Igor Dravin

Stranger 9. The masks are off

Prologue.

“Come in, master,” Master Iloy opened the door with a grin I didn’t understand. - Dear Crius wants to talk to you.

Wow! I entered a small room. Himself and here, and without protection. Strange, why did Crius leave his Central Castle to meet me? I sat down at the table opposite the youthful man. And he is well preserved for his age. More than six hundred years this reasonable, but looks at all forty with a penny.

“Help yourself, master,” Crius pointed to the wine and fruit. - I am satisfied with your work.

“Master Iloy, leave us. Mater, you are a good specialist, your fame is not exaggerated at all. I have a question for you. Who exactly helped you liquidate Divigor el Asko? You won't claim you did it alone, will you? It's not your style, sir. Or should I call you Dalv Joker or Vlad Lightning? Or maybe the Count of Artois?

- You can call me any of my names, respected Crius. There is only one remark, I am no longer a count. And I also have a question for you. Why are you here alone, where are your dark-hating bodyguards? Nork told me a lot before his death.

- Help yourself, Vlad, I'm not in a hurry, we will have time to discuss all the questions that I have for you, to settle all the misunderstandings that have arisen between us.

“One thing in particular.” I allowed myself a small smile. - As your former bodyguard, respected Criy, Nork, told me: if you are polite, if you invite a reasonable person to your table and treat you with wine and fruit, then soon someone will be sent to the altar. Somehow it always turns out that they are your interlocutor. Should I hope so?

Chapter 1.

So they came running, rotten jackals, I looked with a contemptuous grin at the local customs officers of the port of Chrys rising on deck. But it's unlikely that you'll break anything. The captain, who is also the owner of the ship, was specifically warned about the inadmissibility of any excesses with some not entirely legal cargo. Yes, and I checked the galley a little for hiding places during my walks around the vessel. My life is hard, nervous, and Cheita will soon, in about a week and a half, give birth. And if I skip this action, then Kert and my named daughter will not understand this. Do I need it? I want to meet within ten days and not an hour more. This time is enough for me. Should be enough.

“Open my travel chests,” I asked Rover and Rugin, who were assiduously pretending to be servants. “Let them see if they really need it.”

So, fuck you that break off. And one not quite empty cache, located in the bow of the galley, does not contain anything particularly criminal. So a little on trifles the captain stocked up in the Sultanate of Ayra. By the way, on my way back I need to visit Jaid and his dad, Sultan Rashid. To sit, drive tinctures with them, chat about life, and so on and so forth. And then after all, they can take offense at me for such inattention. And I especially want to talk to Sultan Rashid about some upcoming conflict between Eria and Dekara. Lots of confusion in this case. A lot, and the Calm one needs to be calmed to death and interrogated before that. I have never betrayed my subordinates to anyone. Even back on Earth, I was constantly plowing on the guys from the general department if there were difficulties and troubles. For me, there are only mine and others. And for my own, I will bite anyone's throat.

- Collect the things thrown out by these ignoramuses back into the chests.

In general, the port of Kreis is huge and almost completely packed with vessels. Nothing, it won't be long. I didn’t understand, I put my palm on the hilt of the broadsword.

- My dear, what are you now muttering in my direction? Are you tired of living? So I will descend to a commoner and challenge you to a duel. It's easy for us in the north. Oh, I misunderstood you, you didn't say that to me, but just figuratively expressed yourself in the air? Live and next time clearly voice your thoughts about the rich jerks. Clearly and so that no one heard it.

Idiot, I headed for the gangplank. Yes, there is generally a land of unafraid lumpen. And if I really were the aristocrat portrayed by me, then how else would I have reacted to some boorish statement of this laceroni addressed to me? Immediately cut off his head from his shoulder or order his servants to do it? So the vampires are all for it. Only I am against it. Time is what I miss so much. Why do I need the death of this idiot, crazy from the lack of full presence of bribes in his pockets? Amuse your arrogance, which is very often confused by reasonable people with honor? So I don’t have this second dignity either, and sitting behind bars for several days and giving the bureaucrats as a result even more money than this type expected to receive from me, so this option does not appeal to me. Let this beefy red-faced boar live as long as he lives, Arland is round, after all, we'll see you again, impudent boor! In general, not very comfortable costumes were sewn for me by master Paulin. They hardly fit on the yushman, the daggers fastened to the forearms cannot be quickly reached and in general ...

“Master,” the former thief, who met me on the Kreis, bowed before me. - The carriage is waiting for you.

Again, you need to move in such an uncomfortable vehicle, I climbed into the carriage. And what to do, the image requires sacrifice. How is Pushok doing in the far borderlands?

“Let’s go,” I slammed my fist on the official’s dream door.

He must be missing me as much as I miss him. And in general, I looked at Nirk sitting opposite me. Why doesn't the carriage have a siren and flashing lights on the roof? Should I move in this traffic flow as usual reasonable? I, practically a whole former count, and I’m driving like I don’t know who! So, calmly, the meeting with this customs boor had a strong effect on me. I'm out of the habit for last years to such disrespect on the part of the thieving plebs. In the north of Satum, everything is clear and clear: you are either a hunter, or a ranger, or a nobleman, or not, and all sorts of bureaucrats of vile origin suck their paws and keep silent… So, my memory was seriously stirred up, coupled with the current awareness of the surrounding reality, an easy exchange of courtesy with the local an official-customs-traffic cop born for sure in Russia by an organism. You can't do that, you need to calm down. There I did not have such rights as here, there any reasonable person for his arrogance, rudeness and extortion did not expect anyone worse than a lawyer, a killer or werewolves hung with all sorts of shoulder straps. But this is not the case here, and let the Creator so that this could last as long as possible. Here, every man can still defend his honor himself, if he believes that it is tarnished.

“Why are your eyes so darting, Nirk. If you want to ask me something, don't be shy. While I have time to play a guessing game, but then it may not be. Come on, don't be modest, we'll work together, and you're thinking like a girl before a wedding.

– Hunter, have you seen Mater?

Dear editor, I'm quietly oh…, uh, surprised. That's how to call me, the master with a capital "M". Is he implying that I'm an asshole?

- I saw how I’m watching you now, but why are you showing such interest? Do you want to get to know him?

“I dream,” Nirk smiled weakly. - The Beetle promised me that if I cope with this task, I can become a real group commander and take a personal blood oath to the Matru.

- Do you need it? The blood oath is a serious matter, you can’t get around it in any way.

Gotta do it, Hunter. I was a nobody until Zetr hired me for one thing, and then even offered to join his guild. I became completely happy.

- To the Guild of the Master, I misspoke. I was a nobody, and now I feel like I don't even know how to tell you. I am one of the Mater's team, who is respected throughout Arlanda. That even the grays are afraid of. You have no idea what this means to me.

- I represent.

“Yes, I misspoke again, Hunter, you must have sworn a blood oath to him. You know, there are a lot of rumors about Mater among the nightlights, a lot, but they do not reflect even the tenth degree of his capabilities. Did you hear how one marquis of Narin who was fond of hunting for meat was liquidated? He gave them weapons, armor and released them into the forest, and then killed the unfortunate ones, they did not have a single chance. So the Master personally decided to take part in this high-born bastard's fun. He…

Hmmm, I have never heard of such a version of Zetr's performance of one bastard. And basically it's okay. Everything that benefits my image cannot harm, I mean the image. I listened to Nirk pouring like a nightingale. Isn't he an overly enthusiastic organism? Maybe the Beetle made a mistake and such a guy should not be entrusted with serious matters? Fuck knows, I'm not used to chopping from the shoulder, first you need to figure it out.

“And then Mater stabbed him with a sword, cut off his head and disappeared,” Nirk finished describing my never-existing exploits.

“Funny,” I said. “Why are you telling me everything in such detail?” What if I'm not quite who you think I am? And if I...

Yours! I barely had time to intercept the stiletto. Why are we so nervous? Nirk's head accidentally hit the carriage door twice, and now the floor as well. One, two, three, that's enough.

- Guys, calm down, - I sent back to the street the vampires who were running next to the crew.

And why did they look into the carriage? Am I unable to deal with this on my own? This is already an insult to my increased intellect, I sprinkled wine on the face of my employee, who for some reason turned off, but he still does not quite know this.

“Why doesn’t the prof’s protective amulet work?” I asked. - You didn't get it?

- Master, I guessed it was you! ...

Stranger - 9

Prologue.

Come in, master, - Master Iloy opened the door with a grin I did not understand. - Dear Crius wants to talk to

You.
Wow! - I went into a small room. Himself and here, and without protection. It's strange, why do Kriy for the sake of meeting me

Left your Central lock? I sat down at the table opposite the youthful man. And he is well preserved for his age. More

This reasonable one is six hundred years old, but it looks like forty and a half.
- Help yourself, master, - Crius pointed to the wine and fruit. - I am satisfied with your work.
- Master Iloy, leave us. Mater, you are a good specialist, your fame is not exaggerated at all. I have a question for you. Who

It was you who helped eliminate Divigor el Asko? You won't claim you did it alone, will you? It's not your style

Mater. Or should I call you Dalv Joker or Vlad Lightning? Or maybe the Count of Artois?
- You can call me any of my names, dear Crius. There is only one remark, I am no longer a count. And I have

Also have a question for you. Why are you here alone, where are your dark-hating bodyguards? Nork before his death much to me

Told.
- Help yourself, Vlad, I'm not in a hurry, we will have time to discuss all the questions that I have for you, to settle everything that has appeared

There are misunderstandings between us.
"One thing in particular," I allowed myself a small smile. - As your former bodyguard, respected Kriy, Nork, told me:

If you are polite, if you invite a reasonable person to your table and treat you with wine and fruit, then soon someone will be sent to the altar. somehow

It always turns out that they are your interlocutor. Should I hope so?
Not until the end of our conversation. And then who knows...

So they came running, rotten jackals, I looked with a contemptuous grin at the local customs officers of the port rising onto the deck

Kreis. But it's unlikely that you'll break anything. The captain, who is also the owner of the ship, was specifically warned about the inadmissibility of any

Excesses with some not entirely legal cargo. Yes, and I checked the galley a little for hiding places during my walks around

Vessel. My life is hard, nervous, and Cheita will soon, in about a week and a half, give birth. And if I miss this action,

Then Kert and my named daughter will not understand this. Do I need it? I want to meet within ten days and not an hour more. this time to me

Enough. Should be enough.
“Open my traveling chests,” I asked Rover and Rugin, assiduously pretending to be servants. Let them see if

They need it so vitally.
So, fuck you that break off. And one not quite empty cache, located in the bow of the galley, does not contain anything

Especially criminal. So a little on trifles the captain stocked up in the Sultanate of Ayra. By the way, on the way back I need to visit

Jaid and his father, Sultan Rashid. To sit, drive tinctures with them, chat about life, and so on and so forth. And then

After all, they may take offense at me for such inattention.

Stranger. The masks are off Igor Dravin

(ratings: 1 , average: 5,00 out of 5)

Title: Outsider. The masks are off

About the book "The Outsider. The masks have been dropped” Igor Dravin

While Vlad saves the newborn prince, the heir of Dekara, from the dark ones, deals with the killers of Kenor and, finally, alone saves all the kings together from the gray ones, a completely different story is being played out in the county of Artois...

On our site about books, you can download the site for free without registration or read online book"Outsider. The masks have been dropped” by Igor Dravin in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and a real pleasure to read. Buy full version you can have our partner. Also, here you will find last news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginner writers there is a separate section with useful tips and recommendations, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at writing.

Quotes from the book "The Outsider. The masks have been dropped” Igor Dravin

Money and power should provide an acceptable level of comfort for existence, and not become an end in itself.

You didn't die on Earth, but you were close to it, but something saved you and brought you here.

And how did I prepare for this sortie of mine, why did I constantly mangle the Mears' Living Company training ground in winter? One version of the development of events was replaced by another, until I theoretically picked up my own scheme of actions and began to test it. How many changes have been made to it, how many hundreds of times I have performed this bundle! In short, in the winter in the Mears regiment I was very bored, but I almost died from idleness there! Fangs too. I made them pretend to be golems. In short, everything is like before my first combat exit into the trash. A lot of wasted time, a sea of ​​sweat, mountains of swearing and very little work.

“Come in, master,” Master Iloy opened the door with a grin I didn’t understand. - Dear Crius wants to talk to you.

Wow! I entered a small room. Himself and here, and without protection. Strange, why did Crius leave his Central Castle to meet me? I sat down at the table opposite the youthful man. And he is well preserved for his age. More than six hundred years this reasonable, but looks at all forty with a penny.

“Help yourself, master,” Crius pointed to the wine and fruit. - I am satisfied with your work.

“Master Iloy, leave us. Mater, you are a good specialist, your fame is not exaggerated at all. I have a question for you. Who exactly helped you liquidate Divigor el Asko? You won't claim you did it alone, will you? It's not your style, sir. Or should I call you Dalv Joker or Vlad Lightning? Or maybe the Count of Artois?

- You can call me any of my names, respected Crius. There is only one remark, I am no longer a count. And I also have a question for you. Why are you here alone, where are your dark-hating bodyguards? Nork told me a lot before his death.

- Help yourself, Vlad, I'm not in a hurry, we will have time to discuss all the questions that I have for you, to settle all the misunderstandings that have arisen between us.

“One thing in particular.” I allowed myself a small smile. - As your former bodyguard, respected Criy, Nork, told me: if you are polite, if you invite a reasonable person to your table and treat you with wine and fruit, then soon someone will be sent to the altar. Somehow it always turns out that they are your interlocutor. Should I hope so?

Chapter 1.

So they came running, rotten jackals, I looked with a contemptuous grin at the local customs officers of the port of Chrys rising on deck. But it's unlikely that you'll break anything. The captain, who is also the owner of the ship, was specifically warned about the inadmissibility of any excesses with some not entirely legal cargo. Yes, and I checked the galley a little for hiding places during my walks around the vessel. My life is hard, nervous, and Cheita will soon, in about a week and a half, give birth. And if I skip this action, then Kert and my named daughter will not understand this. Do I need it? I want to meet within ten days and not an hour more. This time is enough for me. Should be enough.

“Open my travel chests,” I asked Rover and Rugin, who were assiduously pretending to be servants. “Let them see if they really need it.”

So, fuck you that break off. And one not quite empty cache, located in the bow of the galley, does not contain anything particularly criminal. So a little on trifles the captain stocked up in the Sultanate of Ayra. By the way, on my way back I need to visit Jaid and his dad, Sultan Rashid. To sit, drive tinctures with them, chat about life, and so on and so forth. And then after all, they can take offense at me for such inattention. And I especially want to talk to Sultan Rashid about some upcoming conflict between Eria and Dekara. Lots of confusion in this case. A lot, and the Calm one needs to be calmed to death and interrogated before that. I have never betrayed my subordinates to anyone. Even back on Earth, I was constantly plowing on the guys from the general department if there were difficulties and troubles. For me, there are only mine and others. And for my own, I will bite anyone's throat.

- Collect the things thrown out by these ignoramuses back into the chests.

In general, the port of Kreis is huge and almost completely packed with vessels. Nothing, it won't be long. I didn’t understand, I put my palm on the hilt of the broadsword.

- My dear, what are you now muttering in my direction? Are you tired of living? So I will descend to a commoner and challenge you to a duel. It's easy for us in the north. Oh, I misunderstood you, you didn't say that to me, but just figuratively expressed yourself in the air? Live and next time clearly voice your thoughts about the rich jerks. Clearly and so that no one heard it.

Idiot, I headed for the gangplank. Yes, there is generally a land of unafraid lumpen. And if I really were the aristocrat portrayed by me, then how else would I have reacted to some boorish statement of this laceroni addressed to me? Immediately cut off his head from his shoulder or order his servants to do it? So the vampires are all for it. Only I am against it. Time is what I miss so much. Why do I need the death of this idiot, crazy from the lack of full presence of bribes in his pockets? Amuse your arrogance, which is very often confused by reasonable people with honor? So I don’t have this second dignity either, and sitting behind bars for several days and giving the bureaucrats as a result even more money than this type expected to receive from me, so this option does not appeal to me. Let this beefy red-faced boar live as long as he lives, Arland is round, after all, we'll see you again, impudent boor! In general, not very comfortable costumes were sewn for me by master Paulin. They hardly fit on the yushman, the daggers fastened to the forearms cannot be quickly reached and in general ...

“Master,” the former thief, who met me on the Kreis, bowed before me. - The carriage is waiting for you.

Again, you need to move in such an uncomfortable vehicle, I climbed into the carriage. And what to do, the image requires sacrifice. How is Pushok doing in the far borderlands?

“Let’s go,” I slammed my fist on the official’s dream door.

He must be missing me as much as I miss him. And in general, I looked at Nirk sitting opposite me. Why doesn't the carriage have a siren and flashing lights on the roof? Should I move in this traffic flow as usual reasonable? I, practically a whole former count, and I’m driving like I don’t know who! So, calmly, the meeting with this customs boor had a strong effect on me. In recent years, I have lost the habit of such disrespect on the part of the thieving plebs. In the north of Satum, everything is clear and clear: you are either a hunter, or a ranger, or a nobleman, or not, and all sorts of bureaucrats of vile origin suck their paws and keep silent… So, my memory was seriously stirred up, coupled with the current awareness of the surrounding reality, an easy exchange of courtesy with the local an official-customs-traffic cop born for sure in Russia by an organism. You can't do that, you need to calm down. There I did not have such rights as here, there any reasonable person for his arrogance, rudeness and extortion did not expect anyone worse than a lawyer, a killer or werewolves hung with all sorts of shoulder straps. But this is not the case here, and let the Creator so that this could last as long as possible. Here, every man can still defend his honor himself, if he believes that it is tarnished.

The story of the loss of the American satellite Zuma is as mysterious, that is, shrouded in darkness, as it is tragicomic. Mysterious, because for a long time after launch, no one from officials The United States, involved in the launch of the Falcon 9, did not dare to openly declare that "mission impossible." That is, it has not been implemented. Well, that's understandable. Since it concerns the US military, then omissions and even deathly silence are the norm: "in the interests of national security."

After all, it was not Roskosmos who lost a satellite, but the US government replenished its “submarine satellite constellation”. As we know, in the event of failures in the Russian space industry, the loudest part of the Russian public unanimously comes out with critical comments, uniting on the platform “against everyone and for all that is good.” It turns out that it’s not “against everyone” at all. In the case of the Falcon 9 accident, this specific crowd with critical comments is somehow sparse, or rather, muffled, as if nothing had happened at all. Yes, it is understandable, since the launch of the United States “for national security purposes” as part of the secret military mission of Zuma a priori justifies any behavior of the authorities of the “shining city on a hill”.

First, the US Strategic Command, whose ground-based assets track the movement of more than 23 thousand artificial objects in space, in the person of Captain Brook DeWalt, decided to formulate its position as follows: “We have nothing to add to the catalog of satellites at the moment.”

A little later, Reuters woke up and, citing two sources, sadly announced the loss of the satellite. In addition, it became known that the cost of the satellite, manufactured by the American military-industrial company Northrop Grumman, amounted to several billion dollars. The exact figure, no matter who calls it, will never be exact. But it is clear that a lot of money is drowned in the ocean.

Only after a while the publication of The Wall Street Journal took courage: the apparatus fell, and senators and congressmen were aware of the loss.

To all appearances, the American media were in no hurry to take advantage of their right to freedom of information. And the point here is not a spy satellite, not the disclosure of state or military secrets. And the fact that trolling Elon Musk and his Falcon 9 rocket means devaluing the old American slogan: “We are the greatest!” ("We are the greatest").

The most important thing is not to hurt Mr. Mask, who has been treated kindly by the authorities, special services and the “democratic public”. To hell with it, with the satellite, it’s important to teach history so that everything is OK. Here, SpaceX representative James Gleason did his best, saying that Falcon 9 formally completed its task. You can decipher it like this: it doesn’t matter that the mission failed, the main thing is - the carrier remained intact.

Somehow it turned out comically, and it was very reminiscent of the interlude of the Soviet theater, stage and film actor Arkady Raikin, in which his hero, a tailor's worker, rejecting the client's complaint about a poorly tailored suit, said: “We have a narrow specialization. One sews on the pocket, one on the crotch, I personally sew on the buttons. Any complaints about the buttons?

As it turned out, there are no complaints against Musk. But there's nothing to hide. Yes, and the fulfillment of the American dream will have to wait.

Since 1957, statistics have been kept on all space launches carried out by means of launch vehicles. In this statistics, there are two indicators for accidents - "Accident by launch" and "Accident by launch weight". The global average for them is 6.5% and 5.1%, respectively, of the total number of launches through 2017 inclusive. These numbers are considered (tacitly) the “accident rate” in the space community.

The results vary by country. For example, the United States has 8.4% of emergency launches, Russia - 5.4%, the European Space Agency - 6.6%, China - 5.2%. For newcomers to the industry, this figure is much higher: Japan - 10.3%, India - 16%, Israel - 22.2%.

SpaceX has carried out 46 launches of launch vehicles over the entire period of its existence, of which 10 were unsuccessful. The Zuma satellite that fell into the ocean worsened Elon Musk's accident rate to 21.74%.

Somehow a bit too much for a corporation that positions itself as a leader in the global space industry.