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route and it would save a lot of time and resources. This was not quite true, of course.
All this time, Gora had ample justification for extending the second and even third underground routes as well. It was true that transportation along them was a bit longer and more inconvenient than along the surface routes, but thanks to the latest construction work to expand and optimize the routes, the prefect was able to organize a coherent system of communication between sectors and, most importantly, to fully control the timing of this communication according to the chart of the routes: the travel time from one mine to another was not only prescribed on paper, but also exactly fulfilled.
— Let's take a walk. — said Gora and left the office.
The people around him tried to hardly look at him as he passed by. They tried to be more on the case, doing good. Some might think it was out of respect for his authority, some might think it was because of the tangible benefits and good that Hora brought to everyone, but in reality it was all about fear. People now feared him more than they feared the plagues, not knowing what to expect next. From the plagues they always knew what could be and in what case — the only difference could only be the degree of punishment for provinces. But they had not seen logic in the prefect's behavior for a long time.
He could punish for something that was not done on time, or he could forgive for a gross mistake, and publicly. It was an approach to management that no one could fit in their head. And that was the Gora's intention. After all, in his logic, the reaction to something followed not only on the basis of the deed, but also on the basis of the personalities of the actors, as well as the situation. And the main thing in making the final decision of each individual case lay not in the plane of justice or some rules, but in the area of how his decision would affect the state of others.
Gora knew very well that he was controlling people, not machines. That something verified in the rules does not always work in the human mind. The logic of the mind in reality adjusts to reality, but it is always worth understanding the vector of this reality. And, only by following this vector, it is possible to manage people effectively. Efficiency — this is what all the prefect's efforts in management were subordinated to.
They had reached the starting point of the second underground path from the Diza sector. A large tunnel now with two tracks. There were cradles on the sides of the tunnel, which could be closed with a steel plate. Two men from Tikhomirov's security unit were on duty at the very entrance. The tunnel was heading toward the Krito sector, and the travel time was now an hour and a half, instead of the three and a half hours it had taken before. Somewhere along the way was the same "plague cave" in which Raphael had once died. His body still lay buried there, and Hora had not yet dared to go there in person again. Yet then, something in him had twisted or broken. When he saw his dead son. When he had no family left. Though… Maybe he'd still have a grandchild… The thought made him try to stir something alive in his chest, but no more. There's no life there anymore — there's only combinations and decisions.
— Mr. Prefect," came from behind. Tikhomirov. With a letter of some kind. It would have been an interesting life if letters meant so much. You used to get something, usually from the Maquis, and sit there sad, but now you get one and seriously change your future plans.
The letter was from a chiwi:
"Get up to the surface and take the job."
***
The elevator was working better now, too. In fact, it was no longer just an elevator, but a full-fledged freight elevator whose speed had been increased several times. There were several people who operated it alternately. Each man had an F-1 grenade. In such a confined space, in case of an explosion, there could be no survivors. And the setting was one — to blow up with whomever the prefect ordered, and when he ordered. That's what it sounded like to those who had to carry it out. Although in Gora's mind the phrase sounded with the ending "if ordered".
Gora had only been to the surface once as a prefect. He didn't want to look out over the wide expanse of land and realize that somewhere in the distance his daughter-in-law and grandson, who might soon be born, must be alive or dead. And his home was underground after all.
— Oh. What people…" Cobra announced. Beside him stood the same heavily armed fighters as last time. Apparently, the others were covering the perimeter without fear of what might happen inside it. The men of the Mountain, not so heavily armed, were looking at the Hiwi with a little interest, perhaps trying on their image, and at the surroundings, trying to see where the others might be hiding. Though in such darkness and lack of lighting, it was unlikely that anyone could be seen.
— That was fast. — The Mountain nodded his head. — How many were there?
— 238. And the seven ran away. — smiled Cobra. — That's a good haul all at once… They were preparing an ambush, apparently, for chums who wanted to fix the road. Well, we weren't gonna fix the road. We don't need it… That's why we saw through the ambush in no time… They are weak, of course. They're used to doing everything by the book, but when it comes to business, they don't know what's what… Well, are you satisfied?
— Quite pleased. — The prefect looked around, at the mangled railroad platform with the roof
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