Mar 23, 2017

Meeting with the Leader Roman Zlotnikov, Alexey Makhrov

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Title: Meeting with the Leader
Author: , Alexey Makhrov
Year: 2017
Genre: Action Fiction, Historical Fiction, Science Fiction, Adventurers

About the book “Meeting with the Leader” Roman Zlotnikov, Alexey Makhrov

Roman Zlotnikov and Alexey Makhrov wrote the book “Meeting with the Leader.” The science fiction genre, beloved by many readers, always attracts people with its unpredictability. So this time, the authors “capture” the audience with an entertaining plot, impressive characters, an original world and a pleasant storytelling style.

As you already know, in all self-respecting science fiction books the plot takes place in the future, in space or in other dimensions. Intertwined here are time travel, technological innovation, and mind-boggling scientific research or development. As a result, everything that happens has a scientific explanation. This is exactly what Roman Zlotnikov and Alexey Makhrov write. Let's read!

Note that this is the third book in the series about the Leader. It is self-sufficient, so it can be read separately from the previous ones. Although it will be more interesting as a whole.

The main character Vitaly Dubinov finds himself in the times of Stalin. And he is not alone. But there are fewer and fewer people who want to get to the Leader at any cost. Not in the sense that they didn’t want to, they just didn’t live long enough...

And now, the main character is already very close to the goal. How many battles and fights have been won, just a little remains, the last throw. Not so! Fate the villain is not going to let go of her position. Vitaly is captured. Will he be able to get out and reach such an unattainable leader?

Roman Zlotnikov and Alexey Makhrov came up with a very interesting plot. Although the theme of the Leader of all nations and Beria in addition has long been hackneyed and written and rewritten. But the authors were able to add a lot of new and fresh things. For example, the fascists in this story are simply “kaput”! Funny and stupid, they always get into some kind of trouble due to the underdevelopment of their minds. But Comrade Stalin is distinguished by his politeness, courtesy, ardent love for his people, and does not even order anyone to be shot. Just a cutie! Moreover, guests from the future more than once offer him to shoot the entire top brass after the war. Apparently, so that the course of history would not change... Or maybe the miscreants actually came to see their comrade, only in 1941? And he, unlike his book counterpart, listened to them? There's a lot to think about. In general, the authors have a lot of imagination. Their “Meeting with the Leader” turned out to be rich, interesting, educational and a little philosophical.

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It would seem that there is very little left to reach the main goal. One more battle, one more breakthrough - and the doors of the Kremlin office will open before the heroic fighter in the Great Patriotic War... But fate again plays a cruel joke on Vitaly Dubinin - this time the obstacle is not another death, but something more terrible - German captivity.

And hand-to-hand combat techniques and the ability to shoot at sound will not help him there. You'll have to rely only on your own resourceful mind. Will the self-proclaimed battalion commissar be able to outmaneuver the refined Abwehr intelligence officers and break out of the fascist dungeons?

The work was published in 2017 by the publishing house AUTHOR. The book is part of the "Road to the Leader" series. On our website you can download the book “Meeting with the Leader” in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format or read online. The book's rating is 3 out of 5. Here, before reading, you can also turn to reviews from readers who are already familiar with the book and find out their opinion. In our partner's online store you can buy and read the book in paper version.

Roman Zlotnikov, Alexey Makhrov

Meeting with the Leader

Series “New Zlotnikov”

© Zlotnikov R.V., Makhrov A.M., 2017

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2017

* * *

“Tut-duh-thud, tut-duh-thudh”...

The wheels of the train are knocking, as if afraid of being late, at the junctions of the railway rails, bringing it closer to the destination of the journey with every second. Colonel of the tank forces of the Soviet Army Vladimir Petrovich Bat loved this rhythmic knocking, repeated every few seconds, to which it was so pleasant to fall asleep. To fall asleep first as a boy, when he and his parents went every summer for a month to distant relatives in the Crimea, then as a young junior lieutenant, a graduate of a tank school, heading to his place of future service. The points of permanent deployment and the number of stars on uniform changed, the equipment and personnel changed, the ministers of defense and general secretaries changed - and only this sound never changed. He was always - or at least seemed to be - something unshakable, unchanging. Something without which any railway is simply unthinkable, no matter where it is and no matter where it leads.

“Tut-duh-thud, tut-duh-thudh”...

Ten-year-old Volodka, sticking out the tip of his tongue with zeal, draws a tank on a piece of album paper. The father, having hidden an empty bottle of Zhigulevsky under the narrow compartment table, cheerfully bothers his son:

- What, Vovka, haven’t you changed your mind about becoming a tanker?

“I haven’t changed my mind...” he mutters, dissatisfied with being torn away from such an important activity. So the car shakes at the joints, making it difficult to correctly draw the muzzle brake of the most modern Soviet tank, and then dad is in the way. And by the way, the most difficult thing left for him was to draw an anti-aircraft machine gun on the turret! Bat Sr. laughs and, ruffling his son’s hair (Volodka shakes his curly head with displeasure - what kind of calf tenderness is this, he’s already quite big!), rustles the fresh newspaper he bought at the station...

“Tut-duh-thud, tut-duh-thudh”...

- Well, what, Batonych, at least? – The carriage trembles, the vodka in the faceted glass held out by a comrade, another yesterday’s graduate of a military school, trembles with light ripples. There's still more than a day of travel ahead, so you can relax for now. The main thing is that the police patrol periodically passing through the carriages does not find fault. But the guys seemed normal, when they walked by last time, they carefully pretended not to notice anything. They understand what’s what: comrades young officers, so to speak, the hope and support of our glorious tank forces, are going to their place of duty. Maybe tomorrow they will be sent to some Africa to fight the imperialist mercenaries, these are turbulent times.

“No... that’s enough for me...” Lieutenant Bath shakes his heavy head, collapsing onto the shelf of the reserved seat car with his back to the aisle. - Drink it yourself... so that the goose doesn’t fly off and the diesel doesn’t malfunction...

A dream, like a sea surf from distant childhood, rolls in as an unstoppable wave, in which the end of an incoherent phrase drowns...

“Tut-duh-thud, tut-duh-thudh”...

The compartment doors are open, the upper shelves are fastened to the partitions, increasing the free space. The table covered with a tablecloth is laden with simple appetizers and bottles of “Soviet champagne.” New Year, how could it be otherwise?! And the fact that we had to celebrate the holiday on the road would not surprise anyone present - we got used to everything over the years of service. And there were worse conditions, yes...

- Comrade officers, Happy New Year! Guys, may our country in the new year two thousand and ten...

Colonel Vladimir Petrovich Bath drinks silently and in one gulp, without waiting for the end of the toast. He already knows from somewhere, feels with all his being that this toast is the last one he raises together with his comrades. Not the extreme, as they say among them, but the last...

“Tut-duh-thud, tut-duh-thud.”

Again, as in the lieutenant’s youth, vodka splashes in the glass in time with the jerks of the carriage. Vodka that was produced and bottled at a Soviet distillery long before it was fucking born! Time travel, mother of them!..

Looking reproachfully at Ochkarik, who was sleeping on the next shelf, Batonych, grunting, drained half a glass in one gulp. No, I can understand my younger comrade - for the first time I went back in time, and today I had to fight quite hard. I'm tired, poor guy. First in the tank, when he was moving the toilets and shoving them into the breech, then when they clashed with German saboteurs. Those bitches almost broke his arm. True, he didn’t do much with them either; he sent at least two of them to the next world. That's why he passed out from one glass, the new guy. True, he apologized for this, rolling his drowsy eyes and hardly moving his naughty tongue: “I’m sorry, boss, I’m done...” And he fell asleep, turning his mighty back.

Grunting, Bat habitually replayed the events of the last 24 hours in his head. In principle, everything worked out more or less. It looks like this time he will get to the Leader. Unless, of course, the “laptezhniki” swoop in. But this is unlikely, since the hastily formed train was ordered to be transported exclusively at night. And they were allocated a “green corridor” all the way to Moscow, I heard out of the corner of my ear what the railway workers were talking about among themselves. They say that until dawn they will march at maximum speed, and in the morning they will already find themselves deep in the rear. And there is cover: for a couple of passenger cars and a platform with a tank - as many as three gondola cars with anti-aircraft gunners. Rapid-fire cannons and heavy machine guns. And in the morning, if he understood correctly, fighters from the special-purpose regiment would also cover them from above. The same thing that protects the Central Airfield on Khodynskoye Field. And they are armed not with some Donkeys, but with the latest - well, by local standards, of course - MiG-3. Comrade Stalin really wants them to reach him safe and sound at least this time...

Yeah, that’s exactly what “they” are! Vladimir Petrovich grimaced as if from a toothache, glared at the half-empty bottle, but did not drink any more. “They” means they and Ochkarik, both of them. Since Vitalya disappeared, it’s an infection! It’s incomprehensible how he managed to get so screwed up, but the Krauts captured him...

I don’t even want to remember what happened when it became clear...

Seryoga Nametov, the same OSNA lieutenant from the Poisk-10 special purpose group who found them, almost went crazy when he realized what had happened. And how he swore - you will listen! It’s as if he’s not a special forces soldier at all, but a real tanker. Since Batonych sincerely believed that in the long-standing dispute “who curses better” between sailors and “fuel oil” the tankers should definitely win. What problems do the Marimans actually have there? They cannot be compared with tankers. They would have tried to manually pull the downed caterpillar under the bullets, waterfowl... it’s not for nothing that they came up with that joke about the fairy and the tank, yeah! “Boys, do you want it for real?” But no one is laughing...

The Osnazovites nevertheless tried to catch up with the German saboteurs and recapture Dubinin. But either they simply didn’t have time, or they took a wrong turn somewhere, but they returned an hour later with nothing. However, Bath found out about this only later, at the station where the tank was towed, since the power of the Stalinets engine was enough to ensure a completely acceptable evacuation speed. No, how acceptable? A bicycle goes much faster, well, it’s a bicycle, and not a ten-ton tractor with thirty tons of dead armor on a trailer... “Impressed” by the pace of movement, Vladimir Petrovich wondered whether he should remove the second track and continue dragging the “forty-four” on road wheels? But I realized in time that the speed was unlikely to increase from this, but it would be much more hassle. While you unhook the goose, while you move off it and load it into the back of the truck (you also don’t know if it can withstand the total weight of two caterpillar tracks), you will waste a lot of time in vain. And so we drove, albeit slowly, but surely...

While loading the train waiting at the station onto the platform (had it been picked up in advance, perhaps?), we suffered even more. How else? Try to drive an ordinary tank onto a platform - even if there is a normal loading ramp, this is still a gamble. And when the car has completely lost mobility and can only be pushed or towed? “T-44” is not a “bateshka”; it won’t go on wheels, no matter how hard you try. In short, we fucked for almost two hours, exhausted both physically and mentally. Well, morally, it’s mostly Bat, who by the end of the loading was frankly losing his nerves and desperately wanted to shoot at least someone. Preferably a Fritz. And ideally, the bitch who broke their star. Impossible, of course: the overly accurate German gunner already got his due, having burned down along with the tank, so there’s no one to blame...

But everything comes to an end—the loading also ends. The T-44 was tightly lashed to the platform, laying logs between the road wheels, and covered, turning it into something completely unrecognizable not only from the air, but also from the ground. Even Batonych, who knew perfectly well what exactly was there, would not have immediately realized that it was a tank - the comrades of the security officers definitely did not spare the tarpaulin for camouflage, completely hiding the usual contours of the hull. Now the combat vehicle most closely resembled a stack of different-sized boxes stacked on a platform, covered with covers on top. Nametov, who was in time for the departure, immediately assessed the condition of the “comrade colonel” and then tried to stay away from his superiors. Especially after he reported that the missing battalion commissar could neither be found nor released. No, it is clear that their subordination is different, not to mention the fact that his group is completely carrying out the task of Beria himself, but the chances remained that Bat could shoot him in the heat of the moment from his wonderful machine-carbine. That’s why Nametov decided to keep his distance for now, waiting for Comrade Colonel to cool down...

It would seem that there is very little left to reach the main goal. One more battle, one more breakthrough - and the doors of the Kremlin office will open before the heroic fighter in the Great Patriotic War... But fate again plays a cruel joke on Vitaly Dubinin - this time the obstacle is not another death, but something more terrible - German captivity.

And hand-to-hand combat techniques and the ability to shoot at sound will not help him there. You'll have to rely only on your own resourceful mind. Will the self-proclaimed battalion commissar be able to outmaneuver the refined Abwehr intelligence officers and break out of the fascist dungeons?

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