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Sergey Lukyanenko, Alexander Gromov

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book can be reproduced in any form and any means, including posting on the Internet and in corporate networks, for private and public use without written permission of copyright holder.

© Electronic version of the book prepared by LITRES (www.litres.ru)

In Alamey steppes, two years of year: just roast and very roast. In winter, when not "very", and "just", it is easier to breathe, and sometimes they reach these places rain clouds, there is no bitter by moisture while traveling through half a materric, occasionally rinses thunderstorms, real showers are noisy. Then on the armor, not time to evaporate, the streams of water run, streams are striking in the loopholes, and the crew is fun.

In summer much worse. What neither take armorvagon, after noon inside it the oven. In the BRAKONPAROSPARIZE booth, if under pairs, and worse.

And around, from embankment and to the horizon, only Maevo over the Zhukhli cereals, and sometimes Miragei is higher than the hot steppe, down the ruthless sun. Hang, tease. There is no water, no food, there is nothing at all, except for close death. But death exists only for living ...

There are lives. Even combatable.

From where on the outcome of the summer within the dry empty, a large gang took up - no one knew. Apparently, it was nomads from the extreme south, expelled from their edges drought and saw the railway. How else to understand that they, equestrian, armed with the most old guns, rushed to all Gurta for a commodity train, slowly dragging cars with ore concentrate? What is the wild sentence concentrate? And some - not otherwise like large mind - attacked the armored train, unfolding in Lava ...

The outcome was clear before the start of the case. For such an enemy and shoot something awkward - it's like to exterminate the guests of the shelter for weakness. And I had to.

The bullets of nomads were powerlessly clicked on the armor, having broken machine gunners of that calm anger, which happens on the exercises, "approximately to the combat atmosphere." The junction of the attackers only raised the shooters. What, unwashed, bicked wanted? Here is a robbery, get and lay down! ..

The driver laid his hand on the brake handle, thought and did not stop the armored train. First, there was no order. Secondly, nomads probably did not guessed to spoil the way or arrange a tag ahead. Thirdly, at the low velocity, armoredagon is almost not swing and the accuracy of the fire will not be reduced.

Fourth, to take some special actions in addition to shooting during the attack of savages - too much a lot of honor for them.

Finally, fifth, the stop meant the cessation of the flow of air entering the air ventios into the driver's booth. The air was hot, but his movement at least somehow cooled the sweaty tools naked on the belt of the driver and assistant, part-time - the Kurchaera. The armor carrier of the "threatening" always managed two - but not from the boring of the railway authorities, as on many roads of Alamey, but simply because in a close armored booth there was not enough space for the third member of the locomotive brigade. The railway was a narrow-chain, and "threatening" was a narrow-chain armored train - dwarf among his fellow.

Uzkocoley - times. Border guard - two. It is thousands of kilometers from the nearest border! He who is not familiar with the realities of the Center, simply turns his finger at the temple.

And in vain.

Stupid shedding machine guns moved, felt the goals, and the armored train stroked. Without a particular need to be a cannon of the cabinet. From the shells inserted to the protected composition with a working shift and the protection of the rifle shots were conveyed. The stern machine gun of the armored train conducted on the attacking flank fire.

Attack choked immediately. Along the canvas remained body of people and horses. Few of those guessing in time turned the horses. Stream shot. In a hot and without that noon, water in machine guns was not far from the boiling point ...

Do you see a lot through the viewing gap? And yet, withdrawing from her, muttered muttered:

- at least some guys entertainment ...

Armored train and following him, the composition continued to chat north.

Now from the commander's car should have a cutter - or appear personally. She called. He took off a wooden lever, with a lacquer, a tube.

- How are you, jumper? - heard a distressed carbon microphone a female voice.

"Without the norm," he replied. - There is no damage. And why do they have?

Sergey Lukyanenko, Alexander Gromov

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book can be reproduced in any form and any means, including posting on the Internet and in corporate networks, for private and public use without written permission of copyright holder.


In Alamey steppes, two years of year: just roast and very roast. In winter, when not "very", but "just", it is easier to breathe, and sometimes the rain clouds reach these places, there is no harness while traveling through half a materrics, the thunderstorms are scared, the real shines are noisy. Then on the armor, not time to evaporate, the streams of water run, streams are striking in the loopholes, and the crew is fun.

In summer much worse. What neither take armorvagon, after noon inside it the oven. In the BRAKONPAROSPARIZE booth, if under pairs, and worse.

And around, from embankment and to the horizon, only Maevo over the Zhukhli cereals, and sometimes Miragei is higher than the hot steppe, down the ruthless sun. Hang, tease. There is no water, no food, there is nothing at all, except for close death. But death exists only for living ...

There are lives. Even combatable.

From where on the outcome of the summer within the dry empty, a large gang took up - no one knew. Apparently, it was nomads from the extreme south, expelled from their edges drought and saw the railway. How else to understand that they, equestrian, armed with the most old guns, rushed to all Gurta for a commodity train, slowly dragging cars with ore concentrate? What is the wild sentence concentrate? And some - not otherwise, as from a big mind - attacked the armored train, turning to Lava ...

The outcome was clear before the start of the case. For such an enemy and shoot something awkward - it's like to exterminate the guests of the shelter for weakness. And I had to.

The bullets of nomads were powerlessly clicked on the armor, having broken machine gunners of that calm anger, which happens on the exercises, "approximately to the combat atmosphere." The junction of the attackers only raised the shooters. What, unwashed, bicked wanted? Here is a robbery, get and lay down! ..

The driver laid his hand on the brake handle, thought and did not stop the armored train. First, there was no order. Secondly, nomads probably did not guessed to spoil the way or arrange a tag ahead. Thirdly, at the low velocity, armoredagon is almost not swing and the accuracy of the fire will not be reduced.

Fourth, to take some special actions in addition to shooting during the attack of savages - too much a lot of honor for them.

Finally, fifth, the stop meant the cessation of the flow of air entering the air ventios into the driver's booth. The air was hot, but his movement at least somehow cooled the sweaty tools naked on the belt of the driver and assistant, part-time - the Kurchaera. The armor carrier of the "threatening" always managed two - but not from the boring of the railway authorities, as on many roads of Alamey, but simply because in a close armored booth there was not enough space for the third member of the locomotive brigade. The railway was a narrow-chain, and "threatening" was a narrow-chain armored train - dwarf among his fellow.

Uzkocoley - times. Border guard - two. It is thousands of kilometers from the nearest border! He who is not familiar with the realities of the Center, simply turns his finger at the temple.

And in vain.

Stupid shedding machine guns moved, felt the goals, and the armored train stroked. Without a particular need to be a cannon of the cabinet. From the shells inserted to the protected composition with a working shift and the protection of the rifle shots were conveyed. The stern machine gun of the armored train conducted on the attacking flank fire.

Attack choked immediately. Along the canvas remained body of people and horses. Few of those guessing in time turned the horses. Stream shot. In a hot and without that noon, water in machine guns was not far from the boiling point ...

Do you see a lot through the viewing gap? And yet, withdrawing from her, muttered muttered:

- at least some guys entertainment ...

Armored train and following him, the composition continued to chat north.

Now from the commander's car should have a cutter - or appear personally. She called. He took off a wooden lever, with a lacquer, a tube.

- How are you, jumper? - heard a distressed carbon microphone a female voice.

"Without the norm," he replied. - There is no damage. And why do they have?

She immediately hung up. On the left pulled the heat of the furnace - the Kochegar threw the coal.

The driver looked at the clock - good hours of earthwork. Before the radio session, twenty-five minutes remained. More than good. The cutter, of course, will report on the gang of nomads, and from Akhtybach today will arrive with an enhanced mouth for the protection of essential stations. In turn, the headquarters may wish to report some news.

Mc ... She herself chose this nickname. And it was called - and not without reason - a jumper. He was still like not called, if only she was near.

So it came out: he is a driver, she is a bunch and armored train commander. At first, the cutter had problems with the personal composition, which was imposed on the commanders in commanders, but a year was passed - and she walked around the crew so that it is better not necessary. Yes, he knew it before, what it happens: it's affectionate, like a kitty, then firm, like ... Mill.

Vesko, deafly knocked the wheels at the joints. The flight lasted. Another flight. And how many will there be before, before the cutter and jumper will leave this place of service?

Unknown.

But it was exactly known: it will ever happen.

Chapter 1. Dar of the Gods

On Wednesday, Max died. He always died on Wednesdays.

In about an hour he came to life and, as always, tried to remember himself: what was lost and what appeared new. As always, it was not possible to deal with this. The awareness will come later, then the balance of acquisitions and losses will be summed up.

It is best to die in a dream - and in a dream, reborn. As nothing else was - standing and go.

And only a few hours later, you will begin to understand: you are no longer the same. Not exactly what was before the next death, but a little different. Is it better, how worse is how to see. Just a little bit like a copy made from a copy. Many believe that it is not necessary to think about it at all: no matter how much it does not depend on you, they fall into the stream.

In an infinite stream of weekly deaths, revival and rebirths.

Death - the phenomenon is transient, that's the thing. Do not break the chain, do not jump out of the stream. Each has its own day, firmly established and unchanged. Fit marriage ads: "Blonde, slim, Miloid, Saturday." Or: "Middle Years, without material problems, fond of beekeeping, looking for an attractive woman with a calm character, Tuesday." Very convenient for spouses to die in one day.

But where, from where a thincot is sitting in my head: happens and real, final death? What is it: ordinary Son.I remembered because of the rare awkwardness, the deathbed nonsense or still the memory of something real?

Now not solve.

Who did not try to die forever! They cut the veins in the baths, swallowed the pain of barbiturates, hung, rushed under the transport and from the windows, exploded, they even fought even to destroy the body, and all in vain. Do not deceive nature. Anyway, because you will restrain from the ash as the last fool. And then you will die later in its own Day and B. its own Surrend the day. What is appointed to you and follow. The violent death is not considered any day. It happens to B. is yours The day - you will die on this day twice and, naturally, we will rise twice. Excessive trouble, and only.

He stepped out on the sides. Martha lay on the floor in an awkward posture - apparently, died suddenly, crossing the room. Feeling guilt, Max got up from the sofa, raised his wife and moved her where he had just risen himself. It seems that March did not hurt too much. And still carelessly from her side. Lying on the bed ... everyone is known: in is yours Do not go out into the street, do not take guests, do not cook food, do not do any things and try to lie all day, you will not be supposed to make trouble. Anyway, of course, then we will resurrect, but what is the joy to rise with a fracture or burn? Yes, and without ordinary bruises, it is quite possible to do. Deadly safety technique is known to everyone.

In the kitchen Max has brewed a strong tea. Burning, drank. Felt: Head is still empty, but little is filled with little. What is a separate question. All the same now do not understand. It's too early. Typical waste after resurrection. Some compare this condition with an alcoholic hangover, but it is in vain. No headache. The brain is simply deprived of content.

It will return - a little changed. A copy made from a copy that in turn is made with a copy ... and so on. One year - fifty two copies. This is nothing yet, but for three years a person becomes completely different. And in ten years? If you copy "Jocona", then make a copy from the copy and so five hundred twenty times - what happens? Well, if "girl with peaches", and then it may turn out and "black square".

Sergey Lukyanenko, Alexander Gromov

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book can be reproduced in any form and any means, including posting on the Internet and in corporate networks, for private and public use without written permission of copyright holder.


© Electronic version of the book prepared by LITRES (www.litres.ru)

In Alamey steppes, two years of year: just roast and very roast. In winter, when not "very", but "just", it is easier to breathe, and sometimes the rain clouds reach these places, there is no harness while traveling through half a materrics, the thunderstorms are scared, the real shines are noisy. Then on the armor, not time to evaporate, the streams of water run, streams are striking in the loopholes, and the crew is fun.

In summer much worse. What neither take armorvagon, after noon inside it the oven. In the BRAKONPAROSPARIZE booth, if under pairs, and worse.

And around, from embankment and to the horizon, only Maevo over the Zhukhli cereals, and sometimes Miragei is higher than the hot steppe, down the ruthless sun. Hang, tease. There is no water, no food, there is nothing at all, except for close death. But death exists only for living ...

There are lives. Even combatable.

From where on the outcome of the summer within the dry empty, a large gang took up - no one knew. Apparently, it was nomads from the extreme south, expelled from their edges drought and saw the railway. How else to understand that they, equestrian, armed with the most old guns, rushed to all Gurta for a commodity train, slowly dragging cars with ore concentrate? What is the wild sentence concentrate? And some - not otherwise, as from a big mind - attacked the armored train, turning to Lava ...

The outcome was clear before the start of the case. For such an enemy and shoot something awkward - it's like to exterminate the guests of the shelter for weakness. And I had to.

The bullets of nomads were powerlessly clicked on the armor, having broken machine gunners of that calm anger, which happens on the exercises, "approximately to the combat atmosphere." The junction of the attackers only raised the shooters. What, unwashed, bicked wanted? Here is a robbery, get and lay down! ..

The driver laid his hand on the brake handle, thought and did not stop the armored train. First, there was no order. Secondly, nomads probably did not guessed to spoil the way or arrange a tag ahead. Thirdly, at the low velocity, armoredagon is almost not swing and the accuracy of the fire will not be reduced.

Fourth, to take some special actions in addition to shooting during the attack of savages - too much a lot of honor for them.

Finally, fifth, the stop meant the cessation of the flow of air entering the air ventios into the driver's booth. The air was hot, but his movement at least somehow cooled the sweaty tools naked on the belt of the driver and assistant, part-time - the Kurchaera. The armor carrier of the "threatening" always managed two - but not from the boring of the railway authorities, as on many roads of Alamey, but simply because in a close armored booth there was not enough space for the third member of the locomotive brigade. The railway was a narrow-chain, and "threatening" was a narrow-chain armored train - dwarf among his fellow.

Uzkocoley - times. Border guard - two. It is thousands of kilometers from the nearest border! He who is not familiar with the realities of the Center, simply turns his finger at the temple.

And in vain.

Stupid shedding machine guns moved, felt the goals, and the armored train stroked. Without a particular need to be a cannon of the cabinet. From the shells inserted to the protected composition with a working shift and the protection of the rifle shots were conveyed. The stern machine gun of the armored train conducted on the attacking flank fire.

Sergey Lukyanenko, Alexander Gromov

In Alamey steppes, two years of year: just roast and very roast. In winter, when not "very", but "just", it is easier to breathe, and sometimes the rain clouds reach these places, there is no harness while traveling through half a materrics, the thunderstorms are scared, the real shines are noisy. Then on the armor, not time to evaporate, the streams of water run, streams are striking in the loopholes, and the crew is fun.

In summer much worse. What neither take armorvagon, after noon inside it the oven. In the BRAKONPAROSPARIZE booth, if under pairs, and worse.

And around, from embankment and to the horizon, only Maevo over the Zhukhli cereals, and sometimes Miragei is higher than the hot steppe, down the ruthless sun. Hang, tease. There is no water, no food, there is nothing at all, except for close death. But death exists only for living ...

There are lives. Even combatable.

From where on the outcome of the summer within the dry empty, a large gang took up - no one knew. Apparently, it was nomads from the extreme south, expelled from their edges drought and saw the railway. How else to understand that they, equestrian, armed with the most old guns, rushed to all Gurta for a commodity train, slowly dragging cars with ore concentrate? What is the wild sentence concentrate? And some - not otherwise, as from a big mind - attacked the armored train, turning to Lava ...

The outcome was clear before the start of the case. For such an enemy and shoot something awkward - it's like to exterminate the guests of the shelter for weakness. And I had to.

The bullets of nomads were powerlessly clicked on the armor, having broken machine gunners of that calm anger, which happens on the exercises, "approximately to the combat atmosphere." The junction of the attackers only raised the shooters. What, unwashed, bicked wanted? Here is a robbery, get and lay down! ..

The driver laid his hand on the brake handle, thought and did not stop the armored train. First, there was no order. Secondly, nomads probably did not guessed to spoil the way or arrange a tag ahead. Thirdly, at the low velocity, armoredagon is almost not swing and the accuracy of the fire will not be reduced.

Fourth, to take some special actions in addition to shooting during the attack of savages - too much a lot of honor for them.

Finally, fifth, the stop meant the cessation of the flow of air entering the air ventios into the driver's booth. The air was hot, but his movement at least somehow cooled the sweaty tools naked on the belt of the driver and assistant, part-time - the Kurchaera. The armor carrier of the "threatening" always managed two - but not from the boring of the railway authorities, as on many roads of Alamey, but simply because in a close armored booth there was not enough space for the third member of the locomotive brigade. The railway was a narrow-chain, and "threatening" was a narrow-chain armored train - dwarf among his fellow.

Uzkocoley - times. Border guard - two. It is thousands of kilometers from the nearest border! He who is not familiar with the realities of the Center, simply turns his finger at the temple.

And in vain.

Stupid shedding machine guns moved, felt the goals, and the armored train stroked. Without a particular need to be a cannon of the cabinet. From the shells inserted to the protected composition with a working shift and the protection of the rifle shots were conveyed. The stern machine gun of the armored train conducted on the attacking flank fire.

Attack choked immediately. Along the canvas remained body of people and horses. Few of those guessing in time turned the horses. Stream shot. In a hot and without that noon, water in machine guns was not far from the boiling point ...

Do you see a lot through the viewing gap? And yet, withdrawing from her, muttered muttered:

At least some guys entertainment ...

Armored train and following him, the composition continued to chat north.

Now from the commander's car should have a cutter - or appear personally. She called. He took off a wooden lever, with a lacquer, a tube.

How are you, jumper? - heard a distressed carbon microphone a female voice.

Within the norm, he answered. - There is no damage. And why do they have?

She immediately hung up. On the left pulled the heat of the furnace - the Kochegar threw the coal.

The driver looked at the clock - good hours of earthwork. Before the radio session, twenty-five minutes remained. More than good. The cutter, of course, will report on the gang of nomads, and from Akhtybach today will arrive with an enhanced mouth for the protection of essential stations. In turn, the headquarters may wish to report some news.

Mc ... She herself chose this nickname. And it was called - and not without reason - a jumper. He was still like not called, if only she was near.

So it came out: he is a driver, she is a bunch and armored train commander. At first, the cutter had problems with the personal composition, which was imposed on the commanders in commanders, but a year was passed - and she walked around the crew so that it is better not necessary. Yes, he knew it before, what it happens: it's affectionate, like a kitty, then firm, like ... Mill.

Vesko, deafly knocked the wheels at the joints. The flight lasted. Another flight. And how many will there be before, before the cutter and jumper will leave this place of service?

Unknown.

But it was exactly known: it will ever happen.

Chapter 1. Dar of the Gods

On Wednesday, Max died. He always died on Wednesdays.

In about an hour he came to life and, as always, tried to remember himself: what was lost and what appeared new. As always, it was not possible to deal with this. The awareness will come later, then the balance of acquisitions and losses will be summed up.

It is best to die in a dream - and in a dream, reborn. As nothing else was - standing and go.

And only a few hours later, you will begin to understand: you are no longer the same. Not exactly what was before the next death, but a little different. Is it better, how worse is how to see. Just a little bit like a copy made from a copy. Many believe that it is not necessary to think about it at all: no matter how much it does not depend on you, they fall into the stream.

In an infinite stream of weekly deaths, revival and rebirths.

Death - the phenomenon is transient, that's the thing. Do not break the chain, do not jump out of the stream. Each has its own day, firmly established and unchanged. Fit marriage ads: "Blonde, slim, Miloid, Saturday." Or: "Middle Years, without material problems, fond of beekeeping, looking for an attractive woman with a calm character, Tuesday." Very convenient for spouses to die in one day.

But where, from where a thincot is sitting in my head: happens and real, final death? What is this: an ordinary dream, remembered because of a rare awkwardness, deathless nonsense or still the memory of something real?

Now not solve.

Who did not try to die forever! They cut the veins in the baths, swallowed the pain of barbiturates, hung, rushed under the transport and from the windows, exploded, they even fought even to destroy the body, and all in vain. Do not deceive nature. Anyway, because you will restrain from the ash as the last fool. And then you will die later in its own Day and B. its own Surrend the day. What is appointed to you and follow. The violent death is not considered any day. It happens to B. is yours The day - you will die on this day twice and, naturally, we will rise twice. Excessive trouble, and only.

He stepped out on the sides. Martha lay on the floor in an awkward posture - apparently, died suddenly, crossing the room. Feeling guilt, Max got up from the sofa, raised his wife and moved her where he had just risen himself. It seems that March did not hurt too much. And still carelessly from her side. Lying on the bed ... everyone is known: in is yours Do not go out into the street, do not take guests, do not cook food, do not do any things and try to lie all day, you will not be supposed to make trouble. Anyway, of course, then we will resurrect, but what is the joy to rise with a fracture or burn? Yes, and without ordinary bruises, it is quite possible to do. Deadly safety technique is known to everyone.

In the kitchen Max has brewed a strong tea. Burning, drank. Felt: Head is still empty, but little is filled with little. What is a separate question. All the same now do not understand. It's too early. Typical waste after resurrection. Some compare this condition with an alcoholic hangover, but it is in vain. No headache. The brain is simply deprived of content.

It will return - a little changed. A copy made from a copy that in turn is made with a copy ... and so on. One year - fifty two copies. This is nothing yet, but for three years a person becomes completely different. And in ten years? If you copy "Jocona", then make a copy from the copy and so five hundred twenty times - what happens? Well, if "girl with peaches", and then it may turn out and "black square".