Крип / Kryp: Отряд_3.19

Part 4

Camrad_RIP 25.11.21 в 20:08

Sacred duty

Camrad_RIP 25.11.21 в 20:09

Chapter 19

Camrad_RIP 25.11.21 в 20:09

"Hey, get up."

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Olga crawled out of her half-slumber like an insect after a molt, that is, slowly, heavily, and sadly. Now she wanted to sleep all the time, chronic fatigue firmly entrenched in her muscles. The girl glanced apathetically at Savlar from under a blanket that looked like a fleece blanket that had thinned into a handkerchief. Many generations of purificators must have slept under it...

Camrad_RIP 25.11.21 в 20:11

"Get ready," he muttered. "They're calling for you."

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To be more convincing, the noseless man kicked the leg of the shelf where the girl lay down. Olga looked critically at the old coat of brutally murdered dermantin (1), then asked:

Camrad_RIP 25.11.21 в 20:24

"Look, aren't you tired of it?"

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"What?" Savlar was confused.

Camrad_RIP 25.11.21 в 20:26

"Well, that, making an experienced 'convict' of yourself? You're not a convict," Olga suggested honestly. She was already in a bad mood, and her new eye was weighing heavily on her orbit, her body did not want to get used to the new part.

Camrad_RIP 25.11.21 в 20:30

"I am!" He was about to cry out Savlarets, but under the calm indifferent gaze of the girl, he stifled.

Camrad_RIP 25.11.21 в 20:31

"I stomped out all the Moons," he muttered without much enthusiasm.

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"Come on," she smiled crookedly, without anger or criticism, maybe that slowed down Savlar, preventing him from exploding into another scandal.

Camrad_RIP 25.11.21 в 20:39

"I've seen prisoners. If they were in jail on a case, they had... ...bad things in their eyes. They're bad people. You're not."

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"Am I the good guy?" The noseless man asked in a puzzled manner, and all his patterns broke at once; even his speech changed, and the shrill tones of a hysteric with a soul in squares disappeared from it.

Camrad_RIP 25.11.21 в 20:40

"Yes. You're mean and scandalous. But you're good in your way. I guess so. And you know poetry. Real convicts don't read poetry, they have other things."

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The Savlar twitched his cheeks, his lips twitching like those of a hurt child about to cry.

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"But I won't tell anyone," Olga promised confidentially and quietly.

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The noseless man raised his fist and waved it in sad despair.

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"The hell with you!" he blurted out with unconcealed resentment. "And that's just the way you are!"

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"Yes," the girl agreed. "I'm a good one."

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The seasoned jailer only waved both hands, flapping his rust-colored sleeves, and jumped out like a klutz and cackled one last time:

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 12:26

"Third wagon! Now! They're waiting!"

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And almost ran down the corridor.

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Olga sat on the shelf for a while, like a schoolgirl with a toothbrush in front of the sink, realizing that the backpack and the school bell are inevitable. After the burning of Smoker, the girl was not only tired but was freezing all the time. The girl had just enough energy to work off the assigned workouts, ensure minimal functionality, and listen to the Priest's lessons (which had become very rare). In her free time, Olga preferred to wrap up in a blanket, pull on a sweater beforehand, and sleep. Well, or at least doze off. Waking life was too frightening, and in her sleep, the panic was gone, the permanently stuck expectation that now she would be dragged to the bonfire. But the nightmares came, in which the unhappy scout stretched his burnt arms with grown claws, trying to drag Olga into the awful warp. Often the Madman was nearby as well. The quiet madman died the same day as the burned Smoker, passed away quietly and unnoticed, from a heart attack.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 12:31

However, everyone had nightmares now, even the God-fearing Sinner, mute and demented for the sake of his emperor. A couple of times, too, Kryptman woke up screaming to save some Tanzin, after which Fidus looked at the girl confused and askew.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 12:34

Third wagon...

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 13:46

The girl finally slid off the shelf and staggered off to wash, dragging her legs, feeling her joints ache as if she had a fever. After a symbolic splash of cold water on her face, she changed into her work overalls and put on a pirate-like blindfold, made from a long handkerchief to cover her artificial eye. The prosthesis, though it formally produced an image, in practice hindered more than it helped. The combined image was poorly colored and blurred, and I could distinguish light and darkness with it, but at the very most I could orient myself in space. In addition, I quickly became dizzy with all the effects of spinning on the Ferris wheel. So, as the girl bitterly thought, she was still disabled in the end, only with an extra handicap that hurt and itched and left her with the ever-present feeling that her face was a quarter full of lead.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 13:47

As she pulled herself together, Olga staggered downstairs just as leisurely. The Wretched man was listening to the radio with music and hymns, and the others were draped in their closets, even Kryp. As she descended the stairs, Olga saw the tank, in which Driver was again rummaging, hanging his hat on the antenna. Some complicated operations with the machinery were supposed to be carried out strictly by 'cogs', but the old machine often needed minor repairs, and he always invented a technical activity for himself. The mechanic looked at the sprayer from under the tank helmet, hatched up to his eyebrows, nodded, and remained silent, returning to the interrupted activity. Olga pulled up higher the collar of her sweater, pulled on her fingerless mittens with flap pouches, then went into the small vestibule.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 13:56

For three days after the burning of Smoker, there was a severe snowstorm as if nature was angry at human injustice. But then the weather cleared, and now it was moderately sunny, for a change, as if in feeble compensation for the past. Servitor Luct was leisurely and measured. He did everything just so, without haste, thoroughly - he swept the parade ground. The zombie robot saw Olga off and remained silent, like Driver, though he usually greeted the girl.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 14:08

The world around was almost unchanged, only a little brighter and homeopathically cheerful under the yellow sun. The wind died down, and the temperature felt like five or six degrees, hardly more. Olga breathed a little fresh air, lifted her blindfold, and was saddened. The prosthetic eye worked even worse outdoors than indoors. The picture became completely blurred like a black and white watercolor in which a cup of water had been knocked over.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 14:11

Olga put on her blindfold, slouched down, shoved her hands in her pockets, and walked to the third wagon, dragging her feet so that her feet scraped against the concrete. The train - after several wagons had been unhooked and the locomotive had been driven away for maintenance - seemed very short and disproportionately tall. Like a strange toy. The girl paced without haste, wondering what had gone wrong. Why hadn't she asked Savlar where to go and why? Who had told her to go through the masquerading poet? And what would some psychologists say about it. She remembered the test to determine personal freedom and autonomy, the one where a non-smoker was offered a cigarette. Having realized that it was as if she had no will at all, Olga felt even more bitter. At a certain point, she began to feel that her legs were dragging her very heavily, with a loud scraping sound.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 14:19

The girl stopped and realized that it was not her making noise, but something approaching from the side, weighty and noisy. It was coming pretty fast. Olga looked around, just in case, and found no sign of panic. No one had sounded the alarm, no one was running with guns, so everything was going as it should. Still, what was buzzing like Godzilla? Just to be on the safe side, the shepherdess moved closer to the wagon, so she could duck behind the wheel, which was a meter and a half in diameter, just in case. Godzilla drew nearer, panting and making noise, until, at last, something large, grayish-black-and-white, of distinct geometric outline, flashed over the roof of the distant warehouse.

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"Wow," she exhaled, not surprised, though. She was used to the fact that 'here' regularly happens something amazing and unseen. For example, a walking machine the height of a five-story building. Why not, after all?

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 14:25

The machine was bipedal, like a hybrid of a chicken and a tortoise. Its mighty 'legs,' which seemed to have a lot of joints, carried a wide, flattened body like a hypertrophied body of a bodybuilder. A cockpit protruded from the hull, making it look like a lizard with its muzzle down before lunging at its prey. The powerful 'arms' had no fingers or anything like that, but rather manipulators to hold the gun barrels.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 14:31

The artificial beast seemed both slow and dangerous. There was a predatory fluidity to its movements, like that of the Tyrannosaurus from the Spielberg movie, where someone else was eaten right on the toilet. The car thundered with its iron shoes leaving deep indentations in the concrete with a fine network of cracks; jets of steam or some gas spurted from its joints; lights on its shoulders swirled like parking lights. Each part of the amazing mechanism sounded different, and together they created a bass-like melody, like a rhythmic breath. Above and behind the car, the air was shaking, probably the exhaust from the engines.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 14:33

The giant was walking quite purposefully toward the train, and for a moment Olga thought that the machine was about to step over the wagon... No, the legs were too short after all. Mecha-Godzilla, as if listening to her thoughts, crouched down a little, so Olga thought: now it will jump over! And again she was wrong - the machine was just changing course. The girl looked after the terrible monster, made sure that indeed, on the iron ass blowing heat bars of the giant radiators. It must be really hot in there...

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 14:36

Olga hunched over as if that could save joules of her heat. She wanted to run next to the walker, climb on it and warm herself against the warm, probably even hot metal. Olga sighed and went to the third wagon, where she had never been before.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 14:37

The third wagon was no different from the first, second, and others, the same two-and-a-half stories, the hinged ramp for machinery, the narrow slots of windows with flaps. Olga climbed the gangway with a thin railing and knocked on the door. Nothing happened. She knocked again, with the same result. When she brought her hand up a third time, curving her lips in displeasure, suddenly something clicked, and the door said:

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 17:08

"Come in."

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In surprise, Olga swayed and almost fell from a height of two meters.

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"Come in." With the same mechanical intonation repeated the hidden speaker.

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The girl shook her head and turned the lever with effort.

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The third wagon, judging by its decoration, was for maintenance. There were no vehicles and no fire-chemical supplies, but the instruments were piled up like archaeological layers, literally one on top of another, all different, and each as if it had been assembled by hand, from whatever was available, without a blueprint or template. It was so much like Jennifer Wackrufmann's workshop that Olga was not even surprised at first to find Jennifer herself.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 17:14

"Hello," said the 'cog'.

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"Hi," the girl replied, thinking about her own thing. "And who here is... Oh!"

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 17:16

For the first time in the three days since Blunt's execution, Olga felt alive. She was genuine - just like a close friend - pleased with the metal woman who did not consider herself a woman.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 17:21

"Hello!" Olga wanted to jump on Jennifer and hug her tightly out of sheer emotion (and the mechanicum were warm), but she held back. A needle of suspicious mistrust pricked her heart - the purificators seemed like decent people, too, until it turned out that they really had a habit of burning living people. Who knows what the 'cogs' will do?

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 17:25

"Praise to Omnissiah, we meet again," Wakrufmann indicated a ceremonial bow, and then the sine line on the screen that replaced the mechanicum's mouth folded into a smile. "I'm glad."

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 17:29

After the Priest's lessons, Olga already knew that Omnissiah, aka God-Machine, is one of the hypostases of the Emperor. He is worshipped by a caste of special technical priests who - and no one else - are allowed to work professionally with machinery more complex than a tractor. Wackruffmann was one of them.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.21 в 17:30