Аннотация: Mikhail and Tael are repairing Igor's bike to the songs of the children from the garage. Departure of Azat and Ali. A conversation between Mr. Jo and his grandfather. Zhou's quarrel with Harper.
Mikhail Shepard (mid-July 2366)
"No, what are you doing? How do you play? Have you forgotten how to do that?! It still worked! Well, are you all tired or something? My son's voice comes from my garage. Before that, the fervent rhythms of the music that the children were rehearsing were flying from there.
"Igor, don't shout, everything seems to be working out fine," Denis's voice is heard.
"Is it okay?! This is a cat show, not music! So, let's get together and play!"
Music is heard from the garage again. I'm sitting with a universal tester connected to the instrumentation, and I'm checking the mass core from my son's bike. Recently, Igor has been complaining about unstable work and failures in acceleration. I had to disassemble it, remove the mass unit and check it.
"Are you busy, Misha?" I turn around and make eye contact with Tael. He is wearing a light-colored shirt, black trousers made of synthetic silk, patent-leather shoes, and a wide-brimmed hat. Glowing eyes are visible behind dark glasses. Yes, I remember what a shock Igor had when the Quarian came to visit us for the first time in this form - in March last year. He walked around him in circles with his mouth open and finally asked.
"Master Rigar, what about the suit and your weak immune system?"
He laughed and replied:
"Igor, I have spent fifteen years adapting my body to the conditions of Mendoir. Ask your father how much money I spent on it. The remaining biological group on the planet was tormented by orders for research and special preparations, even bought decommissioned virtin in order to adapt faster. And here is the result!"
The Quarian turned around, spreading his arms wide.
"Now I can live here without a spacesuit... but only here. On other planets, you'll have to wear a space suit, as usual. These clever admirals insisted that it takes at least a hundred years - here they are, their "hundred years"! The most important thing is that I have compiled an adaptation program for my fellow tribesmen, and very soon, in the summer, the first batch of my friends will arrive at Mendoir. I hope that in the morning I will finally give a nose to these College bosses who told me that I was a dreamer and a searchlight. Oh, and I'll admire their sour faces when in a year more than a thousand Quarians will be able to live here without spacesuits! And I'm really happy about it!
"Yeah," I replied. "I can imagine how pleased the corporation is to have a bunch of high-class specialists working for you like this, without investing a single cent. Well done, I take off my hat!"
"You're wrong about that, Mishka - they paid for everything!"
"Holy shit, but... did you pay for everything?.."
"Yeah. We paid all the expenses for fifteen years and helped optimize the adaptation program, so now it will take not a year and a half, but only a few months!"
"Hehe, Aegih... and your relatives will be here soon?"
"The first batch will arrive in two months, the rest - within six months."
"How many will there be?"
"Not much, only about one and a half thousand."
"Hmm, it seems to be a little... But I've never seen so many of yours at once."
"Ha! You'll see!"
After he got out of the skaf, my boss, as they say, got to the sweet spot... Although, given the fact that, because of the spacesuit, he had been having a bad time with the female sex for many years ... that is, rather, in no way at all, he can be understood. And even unmarried gossips just fell for the handsome Aegih. For six months he roamed all over the colony, gaining fame as a philanderer, greedy for women, and probably tried all the unmarried girls... although, rather, they all tried him, hehe... Then, however, he settled down, and for several months now he has been having a stormy affair with the head of the governor's press service: with flowers, sweets, trips to the restaurant and naked. The lady there is just a sight to behold: 90?60?90 and an IQ of at least 140 with an amazingly beautiful face. Where did our Belov find such a miracle and how did he lure this beautiful woman with the melodious name Helen Horten here?
Aegich plops down in a garden chair next to me and looks at my work.
"Can I help you?" Help me, my friend, I go to the garage, take him a second tester, and we, with four hands and two heads, start looking for a malfunction. Meanwhile, everything in the garage goes quiet again and Igor's loud voice is heard again:
"That's it, we're done for today, otherwise I'll just snap now, and it will hurt you, and I'll be ashamed..."
"Come on, Snake, what are you freaking out about?" Ali answers. "Here, have some orange juice, calm down...."
"You've probably learned everything by now? Please tell me, Ali, that your text is ready for execution!"
"Well, not exactly, but almost...."
"And where did you find these songs? I've never heard anything like it before! Come on, snake, where are the firewood from?" Alexey's voice is heard.
"From the extranet, vestimo! These songs are three hundred years old or more, so copyright law no longer applies to them. If anything, we can even shoot a video if someone suddenly likes it."
"Do you want fame?" Bina asks.
"Nope. Well, you never know, I don't even sing almost anywhere, so the guys will get all the glory."
"Igor, sing something!" asks Azanti.
"What do you want, madam?" Igor has calmed down and is joking.
"Anyway, I want to listen to you."
"Well, I don't even know... I'm not doing well yet. The voice hasn't broken yet."
"You're doing fine! Come on, sing something emotional, Snake," Azat supports.
"Well, uh..."
The voices of all the children can be heard, vying to persuade Igor.
"Hey, hey, that's enough! I'll sing, of course! Disha, give me the guitar."
"What are you going to sing?" Ali asked.
"This is a romance from the time of the terrible tragedy of my people. During the civil War of the 20th century, Russians split into two camps, red and white, and for five years they ruthlessly killed each other in search of the truth. Meanwhile, the "good neighbors" and "allies", taking advantage of the lack of power, robbed my country and people."
"Sing already, historian!" Denis asks.
A sad melody sounded in the strumming of the strings and a song began to flow in a quiet boyish voice:
Не надо грустить, господа офицеры,
Что мы потеряли - уже не вернуть...
Пусть нету отечества, нету уж веры,
И кровью отмечен нелёгкий наш путь.
Пусть нету отечества, нету уж веры,
И кровью отмечен нелёгкий наш путь.
Пусть мы неприятелем к Дону прижаты
За нами осталась полоска земли...
Пылают станицы, посёлки и хаты,
А что же ещё там поджечь не смогли?
Пылают станицы, посёлки и хаты,
А что же ещё там поджечь не смогли?
"How did he know her? I've never heard of it. She's so amazing..." Aegikh is sitting next to him, propping his cheek on his hand, staring sadly into space. And I am surprised to realize how much this song resonates with the tragedy of his people.... And his son's voice continues to lead to guitar overdubbing:
По нашим следам смерть над степью несётся,
Спасибо, друзья, что я здесь не один.
Погибнуть и мне в этой схватке придётся
Ведь я тоже русский, и я - дворянин.
Погибнуть и мне в этой схватке придётся
Ведь я тоже русский, и я - дворянин.
Пусть нас обдувает степными ветрами,
Никто не узнает, где мы полегли.
А чтобы Россия всегда была с нами,
Возьмите по горсточке русской земли.
А чтобы Россия всегда была с нами,
Возьмите по горсточке русской земли.
I see my mother standing thoughtfully, clutching a ripper in her hands - she just stands in the front garden and listens, looking up at the sky. It's a pity my father flew to Earth - he's a big fan of the author's songs, especially old romances. I've never heard that from him, though. I notice that, apparently mechanically, I turned on the recording on the omny-tool. When my father arrives, I'll let him listen to his grandson sing. I'm just afraid that the old admiral will be the first big fan of his performance.... There's a sound coming from the garage:
Не надо грустить, господа офицеры,
Что мы потеряли - уже не вернуть...
Пусть нету отечества, нету уж веры,
И кровью отмечен нелёгкий наш путь...
Пусть нету отечества, нету уж веры,
И кровью отмечен нелёгкий наш путь...
The music has stopped, and for a while there is silence in the garage.
"Yeah, it couldn't be more sincere," says Azat. "It takes you right by the soul... why such longing, Igor?"
"I don't know, Azi... I have some bad premonitions, anxiety in my soul."
"But I also have something like that - as if something is interfering, like a pebble in a boot," says Ali.
"When did you learn to play and sing it?" Nasar asks.
"It's still winter. I don't even know why I didn't sing to you. And I prefer to play the flute."
"How sad... was it really that bad back then? Such songs are born only when it's really, really hard," Bina said.
"The consequences of this tragedy, Bina, are still alive. The whole twentieth century was a very difficult ordeal for Russians. Three major wars that claimed about forty million lives. Twice, half of my country lay in ruins. And anyway, my people rose from the ashes, rebuilt what was destroyed, was the first to go into space, became one of the locomotives of our civilization, and, as a result, it was the USSR that was behind the creation of the Alliance of Systems."
"Listen, can we put this romance in the program? Let Igor sing too! And we'll play along as best we can," Alexey asked.
There was a heated discussion about this in the garage. In the end, Igor put an end to the discussion, saying that they would only rehearse the romance when they finished with the rest of the songs. And she will perform it only if the audience asks her to sing something else. It seems that during this short break, the children were able to regain their strength and decided to continue - music started playing from the garage again.
"Misha, I think I found it," says Aegikh. "Look, I found a glitch in the stabilization module. Get it out, let's check it more carefully."
I unscrew the bolts and remove the module - the contact panel is covered with a thick layer of oxides.
"Get off your head! The waterproofing was cracked... how could he fly at all?!" I'm asking myself a rhetorical question. "And how to isolate it now? You will have to wait a couple of months for such a gasket! Igor will get me drunk..."
"Well, you're an "engineer" - turn on your head!" says Aegikh.
"Do you suggest using a sealant?"
"You're a genius, even if you're a little slow, but you don't get it until you push it. Hehe."
"Well, I don't have that much experience in patching and repairing equipment that is falling apart from old age! I don't understand at all - how do you manage to keep your fleet in working order?"
"As you say, Mishan, if you want to live, you won't get so excited yet! We just don't have a choice."
"What have you heard from the fleet?"
"The Conclave is in a state that can be described in one word! Should I say which one?"
"Let me guess... they fucked up, right?"
"Ha ha ha ha! Well... approximately. They are stunned by the news from us. Everyone who came here has already adapted and signed up for the fleet. I have been inundated with letters asking me to intercede with the corporation - there are already about one and a half million applications for settlement!"
"What about the bosses?!"
"Uh-oh! There's such a mess brewing... but I think they'll agree to take a hundred thousand. You know the politics- settlers are just for jobs. They even want to put a new plant under this case, and you won't believe it - Belov said that the issue of building a shipyard is being considered...."
"Shipyards! The shipyard is very serious... although with your fellow tribesmen it can become a super-profitable business! Well, everyone else will not be left out. You know, buddy, the world is based on people like you. If it weren't for you, your Quarians would still be in the navy, dreaming of returning to Rannoch. Although I think it would be good for you and the Geth to make peace. Agree?"
"I agree, Mishka.... But you better convince our admirals of that, especially hawks like Rael'zora. If you convince them, maybe we'll make up. Although they didn't quarrel with us. It was us who distinguished ourselves, no matter how sad it is to realize this...."
I'm putting the bike back together, and Aegich is sitting in an armchair listening to music coming from the garage. There's a dreamy smile on his lips-he's probably thinking about Helen again....
Igor (end of July 2366)
It's time for my Turian friends to leave. They fly to Palaven, to the training regiments. Azat has his last year left, and his service awaits him. As he said, in deep intelligence, but somewhere the hierarchs know. With a smile, I reminded him of an old Russian proverb that our business is to fight and die, but somewhere the tsar knows. We'll be there wherever we're ordered. Azat laughed, hugged me, I snuggled up to an old friend and realized with terrible clarity that I would not see him for a very long time ... for a long, long time!
"Azi, I have a feeling that you and I are saying goodbye for a very long time - maybe forever."
"Drop it, Snake! Next year, before I'm sent to the active units, I'm supposed to take a three-month vacation, and Azat promised me that he would spend it here with us."
Basma came up and snuggled up to Azat.
"I'll come too, Igor, we'll play at the competition again and still take the main prize, okay?"
"It's a deal," I whisper back.
Strong arms wrap around my shoulders. The right one is covered with a complex pattern of tattoos - even on the carapaces of the keratinized forearm skin, everything is patterned. The deep voice of our best soloist asks softly:
"Are you a snake? Just like a little boy, he was all scared!"
"Don't pay any attention, Ali. It's just that I'm in a bad mood, and all sorts of stupid thoughts are coming into my head, and I'm dumping them on you."
My friend turns me around to face him, and I look straight into his green, malicious eyes. He hugs me tightly. Everything starts to swim before my eyes. I'm just not able to deal with the foreboding.... Pictures of an adult friend together with some green-eyed girl, a Turian, flash before my eyes. Anxiety flares up in Ali's emotions. Looking at me, he asks once more:
"Is everything okay, Igor?" I just shake my head in response.
"We have to go, Ali," Azat's voice is heard from the ramp.
My friend leaves, but at the bottom of the stairs he looks back, we meet eyes - and all my anxiety seems to be transmitted to him. His gaze flashes green, and he turns and disappears aboard the shuttle.
We're flying home on our flyer. Denis is driving, Leshka is next to him, I'm with Nasar, Lina and the girls, with Cassia in the back seat. Aunt Kasia hugs me and asks softly:
"What's the matter, Igor? You weren't yourself at the spaceport, did something happen?"
"Aunt Kasia, I've been having bad feelings for a week now. And the further you go, the stronger. Sometimes it's just unbearable!"
"And the dreams? Did you have a new dream?"
"No. Only my terrible dream where I can't find you all - I dream about it again almost every night, and I hardly sleep."
"You know, I've been having some kind of concern for a long time - we've been well trained in using intuition in the training regiment. Although we girls were trained more as technicians and engineers with doctors, the basics of survival were firmly hammered into us. And you know, intuition just screams to me that danger is coming!
"Aunt Kasia, what have you heard from Grandpa?"
"Arthur writes that he brought up all his contacts in the intelligence and counterintelligence of the Alliance, connected Steve. But there's something strange there-it feels like half the corporations in known space are ganging up on us. Even the Salarians are involved, not to mention the Asari corporations from Illium and the Batarians."
"Has Cerberus surfaced?"
"But what about without him! After all, our existence is a direct challenge to their doctrine of racial superiority. Exo-Genie is heavily involved, and they are the offspring of Cerberus. Someone hired half of the famous pirate clans of Terminus and took them somewhere. And that's a few thousand scumbags."
"And what should I do?! It turns out that they are already preparing a strike!"
"Let them come - we have something to meet them with, Igor."
"Your grandfather did a good job with the population, even for mercenaries, today's Mendoir militia is a dangerous opponent, not to mention pirates, for this fraternity we can be a deadly surprise. Note that by order of the governor, the ban on the use of thermoclips in civilian weapons has been lifted, and if we consider that the majority of the adult population is armed with Mantis B, then we surpass even the regular army in terms of the quality of hand weapons. Add in the ultimate motivation, and you'll have an extremely dangerous opponent for any current Citadel Space army."
"So we're going to fight back?"
"Must."
"Should they?.. This is if you're preparing to punch - and you get hit with a baseball bat... or even a sledgehammer!"
"Pirates and corporations don't have sledgehammers, daughter... but there might be a bat. And then - keep us all safe, Spirits."
"Aunt Kasia, what have we done to stop them all? After all, all the races of Space participated in the creation of the colony. Even the Hanars have fish farms on the ocean coast. And a blow to us is a blow to all races at the same time. Plus, Mendoir is in Asari space, and the matriarchs are extremely sensitive to attacks on their worlds."
"The Republic's society is split, and in general, their entire civilization is at a standstill. Mendoir is an attempt to find a way out. Not just for the Asari, but for everyone else... and it was a good attempt. Many people in the Republic (and not only there) do not like this. It is a pity that the Hierarchy cannot openly intervene - our success has opened the eyes of many at home. But father contacted Primarch Fedorian, and he promised that at the first signal, several ships of our Fifth Fleet would come to the colony's aid.
"What?! Did your father just contact the highest head of the Hierarchy?"
"Well, it's not exactly easy... but yes, they know each other."
"Is you father familiar with the primarch?!"
"Igor, after all, Fedorian was not always the primarch - he was once the Spectr of the Council, then he and his father met."
"Unbelievable! It feels like everyone in this galaxy knows each other... or at least my friends do."
Cassia looks at me with a smile.
"Won't the Asari be outraged, Aunt Kasia?"
"Let them be indignant. In this case, the Hierarchy is in its own right, a fourth of the colony's population are Turians. Our people will simply reply that they are acting in accordance with the law on the protection of their fellow tribesmen. The main thing is to hold out for a few hours before they arrive."
"Let's hope we don't have to hold on."
My aunt hugs me tightly, feeling anxiety and fear.
"Let's hope so, Igor..."
Earth, San Francisco
Exo Tower, headquarters of Exo Geni Corporation, 220th floor
The office of the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the corporation, Brandon Zhou
The dim office was an amazing mix of European, North American and Chinese styles, however, thanks to the talent of the designer, they did not conflict, but complemented and shaded each other. A young-looking man dressed in an expensive double-breasted suit stood at a huge panoramic window overlooking the Pacific Ocean and looked at the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge. His slightly slanted eyes revealed his Asian roots. Nearby, an old man was sitting in a wheelchair suspended in the air. The old man had a pronounced Asian appearance, and his brown eyes burned fiercely on his deeply lined face.
You're making a mistake, Brandon. An attack on Mendoir could be disastrous. If the Russians find out (and they will sooner or later), they will stop at nothing to take revenge. And you are the last of the Zhou family. The family has been moving towards today's power for centuries, and one mistake can ruin everything!
"Grandpa Ho, we have everything taken into account - the tracks will lead to Cerberus and hang on the Ghost. This mercenary, this arrogant Laowai, Jack Harper, has become too much for himself! He even dares to challenge the decisions of the board of directors! The impudent creature..."
"There are powerful people from Congress behind him, grandson."
"These "influential people" owe us so much that they'll even bark in unison at my first word. Nobodies who think they're masters. I hate it!"
"Russians are not like that. You know that all these corporations of theirs are a screen behind which the industrial machine of the Soviet Union is hiding, and this was done for the convenience of working with foreign markets."
"I know! But they need to be stopped, or at least slowed down, because they are already working on the creation of several more colonies of this type, only in the Hierarchy space. And no pirate will go there - it's certain death. If the Russians and the Turians come to an agreement, they will become the strongest in the Alliance and will be able to dictate their will to all of us. This is unacceptable!"
"Maybe it was worth agreeing and trying to work together?"
"I tried. But I was told that an indispensable condition for working together is to break off contacts with the Hegemony and stop supporting Cerberus. But I can't do that - too many projects are tied to Cerberus, and trading with the Hegemony brings us a third of the profits."
"An attack, then?"
"Yes. This will slow down the influx of settlers and strain relations between the races, because among the pirates we use, there are equally Batarians and humans."
"Arthur Hackett is on the Ground, and the old wolf is digging his nose into the ground. And due to the fact that half of the general staff are his friends and students, he can dig up a lot and create serious problems for us."
"The admiral will be taken care of, Grandpa Ho."
"You're striding wide, grandson, look - you'll tear your pants! Touch the admiral, and even a fool will know that his death is connected with the attack on Mendoir."
"There is no choice. The Cerberus command Council approved the operation. They even allocated mercenaries to capture several facilities. Money has been allocated, and M777 howitzers and their shells have been removed from long-term storage arsenals."
"It's an incredible piece of junk!"
"This junk is enough for the colonists."
"Anyway. It's a gamble, and a crazy one at that. Border guards may intervene, and all this dirt will surface, covering everyone around. The Asari, upon learning, will raise a cry in the Citadel Council, because this is their world."
"We agreed with the matriarchs - they will keep the talkative and loud ones. And the border guards won't budge-Admiral Raeder promised me that personally."
"Have you contacted Raeder? With this unfinished fascist? He doesn't consider all non-whites to be humans, but treats xenos like animals! I hope your contacts haven't been fixed?"
"No. I know perfectly well, Grandpa, that if my contacts with this fucking Nazi surfaced, the whole family would turn away from us."
The old man turned his chair around and quickly flew out of the office, but turned around on the threshold.
"This is crazy, grandson. I have a feeling that we're all going to regret what we did very soon. Is the operation definitely unstoppable?"
"No. It's too late - the ships have gone to Mendoir, they will attack in two weeks, and there will be no contact with them until the end of the operation."
"May the spirits of our ancestors protect us all. I hope this is the last such operation. The family doesn't want to get involved in this kind of filth, and Brandon, I hope you'll listen to our opinion.
The door clicked shut behind the old man, and the young man was left alone. He walked over to the luxurious leather armchair by the table and sat down in it. He folded his hands on the polished tabletop, clasping them, and thought about something.
"Mr. Zhou, you have a call from a Ghost caller. Connect it?"
The secretary's voice came over the intercom.
"Yes."
A hologram of a rather young blond man dressed in a modern light suit slowly appeared in front of the table. His eyes stood out unnaturally in his calm, intelligent face. It would not be difficult for knowledgeable people to understand that bioprostheses were used instead. The man held a lit cigarette in his hands and periodically inhaled, releasing clouds of smoke.
"Greetings, Mr. Zhou. The operation started successfully. But I am tormented by very big doubts about the success of its completion."
"Mr. Harper, I'm not interested in your doubts. When we hired you, we expected you to follow our orders accurately and on time, and coordinate the work of our departments to avoid duplication and waste of effort and resources. You are constantly challenging the decisions of the board of directors and my personal ones."
"With all due respect, sir, but if some of your decisions are wrong, then I, as a responsible employee, must warn you about this, and I am surprised by your irritation. Our organization doesn't have the best reputation as it is, and if it comes out that we were involved in an attack on the colony, I'm afraid to even imagine the consequences."
"Other people will take care of the possible consequences, Mr. Harper, it's not your concern."
"And one more thing, sir. I hope that you have informed your people among the mercenaries about the need for careful handling of the object."
"What kind of object are we talking about?"
"About the kid. He must be captured without causing any damage to his health and psyche. He is the key to the power of our race. Mr Shepherd death is unacceptable under any circumstances, sir."
"How important is it?"
"Very important, sir. But it will be possible to talk about the degree only after he is with us."
"What about his parents?"
"I've given the order to spare their lives if possible, but capturing the boy is more important than their fate."
"That's your problem, Mr. Harper. In general, I consider your attempts to improve human nature using the genes of unique representatives of our race to be a waste of time and resources. But it's up to you, try. Is that all?"
"Yes, sir."
The hologram goes out.
Kronos Station, Cerberus headquarters
He was sitting in an armchair in the middle of the construction debris - the station under construction was far from complete, but it was already clear that it was wonderful and extremely well located. He sat and smoked one cigarette after another, staring blankly into space in front of him. His lips moved soundlessly, repeating several phrases, and if only there was someone else around, especially someone who could read them... but everything was empty.
"That's how I repay my friends, that's how... Well, Jack, here you are! You betrayed everything you believed in, you betrayed your friends, and you will repay evil for saving your own life. Fuck, why didn't I listen to Mikhail? What, the rise of humanity, the power of the race, blah blah blah... what's next? Will you betray this very humanity? You've already betrayed yourself, yourself and your friends! Everything you believed in turned out to be a dummy - a beautiful picture hiding the greedy grin of corporations. And there is no way back.... They'll find you. If the Grayson pawn is being hunted like this, and sooner or later it will be found, then the whole galaxy will be looking for you. Bitch... fuck... Never mind, Jack Harper is still messing around! Did you decide to blame everything on me? No, it's not... As Mishka used to say, "Fuck you!" I'll dance on your graves and spit on the monuments! I'll be the master of Cerberus myself! By myself, single-handedly!