Аннотация: A snack after a workout. A hunting trip. The beginning of the pirate invasion.
Igor (Mendoir, August 22, 2366)
The gloomy sky is covered with dense gray clouds and drizzling. The weather has been like this for a week now. Again, the cyclone came to us from behind the mountains. The ground is soaked, and every step squishes under the boots. I'm running ten kilometers with a load (even though my grandfather is not here right now, no one has stopped training), Nasar and Feron are running next to me. Heavy breathing, the slapping sounds of footsteps, the trusty Bogomol B, which I bought for the skins of mukliks, and a backpack with a duty kit: a first-aid kit, a cleaver, binoculars, underwear and a personal hygiene kit are strapped on magnetic grips behind my back. On my hip is my "Claw" in a sheath, on my belt is a case with thermal clips and a slightly larger container with bimetallic powder. The weight seems to be small, but after almost eight kilometers it already reminds of itself. In the distance, through the fog and rain, a house appears - there is a shower and breakfast.
As we run up, we see Denis and Leshka practicing knife fighting. Hands flash by, bodies move as if the brothers have more joints than they actually have - Tolyatova School. Even medium armor will not save you from a heavy molecular-sharpened amphibious knife in experienced hands in close combat. A blow to the joint of the plates and you're dead, because the kinetic shield allows such blows to pass. We run past it. The brothers salute us with knives. They look like tigers, only one with a blue stripe and the other with a green stripe. The runners, including me, raise their right hand in response. Here's the house. The guys run to their bikes and fly home; Azanti, having jumped over the fence, runs away to his own place.
Nasar and I smile at each other and walk towards us together. There is a pleasant smell of cheesecakes at home - the moms have gone wild. They are sitting next to each other at a table, looking at some new magazine in a datapad. On the table there is a huge dish with cheesecakes and a rosette with sour cream. Strangely, the Turians, on Palaven, don't hold dairy products in high esteem, but here they nevertheless enjoy eating them. In general, our Turians, from Mendoir, are on average stronger, taller and heavier than their relatives. As well as other races by the way. They are still looking for the reason, but it seems that the matter is in a different diet - here it is very close to the human diet, with the exception of only a few types of foods that are toxic to Turians. And people themselves eat a little differently than on the same Earth. Another planet, though. Yes, our gravity is one and a half times stronger than Earth's.
We fly up with Nasar like birds and, quickly throwing off our gear, climb into the shower. My little shower room is already too small for us, but now is not the time, we need to wash up quickly - and at the table. Hungry gobblers, in the form of brothers, can easily eat all the cheesecakes... we're not sorry, but if we wait until they cook more, we'll drool. We fall out of the shower and take the laundry from the closet - I, like Nasar, have a spare for a friend. We take our breeches and T-shirts, since they are the same, and go downstairs. Ivan flies by, howling like a siren, and rushes off to the kitchen. Something familiar is flying out of there in my mother's voice:
"Junior is untrained! Hold on, okay! Come out and come in properly."
While the younger one carries out the mother's order, we calmly enter the kitchen, greet each other and sit down at the table.
"Here, I would take an example from his brother and his friend! We walked in quietly, sat down quietly, and you're always stuck in one place."
Vanka is sitting with a blush on his cheeks and embarrassment in his feelings, and the mothers are having fun in their hearts, but they don't show it.
"Mom's joking, Junior!" I speak and hug my brother. He looks at me, and I smile. Resentment flashes through his feelings, followed by indignation at his mother's treachery.
"Mom!" He exclaims. "Is that true?" A chorus of laughter echoes through the kitchen.
"Come on, you restless one," Mom replies. I'm just about to start making cheesecakes when I hear a voice from the side:
"And me?" Lina is standing next to me, looking at me intently.
"What is "you", a Button?"
"Like "what"? Hug and kiss!" I grab the small ones in my arms, put them on my lap and, after the obligatory kiss, we start eating cheesecakes together, which disappear from the dish with incredible speed. I like to tinker with small things, although not all of them. More with teenagers.
"What are you going to do next?" Cassia asks.
"I'm going hunting, I'm just going to rest for a couple of hours. It is necessary to calibrate the Mantis - something has become a big spread."
"How big is it?"
"0.25 by eight hundred meters main and 0.15 by one and a half kilometers large."
"But that's okay! Do the army systems have more, in my opinion? Or am I wrong?"
"You're right, Aunt Kasia, but I don't have an army system, and an uncalibrated barrel is prone to wear, which leads to even greater separation. So it's better to calibrate the barrels more often, then the carbine will last longer. And it's better to shoot from afar, I have an advantage there. You can make several shots in a row."
"Does the weather scare you?" Nasar asks.
"The weather is normal. It's not raining, but the ground is rocky in the foothills and on the plateau" I won't get wet there. "I really want a third nazumi skin to sell for a fur coat, but there are only young ones left, their skin is black and gray. I'm going to look for a black and brown one like the other two. They promised to buy it from me in Gagarin, but I wear a ski suit myself.
"Well, it's up to you, we'd rather play cards at home."
"I'd rather play Skyworld on the terminal!" The game really reminded me of Skyrim, which I loved so much, only in modern realities.
The voices of the brothers can be heard from the hallway. After stopping by, these striped tigers take a shower, discussing some details of their own sparring along the way. A shadow flickers in the air, and a flier descends into the courtyard. The fathers have arrived.
"What do we have here?" Mikhail asks, coming into the kitchen and rubbing his hands at the same time. "Oh, cheesecakes, they're lovely, I love them!"
"I support you," Dahi says and plops down on a chair, which creaks plaintively under him.
"They're so cool." Lina speaks with her mouth full from my lap. He finishes the cheesecake and, panting, leans on me, watching the cheesecakes being eaten by the fathers. "Ugh. I can't take it anymore, they won't fit, there's no place in my stomach..."
My sister is thumping, rubbing her swollen belly.
"Go wash your face, chudushka," I pull Lina off my lap and send her to the bathroom. "You're all covered in sour cream, Lina, as if you've dipped your face in it."
"I didn't dip anything! But everything is so delicious that it's impossible to just tear yourself away," Muttering softly, the younger one goes towards the bathroom. The squeaking of the lock is heard, he resists for a while, but still surrenders under the onslaught of dexterous fingers. The door sputters and Leshka's indignant scream is heard:
"Lina? How did you get in?!"
"Don't swear, Lyosha, but I need to wash up. And you shut down."
"Lina, I actually take a shower without clothes! What kind of brusqueness is this, little one?!"
"Oh, come on, Leshechka, what didn't I see there?"
"You're a little girl generally!.."
Laughter shakes the kitchen. Our Linka is something! A concentration of spontaneity and brusqueness. Need to wash up, but is the bathroom occupied? Bullshit - let's open it and go in. Just think, there's an older brother, what's the big deal? Picking the lock is nothing, and that's it. The child is six years old, and the locks click on one-two-three. Kulhatsker is small...
The carbine is calibrated and hangs on his back, there is also a backpack with a standard set in it, plus a flask of water and sandwiches carefully made by Nasar. A combat jacket, a knife on his hip, thermal clips and powder. I seem to have collected everything. That's right, I forgot the flute. Maybe I'll play somewhere on the mountainside.
"Why don't you stay? The weather is still not good," Nasar asks.
"And what am I going to do?" Hmm... will you play the guitar and sing something?
"What kind of guitar? The folder sleeps after the night!"
"That's right, damn it! Well, don't take too long. Maybe you can shoot a couple of mukliks for dinner, and I'll make the marinade, okay?"
"Agreed."
A Barsik is sitting in the hallway and looking at me.
"Do you want to come with me, kitty?"
"Мr-rаu."
"Well then, let's go, time is ticking."
I get on my bike in the garage, and a Barsik sits in front of me. I take the cat's gear out of the glove compartment, fasten it to the bike, and fasten myself. I put on helmets for the cat and myself. He's so funny in his cat helmet!.. Giggling to myself, I ask the cat.
"Well, did you go hunting?"
"Umur-r."
"Otherwise!"
I fly out of the garage and, turning on the fairing shield, fly into the foothills. The speed is 160, 200, 250... that's fine now. The grass merges into a solid green carpet. The wind is whistling in my ears, and only the quiet hum of the mass core reminds me that I'm using technology, not a magic carpet-plane.
We've been walking with red for four hours now in a foggy haze. And there is no one there - neither muklikov, nor even nazumi. Silence and peace, nature seemed to be frozen in anticipation... I put the praying mantis on my back and take the flute out of my backpack. I'm just starting to play and then this shit started.
A strange whistling rips the air overhead. I look up and see dazzling white stripes cutting through the air from Gagarin's side. Slowing down my perception, I see projectiles flying at high speed, hiding in the clouds above me. These are PKO anti-aircraft guns! Who are they shooting at?.. God! A heavy cold lump inside - I understand who the target is. The communicator chirps. I activate the reception, and it flies out:
"Everyone, everyone, everyone! This is the colony's security service! A massive attack has been carried out on us! They're pirates! All militia units: alert! If possible, the civilian population should take refuge in shelters! Attention! A massive amphibious landing is inevitable! I repeat, to the militia units: combat alert!"
The number of arrows is growing, all air defense calculations have reached a combat rate of fire, showering the sky with a shower of glowing shells. A rumble grows in the sky, and ships begin to emerge from the clouds. One, two, three, five, ten, twenty! The whole sky is filled with flying objects - there are not only ships, there are a lot of shuttles. The whole sky is streaked with contrails... my God, there are so many of them!.. At some point, smoky arrows of mobile air defense missiles fly up from the forests around the city towards the armada. Several fall into a huge amphibious transport - its entire hull is covered with blinding flashes of explosions. One of the missiles breaks through the armor, and through the hole, several charges hide inside the hull. They don't seem to be doing any harm, but suddenly the hull swells and the ship breaks apart.
The flash of the explosion blinds me - I close my eyes, but I manage to see the sphere of the shock wave flying towards me. I fall to the ground, hug the redhead to me and freeze in anticipation, huddled into a ball. A heavy blow seems to be pressing me into the ground, branches and leaves are falling, everything is covered with dust, the earth is shaking from heavy blows. When the dust settles, I get up and continue to look at the picture of the air battle. I see an anti-aircraft missile hitting the shuttle, and it just tears to pieces. Fragments of it and some strange lines are flying from the sky. I take out my binoculars and see the falling figures of the paratroopers... My God, the lower edge of the cloud cover is about five kilometers away, that's how much they have to fall... I hope they're already dead. You wouldn't wish an enemy to burn up in the atmosphere. Although many people have told me that I am too kind for The Antichrist. It probably affects the fact that I still have white wings.
The thought arises - we need to get home to our own people as soon as possible! Dad and Dahi, brothers and Azanti are there. The mother, along with her best friend Kasia, flew to the center, taking the younger ones with them, and Ratnait and Bina flew with them. Only the men and each other remained in the village. The city's mega-market has an entertainment complex, a holokine theater and a cafe. In this kind of weather, half the city gets washed away... I turn around and run to the bike left a few kilometers away, a cat creeps next to it like a red shadow. The flute is in a case in a backpack. As I run, I glue the headset of the communicator to my ear. A microphone on a thin transparent film is attached to the throat. I call up the communication menu, but the channels are clogged - apparently, everyone started calling right away.
I run up a hill and see a large falling ship about ten kilometers away - the skin is full of holes, the entire hull is engulfed in flames, and it's hard to understand what it was like at first. At a speed of eight hundred kilometers per hour, it crashes into a mountain, the skin crumples like paper, but the ship continues to sink into the slope. I fall into a battle trance and barely manage to put a shield on us. There's a flash, the ground bounces, and I'm tumbling into the bushes. The noise is so loud that it rings in my ears. I lie there, and a shock wave sweeps over me, covering me with small stones and debris, next to me, ears tucked in and pressed to the ground, lies a redhead, fear radiating from him in waves.
"Don't be afraid, Baska, we'll get out!"
I calm my cat down through the familiar connection.
I hear a thin voice from the cat:
"Me-yau-uh!" Scary girlfriend.
I hug and kiss the redhead on the nose. I raise my head and look around. There is a huge crater on the slope, from which clouds of thick, greasy, black smoke rise... it is strange that after such an explosion there is still something left to burn. My bike is parked in the clearing, five hundred meters left, one jerk - and you can fly home. I was just about to run when a combat flyer, somewhat similar to the American Apache, flies out from under the cliff, and my beautiful bike disappears in a flash of explosion. I'm falling to the ground- did you notice? Spotted it! Bitch, he got it!!! The flier flies off about eight hundred meters and turns around. Shit! So he tilted his body and started coming at me. Forming a fire spear. And I hit him right in the cockpit.
And before it reaches two hundred meters to me, it explodes, flying apart. Several pieces of debris fall next to me. One of them has a strange, rounded shape. I walk up and, having seen him, I close my eyes, nausea rolls up my throat... it's the pilot's head in a helmet: the eyes are bulging, the mouth is open and distorted with a grimace, a piece of spine sticks out of the dried torn meat in place of the neck.
I walk away from the find, suppressing bouts of nausea. Damn it! How do I get home now? On foot - more than twenty kilometers. It's a two-hour run, if not more... but there's no way out. There is a battle going on over the planet, and no one will be sent after me. The connection doesn't work either. In general, run Igor, run! Barsik approaches the severed head, sniffs, hits it with its paw - and the head, rattling the helmet on the rocks, rolls down the slope.
"Baska! Don't touch that stuff! And anyway, we ran home." I take my bearings and go home at a measured run, the cat moves easily next to me.