After looking around the ruins, Misha turned to Natasha. It was very hard for her to be here, her eyes said.
— Why did you come?
— I don't know myself… But that's a question you may not know the answer to…..
— Which one can't you use?
— If I didn't show up, I'd be asked "Why didn't you show up?" It's impossible not to know the answer to that one.
— Who would ask you that?
— I don't know. — Natasha answered, knowing full well that she would be the one asking herself.
Three men came out of the building. As they approached the table, they did not sit down, but took out a small piece of paper: "Please stand up, everyone." Bolotnikov rose from his chair and stood as straight as he had never had to stand before; he is a combat officer.
"The court of the Free Land recognized Major Sergei Ivanovich Bolotnikov, commander of the "Donbass" battalion of the Bogdan Khmelnitsky grouping, as guilty of violating the order. In accordance with the statute "Officer of the Free Land" to deprivation of military rank and death by firing squad. The case is closed.
Of all those who were on the square, there was no one gloomier than Khmelnitsky. Because of his "specifics" in the order came out "this". Only after "this" was seen, the question of the deadline for the withdrawal of troops from Kremenchug arose. But he could not give a direct order, because there was indeed an informer in the group, and if he found out, the whole group could be jeopardized.
But there was a second option. Destroy "it." What would have happened? Khmelnitsky would have been deposed, and then the group would have collapsed. There was no doubt about it — no matter what people fight for, they always fight for power, without looking at any principles and consequences.
"No, well, what aren't they people? Out of all three of them, there was not one of them?" — Victor asked himself and answered: "No, they are not people. They are mechanisms that act according to the statute you wrote once. And you yourself were the most eager to approve it. And you yourself were a mechanism when you handed them the report. That's the system. And you can't go against it, even if you created it.
Otherwise it will either eat you or fall apart. And it will be either usurpation or revolution…"
But what's Bolotnikov got to do with it?! We're fighting the plagues, and he's a soldier. Men like him are all we need to win! And they shoot him?!
A single "no" will suffice here.
Khmelnitsky stepped out of the row. Through the downpour. Through the post.
"The Commander-in-Chief desires the floor," he pronounced to the entire square.
There was whispering among the people, and whispering in court.
"The Court gives the floor to the Commander-in-Chief."
Victor did not cough, warming up his voice: one could not hesitate here, only the system could: "In view of Major Bolotnikov's special merits to the Free Land, to our entire group and to me personally, I ask to replace the firing squad with enrollment in the penalty battalion.
The court whispered again, and the people became indignant. The people had never seen such a thing before and could not see it. Everyone was silent, but the thoughts and that muffled sound of surprise rumbled over everything.
"They don't know what to do. Because there's no clause about what to do in such cases. — Victor thought. — 'They're my levers after all. Even if it's for the last time. But still my…" Every feeling, every nerve in him whispered that after the court agreed, one of his most ardent supporters would come up and stab him in the back. And that was what he wanted so badly. Let it happen, Zubkov would take charge, shoot a couple of rioters, and all would be well. The group won't fall apart. And if it doesn't, what's he gonna do? Stay the same with this offense behind him? That's gonna be hard to live with, and even harder to lead.
Ah, this beautiful warm downpour. And the thunderstorm reaching us… How beautiful you are!
— The court agrees with the Commander-in-Chief. And that means we need to create such a battalion.
— Yes. Create such a battalion.
— In this case, the Court is authorized to appoint a commander to this battalion since it is created while the Court is in session and with the consent of the Court.
Victor didn't fully realize what was happening. He was expecting someone to stab him in the back. But that didn't happen. It was something else entirely. And the feeling… it said that something had changed, right just now. And the drops flying different, and the noise of thunder different, but what "different"? Better or worse than before? The one that should be or not?
"Stab me in the back, though!" — Victor shouted in his thoughts, glaring at the judges and waiting for whoever was coming from behind. But there are no sharp shouts and no shocking flickers of glances. No one running or aiming.
Victor turned around.
No one. Only the faithful deputy Alexander Zubkov by his side. No one was preparing to stab in the back, the group has nothing to split up over. The case when the system assumes the possibility of error. When everyone agrees. After all, the system is not a foundation, but a shell. The foundation is the thoughts of the people who now agree. Victor thought so, until he saw Bolotnikov's frantic eyes, not realizing how his commander had made a mistake.
— The court appoints Viktor Khmelnitsky commander of the newly created penalty battalion.
Viktor turned toward Zubkov. His eyes were not just giving himself away, they were triumphant and grateful for the opportunity to take his place. Those eyes, which had been so unassuming only a few moments before, were now aflame with power.
"Zubkov for Commander-in-Chief!" — shouted someone on the right, and then immediately 50 people supported him: "Yes! Zubkov! Commander-in-Chief!!!" Zubkov raised his hand and waved at them.
Bolotnikov shouted something to the judges and tried to run towards them, but the guardsmen immediately grabbed him, and one of them knocked him in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle.
The major knelt down and almost immediately glanced sideways at Victor.
On the other side of the crowd stood Misha Zhivenko, and from behind the backs of several people he could not fully see what was happening on the square. Natasha was standing next to him, and next to Seversky, the commander of the Special Forces, the same one who had fought so hard with Bolotnikov during the evacuation from Kremenchug. And now he was standing very close to Natasha, clutching something in his jacket pocket.
— Just move. — whispered Seversky. — We'll kill you and her later.
Misha felt something sharp in his back, and he felt the presence of several more men from the special forces. At this time, closer to the left edge of the square, someone began to shout something for Khmelnitsky, but immediately a scuffle broke out and the shouting quieted down.
Another shouted "Zubkov" from one side, and several men moved towards the former commanderin-chief to escort him away. Someone was already offering Zubkov a mace, which he took triumphantly and waved upward shouting: "We shall win! For the Free Land!"
The judges stood up and bowed solemnly. Those who could shout something against it, tried to shout against it, but it was too late. Now the new Commander-in-Chief, who had been elected in public and confirmed in office in public, stood before everyone. High Priest
The Council of Six. The same gloomy light, the same underflying cries from the cellars.
Everything is in place. From beneath the table a vile, shaky voice of the head of the Holy Sejm.
"I heard the news from Stage 2. They say things are deteriorating. What can Brother Priest Guzoh have to say?"