     - Okay, I'll sign later, - Ignat waved his hand. - Are there any other results?



     - Probably, we need to clarify again what is the "result". We are constantly experiencing serious pressure from your side, you are in a hurry, do not allow debugging procedures. For example, at least one and a half years should be allocated for genetic replication, six to eight months is unacceptably short, we lose samples because of this ...



     - Mr. Goryunov, you have been working for the fifth year and have achieved absolutely nothing.



     - How nothing! We have learned to carry out genetic replication in adults, we have achieved sustainable induction. Isn't that the result ?!



     - No, this is not the result! - rapped out Ignat. - For the customer, the result is a “sample”, preferably one that does not differ in any way from an ordinary person who can read the thoughts of arbitrary people, or even better, makes them perform the necessary actions. So it was written in the TK? A person who, after a year and a half of processing in a closed research institute, can read the thoughts of another sufferer and, at the same time, quickly goes crazy - this is not a result at all. This telepathy makes no practical sense for our office.



     - But this is NIR, we are at the very beginning of the path. You are talking about self-induction ... Experiments on animals so far rather refute the possibility of self-induction. We have reliably established that telepathic communication is possible only in the presence of a certain common "quasi-intelligence", which is distributed over several living beings. Within the framework of it, information is transmitted. To do this, we invade each other's memory samples. Then the process becomes self-sustaining ... and somewhat uncontrolled. Patterns create connection and freely exchange thoughts, memory, and behavioral patterns. But, if the general "quasi-intelligence" cannot be induced, then telepathy does not arise either. Again, the carrier of "quasi-intelligence" can only be a specially modified organism, for this we replicate the genetic material that you provided to us.We have not yet figured out the mechanisms of this genome, but we have learned how to replicate quite successfully ...



     - Wait, Vasily, - Ignat interrupted the flow of information. - So you say that animal experiments prove the impossibility of this self-induction of yours? Telepathy is not possible without genetic modification and rewriting of memory?



     - Well, it was not possible to do this on animals ...



     - Can you arrange the information in the form of a normal report, with an analysis of the experimental material and conclusions?



     - Uh-uh ... - Goryunov felt that he was being driven into a trap. - I can only say that it was not possible to do this for animals, weakly intelligent creatures. We have some success with people.



     - Are there any successes? And why the customer does not know about it.



     - One of the samples shows good self-induction and even some control over the samples in the initial state. But the process is rather unstable, so we took our time with uh ... victorious reports.



     - Believe me, you should have hurried. Can you demonstrate the work of a successful prototype right now?



     - We will try. Prepare samples number twenty seven and thirty, ”Goryunov asked the officer. The latter nodded and left.



    They went to the farthest end of the gallery, where the control room was set up. In front of it was a large box, divided into two halves by an armored partition. In the left half of the furnishings there were only gray walls, a few chairs and a table. The right one looked like an ordinary medical ward, no belts or iron furniture. A made bed, a bedside table with a kettle and several books on it, a comfortable chair. In a chair sat a tall, wiry man in green military uniform with no insignia. Only electronic bracelets on the ankles and wrists reminded that this was a “sample”, and also an absolutely bald head and a net of small scars in place of the removed tubes. He had a calm, frozen face and an eerie dead look.



    “The colonel of the special forces of the internal troops is Andrei Arumov,” Ignat recalled. - The hero of several local conflicts and a true patriot of Russia. He commanded the clearing of a village in the Fergana Valley, during which forty civilians were killed. But that was not the reason he was condemned. He tortured and killed several officials whom he suspected of corruption and theft of military property. In general, when the country could not find external enemies for the colonel, he began to actively fight internal ones. It's just that I can't figure out what kind of connections the office had to use to get such a person, Ignat thought. “If there were fewer such patriots, life would be easier for normal people.”



    What was happening in boxing was broadcast on several large screens. An employee was in front of the console with two microphones. Another man in a T-shirt and jeans slipped into the control room, even without a robe. He had a large, elongated face and close-set watery eyes. His head was too big for a puny body. He moved with awkward jerks that looked like signs of a mild form of cerebral palsy. On his badge, hanging practically on his belly, it was written: “Nikolay Gromov, Ph.D. Sciences ". Gromov strangely turned his head up and to the left and squinted his scattering eyes at Ignat's watch, then at his tie. He looked for a long time, without stopping, had to answer him with an impudent contemptuous look. "What is the botanist staring at, envy in silence!" - thought Ignat.



    Meanwhile, a puny guy without pipes and scars, with short hair was dragged into a gray room. Ignat knew that this was one of the recently received samples: a worthless young fool who slashed his already scanty brains with a shock dose of drugs and stabbed his parents, sister and two of her children. The guy was seated on a chair, facing the partition. Two burly orderlies in protective overalls held him tightly to the chair.



    The armored partition was lifted. The guy saw Arumov. His mouth opened in a silent scream. He thrashed on the chair, struggled, tried to bite the orderlies, and then he just pissed with fear. The orderlies continued to press him indifferently to the chair, not paying attention to the urine flowing on the floor. Arumov got up from his chair and walked towards him. He stopped in front of an almost invisible line, another transparent partition separating the rooms. The guy stopped twitching. He breathed heavily and gazed at the colonel with bulging eyes. The orderlies released him and walked to the door.



    The officer at the console bent over the right microphone:



     - Citizen Arumov, order the convict to do five push-ups.



    Not a single muscle or scar on the colonel's face flinched, but the guy jumped up and started pushing up without even trying to avoid his own puddle.



     - Order the convict to climb onto a chair and jump off.



    The guy climbed into a chair. You could see how his hands were trembling. The employee turned on the left microphone.



     - Convicted Baranov, there is a pen and a sheet of paper on the table. Write any two-digit number and fold the sheet. Think about the number.



    Arumov showed eight and one on his fingers.



     - Expand the sheet and demonstrate to the camera.



    Eighty-one was written on the sheet, unfolded by Baranov's trembling hands.



     - Do you want to say they do not hear other people's commands? - Ignat asked skeptically.



     “The partition is soundproof, sample number thirty has not been genetically modified,” Goryunov answered.



     “That is, if you find yourself in that room now, you will also carry out the colonel's commands.



     - Not quite ... Such arbitrary induction was not achieved. The samples were kept in one box for several months, only in this way it was possible to launch it.



    “Several months in a confined space with this bastard! - Ignat shuddered. - Yes, here anyone would start to carry out commands, like a trained dog.



     - Order the convict to sit down fifteen times.



    The opaque partition dropped. For a while, the guy obediently squatted, and then, as if he woke up and flopped to the floor. He was breathing heavily and looking around the room with a dull look. After catching his breath a little, he rushed to the door and began pounding on it with his hands and feet. The orderlies had to drag him back to the chair by the arms and legs.



     - Unfortunately induction is not stable, - Goryunov threw up his hands. - But from the third or fourth attempt, the sample begins to execute commands without visual contact for several hours.



    The armored partition began to rise again.



     - Stop, - Ignat stopped the execution with a gesture. - Is this your so-called self-induction? They just frightened the guy half to death.



     - Whatever the degree of fright, people do not read other people's thoughts.



     “The colonel just trained him to follow commands based on non-verbal cues.



     - This is not true! Goryunov objected with fervor. “We experimented many times, using complex commands. Sample twenty-seven does not use any gestures or facial expressions. This is scientifically proven telepathy!



    Ignat grimaced, not even trying to hide his annoyance. “Damn generals will cling to Arumov. We'll have to suffer with this "project" for God knows how long. "



     - I am sure that it will be possible to achieve stable self-induction, - continued to broadcast Goryunov. - It is only necessary to slightly expand the boundaries of the experiment.



    The doctor gestured to the employee with another daddy. Ignat began to reluctantly leaf through the documents.



     - What is it?



     - Customer's permission to use special methods of physical influence.



     - Are you going to torture prisoners?



     “Mmm… We want Sample Twenty-seven to apply special techniques to its mmm… experiment partners. This will undoubtedly increase the induction many times over.



    Ignat felt an almost physical dislike for the doctor.



     - Send a request. This should be discussed with the management.



    Without looking, he threw the documents in the direction of Goryunov and went out.



    



    "Disgusting scientist rats!" - Ignat thought, standing under the shower at home. He furiously rubbed himself with the washcloth. When that didn't work, I tried a contrast shower. He changed the ice-cold water to boiling water several times, until the nasty feeling left by the institute finally let go. Already in high spirits, he put on a heavy robe and moved to the kitchen. He opened the bar, poured cognac on the bottom and set the glass on the stone countertop. “My wife and children are with my parents, you can relax a little,” Ignat thought, thoughtfully leafing through the list of contacts on his phone. The twilight of a warm May evening was gathering outside the window.



    The doorbell crackled shrilly. Ignat was already startled by surprise and looked at the camera. Before the door, Goryunov flaunted himself, nervously slapping his lips and shifting from foot to foot. Ignat was so surprised that he did not even think to change.



     - What are you doing here?! He barked over the intercom.



     “We need to talk,” Goryunov's hoarse voice was heard, he cleared his throat a little and continued. - Please let me in, I wanted to talk about the project. It is very important.



     - I'm not going to let you in! Call tomorrow during business hours.



     “Please, we definitely need to talk in person,” Goryunov continued whining. - I understand you want to close the project. I want to explain everything to you again, about induction and about working with samples ...



     - You don't need to explain anything to me! Go home, Goryunov.



     - I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me.



    The high-pitched crack of the bell rang again. "What a circus!" Ignat thought in a rage. He clicked the lock and jerked the door open.



     - Listen, Goryunov, you seriously think that you can come to my house! - Ignat shouted through the crackle. - Stop calling!



    He took a step forward, intending to drag Goryunov out of the entrance and at the same time arrange a riot for the concierge, who lets anyone in without hitting him. Goryunov himself grabbed him with a damaged stump, a spray flashed in his right hand. A jet of gas flew into Ignat's face. He managed to push the doctor away and jump into the apartment. But the door was no longer able to close. Hands and feet refused to obey. With the last of his strength he hung on the handle of the lock, his fingers unclenched, and he fell like a sack on the threshold. Goryunov went into the apartment, with difficulty turned the body over and slammed the door. Ignat could only mumble weakly and roll his eyes, he was fully conscious, but all his muscles looked like jelly. He felt himself being dragged by the cabinet. The doctor groaned and puffed for about ten minutes, but still dragged the body into the bath.



     “It's clean here,” came Goryunov's disgusting voice.



    A fat face bent over Ignat lying on his back, several drops of sweat fell from his nose directly onto him. He felt hot streaks running down his cheeks. The doctor's gaze was just as empty and lifeless, sometimes some eerie shadows moved in it. This look, surrounded by a crowd of guards and other employees, frightened him to the point of shivering before, but now, lying on the floor of his own bathroom, Ignat simply lost his ability to think due to the rolling attacks of horror.



     - What, Major, were you going to close my project? Fuck you bald, the skin is for sale.



    The doctor left for a while, and when he returned, Ignat heard the clang of metal.



     - Goryunov did not want to continue either. Two broken fingers were enough for the induction to become stable and constant. I'll probably have to sweat with you. Perhaps I'll cut off your balls, Major. This should work. Do you have a wife? We'll have to deal with her. You don't need a wife without eggs.



    His swollen face was bending over him again. No thoughts remained in Ignat's head, only animal horror. He hummed and rolled his eyes.



     - I see your fear. You are nobody without stars and ksiva! A selling piece of shit.



    Ignat felt that he was dying. His personality and will dissolve in dead eyes. What for? There really is no meaning in his life, he is a pitiful worm eating away at the body of the state. A piece of useless meat, now it's time to pay for everything.



     - I see your fear. What are you afraid of, Denis Kaisanov?



    From behind Goryunov, Sonya Daimon appeared in her favorite form of a Valkyrie. She stuck her claw-hands into the doctor's eyes and tore off his head in one motion.



    



    Denis sat down on the bed with a jerk. He was covered in cold sweat. Adolf, whom he threw off himself, awkwardly, not at all like a cat, fell to the floor and, staggering, wandered off to the side. Helen did not even wake up, she purred something and hugged Denis's heated pillow. Denis pulled on his underpants and padded into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator in the hope of a snack, but when he saw the empty shelves, he remembered that the starving Adik had exterminated all the supplies. I had to be content with tap water.



    Sonya settled down on the windowsill. A damp autumn dawn was flickering behind her translucent silhouette. “How much did I sleep? - Denis thought in surprise. "Three hours." He felt cheerful and refreshed.



    "How did you fuck?" - inquired Sonya, studying her claws.



    "Thank you, good."



    “I have to admit, this rogue is a hot thing. By the way, if you would let her infect her, she would be even hotter. Roy can control the condition of the infected. Try it, you won't regret it. "



    "Eh, Sonya, you have no idea how yesterday I missed your advice."



    “Oyushki,” Sonya put on a sad face. "And I thought you didn't want to see me."



    “Well, what are you! I am always glad for this voice in my head ... You better tell me, a dream about the difficult fate of a colonel is not an ordinary nightmare, is it?



    "He is a telepathic, if you haven't forgotten."



    "Now he will go into my head too!"



    "Most likely he kept your spy cat alive, and with his help he can control the replicants."



    “We'll have to get rid of Adik. What a pity ... We must warn Semyon. "



    "We need to resolve the issue with Arumov."



    "The colonel will wait."



    “Okay, wait. What are you going to do?



    “I’m going to the store, I’ll make breakfast for Lena. Then we'll go somewhere ... "



    " Then we'll have sex again, right? It's not funny".



    "What, I can't take a little vacation?"



    "First read the news."



    Denis sighed heavily and opened the tablet. A quick glance at the news feeds instantly ruined his mood. A continuous, hopeless fire in the "Harlequin" with photographs of twisted charred bodies, columns of ambulances and fire trucks, comments of all kinds of "experts". A huge number of records from the chips of visitors, some posthumous. It was very difficult to watch all this, and it was even more unpleasant to find your face flashing on one of the recordings.



    The main version of the incident was finally approved by the terrorist attack of the Eastern Bloc. One of the local "overlords" even managed to take responsibility. The death toll passed over a hundred and continued to rise, thanks to the dying in hospitals.



    “Why did he burn so many people alive? He's a freakin 'freakin' maniac. "



    “He is recruiting you, persuading you to cooperate. He wants to show that there is nothing you can do, even with the help of a swarm. I suppose he will also control the investigation of the terrorist attack and will blackmail you, incite cops and insurgents. Maybe there are some other hidden goals. "



    "By the way, about the terrorist attack, you and him, in your school of thugs maniacs, for an hour, did not sit at the same desk"?



    "All special services have similar methods and way of thinking, there is nothing to be surprised about."



    “What can be done with someone who kills random people left and right? Even a swarm won't help here. "



    “Roy can do anything! It only depends on you, how far you are ready to go for the sake of victory, - objected Sonya. "If you followed the standard instructions, everything could have worked out."



    “This was the way to turn people into living bombs with a swarm? No thanks"!



    “They died anyway, as you can see. You are afraid to kill, you are afraid to infect people, and Arumov saw it perfectly! He will use any weakness. He also exchanged a valuable prisoner for this Lena. You should at least infect her and make sure that a kilogram of TNT is not sewn inside. Well, why the heck is this Arumovskaya litter "?



     "Because you only fuck my brain."



     "Infect any girl and fuck as much as you like"!



     "I want everything to be in agreement."



     “You can tell her anything. She will love you more than life. "



     “And I’ll get tired of it quickly,” Denis shrugged.



     “Well, if you get bored, feed it to the swarm and infect another. What is the problem"?



     “Yes, of course, no problem. I'll go now, throw myself out the fuck window!



     "Give Lena to me."



     "Why do you need it?"



     "I want my own body."



     "Don't worry, I'm already used to that voice in my head."



     "I have to become a complete person."



     "Who are you now?"



     “Your inner demon, you said it yourself. A crooked reflection of your personality with the memory of scientists from the institute. "



     “Do you want to become a crooked reflection of the Arumovka litter”?



     "I'll erase her identity, for the most part."



     "No, Sonya, I forbid touching Lena."



     “Someone has to keep an eye on the swarm while you hang out in clubs and fuck whores. Sooner or later you will have to make a choice. "



    Denis sighed heavily and trudged into the shower.



    The vacation had to be canceled. Lena had to be left alone. She first threw a tantrum, then began to beg, then sob. Denis emptied the Granit cash register and rented two neighboring apartments in Butovo. In one he settled Lena, and in the other a detachment led by Myron. Swarm cans on the landing and several nests in the surrounding attics complemented the temporary shelter for his new ... Who the hell are we now? "Yes, hell knows," thought Denis. Sonya just giggled viciously, watching him puff and twist, trying to answer Lena to this uncomfortable question.



    After discussing the situation with Semyon, they decided that Denis would take the remaining replicants until they were able to rescue or kill the captured Arseny. “It was necessary to change the foreman for Lena and the cat,” Denis thought with annoyance. He loaded Adolf into the car and took him to the recycling station. The impudent brute managed to piss into his shoes, apparently in revenge for yesterday's kick. It took all the power of the swarm to get him into the carrier.



    The next point was Dreamland. Denis left Max a stamp with a message that Rudy had sold it to Arumov. Having finished with urgent matters, he wondered what to do next. He sat in a car in the parking lot in front of the gleaming dome of the Dreamland. On the left there was a path, along an artificial reservoir that looked like a huge mirror. He parked not far from the main entrance. The weather improved, Denis opened the door, basked in the dim sun and leisurely chewed a hamburger. The next lazy glance at the people emerging from the dome made him choke on cola. Not believing his eyes, he looked at Timur in civilian jeans and a shirt, confidently walking along the parked cars. Denis did not hesitate for long, he marked Timur's car in yellow, threw away the hamburgers and started the engine.



    



    The abandoned dormitory area of ​​Tyumen was drowning in the predawn fog. The fine rain, which had been dripping all night without ceasing, turned into thick milky-white clouds, creeping from the side of the river and wrapping around old houses with boarded up windows and collapsed roofs. The pursuit of Timur was exhausting. He drove for thirty hours at full speed, almost without stopping, changing cars several times. Denis could not keep up with such a pace, although he had enough people to go in shifts. First, he stayed at the recycling station, collecting more chop officers and cars. He again loaded the huge gasoline tanker with a swarm, but to be on the safe side he grabbed another Kamaz, packed to the brim with humming barrels. This small convoy was accompanied by a minibus and several passenger cars. Only four dozen people.Denis did not stand on ceremony and squeezed the resources of "Granit" dry. It didn't work out well to arm this crowd, but everyone had rifles and armor. The column stopped several times so that the swarm could capitalize the passing dumps. All these troubles and heavy trucks greatly delayed the pursuit. Denis thought that anyway they would be stopped at the Zarya checkpoint at the entrance to Tyumen. But to his surprise, the checkpoint was abandoned. And the yellow line stretched further, to the destroyed Tyumen, showing a delay of nine hours along the route. There, in one of the houses, Timur stayed for almost two hours.that in any case they would be stopped at the Zarya checkpoint at the entrance to Tyumen. But to his surprise, the checkpoint was abandoned. And the yellow line stretched further, to the destroyed Tyumen, showing a delay of nine hours along the route. There, in one of the houses, Timur stayed for almost two hours.that in any case they would be slowed down at the Zarya checkpoint at the entrance to Tyumen. But to his surprise, the checkpoint was abandoned. And the yellow line stretched further, to the destroyed Tyumen, showing a delay of nine hours along the route. There, in one of the houses, Timur stayed for almost two hours.



    Even at the entrance to the city, Denis divided the column into two unequal parts. He ordered the trucks and most of the cars to lag behind by five kilometers and drive along the ring road to the north, and then wait at the nearest junction to the target, depicting a breakdown of one of the trucks. He himself loaded the strike force and several barrels into a minibus and a car, and went to the kindergarten just eight hundred meters from the target. This squad was best equipped with weapons and equipment from the order. He gave the scarce armor suits to Tamaz and the carriers, and he limited himself to the armor. They passed the only bridge inside the city, which used to consist of two overpasses, but one collapsed completely, and now a minibus could hardly pass the second, maneuvering between holes in the concrete, bristling pieces of reinforcement.After the bridge, on the right side, a reservoir stretched, turned into a slightly glowing swamp. Residual radiation did not interfere with ducks and seagulls at all. Their column even frightened off a large flock, which escorted the cars with a loud quack. Their cries resounded for a long time in the morning mist. Denis had no doubt that the drones and observers on the tower would notice his group. He ordered to put on cloaks that hid armor and weapons, hoping that they would be mistaken for an ordinary detachment of marauders who arrived for non-ferrous metal.who hid armor and weapons, hoping that they would be mistaken for an ordinary detachment of marauders who arrived for non-ferrous metal.who hid armor and weapons, hoping that they would be mistaken for an ordinary detachment of marauders who arrived for non-ferrous metal.



    Part of the swarm from the fuel tanker, on the other side of the target, went to explore underground sewers in the hope that they would be able to get closer to them without falling under the all-seeing eye of the drones. Communication with him was not very good, Denis saw everything that was happening schematically, as if in an ancient computer game. Apparently the swarm could support "wireless" communication between hives at a distance of a couple of kilometers, but the channel width left much to be desired. Most of the reservoirs were naturally flooded, many sections were collapsed. Roy slowly made his way through them, but the soldiers there had nothing to do.



    The building where Timur stayed was located on the border between the old neighborhood and the private sector at the bend of the river in the northern part of the city. The southern part was almost completely destroyed by a Chinese nuclear warhead, which the Imperial Aerospace Forces and the missile defense system could not intercept. After the war, nothing was restored there, except for transit roads. The northern part was finally abandoned after the collapse of the Empire. Some buildings here have survived quite well, such as a twenty-storey "skyscraper" with a single entrance, stuck in a small patch next to private houses. Apparently, it was an expensive dot development made using 3D printing technology. The skyscraper had rounded edges; very wide terraces encircled it around the perimeter in rings. Despite the deceptively abandoned appearance, the swarm's pale yellow tentacles foundthat on the upper floors there are snipers-observers and machine-gun crews of unknown affiliation. Drones patrolled the sky. Under the stylobate, near the building, there was apparently an underground parking lot, sealed by heavy sealed gates hung with all kinds of sensors. Denis ordered the tentacles not to touch the gate, but to look for ventilation shafts. The well-preserved tower, surrounded by low "panels" on one side and abandoned vegetable gardens on the other, was an ideal observation post, and the underground parking under it was an ideal hideout. Roy methodically tested it from top to bottom, settling on interesting objects and subjects.hung with all kinds of sensors. Denis ordered the tentacles not to touch the gate, but to look for ventilation shafts. The well-preserved tower, surrounded by low panels on one side and abandoned vegetable gardens on the other, was an ideal vantage point, and the underground parking underneath was an ideal hideout. Roy methodically tested it from top to bottom, settling on interesting objects and subjects.hung with all kinds of sensors. Denis ordered the tentacles not to touch the gate, but to look for ventilation shafts. The well-preserved tower, surrounded by low panels on one side and abandoned vegetable gardens on the other, was an ideal vantage point, and the underground parking underneath was an ideal hideout. Roy methodically tested it from top to bottom, settling on interesting objects and subjects.



    "What are you going to do"? - asked Sonya.



    Denis was sitting on the floor in one of the kindergarten offices, holding a rifle between his knees. Everything around was littered with broken tables and cupboards.



    “I want to find out what kind of strange friends Timur has. And what are they hiding there in the parking lot. "



    "Then start infecting them."



    “All of a sudden, it's some kind of battalion unit. You can't infect them until we figure out what's what. "



    “You are suffering bullshit again. Serious guys have dug in there, they will kill half of your idiots before the swarm has time to do something. "



    While Denis was thinking, the situation at the tower changed dramatically. The stylobate's sealed doors opened and an eight-axle armored truck with a camouflage color without insignia taxied out from there. He drove a little along the broken street and got up, whistling with a turbine. Another truck followed and stood behind the first. The cars continued to drive out and were built in a column. The soldiers in the tower began to leave their posts and descend.



    “They seem to be dumping,” concluded Sonya.



    "Pancake! How wrong in time ... "



    Denis launched the tentacles into the first car. Its cargo hold was crammed with boxes of weapons and ammunition. In the second car sat a trooper in real armored suits, hung with machine guns and grenade launchers. He reached for the third car ... Its rear hatches swung open and strange soldiers jumped out of it. At first, Denis even thought that the swarm surveillance system was malfunctioning. He saw only blurry shadows that jumped out and seemed to materialize along the road. In places where they stopped, deep grooves appeared in the asphalt. The creatures were two meters tall in elastic chameleon-coated overalls that fitted them tightly like a second skin. Armor plates were attached to the overalls on the chest, back, arms and legs. Several long black mustaches protruded from the helmets. The helmets seemed to have two visors, front and back.The limbs of the creatures ended in powerful claws. In addition, they did not refuse firearms, machine guns and jet flamethrowers dangled behind them. They darted around the cars in lightning strides, five meters long, bending their legs in any direction. From time to time they froze and then their mustache began to vibrate finely. Several fighters in spacesuits got out of the cars and looked in confusion at the alarmed creatures. One, probably the main one, even tried to block the path of the creation, but it easily jumped over him.From time to time they froze and then their mustache began to vibrate finely. Several fighters in spacesuits got out of the cars and looked in confusion at the alarmed creatures. One, probably the main one, even tried to block the path of the creation, but it easily jumped over him.Occasionally they froze and then their mustache began to vibrate finely. Several fighters in spacesuits got out of the cars and looked in confusion at the alarmed creatures. One, probably the main one, even tried to block the path of the creation, but it easily jumped over him.



    “These are ghosts! What are they doing here "?! - Sonia said in shock.



    "Telecom Super Soldiers"?



    "No! Looks like real imperial ghosts. We have to get out, they have crazy eyesight and smell, they can easily distinguish the swarm from ordinary flies and beetles. "



    The ghosts have ended their chaotic movements. There were seven of them, and they moved in an organized group along one of the yellow lines of the swarm. Two galloped ahead, tracing eights across the line.



    "Oh shit! It seems they have taken the trail, - Denis felt an instant prick of fear. "Again, everything did not go according to plan."



    Let's dump! - In the mental voice of Sonya, too, there was fear.



    Denis ordered a small hive left by the tower to try to infect a couple of snipers. He highlighted his group in yellow.



     - By cars! Quickly!



    "Sonya, can a swarm infect ghosts?"



    “They are very difficult targets. With a powerful and stable metabolism. Roy was tailored for people, not for them. And they also have a poisonous gland, which they activate with a mental order when they are afraid of being captured. They maintain a telepathic connection with each other, like replicants. "



    The fighters, led by Tamaz, rolled down the stairs from the upper floors of the kindergarten and flew into the bus with a bullet. Jumping up on the seat of a car galloping through potholes, Denis tried to catch drones, sending small clouds of a swarm against them. He could not destroy any, the drones were large, fast and high-altitude, slow clouds could not intercept them. “The same will happen with these creatures,” Denis thought, growing cold.



    “It is better to use infected birds against drones,” suggested Sonya.



    Denis quickly highlighted the green birds in the swamp. Unfortunately, there was only an observation network from the swarm.



    The speed of the ghosts was in no way inferior to sports cars, and on the bumpy road their advantage over the minibus was simply overwhelming. He had not yet reached the swamp, when the first ghost that reached the kindergarten appeared in front of Denis's inner gaze. He stopped for a moment, wiggling his mustache, and confidently moved forward. The others appeared, they were already stretched out in a chain, covering the running prey. Denis highlighted one of the ghosts in red, but he easily dodged a cloud going across the path.



    "We will not make it on time!"



    “We’ll make it! We will meet them on the bridge, there is not much to jump there, ”- snapped Denis.



    "We won't be in time!" Sonya hissed.



    Before Denis appeared visualization of the proposed routes of movement in the form of a green and red stripe with time cuts. The cutoffs coincided in a minute and a half at a point half a kilometer before the bridge.



    "Cover yourself with your fighters"!



    “The next heroes who died for the Empire,” thought Denis longingly.



    An old stone church stood in front of the swamp. Abandoned and alone, her white plaster was crumbling and red brickwork was exposed. In some places it is already overgrown with moss and grass. But the thickness of the walls inspired hope for those who wanted to hide inside.



     - Take up defense in the church! - ordered Denis.



    A harshly roaring minibus flew into the mud rut left from the exit to the church. He quickly sat on his belly, throwing fountains of mud from under the wheels. Denis kicked the door open and drove a grenade into the grenade on the move.



     - Half to the bell tower! Livelier, livelier!



    He kicked his fighters stuck in wet clay with kicks. The cut-off on the red line at the church showed only forty seconds.



    "Where to?! - Sonya screamed in despair. "Are you going to die here?"



    "I will fight my fighters!"



    "They are not fighters, they are infected!"



    “I am an agent, this is my decision. Help or shut up, Sonya!



    "Good. Ghosts move very quickly, while they can use anaerobic glycolysis as a source of energy. It will be almost impossible to hit them, even with the help of a swarm. The critical concentration of decay products is reached after three to four minutes of battle. After that, the ghosts need a ten minute break if they continue to fight at the level of regular special forces, or five if they fall asleep. Hold out until the next shotdown and there will be a chance to kill them ... Only you won't hold out ... "



    At the edge of Denis's field of vision, red numbers of the countdown appeared, starting from three minutes. Five fighters have already lay down on the bell tower. The rest took up positions at the tall, narrow windows, on which rusty bars were preserved here and there. The swarm highlighted targets running across buildings, gave an approximation to the desired area and showed points of impact, taking into account corrections for range and wind. He even showed the probable location of the ghost at the time of the bullet's arrival, but due to the fact that they were chaotically jumping in different directions, it did not help much.



     - The fire! - Denis barked.



    The last car from their group was far behind, two hundred meters behind. As luck would have it, the carrier lost control and flew into a huge hole. The back of the car was thrown almost vertically, it somehow miraculously didn’t go head over heels, it was turned around and dragged. The panicked driver tried to reverse, but the broken chassis spun the wheelbarrow even more and threw it into the wall of the nearest house. Denis saw how the disoriented fighters were trying to knock out the crumpled doors. They moved too slowly. The first ghost has already appeared on the street two houses away. The auras of the screaming warriors pulsed in black and purple flowers. They stumbled in the pits and constantly looked back at the inexorably rushing death towards them.



     - Cover them with fire! Cover up! - Denis shouted that there is no urine. Its roar, amplified by the swarm, spurred all the fighters in the church, and a barrage of fire hit the street around the ghosts. They immediately dived into the passages between the houses. The house, into which the car broke into, stood at a slight angle to the road, cutting off the sectors of fire from the church.



    "They are finished!" - Denis thought with despair.



    A blurry silhouette flew out of the window hole of the house, it slipped across the road and disappeared into the garage ruins on the other side. His trajectory crossed with the running fighter only for a moment, he took a few more steps, and fell face down on the asphalt. Ghosts jumped out to cut their victims, blood splattered and lifeless corpses fell on the road. It all ended quickly, Denis did not even have time to command anything. From the church they continued to hammer into the street far ahead of the carnage. Longest lived the driver, stuck in his car. The ghost opened the roof of the car, but the fighter took refuge somewhere below and even managed to open indiscriminate fire after the silhouette disappeared in the garages. The ghost could not stand such impudence and went back in a steep arc. He galloped a few meters along the wall of the building and jumped from acceleration directly into the remains of the car,crushing and tearing metal. The armored suit resisted the ghost's onslaught for several seconds. And then, the screams of the soldier being torn to pieces seemed to be heard right in the church, through the roar of shots.



    Denis felt how time slowed down, his hands smoothly guided the barrel, his eye caught a point in the sight, his fingers pressed the trigger themselves. He saw a grenade flying directly at the ghost carried away by the massacre. It exploded on the hood of the car, throwing the reptile several meters away. The ghost rose, but was clearly stunned, his movements like the jerks of a drunken sprinter.



    "General control"!



    Denis felt like a huge multi-armed creature, a dozen barrels were aimed at his will, spewing bursts into a crimson spot with which he shone a staggering ghost. He literally felt the needles break the armor and bite into the hard flesh of the enemy. It was as if his own teeth were gripping another's scruff and his mouth filled with blood and chunks of meat. A few more grenades smashed the brick garage to which the ghost could crawl. A flurry of needles turned his lifeless body into a ragged rag. Shot-fired magazines fell on the darkened tiles on the floor of the church.



    “Enough! - Sonya yelled. - He's dead! You forgot about the others!



    "Direct control"!



    There were no swarm tentacles in the garages, which were additionally hidden by old, lopsided trees. And the movement of the ghosts behind them could only be tracked visually. The soldiers tried to shoot at any stirring bush, or one that seemed to them stirring, but of course there was no sense.



    "Hang the birds over the garages," suggested Sonya.



    Denis stretched his consciousness towards the swamp, where the swarm had already registered several seagulls. They obediently took off and rushed towards the garages.



    The bell tower and the window openings were hit by reciprocal turns. Denis heard the angry whistle of needles flying past, the frequency of which was increasing with every second. A particularly eerie screech and stone chips flying in his face made him stagger away from the opening. Denis in surprise wiped the trickle of blood flowing down his cheek and again carefully put the collimator of the rifle into the opening, trying to spot the enemy in it. Bloody debris flew out of the head of a neighboring soldier, and he sacked to the floor. The soldiers finally hid behind the walls, sticking out only rifle barrels into the openings. So they could only issue queues somewhere at random in the direction of the garages.



     - Oh shit! Tamaz! Tamaz, where are the pumps ?!



     - Here! Kostyan and me.



     - Get them to the bell tower! And more FOGs! Now targets will appear, crush them with a canopy.



    The first birds were already hovering over the garage area and Denis saw two ghosts rushing towards the church in lightning chaotic jerks. The walls of the church literally boiled with fountains of stone crumbling, and the indiscriminate return fire almost did not bother the ghosts going to storm. It was saved by the fact that a minibus stuck in the mud stood in their way. The barrels inside it literally exploded into a buzzing cloud of a swarm and the tentacles rushed towards the stormtroopers. One ghost instantly turned around, pushing off a large poplar at the exit. From the blow, from the poor plant, not yet fallen leaves and old branches fell. The second ghost, who had escaped a little ahead, had already run into the open ground. His limbs worked wildly, scattering large lumps of wet clay. The inertia of his movement was too great, he was stuck in the ground almost to his knees.He still managed to escape from the tentacles of the swarm, but Denis changed his tactics. He caused the cloud to open as a large buzzing curtain in front of the church and filled the fighters on the ground floor with crimson color.



    Smoke screen!



    The cloud was instantly covered with dense black gas.



    "General control"!



    Denis pulled his body out into the opening and began to pour fire on the ghost skidding in the mud. Several more barrels joined him, driving the enemy into the mud and asphalt. Even under the continuous hail of needles, the ghost still made desperate jumps and throws to the sides. Until the first tentacle overtook him. The ghost let out a high-pitched screech that turned into ultrasound and spun around, trying to crush and throw off the poisonous columns of insects. And then he went limp. Denis threw his body back under the protection of the walls.



     - Throw checkers and thermomines! He ordered.



    The curtain in front of the church thickened even more, thermomines drowned out the view in the infrared range. Roy broadcast a picture of the battlefield in real time, the curtain did not interfere with his chopovtsy.



    "Kostya, direct control"!



    Through the eyes of a soldier on the lower tier of the bell tower, he saw red dots running in garages. He snatched the pump from the hands of Tamaz, hung with heavy pouches and began to release grenades with a swarm, one after another, over the areas of movement of the enemy, which were illuminated by the swarm.



     - Bring the rest of the grenades! - he shouted to Tamaz. - Disassemble the goals! Crush them with VOGs, don't let them work for us!



    The grenade launchers, and especially the pump-action grenade launchers, did not hit very accurately. But on the other hand, the entire area of ​​garages was quickly covered with a net of yellow threads and increasingly illuminated the ghosts rushing about in the depths.



    One climbed into the garage and pulled out a flamethrower pipe from behind. Roy immediately highlighted it with a bold blinking dot. Denis turned all the fire on him. The roof of the garage collapsed under the ghost as he pulled the trigger and the rocket went far up. With the edge of perception, Denis caught another blinking point in the end window of the building, next to which the carriage was cut out. Several grenades flew there, but it was too late. The fiery trail of the rocket went exactly to the bell tower. The ambushed ghost had plenty of time to aim, and the distance was no more than one hundred and fifty meters. The smoke screen did not save them.



    "Hit"! - Denis thought with horror.



    He was jerked into his own body. There was a terrible ringing in my head, and the remains of plaster were falling from the ceiling. Thick smoke poured from the narrow entrance to the bell tower and flames burst out. Huge cracks ran along the ceiling of the temple.



     - Rise, fighters! - Denis shouted. - To arms! Climb!



    He himself was reeling, despite the swarm's best efforts to provide first aid. From the clouds of smoke, from the stairs to the bell tower, only one screaming blackened fighter ran out. He collapsed right under the feet of the rising Tamaz. He dropped the pump and pouches and began to tear apart the dressing bags from the first-aid kit. The armored suit interfered with fine motor skills, so Tamaz threw off his helmet and gloves without hesitation.



     - Medic! Kostyan, now. Be patient, Kostyan! Where is the medic!



    Huge chunks of clothing and skin were peeling off the screaming Kostyan. Denis ran up and grabbed a pump gun and grenades.



     - Leave him alone! They will burn us! Leave it! Suppress these critters. Shoot the garages! - Denis shouted.



    To smoke a ghost in the building, he sent half a cloud covering the church. The countdown showed a minute forty. Roy unceremoniously threw his mind out of his body and showed a new squad of ghosts running from the underground parking lot at the tower. Denis counted a dozen swift silhouettes at once. A second cut-off appeared, starting at four minutes.



    “Now we are definitely finished,” said Sonya resignedly. She was as pale as a maiden who came for warriors dying on the battlefield. Denis, in despair, looked around the tower. There were four armored cars in front of her and fighters in armored suits were pushing, they were in no hurry to take part in the battle, the crackling and dull explosions of which reached them. A single green light blinked on the top floor. It turned out to be a sniper with a large caliber Gauss rifle. Denis managed to illuminate for him with red another ghost, who had climbed out onto the roof of the garage with a shaitan-pipe. Having received a cobalt arrow in the back, the ghost flew forward a dozen meters and crashed into the wall of a nearby garage. A feathered shank protruded from the broken armor plate. He fumbled and tried to get up, but he was showered with grenades from the church. Denis ordered the sniper to shoot at the second group of ghosts.It was difficult to hit fast targets even with a rifle that almost did not require corrections for range and wind, but their progress slowed down a bit. The reaction of the ghosts to any changes in the situation was lightning-fast: they rushed in all directions, choosing routes with short dashes between buildings. The sniper implant gave out heaps of surprised exclamations and commands in English. Roy chose to knock him out right away. Only after a few shots the fighters below decided to open fire in their own way. A successfully thrown grenade first concussed the sniper, and then he was finished off by an assault group that rose from below. Ghosts leapt from the abandoned buildings and rushed forward again.The reaction of the ghosts to any changes in the situation was lightning-fast: they rushed in all directions, choosing routes with short dashes between buildings. The sniper implant gave out heaps of surprised exclamations and commands in English. Roy chose to knock him out right away. Only after a few shots the fighters below decided to open fire in their own way. A successfully thrown grenade first concussed the sniper, and then he was finished off by an assault group that rose from below. Ghosts leapt from the abandoned buildings and rushed forward again.The reaction of the ghosts to any changes in the situation was lightning-fast: they rushed in all directions, choosing routes with short dashes between buildings. The sniper implant gave out heaps of surprised exclamations and commands in English. Roy chose to knock him out right away. Only after a few shots the fighters below decided to open fire in their own way. A successfully thrown grenade first concussed the sniper, and then he was finished off by an assault group that rose from below. Ghosts leapt from the abandoned buildings and rushed forward again.and then he was finished off by an assault group that rose from below. Ghosts leapt from the abandoned buildings and rushed forward again.and then he was finished off by an assault group that rose from below. Ghosts leaped from abandoned buildings and rushed forward again.



    Denis's consciousness once again “shook”. He did not immediately realize that a huge beehive was connected, crawling from the north along the sewer. He saw chopovs from a distant group wandering aimlessly around the cars. It's good that at least all the cars were started. Denis immediately chose the driver of the fuel tanker and ordered him to drive to the tower. The heavy machine roared harshly as a turbine and, swaying, picked up speed along the road along the river backwater. The cutoff on the green line of her route indicated two minutes near the tower. He felt a beehive swarming under the asphalt, full of anger and poison.



    “We'll fight again,” thought Denis.



    A sewer manhole next to the armored cars exploded in a dense swarm fountain. Screams of terror rang out. Despite all the training, panic began in the ranks of the fighters. Someone stupidly fired into the rolling wave, someone rushed to the tower, someone to the armored cars. One of the armored cars gasped, ran over a screaming figure, already covered with a stirring carpet, and managed to escape to a side street. But the tentacle of the swarm managed to cover it too. Under the pressure of the buzzing columns, the bulletproof glass flowed and melted. The suits lasted a little longer. The armored car, jumping up several times, drove off the road and tore around a private panel house. In its ruins, he stalled.



    It was over quickly at the tower. Several fighters preferred to blow themselves up, others were already rising with green lights over their heads. Their condition left much to be desired, the acid-eaten spacesuits now more in the way than in protection. Extensive chemical burns turned them into real zombies, able to hobble only thanks to high doses of stimulants. Denis sent them to the tower, where the tentacles of the swarm were already flowing. He sent the other part of the swarm to corrode the hermetic gate.



    Denis found several green lights in the stalled armored car. One of the infected retained limbs, somehow capable of starting the turbine and crawling back onto the road. "Driver, direct control"! With a badly obeying, burned foot, Denis pressed the pedal to the floor. Through the smoky, flowing visor of his helmet and the terrible pain in his eyes, he could hardly see where to go. He struggled to taxi between the concrete rails leading to the parking lot. A multi-ton armored car flew into the gate at full speed. There was an eerie grinding and rumble, the front of the car crumpled. The left wing of the gate hung on one hinge and the swarm happily rushed inside.



    The ghosts running towards the church were scurrying about. They rushed forward, then stopped, moving their mustaches in bewilderment. First one, then the other fell to the tower. In a few moments they were all rushing back even faster than before. Chunks of asphalt flew from under their claws. Inside the parking lot, the swarm found several more ghosts. In a closed room, those are few that could oppose him.



    "Direct control"!



    Denis looked around. Four of his fighters remained on their feet, pouring bursts of fire on the surroundings ... And Tamaz, who was trying to help the burnt Kostyan.



     - Stop shooting. Stop shooting!



    Denis coughed. The room was covered with dust and smoke.



     - To the exit! Tamaz, leave him.



    Denis approached Tamaz and dragged him away by force from the dying fighter. He highlighted Kostyan in red. Finish off. He let out a last wheeze and fell silent.



     - Don't touch me, bastard! - suddenly yelled Tamaz and began to fight back.



    The riot lasted only a couple of seconds, then his eyes glazed over, and he staggered off to where it was told.



     - Vlad behind the wheel. The rest are pushing the bus.



    Denis himself put his hands on the bumper and hood. Cold splashes and mud flew from under the wheel, and he ignored them. The broken church, with the burning remains of the collapsed bell tower, was getting smaller in the rear window of the car. On the way back, they drove past the stabbed chop officers and the gnawed remains of the ghost who was shooting at the bell tower. Roy managed to watch him out of the building. A drone fell from the sky with a howl, successfully attacked by a flock of infected ducks. The rumble and crackle of a new battle was already heard from the tower. The ghosts did a good job with the zombie fighters, despite the fact that they occupied the dominant height, but the roaring fuel truck was already on its way. Ghosts literally riddled his cab, the tractor abruptly swerved and collapsed, dragging the tank with it. A huge wave of swarms covered the base of the tower.The ghosts fired their flamethrowers and threw themselves in desperation into the humming clouds covered with grenades. At the cost of their lives, they tried to stop the swarm flooding the underground parking lot.



    



    Dan walked along the parking lot alone, the rifle hung on his chest, he only held it by the forearm. Around him a dense living tunnel hummed and curled slightly. He walked past the bodies of several ghosts lying on the concrete floor. His main target was trapped in a corner of the parking lot, in a huge clanking sack. The Queen and her last fighter. It was only a dozen meters from her to the moving wall. Denis stepped out of the swarm.



    The unarmed ghost leaned on one leg, lightly holding onto a loose piece of the wall. His other leg was ripped apart by the explosion. The helmet was no longer on his head, part of his mustache had been torn off, thick, dark blood flowed from the angular skull. He opened his mandibles and gave out something like a menacing whistle. The queen responded with a series of clicks and stood slightly ahead. She was very short, about one and a half meters, with glossy black skin, the ropes of muscles on her limbs did not appear as clearly as those of the soldiers. There were no bone spikes on the body at all. The whiskers were shorter and thinner, but they covered the entire top of the skull. There are only two faceted eyes and they were located approximately in the same place as people have, two hands with neat claws, but four legs, on which the queen swayed tensely, ready to rush at any moment. But,the most amazing thing about her was her clothes. She dressed up in a rather gaudy pink ruffled dress. And on the head mustache was tied a white bow. In one hand, the queen was clutching a plush toy, a striped cartoon tiger, in the other a woman's bag. Denis was a little taken aback by such a sight.



    The Queen took a microphone strap from her purse and fastened it around her neck. The next series of clicks and whistles was accompanied by a synthesized voice from the speaker.



     - Spirit of the Empire, I always knew that you would come for me. Have you come to kill me?



     “I came because I wanted to find out what was hidden here in the parking lot, and your soldiers attacked us.



     “And you killed all my brothers. Are we quits now?



    Denis could not contain a surprised laugh.



     - I'm afraid it's not that simple. Why do you think that I came for you?



     - You are the Spirit of the Empire, you take revenge on all who betrayed and destroyed it.



     - Have you betrayed the Empire?



     - No ...



     - Who were the other people? Who did they work for?



     - To the Martian corporation.



     - On what?



     - I can not tell you. Don't be angry, Spirit of the Empire ... Let's talk about something else.



     - Good. Why are you here?



     - We must help one of the commanders to seize power in the battalion.



     - Timur?



     - I guess I don't remember his name. The negotiations were conducted by people.



     - Well, okay, and then what?



     - What's next?



    The queen began to fumble awkwardly at the plush tiger's claws.



     - Further? What were you supposed to do after Timur seizes power?



     “I don’t know, people were doing this…” the queen squeezed the toy even tighter. - Let's talk about something else, huh?



     - Sorry, but I'm running out of conversation topics. You will have to answer questions, queen. Anyway.



    The lame ghost whistled threateningly again, but the queen backed away, pushing him against the wall herself. The claws on her paws emitted a soft clatter as she moved.



     - So what company do you work for?



     - On the Martian ...



     - I realized that on the Martian! What is it called?



     - Promise that you will let us go.



    The figure of Sonya emerged from the living wall. The ringing and rustling of wings became her voice.



     - Answer the questions, petty reptile, if you do not want a fate worse than death! You sold the secrets of the Empire to its enemies, you agreed to serve them ... Did you think that if you destroy the Empire, then there will be no retribution?



     - Not true! I did not reveal the secrets of the Empire and did not serve the Martians. The people you killed worked for the Martians.



     - And what about ghosts by themselves? - Denis threw up his hands. - It doesn't happen.



     - It happens! The ghosts have a contract ... The



    Queen sharply closed the microphone so that the last words could not be heard.



     - With whom is the agreement? Well! Answer in an amicable way!



    The mass of the swarm hummed menacingly and leaned forward.



     - No, Spirit of the Empire! Stop! I will tell you another secret, a great secret. Do you want to hear her?



     - Come on, queen, I have all the attention.



     - Promise that you will let us go.



    Sonya's buzzing cry was heard again:



     "Don't call her queen!" I am a real queen!



    Denis squinted at Sonya's angry, moving face.



     - And what should I call her?



     “My name is Alice,” came the synthesized voice.



     - Well, Alice is so Alice. Then I am not the Spirit of the Empire either. Denis, nice to meet you.



     - You can't be Alice. This name is not on the list.



     - What other list, Sonya?



     - In the list of heroes of the Empire, whose personalities are allowed to be used by ghosts or their queens.



     - My name is Alice.



    The clicks and whistles were confident and quiet, but the synthesizer reproduced the words evenly and dispassionately.



     - Let's become friends, and Denis? I will reveal a great secret, and you will help me. And you will not infect me or my brothers.



     - How can I help you?



     -



     You will help to awaken my people ... - You are bargaining in vain, petty reptile! - Sonya buzzed. “Your life is worthless. You are the ghosts of soldiers who fell in an endless war. You were alive as long as the memory of them is alive. Having betrayed them, you yourself chose oblivion and death.



     “The Empire is dead, not us. We're not ghosts anymore. Now I have a real life. My brothers have… had a real life… I must keep it. I am the last queen, without me my people are doomed.



     - It's time to end this empty conversation.



     - Stop! The queen snapped desperately. - I will reveal the secret. I'll tell you why we are here. We have come to find my people, who have an eternal dream about the great Empire. Behind the snowy field there is a city in which iron was forged, which is not iron. There is a Mountain in that city that is not a Mountain. From her goes a path that leads nowhere. For fast water, behind a dead field, there is a place that does not exist. In its halls my people sleep. In exchange for our help, the battalion was to help awaken my people.



     - You are not in a position, Alice, to soar my brain with some riddles. What kind of city?



     “A place that doesn't exist ... Are you talking about the Citadel, the last bunker of the Emperor? - Sonya buzzed again. - Do you know where he is?



     - There is a city behind the snowfield ...



     - Enough! - Denis barked.



     “You promised, spirit of the Empire. I have revealed a great secret to you.



     - No, I didn't promise.



     - You are welcome! In the Citadel, you will find the mind of the Emperor, if he is still alive. He will reveal many other secrets to you ... Isn't that enough?



    “You cannot conclude agreements with her either,” Sonya hissed, seeing Denis's hesitation.



    “I don’t want to kill her. This is ... "



    " What is this "?!



    “She acts like a fifteen year old girl. I cannot kill a child. "



    “This creature is at least sixty years old ... She betrayed the Empire, she works for the Martians. There is simply no other option! Infect her. "



    "But what about the poisonous gland?"



    Try it. You see, she does not want to die, she is afraid to kill herself. "



     “You can serve the Empire again. This is the only contract I can offer.



     “The empire is dead. You are the spirit of the dead! Let me go, I beg, only I can awaken my people ... Please let me find them.



     - I can't let you go.



     - I am the last queen. Without me, my people are doomed ... I beg ...



     - I am a swarm! And you too.



    The mass of the swarm leaned forward, the lame ghost leapt at his queen with the last of his strength and tore her neck with a terrible blow of claws. Before their bodies disappeared into a huge swarming ball, Denis managed to notice a stupid white bow that for a second floated to the surface. Or he thought he saw him.



    Denis left the parking lot almost at a run, he wanted to take a breath of the damp autumn air. But this did not bring relief. He sat down right on the pieces of asphalt shattered by the explosions and threw the rifle nearby. Nearby cars were crowded with his chop officers, covered with mud and soot from the recent battle. They have already opened a couple of bottles of vodka. They were joined by fighters from the northern group, who were late for the war itself. Their party was clearly not going to be limited to a couple of bottles. Denis didn't care. Sonya could not stand it after about half a minute of contemplating this picture.



    “Are you going to sit like that? Wait until the friends of the slain Martians show up? Or a couple of missiles will come?



    “Why bother, the queen is still dead. We will learn nothing more, except for a stupid riddle ... Why is she the last queen? Don't they know how to reproduce?



    “For a female embryo to be born, the queen must exchange genetic material with two other queens. This is done for protection if suddenly one of the queens is captured. Or will betray ... "



    " And what is the story with the list of heroes? "



    “For the ghosts, a set of personalities was artificially constructed based on the life history of soldiers and officers - heroes of past wars. The personality of the ghost should consist of a set of combat instructions and the memory of the exploits of one of the heroes, as a "moral" reference point. Subsequently, these quasi-faces of "heroes" were supplemented on the basis of scanning the memory of real soldiers, since the personalities created only on the basis of archived data turned out to be too stereotyped. They did not allow ghosts to improvise in real life. The memory and personality of the ghosts was constantly adjusted, in fact after every fight, to avoid unwanted developmental deviations. The Queen could be called, for example, Zoya - Kosmodemyanskaya, or Lyudmila Pavlichenko. There were no Alice on the list. "



    “So she invented a personality for herself? What a bastard concept, and Sonya?



    “Normal concept. For any Empire, dead heroes are much more convenient and useful than living ones. "



    "Why the fuck should I fight for such an Empire"?



    “Well, I'm sorry, mister, I-don't-want-to-kill-innocent-people-and-ghosts. There is no smell of roses in war. "



    Denis sighed resignedly.



    “Stop sitting. Go to Timur ”!



    "What for"?



    "Infect him and find out which Martian corporation he made an agreement with."



    "I will not infect the battalion fighters, we have already discussed this."



    “Then go to the Research Institute of RSAD and infect Leo Schultz. Certainly the telecom ghosts are somehow connected with these. Or will you weep for him too?



    "If my sobbing helped someone ..."



    Denis filled his own body with yellow and felt a powerful burst of endorphins. He got to his feet and barked in a commanding voice.



     - By cars! Moving forward!



    



    The column was moving towards Tavda along the road north. The concrete was in good condition, but the emptiness around and the lack of other cars acted depressingly. The terrain was dull and flat, along the roadsides taiga, swamps and swampy lakes stretched, and the ruins of villages rarely swept by. Low clouds wandered overhead, and from time to time a light rain fell. Denis rode at the tail of the column and indulged in gloomy reflections, lounging in the back seat. Suddenly the carrier braked sharply. In front of him was the butt of an armored car loaded with weapons, which Denis had taken as a trophy. He got stuck in a sharp bend between swampy lakes. Denis saw that the head of the column at the exit from the turn rested against a snake made of concrete blocks. Several of his fighters got out of their cars in confusion.



     - Pancake! - Denis swore, jumped out of the car and ran along the column.



    "Where are you going again"? Sonya hissed.



    "This is a battalion checkpoint."



    "So what"?!



    Denis was already running up. Chopovtsy hesitantly pulled rifles from their shoulders. Everyone looked back at him. The snake stretched for fifty meters at the exit from the turn. On both sides there were swampy lakes and sparse woods, on the sides of the road were stuck several rusty signs "Beware of mines!"



     - Arms to the ground! - came a voice from the speaker mounted on the post in front of the snake. - Who are they?



     - I'm Denis Kaisanov. I have to get into the battalion! - Denis shouted.



     - We do not know such. What do you need in a battalion?



     - I promised the commanders that I would come, - Denis answered carefully.



     - What commanders did you promise?



    The voice had changed, now it rang with tension.



    Tamaz, who was standing in front of the concrete block, looked nervously at Denis. Denis himself felt perspiration on his forehead. The swarm in the barrels shrank like a cocked spring. There was a soft crack of metal being bent.



     - What commanders did you promise ?!



     - Timur and Kind.



    Instead of a machine-gun burst, a silhouette in a chameleon cloak appeared from behind an inconspicuous mound to the left of the road. He held up a reassuring hand, palm open. Only after peering with the help of the swarm, Denis determined that the mound was made of concrete slabs covered with earth.



     - Wait a minute! We will clarify now.



     - Fuck! - Tamaz swore.



    He sat down on the nearest block and took out a cigarette. His hands were shaking, his gaze was again absolutely glassy.



    A few minutes later, a fighter with a sniper rifle in a raincoat walked along the snake and stopped in front of them. He lifted the visor of his helmet and then held out his hand in greeting.



     - Shaman. Timur is waiting for you. It's good that you went through this checkpoint.



     - What's happening?



     “These are hard times, brother. We wanted to gather an army and choose a new commander. Many would have voted for Lesha, but several staff rats accused him and Timur of killing Bulat. And then these rats locked themselves in a headquarters with several companies. For about twelve hours they have been sitting and rubbing something with Muscovites.



     - What about the rest?



     - Nobody likes Muscovites, of course, and these staff too ... But basically everyone is waiting to see how it will end, - Shaman reluctantly admitted.



     - And how many mouths are on the side of Lesha and Timur?



     - Lesha's company, and the Timurovsky platoon, and even a detachment from Kharza and the North. Mityai Timur supports the comrades, but more in words. Two companies will be typed, in short.



     - Do they need to storm the headquarters?



    Denis remembered from past times that the headquarters were several fortified underground bunkers connected by tunnels with the main position and warehouses for equipment and special ammunition. And the entire main position of the battalion in Tavda was buried in the ground, turning into another vast underground city, constantly rebuilt and deepened.



     - This is where things go. Negotiations are deadlocked.



     - Hard times ... I need to go to Timur.



     - What's in the trucks?



     - Weapons and fuel.



     - Great, let's go. I will accompany you myself.



    



    Capital structures preserved in the village have long been turned into hangars or entrances to underground bunkers. All important objects were hidden underground. In conditions when the battalion did not have reliable air defense or aviation, there were simply no other options. The battalion dug most of its free time. Beginners primarily mastered the shovel and jackhammer, not the rifle. Basically, of course, they dug with heavy equipment. Tunnel shields were the main value of the battalion, no less than guns and tanks. They were protected and repaired in the first place.



    It was possible to get to the battalion base in three ways, from the West, along the usual road, along the railway that went north to the battalion of the same name, and along the eastern road from Tyumen. Apparently Timur was able to capture only one entrance - the eastern one. They passed several support lanes with lines of trenches and bunkers. The sounds of the engines sometimes interrupted the distant bursts of machine-gun and the hooting of guns. Then we went down into a short tunnel, which the battalion artificially dug on the road. The head armored car stopped in front of the raised plates of barriers. Here Denis first saw fighters with two-color stripes with a shield and a golden sun. The Shaman sitting next to him spoke quickly to them. Several more soldiers appeared from inconspicuous hatches and went along the column to take places next to the drivers.The barrier plates fell into the roadbed and the column moved on.



    Almost immediately they turned into a railway depot, covered with earth to the very roof. Most of the paths inside and outside were dismantled, Denis drove over a long observation pit deep into the hangar and drowned out the turbine. Cold drops of condensation poured from metal trusses under the ceiling. Only a few dim lanterns were burning so that the huge room was plunged into darkness. The windows were covered with earth from the outside. Only behind was the bright rectangle of the gate clearly visible. In front of Denis was a lone infantry fighting vehicle with a torn caterpillar, there was no other equipment in the hangar. The silhouettes of the huge drive wheels of the lifting platform for machinery stood out next to it. There was a booming echo from the footsteps of the people. From somewhere out of the viewing pit, Girya got out in an armored suit. He slapped the glove on Denis's hand.



     - Healthy, fighter! How was the ride?



     - With adventures, - Denis answered honestly. - Where is Timur?



     - At the bottom. Digs to the headquarters.



     - Shall we storm?



     - Who knows. You need to talk to Timur and Lesha. Come on.



     - Wait, there are weapons in the armored car: machine guns, rocket launchers, may come in handy. There are several armored suits, but they are all Martian, with cyber interfaces.



     - Let's send engineers, let them pick.



     - And my soldiers will better unload the barrels in Kamaz. Okay?



     - OK OK! Come on soon!



    Kettlebell carried Denis into the inspection pit. The pit smoothly turned into a tunnel leading down. They walked for a long time along a concrete tunnel, from which smaller drifts periodically departed. At the crossroads, where there was no pressurized gate, posts were set up with three or four soldiers. They descended into another tunnel to the lower horizon and emerged into a huge long hall carved into the limestone rock. Two hundred meters ahead, the bright light of the lighting ramps could be seen, the dull roar of the working tunnel shield could be heard. At least a hundred people with weapons gathered in the hall. They sat, chatted, or fiddled with equipment. Some even managed to sleep. At the end of the hall was the entrance to the new drift, where the shield worked. Sacks with some kind of construction mixture were dumped nearby. Sometimes from the drift gleams of a coldish blue came out. The bored fighter next to him explainedthat it is from the plasma head of the combine, which goes behind the shield and makes temporary support using 3D printing. The volume of the roar also changed periodically, mostly it was quite bearable, but from time to time there was a terrible roar and howl from the tunnel, and the uneven walls began to vibrate perceptibly.



     - Let's ditch the only shield, - commented the bored fighter.



    Timur was found in a utility room nearby. The peeling painted wall was hung with local visual agitation on how to properly wet a dushman in the toilet. On the opposite side were the ubiquitous posters of naked women. Several tables, chairs, benches and a refrigerator completed the picture. In the next room, crammed with racks of equipment and spare parts, engineers were digging in protective suits and oxygen masks dangling around their necks. Timur was on his feet, in armor without a helmet. He fiercely argued with Lesha.



     - It's time to make a decision, Lesh. Either we dig directly to the warehouse, or further, to the lowest horizon in the technical tunnels under the headquarters. I suggest to the warehouse. There, closer and inside, at least you can fight. In the tunnels we will be flooded and that's it.



     - Both options are crap! - Alex snapped. - In the warehouse they flip us around like chickens. They'll have fucking time to get ready.



     - Let's put the mined robots forward, - Timur suggested.



     - We only have three robots suitable. Fourth, if engineers revive, but not a fact ...



     - Just: we mine the first two, we go in with the third.



     - It won't fail. Our people are sitting there, not fools either.



     - We need to dig quickly and immediately go to the assault, they will not have time to prepare. Load robots to the maximum.



     - How much will you load? One hundred octobal kilogram? Yes, we ourselves may be overwhelmed if the breeds do not survive. It is necessary to dig shorter under the river to the northern positions. There are a bunch of old tunnels next to the headquarters. Maybe where we can slip through.



     - It takes twenty hours to dig there, at best. And this is if the shield does not grunt.



     - Well twenty, so twenty.



     - We need to resolve the issue quickly. While the hesitant is still hesitant.



     - How to decide? By putting people at the entrance? We have two companies for the assault, at most.



     - I will have special fighters who will enter the warehouse first.



     - And where are they? You promised them four hours ago. Did they get in touch?



    Timur was silent for what seemed like an eternity.



     - They said they were leaving. More did not get in touch.



     - Then forget it, Timur. Nobody will come, you have to fight yourself.



     - Let's wait another hour.



     - What to expect? We have to dig around the warehouse. We have one try! Let's put the fighters in the warehouse, and you can not count on the second one.



    A soldier with a platoon commander's mark came up and stood in front of Lesha.



     - What?



     - The NP reported: at the positions of the headquarters of the village, one more turntable has sat down. I went to the extremely small from the North.



     - Transport?



     - Yes.



     - Oh shit! We can't even block the headquarters on the ground! What's with the north bridge?



     - Mityai is standing, won't let anyone in.



     - Timur talk to Mitya again!



     - The point is to talk to him. This old dick has already made a decision: he will go over to the side of the winner.



    There was such a howl and roar from the hall that tables and heavy iron on the shelves in the next room began to bounce.



     - Yes, close the door! - Alex barked.



    Someone closed the door to the utility room and it became a little quieter. Pasha's voice rang out, who all this time was sitting quietly on a bench against the wall.



     - Let's dig to the north bridge. We'll send a small group there for a distracting blow, and here we'll inflict the main one.



     - What distracting blows! - Alex barked. - We have two companies of fighters, and inside there are at least three. You cannot share strength.



     - That's right, - Timur nodded. - And how many more mouths there will be in twenty hours, when new Muscovites catch up.



     - Then you have to say goodbye and storm the warehouse, - Pasha shrugged.



     - I'm the commander here! - Lesha barked so that dust fell from the ceiling. - You need to think with your head, not say goodbye!



    A new fighter entered the room with a machine gun at the ready. Tall, with a pale, hard face, as if carved from marble. He was wearing armor and a tundra camouflage cloak. Its front teeth and canines were stainless steel. On the exposed areas of the skin, many bluish streaks appeared. The soldiers of the "Sever" battalion used biomodifications, which made it possible to replace part of the blood with saline solution and to fall into a kind of suspended animation in conditions of extreme cold. They could safely spend the night in a snowdrift or in the middle of an ice field. The fighter's voice was low and hoarse.



     - My fighters want to know, Lesh, what's next? The situation is tense ...



     - Listen, Viga, have you come to help? So help! Nothing to endure the brain.



    Viga came close to Lesha and began to explain something even more quietly than before, so that the words could not be made out at all.



    Denis touched Timur's shoulder.



     - Can we talk? Two minutes. In a personal meeting.



     Timur nodded. They retreated to an adjacent utility room and disappeared among the shelves.



     - Timur, I'm sorry, your help will not come. It seems that I destroyed it. Accidentally stumbled upon them in Tyumen.



     - You were concussed on the way? What the ...



     - No, Timur. There, in the parking lot, under the tower, there was something like a nest: a queen and several dozen ghosts that guarded her. And some more Martian fighters. I destroyed them all.



    The paint faded from Timur's face. He became paler than Viga. In a trembling voice, he asked:



     - How could you kill three dozen ghosts?



     - The nanobots killed them ... Well, it doesn't matter anymore. Nanobots will help us in the assault. Persuade Lesha to dig a tunnel to the warehouse. My soldiers will set up barrels of nanobots in front of the assault team. There is no need to undermine the robots, the bots will do everything themselves and destroy the ambush inside. It is only necessary that the battalion soldiers did not see them.



     - You propose to put my life, the life of my soldiers and the fate of the battalion on some nanobots?



     “They can handle it, they can handle the ghosts.



     - Something I do not really believe in it.



     “The ghosts are dead and the queen is dead. Go see the armored car with the weapon, I took it as a trophy from those Martians in the tower. Trust me please! There is still no other way out.



    Timur stared at Denis as if he were trying to read his thoughts.



     - Will you go in the head of the assault column with me?



     - I'll go! - Denis agreed without hesitation.



    "Idiot! You idiot cretin! Fucking hero! They will write on your grave: "The dumbest agent in the world"! Sonya hissed. - Yes, infect them already and solve the problem.



     - I'll talk to Lesha. Get your nanobots ready.



    The battalion's main warehouse was a former storage facility for the State Reserve. Many elongated parallel halls, carved into limestone at a depth of one hundred meters, were gradually merged, adding perpendicular passages between them. The warehouse has turned into a huge hall with rock columns, additionally concreted in some areas. It was stretched approximately from east to west, along the river. In the eastern part, the battalion kept heavy weapons: tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, artillery installations. In the middle part, they made something like a labyrinth, where the passages between the halls were cut in random places. There were fortified drifts leading to the headquarters bunkers. From the bunkers, underground communication lines went to other positions of the battalion and trunks up to the radars and antennas in the bend of the river. And in the eastern part, the most protected,the battalion kept the OTRK and special ammunition for them. The soldiers, led by Lesha and Timur, were digging a tunnel to the eastern part of the warehouse. It was possible to make a detour under the river, then to go to the headquarters bunkers from the north. But this path was long and dangerous because the headquarters had connections with other companies of the battalion and with Muscovites, from whom it received support. Everyone understood that if they delayed the assault for a long time, the vacillating commanders would begin to go over to the side of the headquarters. But an attempt to fight through the warehouse, then a maze in the middle, and finally storm several fortified bunkers, was akin to suicide. Lesha and Timur could only be saved by a miracle. After Denis destroyed the "miracle" that Timur had agreed with the Martians about, there was no hope left. Probably, this is the only reason why Lesha agreed to believe in nanobots.In four hours of brutal rape of the tunnel shield, two parallel tunnels were dug to the east of the vault. In one of them, the chopovtsy used a loader to stack a pile of barrels with a swarm. In another, an assault column was already under construction, recruited from the most frostbitten battalion fighters. The sappers were finishing mining the concrete wall against which the assault tunnel rested. The column stood behind a bend in the tunnel, designed to protect against the shockwave of a directed explosion.designed to protect against the shock wave of a directional explosion.designed to protect against the shock wave of a directional explosion.



    Denis lowered the visor of his helmet and checked the operation of the holographic indication. The glass displayed armor telemetry, camera modes, connected weapons, and the operation of communication channels. In total, five channels were connected. The control was carried out by virtual buttons projected onto the visor. With the right glove, you could drag the interface and press buttons. The first channel was the commander's, only Lesha and Timur could broadcast on it and give personal or general instructions. The second was for everyone, the third was for doctors, the fourth was personal, to which each fighter could appoint anyone, for example, his immediate neighbors. Fifth for sentries. Experienced Pasha advised not to bother too much with the channels, all the same in battle they will yell in general. A small laser beacon was installed on the helmets of the fighters,which, in response to a request, emitted a short identification signal. The helmet camera recognized "its" codes and illuminated them green on the glass. Denis pulled out a loaded RPO from behind and raised the safety lever. An indication of the missile guidance point was displayed on the glass, which moved behind the direction of sight. The helmet was quite an advanced device, but Denis realized that he was already used to the "demonic" control of mental commands. Pressing virtual buttons seemed archaic and inconvenient.that is already accustomed to the "demonic" control of mental commands. Pressing virtual buttons seemed archaic and inconvenient.that is already accustomed to the "demonic" control of mental commands. Pressing virtual buttons seemed archaic and inconvenient.



    The assault armor of the battalion was not much inferior to the armored suits of the Martians. Multilayer plates made of Kevlar and titanium provided good protection against rifle and even machine-gun needles. The semi-active exoskeleton allowed a fighter, loaded with tens of kilograms of equipment, to run and jump calmly over rough terrain. A significant difference from the armored suit was that the tightness was provided by a thick overalls made of membrane fabric, worn under the armor. The oxygen filtering mask was integrated into the helmet and zipped with a jumpsuit around the neck. Denis's mask filters were braided with yellow threads, which provided communication with the swarm. Dan put the flamethrower on the safety and put it behind his back, special grips on the armor immediately fixed it. On the chest hung a reliable fifty-eighth with an enlarged drum magazine.



    Sonya, with an expression of despair on her face, hung in front of him.



    "Before it's too late, infect them."



    The answer was stubborn silence.



    “You should have died many times today. How long can you tempt fate? Roy doesn't make you immortal!



    "I know".



    "Oh, I think you forgot."



    "Whenever I need advice, I will contact you, Sonya."



    In front of Denis's inner gaze, the chop officers unloaded the last barrel in the adjacent tunnel. He raised his visor and turned to Timur, who was standing next to him.



     - Ready.



    Timur nodded.



     - Fighters! We hand over tokens.



     - Maybe we won't? Still, they are sitting inside, - Pasha asked cautiously.



     “They are no longer our own,” Timur snapped. - They sold the battalion to Muscovites.



    Around the neck of each soldier were three tokens that maintained coded communication with a small charge inserted into the battalion implant. The implant was usually sutured into the temporal bone of the skull. After activating the token, with its help it was possible to undermine the implant. Tokens were handed over to sentries. Usually they were chosen by lot from among the battalion veterans. The sentries themselves did not participate in the battle, their only task was to ensure that the soldiers were not captured alive when injured or concussed, or if the soldier was afraid to blow himself up. Such devices were used only in the most dangerous operations, when there was a high risk of being captured by the adherents of the cult of death. This time the lot was drawn by Kord, Shaman and another unfamiliar fighter.



    Some put tokens to their foreheads and whispered some prayers, some with tokens conveyed the last request to the sentries, they were obliged to fulfill it if they themselves remained alive.



     “I swore to take revenge on Alkhan, the butcher's bek,” said Girya, handing over the tokens. “He captured, tortured and killed my brother, and then threw out his head at the checkpoint. If you're lucky, tell Alkhan my regards.



     “We will remember your vow,” Kord replied. “We will avenge our brother.



    Someone asked to convey the message to the parents or to take care of the children, although the charter did not approve of the family and children. Fedya, with an imperturbable air, asked to burn his body and not remember him again. When Pasha's turn came, he made a mournful face.



     “I've regretted my whole fucking life that I hadn't fucked a math in eleventh grade. Didn't even kiss. And what kind of ass she had, what lips, only after graduation ... I gave the boys my word that I would fuck ...



    From the crowd of fighters there was a cheerful neighing.



     “I'll remember your vow and fuck the math,” Kord replied, smiling with all thirty-two teeth.



     - Well, look, Kord, I didn’t pull you by the tongue. She's about sixty now ...



    Laughter burst out twice as loud. Korda clapped sympathetically on the shoulders.



     - Here you are bald, - Kord shook his armored glove. - When you get back, I'll take you to the mathematician myself. You won't get rid of it!



     - All right, stop laughing! - Timur interrupted the fun. - We are building!



    Denis stood second in the left column, Fyodor with a heavy ballistic shield froze in front of him. The forend of the Whigy machine gun lay on his shoulder. On the right side, Girya was the first with a shield, followed by Pasha. Timur settled down a little behind. Ahead were four big men from the "North" with heavy machine guns, but they had to stay on the sides of the blown-up opening and cover the running out column.



     - Don't worry, - Pasha said, - our place is not the worst. Sometimes the first ones are deliberately missed, and they are hit already in the middle.



     - Thank you, brother, reassured.



     - How can I, - Pasha shrugged his shoulders and lowered the visor.



    Denis was shaking slightly. He knew that he shouldn't be afraid, that the swarm had to do its job, but the adrenaline of the rest of the fighters captured him. From all sides, he heard the clang and clicks of the weapon being tested, quiet negotiations, the soldiers buttoning their helmets and masks. His palms were sweating, his face was burning, his temples pounded, and his mouth filled with the smell of blood. The last helmets were extinguished around. The first channel came to life.



     - Combat readiness!



    Let the swarm out! - Sonya screamed.



    Denis imagined how barrels burst at the end of a parallel tunnel, dense pillars of the swarm dig into the last layer of concrete, and it flows down like hot oil. The warehouse in front of the entry point was completely cleared of equipment and supplies. The enemy managed to equip firing points between the columns of sandbags, shields and body armor. The hole in the wall was formed almost silently, so the machine guns and grenades hit with some delay. The grenades only thinned slightly and scattered the cloud flowing inward. The shooting quickly stopped - no one ran from the opening with machine guns at the ready, and the swarm flowed out in a discharged, almost invisible stream. The fighters in the ambush most likely decided that this was a distraction. They didn’t even understand what was happening when the armor of their comrades began to melt and screams of pain and terror were heard from everywhere.The bloodthirsty ghost of Sonya darted between them and with a growl launched the swarm's claws into human flesh. The fate of the ambush was resolved in less than a minute.



    Denis raised his hand with a clenched fist. In the second channel, Pasha's furious, breaking voice was heard:



     - Hey, fighters! How are life fighters!

    I can't hear you guys!

    Hey fighters! Get in line, soldiers!

    That you fell asleep, brothers!

    I'm not alone! My battalion is

    always behind me, a blank wall!

    The spooks hear the death knell,

    The soldiers shout "For the battalion"!



     - For the battalion !!! - there was a friendly roar of many sips, deafening with the crackle of overloaded microphones. Denis threw his clenched fist down.



     - Undermining! - Timur's voice vibrated in his head.



    Cotton. Hit. A moment of complete silence. Noise suppression is turned off and the rustle of rock crumbling from the ceiling is heard.



     - Forward, march! - a new command is heard in my head.



    Both columns trembled in sync and with a heavy gait ran towards the hurricane of deadly needles, which, no doubt, should scatter the formation at the entrance. But the people who were ready to die at the entrance were waiting for the silence of a dead dungeon. They tore veins in desperate dashes to the nearest columns, fell to the stone floor and frantically searched for targets. Several bursts hit the sandbags. Grenades exploded, followed by stretch marks in front of the firing points. And then there was silence again.



    Denis saw Timur's beacon on his visor. He, under the cover of three fighters, crept up to the nearest firing point and, just in case, threw another grenade in front of the barricade. From there, no one snapped back with a single shot. The first channel has started working.



     "Dan, did your nanobots do this?"



     - Yes, all the soldiers in the ambush are destroyed.



     - I've never seen anything like that, it was as if they were cooked in acid ... Is there anything ahead? Mines? More Ambushes?



     - At the end of the warehouse there are several units of heavy equipment, the enemy is not visible. Min, there are no stretch marks either. I move the nanobots further, to the middle, to the bunkers.



     - Do not rush. Let them walk in front of us, about a hundred meters away, and cover them.



     - There is!



    Denis sent the main front of the swarm back, closer to the assault company. The entire warehouse space in front of him was highlighted in bright yellow, without a single red dot. The first channel started working again in general mode.



     - Rota! The enemy at the entrance has been destroyed, but we are not relaxing. We move forward carefully, cover each other. The first squad is on the left flank, the second on the right, the rest in the center.



    Denis felt a jab in the shoulder. Fyodor's joyous voice came on the fourth channel.



     - The first department is us. We will work in two. We cover Viga and Loki. From shelter to shelter. Forward!



    Dan just kept close to Fedya and fell behind the column when he fell and jumped up when he jumped up. The left side of the warehouse was even darker and quieter. Sometimes we came across some broken shelves and boxes. Once again, he was lying on the floor and watching the beacons of the squad fighters running in front of him, when he heard a gradually increasing whistle. He looked around in bewilderment, in the NVG of the helmet it was possible to distinguish only debris, stones and lying soldiers. What could have emitted a whistle was decidedly not clear. Denis stretched his demonic vision forward and immediately saw a huge sheaf of heat radiation at the end of the warehouse from the right flank, created by the unwinding turbine of the tank. He jerked off and slowed down in the aisle between the columns. He stood at a slight angle, putting his forehead and covering the port side with a column.



     - Take cover! - Denis screamed desperately into the second channel. - Tank ahead!



    Time has slowed down as usual. The turret turned into the passage, the gun barrel stabilized.



    The impact is not heard, but it is felt by the whole body. It vibrates the bones and turns the guts into a sickening jelly. A huge cloud of dust rises to the right. Screams cut through the microphones.



     - Medics! The falcon is injured! The borders are faster! Put on the smoke!



    Due to the vehicles thrown between the columns, another column of radiation escapes on the left flank.



    "This is ours"! - thinks Denis. He kneels down and grabs a flamethrower. Raises the safety catch, there is a sight marker on the visor, at the far end of the warehouse it is difficult to distinguish the target in the NVG. Demonic Sight! A moving tank and a hit spot are visible. He flies a little further, into the next passage and sharply nods during braking. It is necessary to get between the columns, the spot is flashing. Will have to "manually", with a glance through the helmet's sensors. Smoothly press the trigger. Lead the rocket between the columns. The screams of the wounded soldiers do not subside in my head. The tower has already been deployed. Fuck! A fireball blooms at the base of the column in front of the tank ... The retaliatory blow knocks out consciousness. He woke up on the floor, stones pouring from the ceiling knocking on his armor. I can't hear anything, there is a crack on the visor. Everything floats and staggers.



    "Sonya! Destroy the tanks!



    Sonya's ghost is also blurring.



    "I can not! Armor is hard to gnaw through!



    “Sights! Find and melt their sights ”!



    Denis hardly gets up on all fours, fumbles around with his hands, trying to find the flamethrower. He feels a jerk for his legs, someone drags him to the side and stops only at the wall of the warehouse.



     - Alive? - Fedya's voice is heard through the veil.



     - Alive! Where is my pipe?



     - We must retreat. You can't take it straight from the borders.



     - Let's run and shoot at the side.



    My head cleared up a bit. Denis felt the spiders swarming inside, trying to patch up the shell-shocked organism. Another blow. Darkness and silence. Shrapnel hitting the armor. Fedya's voice, quite quiet, barely breaks through.



     - Shall we run? That is unlikely. My god says: save yourself fools!



     - Fuck! Your god can't say that.



     - Can't, - Fedya chuckle. - I say this myself ... But if you think that we run faster than shells, then come on ...



    We must get up and run. Run and fall at the next column. Tanks work as a carousel, while the first rolls back and reloads, the second moves into the line of fire. They grind columns and shelters in front of the tunnels into small stone fragments together with the soldiers of the assault group. Shock waves are repeatedly reflected from the walls, after several shots the body turns into a jelly shaking, howling with horror. The yellow front of the swarm in front has long been scattered to shreds and with each shot chatters like debris in a stormy surf. Consciousness splits into separate flashes. Viga is lying face down by the wall. Fyodor turns him over with difficulty and lifts the visor of his helmet. Something yells. He runs further and falls at the next column.



     - Sappers ahead. Let's take the borders and mines from them, - Denis hears in the headset.



    Three soldiers lie in the passage between the columns, there is a slight subsidence of the floor with a puddle of water. They are unconscious or dead. Fedya flops into a puddle and pulls a grenade launcher off the first. Denis does the same. The pipe is already empty. He tries to pull a new grenade out of his pouch and drive it into the pipe. Fedya slaps his hands.



     - Load the tandem! - he shouts and holds out a pouch with a grenade with two over-caliber warheads.



    Denis clings two more heavy pouches with thermomines onto the armor. My head clears up a bit. Tanks transfer fire to the beginning of the warehouse, following the retreating soldiers. Another frenzied dash between the shockwave hammers. Denis did not have time, he is knocked down and rolled on the floor. Fedya leans out from behind the column and launches a rocket tangentially into the side of the rolling back car. He missed literally by a meter, the rocket flies further and pierces the armor of a peacefully standing tracked tractor. Flames burst out of its engine immediately. Denis falls down next to him, feverishly pokes the virtual button for connecting the border on the visor. You can't see anything, the crack gets in the way. The floor next to the column explodes with stone chips. The howl of large-caliber needles makes you hide under the column, shrink with fear. Around only fiery arrows and flying crumbs.The machine gunner of the tank does not give a single chance for a second shot. Denis physically feels how the second tank rolls out and his turret turns. "We will be killed now ..." He desperately tosses the tentacles of the swarm, trying to find cover. In the wall of the warehouse, only twenty meters away, there is an inconspicuous door. It is locked, but Denis sends all the available swarm to it. Thermomina in front of the column, to somehow block the view of the tanks. The fireball blinds the NVG, but Dan uses the eyes of the swarm. He grabs Fedya by the belt and yells into the headset with all his might:Thermomina in front of the column in order to somehow block the view of the tanks. The fireball blinds the NVG, but Dan uses the eyes of the swarm. He grabs Fedya by the belt and yells into the headset with all his might:Thermomina in front of the column, to somehow block the view of the tanks. The fireball blinds the NVG, but Dan uses the eyes of the swarm. He grabs Fedya by the belt and yells into the headset with all his might:



     - Behind me! Run!



    Fedya understood. He rushes after. All around the whistle and howl, blows to the armor. The door is not yet melted. Dan bumps into her at full speed with his shoulder, Fyodor's carcass flies in from behind and the door finally falls inside. They roll head over heels up the iron stairs. It hurts very much: either the head or the hand gets hit by an iron step or from Fedya's iron limbs. A new shock wave is catching up.



    Consciousness turns off again for a couple of seconds. Denis tries to get up and falls. A room with pipes and some kind of equipment, it seems these are powerful pumps. The space is filled with smoke and dust. Hot and sticky flows down my face, but my eyes don't seem to flood. Fyodor is swarming nearby. It takes a near-vertical position on the second try. And no swarm heals him and does not fill him with drugs up to his ears. “After all, he is an unreal boar,” Denis thinks and grabs the pipes in order to somehow stand. "It would be nice not to throw up the mask yet."



     - Bitch! - an angry scream is heard in the headset. - I missed! Bitch! Dan, give me a border. I'm going to fill this fagot!



    Denis realizes that he is losing the battle for weapons. Fedin jerks toss him like a kitten. We have to butt him in the visor in order to calm him down a little.



     - All good! Attention, fighter! Attention, fuck, I say!



    After getting a little respite, Denis inspects the pumping station. In the smoke, you can make out grates on the floor, under which dark water has frozen. Denis launches yellow tentacles there. New shots are beating on the head, portions of smoke and dust are thrown out of the broken door. A hundred meters ahead, the sewer tunnel forks, one of the drifts goes under the far part of the warehouse.



     - Let's go down the drain. She will lead us behind the tanks. Do you hear ?! We go along the sewers. Break the bars!



    Denis yells with all his might, and then realizes that Fedya is hard of hearing due to a shell shock. He gestures to the bars. Fyodor uses his rifle as a lever to move the rusty, stuck grates. Denis pushes him away and is the first to jump into the musty water.



    The tunnel is high enough, you can hardly bend over. Dan tries to run, raking in water, but often stumbles and bumps into walls. He turns at the right fork. The tunnel goes up a little, and the ceiling goes down, the dampness gradually disappears. The roar of shots is ripping to the bone again. They come up to the first grating, straightening up, Fedya knocks against it with his helmet. With a few blows of his armored elbows, he knocks her out and pushes her to the side. Dan hands him a grenade launcher and tries to explain the plan of action.



     - Wait thirty seconds, then get out and shoot. I'll run until the next tank and throw a thermomine on it.



    Fedya just shrugs his shoulders. When he tries to show him three and ten on his fingers, he responds with a nod. It seems to have understood. Denis pats him on the shoulder and, bending over, rushes down the tunnel. Roy has already melted the required grating. It remains only to pull up and get up. The tank rushes very close and again stands to the left side of the column, preparing to fire. Denis runs almost to the exhaust of the turbine, activates the thermomine and throws it at the tower. It turned out better than with a rocket, although the mine is heavy, and next to it is a roaring tank, ready to shoot and crush. The swarm must have added strength to him. The mine explodes simultaneously with the cannon shot. The burning mixture covers the entire tower with a fiery dome, flows down onto the engine, the wings of the caterpillars and onto the floor. The tank turns into a flaming torch. With an eerie bang, dynamic protection begins to break. The tankers are panickingthey throw the car aside and immediately crash into the convoy. Denis runs back and lies down behind another column, gloatingly watching the throwing of a burning car. A powerful explosion is heard on the right, Fedya tore the engine of another car with a tandem grenade.



    Denis sees in the NVG the figure of Fedya, who threw a border guard and desperately waves his hands. Dan realized that he was also practically deaf, he cranked the volume up to maximum and hears fragments of Fedya's screams:



     - Tower! .. Ammunition ...



    "Ammunition, your mother!" Dan realized with horror that the outlines of the burning tower were gradually melting under the influence of the termite. The numbness lasts for a moment. He rushes back down the drain with all his might. The last thing he remembers is the uneven stone walls and ceiling, hitting painfully on the head and elbows.



    He woke up in absolute darkness and silence. "How can? - thought Denis. - I finally died? So, if you try to turn on the flashlight ... It seems that the light is visible ... ". Denis with great effort lifted the cracked visor. Some fragments fell from it, the holograms on it glitched and shimmered in different colors. The flashlight illuminated the surrounding area. Dan realized he was lying on his side in what looked like a narrow crypt heaped with rubble. He tried to crawl a little further, but the attempt was unsuccessful. The collapse in the back was solid and the right leg went into it knee-deep. He barely managed to roll over onto his back, twisting his leg. A few more jerks and an attempt to move the stone that pressed down on the leg did not lead to success. Denis tried to move his toes, it seems they have retained some mobility. Apparently the kevlar boot did not crumple under the collapse.Denis unbuttoned the top fastener and tried to loosen the lower ones as much as possible, and then began to pull his leg out of the boot. With some incredible effort, he succeeded. He crawled a little further and tried to get up. Immediately, the surrounding stones twirled nauseously, we had to urgently tear off the mask. The stomach contracted and began to spit out acrid bile. When the spasms passed, Dan carefully, no longer caring about maintaining a decent upright position, crawled forward between the stones. The machine gun, clinging to everything in a row, was very disturbing. He pulled it out of the stones in annoyance, fighting off bouts of nausea after every effort. Gradually, the debris became less and less, it was already possible not to crawl, but to straighten out and slowly hobble in one boot. But moving the grate and getting out turned out to be a daunting task. Denis practically did not see yellow dots around.I had to rely on the capabilities of battalion pharmaceuticals. He tore off the armor shields from his hand, unbuttoned his suit and took out an injector with anesthetic from the unloading. Injected in the shoulder, and then for about half a minute just stood and fought with nausea and the desire to collapse unconscious. A little later, it seemed, began to let go. A pleasant lightness appeared in my head.



    Dan knocked out the grate and climbed into the warehouse. At first, nothing was visible, the flashlight on the helmet only slightly dispersed the darkness, the beam rested against dense clouds of dust. Then the "demonic" vision returned and it became possible to assess the situation. The tank, whose ammunition was exploded, was buried under a huge rubble. Well, or what was left of it was buried. The ceiling even where Denis was standing, one and a half hundred meters from the explosion, sagged strongly and snaked in huge cracks. The columns nearby were dangerously deformed. The second tank burned out in the back of the warehouse, among the equipment stored there. Fedya showed up there. He with an imperturbable look was guarding the immobilized car, hiding behind a column. Dan turned off his flashlight and ran to him.



    The hatch on the frontal armor rose, and a grimy tankman in a burnt suit climbed out. He puffed and staggered, trying to pull the wounded comrade out of the narrow opening. He fell like a sack under the track of the tank. Fedya waited ten seconds and, making sure that no one else was trying to get out, left the hiding place, throwing up his rifle. Due to the dust, the tanker noticed him only when he was already near. Despite the thick layer of soot, it was clear that the tanker was quite young. He immediately raised his hands up. His lips moved silently, perhaps begging or even screaming. Dan heard almost nothing, he tried to catch up with Fyodor. There were several muffled bangs, and the young tanker fell down next to his comrade. Dan finally ran up and threw the rifle up to Fedina with a blow. He easily pulled out the weapon and shoved Denis with his shoulder. There were several more short bursts.Fedya raised his visor and turned on the flashlight.



     “Ours would have torn them,” he shouted almost inaudibly. - And so easy death.



    Denis just waved his hand in frustration. Leaving, Fedya threw a grenade into the open hatch.



    When they got to the assault group, it became clear that it was practically defeated. A huge number of soldiers lay dead and torn apart next to craters and broken columns, there were especially many of them around the entrance to the tunnels. Half of one of the fighters looked familiar. From it was only the upper part, the rest was not visible nearby. Denis lowered the visor with a few blows, the beacon on the dead soldier's helmet was still working: it was Girya. He had several meters to crawl to the tunnels. In the tunnels, a lot of fighters were sitting, moaning or just lying side by side. Doctors and a few healthy or slightly wounded ran between them. First of all, the most silent were loaded onto the stretcher. Pasha was sitting not far from the turn, leaning against the wall. His right leg was torn off to the knee, but there was no bleeding. The harnesses were already sewn into the suit,which allowed the limbs to be pulled in one motion. Vig was shaking his head nearby, without a helmet and weapons. Streams of blood flowed from his ears. A satisfied smile spread on Pasha's face, apparently he had already rolled himself several doses of promedol.



     - Well, you give fighters! We got these consoles after all.



     - Broke to shit! Fedya nodded.



     - Bastards, they put so many of ours ... They ripped off their leg, you bastards.



     - It's even better, - said Fedya confidently. “Trust me. I told you for a long time, cut off these legs, they are a hassle, one hell, sooner or later you will step on a mine.



     - Legs, arms, head ... Bitches, how many of ours they put ... - Pasha's smile gradually turned into soundless sobs.



    Timur ran up to them. His armor was slightly slashed by shrapnel, but overall he appeared unharmed. He squeezed Denis in his arms.



     - Well, fighters! Well fucking shit! Well, if not for you, it would be fucked up! Go shorter to the rear and rest.



     - What about the bunkers? - asked Denis. - Is the assault canceled?



     - Lesha is preparing the second company. Let's rake the wounded a little and continue into battle.



     - I'm with you. I literally need about five minutes: rub it with my chop men, muddy a new boot ... I still have ... a few barrels, in short.



     - And how are you? Ready to move on?



     - I'm fine. I'll be a cucumber in five minutes.



    Denis felt that, in spite of everything, the spiders were doing their job. It seems that they really could mend it from the pieces left after the explosion of a tank land mine. He heard better and better, he swayed less and less.



     “I have accumulated a lot of debt today,” Fyodor growled. - I'm going with the second company.



    Fedya's nose was bleeding, he was shaking, but he diligently did not notice it. Timur immediately assessed his condition.



     - No, fighter, you've had enough. We will pay off your debts.



     - I'm with you. My god says: they are mine! My God says: today is the same day ...



    Fedya's words merged into an indistinct growl. Timur had to call two soldiers armed with injectors with horse doses of tranquilizers. There was no other way to calm Fyodor.



    Denis moved to the headquarters behind the group. He decided that his guardian angel was, of course, a very tough man, but even he should have gotten a little screwed up today. The resistance in the tunnels was not so fierce. No, of course, the machine-gun and grenade-launcher crews behind the barricades presented certain problems, as did the attempts to bypass the group in the adjacent tunnels. But the swarm launched into ventilation and other communications warned of ambushes, detours or mines in time. And it seemed that the fighters on the barricades did not particularly insist on continuing the war. Having received a couple of bursts or grenades in return, they threw cover and hid behind the hermetic seals of the control bunkers. Timur and Lesha themselves, having cleared the tunnels, were in no hurry to enter the bunkers. Their seals were double, and the first door must have been mined.



    One of the enemy fighters was captured and interrogated. He told in which bunker the sbessniks, the chief of staff and the arriving Muscovites had settled. Denis suggested that Lesha and his company block the rest of the bunkers and exits to the surface. And he sent the whole swarm against the main one. Roy gnawed through the flaps on the ventilation shafts without much difficulty. And the ventilation had access to the guard post. After some hesitation, Dan gave the swarm permission to take control of the guards and they unlocked the gate themselves. Immediately from the post, two corridors diverged with rows of offices on each side. From the very first office, a disheveled Mishan jumped out with a rewound hand, armed only with a pistol. Fighters with shields immediately knocked him down, and those who followed him began to score with rifle butts. Timur stopped them and ordered them to be brought to their knees. And then he raised the visor of his helmet on purpose.The sallow face of the insurgent was covered with blood, the swamp eyes only slightly revived when he was able to identify his enemy.



     “The narrow-eyed fag…,” Mishan managed to wheeze before Timur pulled out a pistol and shot him in the face.



    The attack aircraft had already kicked open the doors to the offices and threw grenades there. Rare bursts of machine gun fire were heard.



     - Stop shooting! - shouted Timur in the first channel. - Let them give up. Stop shooting! Set aside the grenades!



    The first people began to leave the offices with their hands up. At the end of the corridor was the last fortified door to the control room. A powerful thermomine was already burning on it. When the stormtroopers knocked out the door on their shields, several bursts immediately lashed. In response, they threw a couple of grenades into the control room. Even after the explosions, the resistance did not stop. From the destroyed hall they continued to snap back single shots. However, the enemy was doomed, a few more grenades and silence fell. The fighters went inside for a final sweep.



    In the headset came the voice of Sima, who was leading the group of stormtroopers.



     - Timur, come in, you will be surprised.



    It was dark in the smashed control room, with broken lamps on the ceiling only occasionally sparkling. Several people were lying around the terminals. There was almost no open fire, but clouds of smoke slowly spread across the hall. The stormtroopers threw a couple of flares on the floor. A human body slumped against the central terminal. Several bullet wounds, a splinter apparently hit the face, a terrible laceration gaped in the place of the right eye. But this bald skull and net of scars were not to be confused with. Arumov and several of his militants fired back from the control room until the last moment.



     - Bastard! - Sima poked Arumov's body with his boot. - Surely he invented this ambush with tanks.



    Timur raised the visor of his helmet.



     - Yes, we won the battle, but not the war.



    Suddenly, the surviving eye of Arumov opened and stared at Timur.



     “Congratulations, fighter,” Arumov's voice was quiet, but surprisingly clear and distinct, as if he was not dying of terrible wounds. “You fought bravely, but the battalion is still mine. You will not go anywhere: your supplies will be cut off, you will be hammered by aircraft and missiles, and if not enough, then we will incite the Eastern Bloc. You will take the oath to the Moscow government, or you will be a dead battalion.



     “The surrendered battalion is a dead battalion,” Timur hissed. - No difference. In Moscow, the light did not converge like a wedge.



     - And with whom do you hope to make an alliance? With the Martians or the Eastern Bloc?



     “My unions are none of your business.



    Denis also raised the visor of his helmet. Rage choked him.



     “We don't need allies. Without your replicator, you are worthless. A crowd of thugs who die very quickly.



     - And you're here. Again you climb not your own business, - Arumov broke into a bloody smile. - Although yes, it is logical ... So the battalion is now yours, you will have to fill Tavda with napalm.



     - I did not touch the battalion.



    Arumov began to laugh, but quickly went into a gurgling cough.



     “And you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.



     - Dan, step back! - came the voice of Timur, he took a step back and raised the rifle.



     “Shoot,” answered Arumov. “But for each bullet, the battalion will receive a thousand in return.



     - Don't worry, this time is the last one, - said Denis. - I already found your replicator.



     - Okay, don't fill it, you haven't found anything. You take too much on yourself, fighter. You fucked up at the club. He slowed down, almost got captured. You can't do that in this game, you should learn something.



     - Thank you teacher. Fuck you with your studies. It doesn't take much to kill random people.



     - I did a great operation. Arranged a trap for you and almost caught you, a great and terrible ... agent. Just a little unlucky. Even so, I hold your balls tightly. At any time, if I want to, the investigation of the terrorist attack will lead to you. And along the way, I solved a bunch of other issues, with the Protector, for example. Now the Martians do not mind that the Moscow government itself deal with the Eastern Bloc and the battalions.



    Timur lowered his rifle slightly.



     - What is he talking about, Dan? What club?



     - The terrorist attack in Moscow, where the club burned down. Haven't you heard?



     - Well, I heard like ... We were not.



     - Come on, I'll explain everything later.



     “Explain without fail,” said Arumov again. - You have a lot to explain. In general, I myself can explain something about you to Timur or other soldiers. What do you think?



     “I didn't give a damn about your threats. You can bluff as much as you want.



     - I never bluff. With or without you, I will win. You are just one of the possible options.



     - You are good at fighting with women from nightclubs. Not like the battalion.



     - How did you imagine the war? Coming together in a fair fist fight?



     - I will fight my enemies and kill my enemies, and not kill anyone.



     - Another free lesson, Denis. War is not about killing some people you like or dislike, or about some boyish notions. War is the achievement of goals by any means. And enemies, friends, all this is very relative. Here is Timur, is he somehow better than me? Why is he your friend and I am your enemy?



     - Timur did not burn a hundred random people just like that.



     “They died to rebuild the Empire. You can then, after the victory, write them into heroes, erect an obelisk, come up with some beautiful legend. This is at your discretion. And Timur burned Bulat, his commander, and three people with him ... Okay, Timur, I really don't need to tell that I did it.



     - These. People. Served. You. - Timur added, emphasizing every word.



     - Well Bulat can still be fastened. And his girl? And your two newcomers? They wore battalion uniforms, battalion stripes and battalion patches. And the battalion commander took the oath of office from them. Come on, tell them they are not real fighters.



     - They are not real fighters! - Timur rapped out.



     - Then no questions ... I'm just trying to negotiate for the common good. What is the problem?



     - All your conversations end with a mountain of corpses.



     - It's because you both don't want to listen to anyone. What are you, that Timur, imagine that the world will bend under your concepts. Last chance: make an alliance now. Or I will destroy everyone: both the battalion and you, Denis.



    Denis fought the urge to get the bayonet-knife and stick it in the colonel's face up to the hilt. There were no other constructive thoughts about the sudden negotiations. Timur gently pulled his hand to the side.



     "Look Dan, what is he threatening to explain about you?" We are now in the same team, I would like to avoid unpleasant surprises.



     “He threatens to tell the truth about my nanobots.



     - What's the problem with nanobots? Can they get out of hand?



     - Not really ...



    Denis hesitated for a while.



     “The truth is, these aren't nanobots. This is a special biological weapon created in the Empire to take revenge on those who destroyed it. And I am a special agent, as a child, MIC performed some manipulations over me so that I could control this weapon. Three days ago I did not remember any of this and did not know. Until the agent receives certain information, it is in a "sleeping" state. Arumov's militants accidentally activated me. At the disposal station, I found samples of biological weapons that Arumov kept at home and apparently tried to study, and then decided to destroy.



     - What kind of weapon? Some kind of super-strong poison?



     - Much worse. These are myriads of genetically modified living things, such as small insects. A huge swarm that is controlled and acts as one. It can multiply by eating any biological substance, it can produce acids, poisons, whatever. But most importantly: it can control people by sneaking and multiplying inside them. The infected person does not change outwardly at all, retains normal speech, memory, intelligence, but follows any of my orders. Those people from the private security company who came with me are infected. If I order them to jump off the roof, they will jump one by one.



    Denis highlighted the area with yellow, and small rivulets of the swarm gathered around his arm in a dense humming ball. He raised his hand so that Timur could see him. Self-control betrayed Timur, he involuntarily recoiled and with a trembling hand tried to fasten his mask.



     - You understand: if I wanted, you would have been infected long ago. I swear I will not infect or attack battalion fighters without your permission.



    An agonizing internal struggle with horror or disgust was clearly reflected on Timur's face. He constantly fiddled with the mask and could not bring himself to step forward to examine the swarm properly.



     - I understand, Timur, I would have poured gasoline over myself three days ago. If you want, I'll just leave. In the end, I fulfilled our agreement: your battalion ... well, or Leshin.



    Timur was finally able to control himself and took on his former imperturbable Buddhist look. Only his eyes were slightly narrower than usual, betraying inner tension.



     "Can this damn thing control anyone?"



     - Yes, apart from Arumov's militants, they are themselves the product of some incomprehensible technology that the swarm cannot cope with.



     - Moscow officials? Death clan adepts?



     - Yes, even the guardians of death themselves.



     - A terrible weapon ... With it, the battalions could defeat the Eastern Bloc.



     - We could.



     “But the price will be terrible: we will become slaves to this thing.



     “I swear to you that I will not infect or attack anyone in the battalions without your approval.



     - Come on: you will never infect the fighters at all, even if you need to find a traitor. The temptation to control people with this thing would be too great. Can you do this?



     - All four battalions?



     - Yes, everyone.



    Denis consulted with his demon for some time.



     “I can accept the law of the swarm, which I myself cannot undo. Swarm will not be able to infect a human sworn to the battalion, but will still be able to attack.



     - Then do it.



     - Will you believe it works?



     “I'll rely on your word of honor. You have proven that you can be trusted.



     - New swarm law passed.



     - You will help the battalions to win the endless war, and the battalions will help you. But if you do, I'll personally scalp you.



     - Honest agreement, - Denis nodded and shook the outstretched hand. - As for Arumov, give it to me. Let your warriors leave, and the swarm will try to infect him.



     - Do you think it will work?



     - Most likely no. At the club I managed to capture Tom, unconscious, but the swarm could not get into his brain. But, at least I will try to study the technology with which they transfer personalities into new bodies.



     - Then no. We need peace with Arumov, at least for a while. He shouldn't spread information about your swarm.



     - I can hardly stand this bastard. Let him do what he wants: sooner or later I will find a replicator from which they crawl out and destroy. To make peace with him, you will have to accept his terms.



     - So you have to take ... for a while. We cannot take risks now.



     - Well, see what you say.



    Arumov reacted to the agreement with a crooked grin.



     - Just like that ... The battalions will continue to cooperate with us on the same terms. Yes, Timur?



    Arumov turned his only eye on Timur. He nodded almost imperceptibly.



     - Okay, I'll give Zara a couple of good routes so that you justify yourself to people for today's massacre. And you Denis will help me with one thing.



     - With which?



     “Remember, I asked you to bring a person to talk to.



     - I will not do it.



     - How fastidious you are. Well, okay, if you don't want to carry this, then take me his boss.



     - Leo Schultz?



     - Yes.



    Denis sighed heavily.



     - Good.



     - Well, fine. And now I want to die from an honest bullet. Do you understand, Denis?



     - As you wish, ally.



     - See you.



    Arumov grinned insolently, looking into the barrel of the rifle. Denis then reproached himself for a long time for not being able to restrain himself. Instead of firing one shot to the head, he landed half of the clip in Arumov, turning his torso into bloody rags. When the last shells fell to the floor, Timur gently patted him on the shoulder.



     - Come on, fighter, it's time to celebrate victory.



    Denis walked along the corridors, past open bunkers. The chains of people who had surrendered were taken out of them. In front of Timur and Denis walking through the tunnel, the armed people parted. Congratulations and cries of joy were heard everywhere. Those who had shields were beaten on the shields. Others just screamed at the top of their lungs. Unfortunately, it was impossible to shoot in the air indoors, but I really wanted to.



     - Hey, fighters! How are life fighters!

    I can't hear you guys!

    Hey fighters! Get in line, soldiers!

    That you fell asleep, brothers!

    I'm not alone! My battalion

    Always behind me, a blank wall!

    The spooks hear the death knell,

    The soldiers shout "For the battalion"!



     - For the battalion! - Denis barked.



     - For the battalion !!! - Timur shouted.



    Sonia Daimon hung gloomily in front of Denis.



    Roy warns you. You gave out information about the swarm and passed a law that you can never infect this person. So you don't know who else he'll tell. There will be many problems with this law. You walk on the edge. "



    “Stupid threat, Sonya. Well, the swarm will kill me and what's next?



    "Nothing. You will die, your beloved battalions will lose the war, and the true enemy will win. "



    “If I die, I don’t care about any of this. So I don't care, Sonia. Stop eating my brain. ”



    “I would be glad, but the law is the law. Roy warned you. Second time".