Крип / Kryp: Эпилог

Epilogue

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 16:49

No one remembered why the squad was called the "Communist Sanitary Squad". Arguing about the name, as well as trying to find some kind of prototype, was a traditional discipline of the newcomers. No, why "Sanitary" - it is clear, the "cleaners" were doing that too. But where did the main work, that is, the actual purification go? And who were the "communists"? It was prescribed to consider them unconditionally a good thing, as well as the red banner of the detachment, but without any reference. Even in the Lives of St. Clarence, the official patron of the Squad, there was no answer, not even a hint of a clue. Nevertheless, the Squad has maintained an unbroken tradition for more than five hundred years, bearing the burden of dignified and responsible service.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 17:10

A tracked armored vehicle was hurtling down the street, spitting steel links out of the sidewalk. A siren wailed, though there was no need to do so no one would think of doing anything to obstruct the Squad. On the contrary, everyone, whether on foot or on wheels, was in a hurry to get out of the way of the car under the red flag of the SCC. The old engine sipped on promethium and murmured with the smooth monotony that is characteristic of tried, venerable machines with a well-honed Spirit inside. Normally the crew tried to leave in a lineup of at least five transporters of varying caliber and purpose, plus a BaneWolf in case things got really bad. But shit hit the fan again, and a reserve crew with punished and rookies, a total of ten men plus a senior mentor, was thrown into action. Big Bertha couldn't be counted as either a rookie or an offender, but there were no other mentors at the base, so she took command of the rabble. Now it was up to her to figure out how to get things done without getting killed by the whole squad.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 17:20

Inside the vehicle was shaking and rattling. Bertha was making a mental note of what the companions were doing and guess what kind of trouble to expect. Everyone was busy. The "Holy Man" was kneeling in the corner, as usual, praying under a handwritten poster that said, "Fuck the Evil!!" The poster was pretty shabby, even though it was a sheet of sturdy, flexible plastic. No wonder, considering that the proclamation had already changed three armored cars.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 17:25

The "Priest", on the contrary, was not praying. He was busily checking the chemical sprayer, covered with parchment scrolls, like the annual letter to the Golden Throne of good behavior, with Ecclesiarchy stamps. The staff priest believed in general that prayer should be offered only after a good deed was completed, not before.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 17:27

"Crybaby" sobbed, fingering his dirty, oily face with his chubby palms. It happened to him regularly. The staff flamethrower was afraid of dying in sin, and even more of fire and acid. The "Sinner" indulged in his favorite pastime of embroidering another symbol on his red reflective vest despite the shaking. Bertha didn't share the belief that if you put nine hundred and ninety-nine sacred prayer lines on your gear, then the evil forces wouldn't notice your soul and there was a chance of getting into the three percent of survivors of docility. As a three-time novice already, Bertha could responsibly report that the honorable service of Purification was killing everyone without discerning the labels. On the other hand, the hobby of embroidery was harmless and godly and reliably occupied the mind, which was a good thing from all sides.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 17:33

The Savlar's nose turned up absentmindedly, revealing to the world the unhealed ulcer he'd got from his distant mines. The ex-convict, of course, had never been anywhere near the famous moons, but he told everyone that he had crawled out of the deepest dungeon. Everyone pretended to believe him. The "Savlar" was clearly trying to impress the new girl, but, frankly, not very well. She withdrew into herself, as usual, staring blankly through space, as if she were seeing something beyond the grasp of mere mortals. Well, or moved to the point of losing touch with reality.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 17:39

The lass was a headache for the tutors, and no one could say exactly why. Yes, a savage from some barbarian world had a poor command of normal speech. At first she couldn't even pray like a human and understood nothing of everyday life. The whole squad laughed good-naturedly, telling each other how the blonde tried for the first time to put on a hazmat suit and gas mask. And "Olla" - so the girl was listed in the accompanying documents - was a sullen loner, who and with no one was not a friend and not even a couple of words without an absolute need. On the other hand, what Olla did not know, she learned quickly. She prayed regularly, and being unsociable was not a vice. The 2Sinner", for example, never spoke to anyone at all, communicating only in gestures. He deemed it unworthy to desecrate the universe in which the Emperor resided by the sound of insignificant speech. As for equipment, the squadron learned how to properly handle government property quickly, usually no longer than a day.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 17:42

The armored truck jerked particularly hard so that the "Smoker" coughed and choked on the smoke of his vile pipe. Аnd the "Wretched Man" smacked his head first on the bracket and then, in the opposite direction, on the acid cylinder. Through the armor again came the shrill howl of the siren, with which "Driver" was clearing an already free path. Bertha sighed, gripping the handrail tighter. She turned her thoughts back to the new girl.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 18:06

Yeah, she didn't give me much cause for concern. The squad had seen far more colorful adepts. But still... There was something about her that wasn't right. Something alien and strange. Not threatening, strange. As if she'd descended from the highest floors of some steeple in a rich Hive, but her mind was still in her old life. This case should be Olla's first real, "combat" experience, and the mentor was very concerned about the acid reagent handler. More precisely, the girl's aloofness, her uncomplicated indifference to what was going on around her.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 18:34

The red light above the side sliding panel that replaced the usual transporter hatch lit up. That meant no more than a couple of minutes left.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 18:36

The mentor was distracted for a moment, and when she looked at her ward again, she found her staring at Bertha in turn, and quite consciously.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 18:37

"Deceived," said Olla unexpectedly, with a strong accent, but quite understandable.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 18:39

The car was wildly noisy, the soundproofing had become in disrepair long ago, but communication was through the radio and laryngophones, so everyone could hear the new girl.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 18:40

"What?" asked Berta, reflexively, almost like an ordinary person, not a Mentor.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 18:42

"He fooled me," the girl repeated, dull and expressionless, wrapping herself in the sizeless jumpsuit like a warm cloak. The rubberized fabric creaked and creased with difficulty. "Savlar" laughed vilely, snorting and dropping slime with a hole instead of his nose. He stopped, catching Bertha's very grim look.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 18:46

"It happens," the Priest said as smoothly and evenly as he did, crossing himself with an aquila. - Everyone is deceived by someone. Only the Emperor is perfect, was and will be, blessing the galaxy with himself and through himself.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 19:02

Olla looked at the priest with a wild look and then went back into herself as if to turn her pupils inward. But she clutched tightly to her gas mask bag. Bertha sighed, feeling the hot air filtered through her respirator. Some nuance seemed to have cleared up. Apparently, the girl really was a city girl, recruited "on trust." It was rare, but it happened, too. She is guessing the girl won't be in the squad for long.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 19:08

The Priest stood up, grasping securely the handrail that ran the full length of the compartment under the low ceiling. He yelled loudly:

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 19:09

"Come on, brothers, let's fuck the evil's ass!"

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 19:10

"Fuck the evil!!!" A chorus of ten gulps came back in more or less unison. Only Olla seemed to remain silent. Oh, and Crybaby, who was clutching the sprayer with both hands, so that the tears were already rolling down his face in generous streams. It got cold in the car, despite the midday heat and the running engine. Her mentor saw the frost gather in the corners in a whitish film, and shuddered to think what lay ahead of them. If the manifestation is so clear and strong, then the real trouble lies ahead. And BaneWolf, with his blessed acid cannon, the last argument for the worst-case scenario, is gone...

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 19:12

"Put on respirators!" commanded Bertha. "A closed cycle!

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 19:34

"A red light blinked, the transporter slowed down, jerked, turning around on the spot and backing up."

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:21

/Let's work.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:21

Olla got tangled up in the gas mask gear again, and the "Wretched Man" unexpectedly helped her untangle the corrugated hose, properly buckled the strap, grabbing the absorbent cylinder in the right pocket so it wouldn't fall out. The girl hesitated, pulling on the gas mask, but managed it. Behind the round glasses, her gaze finally lost its mad notes, became empty and unexpressive.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:24

Bertha sighed heavily again, trying to make it look imperceptible in her respirator. She thought that the blonde was finished, and soon. And whoever had recruited her into the Purification was a total asshole. The common man had no place among the novices of Adepto Purificatum, where hell was no farther than the exhaust of a chemical flamethrower, or even the mere thought of evil.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:27

Then the armored vehicle shuddered, swayed on its worn shock absorbers, and finally froze. The sliding panel slid aside, and there was no more time for idle reflection.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:28

* * *

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 19:34

Fidus did not like the family mansion. Hidden deep in the rock, the apartment complex was technically more of a fortified bunker. But it reproduced the ambience of an old mansion. It was gloomy, empty, and lonely to live here. Even the servants did not brighten up life, because many generations of Kryptmans were traditionally served by servitors.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:30

Fidus wandered through the dark enfilade of rooms, sadly and methodically drinking wine from the deep cellar. The wine was good, but it intoxicated him slow. It only made his melancholy worse, and his thoughts were too much. More than the young inquisitor, the worthless son of a great father, would have liked.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:34

/You deceived her.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:34

"No."

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:36

Fidus suddenly realized that he had said it aloud. He shouted, rather, trying to drown out the quiet but piercing whisper from the void.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:36

/You deceived her.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:36

"No," whispered Fidus. "There was nothing I could do."

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:37

/But you didn't even try," the voice didn't stop

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:38

Kryptman waved his hand as if trying to ward off a ghost. He dropped the bottle, which clattered on the thick carpet. It gurgled softly - the wine spilled in a thin stream, soaking into the fabric at once. The shadows seemed to thicken even more - some of the solar panels that powered the lights directly had failed after the recent storm. He should have sent a repair crew outside, but Fidus forgot.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:39

Kryptman sat down in the first chair he could find, wrapped his arms around his aching head. Repeated a third time, threw into the middle of nowhere in despair:

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:39

"No..."

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:40

/Yes, came back from the darkness.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:40

/Yes. You betrayed a person who wasn't afraid to go through hell to save you. Sacrificed her so as not to draw more attention to yourself.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:41

The straw-haired girl appeared to Fidus's inner eye as clearly as if the inquisitor were looking at a pict. She was short, thin, and had very beautiful eyes of a rare shade - transparent blue, like the sky at dawn. Beautiful and very expressive.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:42

"Yes, I betrayed her... " Fidus whispered as if confessing to himself in the semi-darkened crypt of the family bunker could fix or change anything.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:43

He wanted to get drunk, to forget, not to listen. But even in the hop, the inquisitor could not hide from the unspoken call of conscience. The synthetic air-conditioned air smelled of good wine, a little more of dust. And a heavy sadness.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:45

Kryptman sat silently for a long time, burying his fingers in a loose lock of hair. The pain returned with renewed vigor, despite medical assurances that the body had been restored to its former condition, including complete regeneration of the nerves. The red-hot needles methodically tormented the entire left side of his body, from his ankle to his neck. His fingers trembled in an uncontrollable tremor.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:47

Fidus threw back his head and blinked, feeling everything in his field of vision blur.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:47

"Yes, I betrayed her," he repeated. "Yes, it's true..."

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:48

He sat like that for a long time, dropping his hands limply, blinking frequently. The younger man's lips were moving rapidly and finely, as if Fidus were engaged in a silent and furious dialogue with someone unseen. Then Kryptman slapped himself painfully across the face, as if swiping away a painful stinging insect.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:49

She had kissed him then, on their last meeting, short and crumpled. Olga stood on tiptoe and pecked Kryptman's cheek. He was silent because he didn't know - what to talk about. Neither did she - the girl was very bad at gothic. But in her eyes Fidus read naive, trusting gratitude, and hope, and absolute trust. Faith in the man for whom she had risked so much, body and soul. In the one who had come between her and the demon, like a true hero who denied fear.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:53

Into someone who already knew there was nothing, he could do to help her. Doesn't want to help her, so as not to put his already miserable, unsuccessful career in jeopardy again.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.21 в 20:55