Finding the medical station on this ship was not as difficult as I feared - immediately after leaving the elevator, I ran into another petty officer, Otto Brakier's subordinate. He immediately began to excitedly prove that I urgently needed to see a doctor, to which I responded with a short: "Lead me." Upon arrival at the place, the middle-aged chief doctor took charge of me - Mikhail Vemtigrit, a bald man with gray temples, a wrinkled face and brown eyes. He immediately injected me with painkillers and some kind of antibiotic, helped me take off my clothes and began to get out what was stuck in my shoulder. In just a minute of work with a scalpel and surgical forceps, Mikhail was able to get a long nail out of me, which, apparently, played the role of a sharpening blade: there was no doubt that it was a homemade sharpening blade, and not a knife. After that, Vemtigrit quickly disinfected and bandaged the wound, took blood for tests to make sure there was no infection, ordered his assistant to take my uniform to be washed and asked me to stay in the medical center overnight in case infection could not be avoided. I did not argue with him. And soon, when Mikhail made sure that I was not in any danger and went to the infectious ward, the ship's senior mate, Arthur Giltoris, entered the medical center. "Mr. Commissar," Arthur began, immediately finding me with his gaze in the empty medical center. "Lieutenant Giltoris," I answered, recalling the rank of the senior mate, which was written down in the commissar's notebook. Arthur himself approached me from a distance of a couple of meters, while I was sitting on the edge of my bunk. "I just learned of the attack. How is your wound?" the first mate asked in a completely sincere voice. But I couldn't understand whether he was really sincere or just pretending well. "Quite well. Your doctor knows his business. True, the risk of infection is still high, so I will spend the night here, at the doctor's request," I answered calmly. "As you wish, Commissar," said Arthur. "However, I still have to ask you. What were you doing on the lower decks of the ship?" "I wanted to make sure of their safety," I began to make up an excuse I had hastily invented on the way to the infirmary. "As my teacher at the Schola told me, the servants of the Unholy Powers like to hide in the darkest corners most of all, and then attack from behind at the most convenient moment for them. The lower decks of the ship are best suited for this, so I decided to check them out. As it turned out, it was not in vain." "You are right about that, Commissar," the first mate said in a serious voice. — As far as we understand, the man you killed was indeed a heretic — many unholy signs were found on his body. We believe that a whole cult of worship of the Unholy Powers has flourished on several lower decks. The captain has already ordered a clean-up party to be sent there. — Glad to hear it, Lieutenant, — I replied. — Were there any other incidents on the ship? — No, Commissar."Otherwise, everything is fine on the ship," the first mate said calmly, and his words still gave me hope. I didn't want a riot of possessed sailors who had been touched by Chaos to start on the ship. "Good. So, we have avoided penetration by the Unholy Powers, thank the Emperor," I said, folding my arms across my chest in an aquila. "Thank the Emperor," Giltoris repeated after me, making the same gesture. "Well, Mr. Commissar, I won't disturb you. Good night." "Good night, Lieutenant," I wished in response, after which Arthur saluted and quickly walked out of the medical bay. And as soon as the doors closed behind him, I could finally relax. "That was a relief…" I said to myself. Another conversation, another risk of getting caught. And there will be hundreds of such conversations. And I'll have to get used to it, otherwise I'll get a bolter shell right in the head. And that's in the best case scenario, because they can throw me out into space. After sitting for a while, I began to feel tired all over my body. My eyes were sticking together, my muscles felt weak, and I wanted to yawn - all this indicated that according to my body's biological clock, night had come, and judging by Giltoris's words, night had come according to the ship's day. So, just in case, I hid my notebook in bandages, lay down on the bunk, covered myself with the sheet Mikhail had given me, and soon began to fall asleep.
Fog...
Everything around is a dark gray fog...
You try to peer into it, to find at least something, but there is only fog everywhere...
And then you hear laughter from somewhere...
So familiar...
Enchanting, silky, pleasant...
It cannot be confused with anything...
- Lena?
In response, only laughter...
You look for her with your eyes... You follow the sound of laughter, but it is heard from everywhere...
You do not stop, you peer into the distance... Nothing...
But then you see her in the distance...
Long, fiery red hair, sparkling against the dark gray fog... Pale skin... Slender figure... Bright green eyes...
- Lena!
She smiles, laughs, and then runs away...
You run after her as fast as you can...
She keeps going further and further... Laughing and running...
- LENA!
Suddenly your legs give way... You fall on something hard...
Rails...
You turn around...
You meet the gaze of the brunette's blue, scared-to-death eyes...
You hear the clatter of train wheels...
And a sharp pain pierces every cell of your body...
— Aaaah! From the pain that arose in my throat and immediately disappeared, I jumped up and sat up in bed. There was not enough air, which is why I was breathing quickly and greedily. Obeying some reflex, I ran my hand over my throat, but it was completely intact, and there was no pain anymore. Suddenly I noticed the wall opposite me. A metal wall and a couch with tucked-in bed linen. Unpleasant guesses began to appear in my head, and after I looked to the right, towards the sliding metal door, which was also hermetically sealed, everything immediately came to mind. "Medical center, injury, ship... "Warhammer". With regret, I again acknowledged the inevitable fact: my death and reincarnation in the body of an Imperium commissar were the harsh truth. And from the realization of this, my mood again fell below the baseboard. I would have given a lot for all this to turn out to be untrue, just a figment of my imagination after a wild drinking session with classmates at someone's birthday party. However, it was not so, and I had to come to terms with this fact again. "I'm dead," I said to myself. "I'm dead, period, there's no fixing it. Pull yourself together. Otherwise, you'll miss this chance, too, and it was given to me for a reason…" Perhaps, only this thought kept me going. The assumption that I had ended up here for a reason, but for something important. After all, it was not for nothing that I was reborn after death, there was definitely someone behind this. "Did you have a nightmare?" Mikhail's now familiar voice brought me out of my thoughts. He was sitting hunched over on the next couch, looking at me with some kind of understanding look. "Ta da…" I squeezed out in a depressed voice. "I had a dream…" I closed my eyes and exhaled heavily to finally put my thoughts in order. But Lena's gaze and her smile still appeared before my eyes for a moment. "It happens," the doctor answered. "I also dream about a lot of devilry all the time. And what's surprising about that, after forty years of service…" Mikhail's eyes immediately showed that he was beginning to lose himself in his memories, but a second later he came to his senses again. "Oh well, I won't burden you with my grumbling. Do you want to eat? They've already brought us breakfast." "With pleasure," I said, feeling my stomach already rumble. Mikhail immediately stood up and went to another part of the medical bay, and a minute later he returned with a tray, which he placed on the nightstand between the bunks. On the tray was a plate with white porridge, pieces of meat and some green pods, a glass with an incomprehensible dark liquid and a fork. "Enjoy your meal, Mr. Commissioner," the doctor said, straightening up to his full height. "Likewise, Doctor," I replied immediately, after which I picked up a plate and fork and began to eat my breakfast. Fortunately, the food was not a restaurant delicacy, but quite edible. The porridge was somewhat reminiscent of oatmeal, the meat was also not bad, although the taste had nothing in common with chicken, pork or beef,and the green long pod turned out to be similar to both pepper and cucumber. The liquid in the glass was the same color as the tea, but tasted sweet and sour. It immediately became clear that I was honored with such food only thanks to my commissar rank, for which I mentally thanked the Higher Powers. If I had ended up with one of the convicts of this ship, who had exactly as many rights here as the rowers on the galleys, then I would have been content with only crackers, and even that was not a fact. Having finished with breakfast, I allowed Mikhail to change my bandages, and also received from him my washed clothes, a chain sword with a new scabbard and a bolt pistol. After that, I began to think about what to do next. The most important task was to get acquainted with the senior officers of the regiment. Now I was completely sure that Merzelius was not familiar with them. My memory still did not show me at least one of the senior officers of the regiment. The only people I knew were Colonel Sherkin, whom I had already met, and Major Verkis, whom I had learned about from the notebook. This state of affairs could not be left to chance. I needed to gain the loyalty of both soldiers and officers to ensure my survival. This could only be done by showing that I was "one of our own," but to do this I would need to at least meet all the senior officers currently on the ship. The main bet would be on Major Verkis. As Augustin had noticed, he liked gambling, drinking, and was respected by the soldiers, which meant that whoever the major liked, the regiment liked. But now I had one problem to solve, namely, finding Verkis. So, leaving the medical bay, I headed down the corridors of the Alejandro Olivares. Unfortunately, I still did not know in which part of the ship the guards were located. Moreover, I did not know in which part of the ship I was. The only thing I managed to find out from the writing on the walls was that I was on the seventh deck of the ship, but this information didn't make me feel either cold or hot.My memory still hadn't shown me any of the regiment's senior officers. The only ones I knew were Colonel Sherkin, whom I'd already met, and Major Verkis, whom I'd learned about from the notebook. This state of affairs couldn't be left to chance. I needed to gain the loyalty of both the soldiers and the officers to ensure my survival. This could only be done by showing that I was "one of our own," but to do that I'd need to at least get to know all of the senior officers currently on the ship. My main bet would be on Major Verkis. As Augustin had noticed, he liked gambling, drinking, and was respected by the soldiers, which meant that anyone the major liked was also liked by the regiment. But now I had one problem to solve, namely, finding Verkis. So, leaving the med bay, I headed down the corridors of the Alejandro Olivares. Unfortunately, I still didn't know in which part of the ship the guards were located. Moreover, I did not know what part of the ship I was in. The only thing I managed to find out from the writing on the walls was that I was on the seventh deck of the ship, but this information did not make me feel either cold or hot.My memory still hadn't shown me any of the regiment's senior officers. The only ones I knew were Colonel Sherkin, whom I'd already met, and Major Verkis, whom I'd learned about from the notebook. This state of affairs couldn't be left to chance. I needed to gain the loyalty of both the soldiers and the officers to ensure my survival. This could only be done by showing that I was "one of our own," but to do that I'd need to at least get to know all of the senior officers currently on the ship. My main bet would be on Major Verkis. As Augustin had noticed, he liked gambling, drinking, and was respected by the soldiers, which meant that anyone the major liked was also liked by the regiment. But now I had one problem to solve, namely, finding Verkis. So, leaving the med bay, I headed down the corridors of the Alejandro Olivares. Unfortunately, I still didn't know in which part of the ship the guards were located. Moreover, I did not know what part of the ship I was in. The only thing I managed to find out from the writing on the walls was that I was on the seventh deck of the ship, but this information did not make me feel either cold or hot.
And only after an hour of wandering around the deck, I finally came across a man who was familiar to my memory. He was a middle-aged man with blond hair, green eyes, thin eyebrows and a small nose, as well as a stubble that was at least three days old. He was walking down the ship's corridor straight towards me, avoiding many crew members so as not to run into them. "Captain... Company Commander..." flashed through my mind when I looked closely at his shoulder straps. At least that was something - a captain is closest to a major in the hierarchy and reports first to him. And this particular captain definitely must know the location of Verkis or at least have an idea where he might be now. So I immediately headed towards him. As soon as he noticed me, he immediately looked surprised, and then abruptly stopped, straightened up and saluted - just like everyone else on this ship did. "Mr. Commissar," the captain said, trying not to look me in the eye. "Captain," I replied, also saluting. "It's good that I met you, maybe you can help me." "Something wrong, Mister Commissar?" the guard asked, trying to contain his emotions. He wasn't very happy that I had decided to address him personally. "Nothing special, I'm just trying to find Major Verkis. Do you know where he is now?" the captain visibly relaxed after my question. Apparently, he was glad that the commissar had business with his superiors and not with him, while he himself had simply fallen into their hands. Perhaps, if I were in his place, I would be glad myself. "Major Verkis must be in the barracks now," the captain quickly answered. "If anything happens, go straight down the corridor from here, take the second left, then the first right, and then take the elevator and go down to the third deck." "You already understand the structure of the ship so well?" — I asked, trying to hide my joy at being helped like that. — I had to figure it out. We've only been on this ship for a week, many people get lost in this wilderness, and then spend the whole day walking around the ship asking the crew: "How do I get to the barracks?" That's why the major ordered me to learn the immediate, so to speak, surroundings here. To explain everything to our guys. I was almost ready to dance with joy at the words of this captain. Finally, I managed to find out exactly how long the regiment had been on the way, and without arousing any suspicion with my questions. The fact that the regiment had been on the way for a week meant that my ignorance of the ship was quite normal and could hardly arouse any suspicion from the outside. — Well, thank you, captain. I'll keep you informed. You are free to go, — I answered the captain and saluted again, deciding to continue my journey around the ship. "Yes, sir, commissioner," said the captain, also saluting, after which I walked further along the deck of the Count Alejandro. Fortunately,I didn't have to walk for long - after only ten minutes of walking I found the right elevator, with the help of which I was able to go down to the deck I needed. And as soon as the elevator door opened, I was immediately hit by the stuffiness and the hum of hundreds of voices. Many guardsmen were sitting on their three-tiered bunks built into the walls of the corridors and doing everything they could to while away the time: talking to each other, laughing, reading books or playing cards, without watching their vocabulary. But all this paled in comparison to the smell of sweat, worn socks, various foods and poorly functioning intestines. Most of all, it reminded me of the compartment carriage in which I traveled as a child on vacation with my parents - the atmosphere was exactly the same. Suddenly, one of the guardsmen to my right, also a captain, judging by his shoulder straps, straightened up, took a deep breath and, it seemed, was about to yell at the whole area that a commissar had entered the room. But I didn't need that at all. "Stop," I said relatively quietly, raising my right hand in a "Stop" sign, and the captain immediately froze with his mouth open, holding his breath. "I need Major Verkis, do you know where I can find him?" "Ah… Ah… Yes… Y-yes, Mr. Commissioner," the captain stammered. "Then lead the way," I said in the same calm voice. Apparently, this greatly surprised the captain, but I had no other choice - I didn't know how Augustine communicated with his subordinates before his, so to speak, departure, and I wasn't going to risk the experiments. Therefore, all that was left for me was to play the role of "Mr. Granite Face," that is, not to show any emotion at all unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply not in the mood, and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. It wasn't exactly an ideal plan, but in any case, it clearly had some sense. Walking through the rows of bunks was quite a task, compared to which even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment carriage in the summer to a free toilet" would seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guardsmen sat on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter maximum. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes, on average, several hundred thousand people, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the compartment carriage came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed the surprised guards, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was towards them that we headed.with the help of which I was able to go down to the deck I needed. And as soon as the elevator door opened, I was immediately hit by the stuffiness and the hum of hundreds of voices. Many guardsmen were sitting on their three-tiered bunks built into the walls of the corridors and doing everything they could to while away the time: talking to each other, laughing, reading books or playing cards, without watching their vocabulary. But all this paled in comparison to the smell of sweat, worn socks, various foods and poorly functioning intestines. Most of all, it reminded me of the compartment carriage in which I traveled as a child on vacation with my parents - the atmosphere was exactly the same. Suddenly, one of the guardsmen to my right, also a captain, judging by his shoulder straps, straightened up, took a deep breath and, it seemed, was about to yell at the whole area that a commissar had entered the room. Only I didn't need that at all. "Stop," I said relatively quietly, raising my right hand in a "Stop" sign, and the captain immediately froze with his mouth open, holding his breath. "I need Major Verkis, do you know where I can find him?" "Ah… Ah… Yes… Y-yes, Mr. Commissioner," the captain stammered. "Then lead the way," I said in the same calm voice. Apparently, this greatly surprised the captain, but I had no other choice - I did not know how Augustine communicated with his subordinates before his, so to speak, departure, and I was not going to risk the experiments. Therefore, all that was left for me was to play the role of "Mr. Granite Face," that is, not to show any emotions at all unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply not in the mood, and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. Not to say that this was an ideal plan, but in any case, it clearly did not lack meaning. Walking through the rows of bunks was quite a task, compared to which even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment carriage in the summer to a free toilet" would seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guardsmen sat on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter maximum. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes, on average, several hundred thousand people, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the compartment carriage came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed the surprised guards, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was towards them that we headed.with the help of which I was able to go down to the deck I needed. And as soon as the elevator door opened, I was immediately hit by the stuffiness and the hum of hundreds of voices. Many guardsmen were sitting on their three-tiered bunks built into the walls of the corridors and doing everything they could to while away the time: talking to each other, laughing, reading books or playing cards, without watching their vocabulary. But all this paled in comparison to the smell of sweat, worn socks, various foods and poorly functioning intestines. Most of all, it reminded me of the compartment carriage in which I traveled as a child on vacation with my parents - the atmosphere was exactly the same. Suddenly, one of the guardsmen to my right, also a captain, judging by his shoulder straps, straightened up, took a deep breath and, it seemed, was about to yell at the whole area that a commissar had entered the room. Only I didn't need that at all. "Stop," I said relatively quietly, raising my right hand in a "Stop" sign, and the captain immediately froze with his mouth open, holding his breath. "I need Major Verkis, do you know where I can find him?" "Ah… Ah… Yes… Y-yes, Mr. Commissioner," the captain stammered. "Then lead the way," I said in the same calm voice. Apparently, this greatly surprised the captain, but I had no other choice - I did not know how Augustine communicated with his subordinates before his, so to speak, departure, and I was not going to risk the experiments. Therefore, all that was left for me was to play the role of "Mr. Granite Face," that is, not to show any emotions at all unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply not in the mood, and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. Not to say that this was an ideal plan, but in any case, it clearly did not lack meaning. Walking through the rows of bunks was quite a task, compared to which even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment carriage in the summer to a free toilet" would seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guardsmen sat on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter maximum. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes, on average, several hundred thousand people, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the compartment carriage came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed the surprised guards, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was towards them that we headed.I was immediately struck by the stuffiness and the hum of hundreds of voices. Many guardsmen were sitting on their three-tiered bunks built into the walls of the corridors and doing whatever they could to while away the time: talking to each other, laughing, reading books or playing cards, without paying attention to their vocabulary. But all this paled in comparison to the smell of sweat, worn socks, various foods and poorly functioning intestines. Most of all, it reminded me of the compartment carriage in which I traveled as a child on holiday with my parents - the atmosphere was exactly the same. Suddenly, one of the guardsmen to my right, also a captain, judging by his shoulder straps, straightened up, took a deep breath and seemed about to shout at the whole area that a commissar had entered the room. But I didn't need that at all. "Stop," I said relatively quietly, raising my right hand in a "Stop" sign, and the captain immediately froze with his mouth open, holding his breath. "I need Major Verkis, do you know where I can find him?" "Ah… Ah… Yes… Y-yes, Mr. Commissioner," the captain stammered. "Then lead the way," I said in the same calm voice. Apparently, this greatly surprised the captain, but I had no other choice - I did not know how Augustine communicated with his subordinates before his, so to speak, departure, and I was not going to risk the experiments. Therefore, all that was left for me was to play the role of "Mr. Granite Face," that is, not to show any emotions at all unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply not in the mood, and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. Not to say that this was an ideal plan, but in any case, it clearly did not lack meaning. Walking through the rows of bunks was quite a task, compared to which even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment carriage in the summer to a free toilet" would seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guardsmen sat on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter maximum. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes, on average, several hundred thousand people, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the compartment carriage came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed the surprised guards, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was towards them that we headed.I was immediately struck by the stuffiness and the hum of hundreds of voices. Many guardsmen were sitting on their three-tiered bunks built into the walls of the corridors and doing whatever they could to while away the time: talking to each other, laughing, reading books or playing cards, without paying attention to their vocabulary. But all this paled in comparison to the smell of sweat, worn socks, various foods and poorly functioning intestines. Most of all, it reminded me of the compartment carriage in which I traveled as a child on holiday with my parents - the atmosphere was exactly the same. Suddenly, one of the guardsmen to my right, also a captain, judging by his shoulder straps, straightened up, took a deep breath and seemed about to shout at the whole area that a commissar had entered the room. But I didn't need that at all. "Stop," I said relatively quietly, raising my right hand in a "Stop" sign, and the captain immediately froze with his mouth open, holding his breath. "I need Major Verkis, do you know where I can find him?" "Ah… Ah… Yes… Y-yes, Mr. Commissioner," the captain stammered. "Then lead the way," I said in the same calm voice. Apparently, this greatly surprised the captain, but I had no other choice - I did not know how Augustine communicated with his subordinates before his, so to speak, departure, and I was not going to risk the experiments. Therefore, all that was left for me was to play the role of "Mr. Granite Face," that is, not to show any emotions at all unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply not in the mood, and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. Not to say that this was an ideal plan, but in any case, it clearly did not lack meaning. Walking through the rows of bunks was quite a task, compared to which even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment carriage in the summer to a free toilet" would seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guardsmen sat on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter maximum. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes, on average, several hundred thousand people, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the compartment carriage came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed the surprised guards, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was towards them that we headed.They talked to each other, laughed, read books or played cards, without paying attention to their vocabulary. But all this paled in comparison to the smell of sweat, worn socks, various foods and poorly functioning intestines. Most of all, it reminded me of the compartment carriage in which I traveled as a child on vacation with my parents - the atmosphere was exactly the same. Suddenly, one of the guardsmen to my right, also a captain, judging by his shoulder straps, straightened up, took a deep breath and seemed about to shout at the whole neighborhood that a commissar had entered the room. But I didn't need that at all. "Stop," I said relatively quietly, raising my right hand in a "Stop" sign, and the captain immediately froze with his mouth open, not exhaling. "I need Major Verkis, do you know where I can find him?" "Ah… Ah… Yes… Y-yes, Mr. Commissar," the captain stammered. "Then lead the way," I said in the same calm voice. Apparently, this surprised the captain a lot, but I had no other choice - I didn't know how Augustine communicated with his subordinates before his, so to speak, departure, and I wasn't going to risk experiments. Therefore, all that was left for me was to play the role of "Mr. Granite Face", that is, not to show emotions at all unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply in a bad mood, and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. Not to say that this was an ideal plan, but in any case, it clearly did not lack meaning. Walking through the rows of bunks was quite a task, in comparison with which even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment car in the summer to a free toilet" would seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guards were sitting on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter maximum. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes several hundred thousand people on average, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the reserved seat carriage came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed by the surprised guardsmen, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was to them that we headed.They talked to each other, laughed, read books or played cards, without paying attention to their vocabulary. But all this paled in comparison to the smell of sweat, worn socks, various foods and poorly functioning intestines. Most of all, it reminded me of the compartment carriage in which I traveled as a child on vacation with my parents - the atmosphere was exactly the same. Suddenly, one of the guardsmen to my right, also a captain, judging by his shoulder straps, straightened up, took a deep breath and seemed about to shout at the whole neighborhood that a commissar had entered the room. But I didn't need that at all. "Stop," I said relatively quietly, raising my right hand in a "Stop" sign, and the captain immediately froze with his mouth open, not exhaling. "I need Major Verkis, do you know where I can find him?" "Ah… Ah… Yes… Y-yes, Mr. Commissar," the captain stammered. "Then lead the way," I said in the same calm voice. Apparently, this surprised the captain a lot, but I had no other choice - I didn't know how Augustine communicated with his subordinates before his, so to speak, departure, and I wasn't going to risk experiments. Therefore, all that was left for me was to play the role of "Mr. Granite Face", that is, not to show emotions at all unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply in a bad mood, and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. Not to say that this was an ideal plan, but in any case, it clearly did not lack meaning. Walking through the rows of bunks was quite a task, in comparison with which even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment car in the summer to a free toilet" would seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guards were sitting on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter maximum. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes several hundred thousand people on average, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the reserved seat carriage came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed by the surprised guardsmen, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was to them that we headed.the captain, too, judging by his shoulder straps, straightened up, took a deep breath and seemed about to shout at the whole neighborhood that a commissar had entered the room. But I didn't need that at all. "Stop," I said relatively quietly, raising my right hand in a "Stop" sign, and the captain immediately froze with his mouth open, not exhaling. "I need Major Verkis, do you know where I can find him?" "Ah… Ah… Yes… Y-yes, Mr. Commissar," the captain said, stuttering. "Then lead the way," I said in the same calm voice. Apparently, this greatly surprised the captain, but I had no other choice - I didn't know how Augustin communicated with his subordinates before his, so to speak, departure, and I wasn't going to risk my experiments. Therefore, all that was left for me was to play the role of "Mr. Granite Face," that is, not to show any emotions at all unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply in a bad mood and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. I wouldn't say that it was a perfect plan, but in any case, it clearly had some sense. Walking through the rows of bunks was quite a task, compared to which even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment car in the summer to a free toilet" would seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guardsmen were sitting on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter maximum. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes, on average, several hundred thousand people, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the compartment car came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed the surprised guards, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was towards them that we headed.the captain, too, judging by his shoulder straps, straightened up, took a deep breath and seemed about to shout at the whole neighborhood that a commissar had entered the room. But I didn't need that at all. "Stop," I said relatively quietly, raising my right hand in a "Stop" sign, and the captain immediately froze with his mouth open, not exhaling. "I need Major Verkis, do you know where I can find him?" "Ah… Ah… Yes… Y-yes, Mr. Commissar," the captain said, stuttering. "Then lead the way," I said in the same calm voice. Apparently, this greatly surprised the captain, but I had no other choice - I didn't know how Augustin communicated with his subordinates before his, so to speak, departure, and I wasn't going to risk my experiments. Therefore, all that was left for me was to play the role of "Mr. Granite Face," that is, not to show any emotions at all unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply in a bad mood and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. I wouldn't say that it was a perfect plan, but in any case, it clearly had some sense. Walking through the rows of bunks was quite a task, compared to which even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment car in the summer to a free toilet" would seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guardsmen were sitting on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter maximum. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes, on average, several hundred thousand people, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the compartment car came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed the surprised guards, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was towards them that we headed.what I could do was play the role of "Mr. Granite Face", that is, not to show any emotion unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply not in the mood, and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. Not to say that it was an ideal plan, but in any case, it clearly did not lack sense. Walking through the rows of bunks was a task that would make even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment car in the summer to a free toilet" seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guardsmen sat on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter at most. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes, on average, several hundred thousand people, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the compartment car came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed by the surprised guards, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was to them that we headed.what I could do was play the role of "Mr. Granite Face", that is, not to show any emotion unless necessary. Anyone who saw me like this would think that I was simply not in the mood, and would hardly ask unnecessary questions. Not to say that it was an ideal plan, but in any case, it clearly did not lack sense. Walking through the rows of bunks was a task that would make even the mission "Walk through the entire compartment car in the summer to a free toilet" seem easy. The gap between the beds was two meters, but many guardsmen sat on the first "floors", which narrowed the corridor to one meter at most. Although such Spartan conditions are quite understandable. An imperial regiment includes, on average, several hundred thousand people, taking an entire armada of hundreds of ships to transport it is impractical, so you have to squeeze the maximum number of people into the limited space of several dozen ships, sacrificing comfort. For some reason, the compartment car came to mind again. There was little comfort there either, but the capacity was quite large. A minute later, having passed by the surprised guards, who did not stand at attention only at the captain's sign, we turned right and entered a dead-end corridor, at the end of which six people were eating something on a table placed between the bunks and talking animatedly. And it was to them that we headed.
— Well, anyway, I had already undressed her and everything, and then suddenly I heard the door open. She said, "It's my husband!" — one of the soldiers, apparently the oldest of them all, was saying, — and she threw me off the bed. I immediately went under her, and then I heard, "Darling, I'm home!"… The guards were so engrossed in their story that they didn't even notice us. Only when we came close did the storyteller catch a glimpse of the captain out of the corner of his eye: — Oh, Talnit. Sit down, now comes the most interesting part… — M-Major Verkis… — the captain said, stepping aside. All six pairs of eyes immediately filled with surprise: they clearly hadn't expected to see me. — Good afternoon, gentlemen, — I greeted them. All the guards immediately tried to stand at attention, but I immediately raised my hand, stopping them. — It's not worth it. — Mister Commissar… Has something happened?" the major asked me, clearly not understanding what was going on. "No, Major, I'm just checking that everything is okay after the incident," I said in as important a tone as I could, but not in a rude or smug, "It's obvious, idiot!" I couldn't afford to be thought of as an arrogant idiot. "There were no incidents, Mr. Commissioner," Verkis began immediately. "That's good, Major. But I'm more concerned about how the soldiers are feeling," I corrected him. I had to show concern for the soldiers' well-being. That was essentially my plan. If Augustin had managed to show himself in a bad light, then let everyone think that it was all a sham, while I was serious and reasonable when faced with real threats. In any case, it would help me avoid too much suspicion about the change in my behavior, which was what I desperately needed at the moment. "On the whole, everything is fine, Mr. Commissioner," the Major continued again. "Except that everyone is tired." After all, this is the first time we are flying from planet to planet, it is very stressful. - I understand, Major. It is really difficult, but we must endure it. It is unknown what the situation on the planet will be by the time of arrival, so the soldiers must be prepared both mentally and physically. - We will try, Mr. Commissar, - the major assured me, and there was clearly no falsehood in his voice, which either spoke of his sincerity or his acting talents. - Thank you, Major. Have a good day, gentlemen, - having said goodbye, I turned around and calmly walked away, heading for the exit of the barracks, in search of Colonel Sherkin, with whom I wanted to get to know better. It was still necessary to find out in whose hands not only the regiment was, but, in fact, my life.