There was nothing to object.
– Look, the track is discharged, without a loot, – said Petrovich from behind. – I picked it up a long time ago. “Gnatyuk” was here, such a cutie. You see, although the trail is taken out, it's littered. And the working, evil track is always very clean, as if someone just passed by. Like on wet sand. But you did everything right, I have to praise you. Keep moving.
They went on down the track. Protective Mumbler in Vadim's head at the point behind the nose bridge, after awakening never shut up, spoke measuredly, mumbling, something like “You never left here, right? Did not demobilize and still live at the famous Range, right? As if you got into the “I am going to army again” dream, right? As if there weren't three years at home, Maika didn't exist, Katty wasn't born…”
– Stop! – Petrovich said sharply.
Vadim stood with a raised leg, then warily lowered it. He didn't turn back. Mumbler became silent. Both ears open, palms open. Ears and hands are required to be open up to the wrists in all weathers, under any circumstances. In winter the hat's ears must not be down! And no gloves or mittens.
– Vasya, fuck! Gnaw your butt! – said Petrovitch in a strange voice.
Here Vadim turned around cautiously – with his whole body.
Bashkalo, the rear-guard and the driver of the group, was looming ten meters behind as required. And Senior Ensign Petrovich, left his pole stuck in the wet steppe, in violation of all charters and unofficial spells, went to him, that means back. He went back, slowly raising his hands on the both sides of the cap. Going right up to the frozen Ensign, Petrovich dropped his hands so vigorously and spread them down there so vexatiously, and in an accent point-blank cursed the Ensign's mother, that Vadim realized: exactly It81, lying in wait for every third neophyte, has come to the first scouting mission of the private contract soldier, Sverzhin, Vadim Valentinovich, into the Zone. The exercise is finished, arms for inspection. Thanks for being alive. This, however, is unknown.
– Didn't get you, Nikolaich! – Hissing, just as with a fright, but also with a challenge, said Bashkalo.
Senior Ensign Petrovich walked around him, as if he was a Christmas tree, and asked in a hopeless-calm tone: