Path book 1 Igor chapter 8-1

Chapter 8. They know everything!

Igor (Mendoir, September 2360)

Grandpa

So the new school year began, but Nasar and Azanti did not go to school. Grandfather went to the director and arranged for us to extend our holidays for two months and that he would study with us himself. We only went to the mnemograph, the rest of the time we spent fishing or hunting. Grandfather bought us three light carbines and taught us how to hunt. The compact and lightweight 6.5 mm carbine, weighing only 1.5 kilograms, was incredibly convenient in hunting "mukliks", so named for their characteristic sounds. In the foothills, you could often hear their "kli-kli-mukli-kli-kli-mukli" and see their ears sticking out of the grass. The animals are extremely cautious, and they only let themselves in at 300-400 meters. If you get closer, they hide in holes, and those are like a maze, all the hills are covered with them. So you have to shoot from four hundred meters, and from that distance you can still hit a small target.... But, as my grandfather says, "You have to teach a reasonable person to shoot, and the sooner the better." So he took the three of us into his fold, and we spent two weeks at the city shooting range, where grandfather taught us how to shoot, take care of weapons, properly load and unload, calibrate bullets, and monitor battery charge. In general, I fully taught the lessons of marksmanship. Remember, kids! The main thing in marksmanship is not an eye or a sharp eye, although they are, of course, also important. The main thing is endurance and proper breathing. You have to feel yourself, watch your breathing, and then no goal will escape you. A real sniper is always calm when shooting — everything around him can collapse, explode and go crazy, but the shooter must be able not to be distracted by this. When hunting, you should not let the excitement capture you — the beast feels your desire to kill it, starts to get nervous, and this can cause a miss. Be calm — imagine that you are a grass, a bush, a tree. You're impassive, but you keep a sharp eye on your prey. A shot and the prize is yours!

I start reading all the emotions around, but I react to them mechanically. Consciousness calms down and you look at everything as if through the sight of a rifle. For the first time in my life, I used the combat mode of consciousness to prevent a brewing fight between classes — in our school, the ninth and tenth grades decided to sort out the relationship in this way. My appearance scared not only the pretty grown-up guys, but also the teachers.

As Nasar said:

"Your eyes have become like two laser sights-cold and scary. Like a droid. It was impossible to look into them..."

At that time, I simply crushed the elders with logic and a look, then I moved away from the silent brawlers and returned to a peaceful mode of consciousness.... How I was overwhelmed! Mixing laughter and tears, I threw a natural tantrum in a corner and then dumped into our shooting range, where I sat down until the evening with rifles.

The teacher called the high school students "brainless varrens" when I broke away from her embrace and left. Then they came to apologize for their unworthy behavior, the whole crowd. After all, the Turian method of clarifying relationships was cultivated at school: there are complaints — welcome to the gym in the ring, find out there, and do not arrange an ugly mass brawl at school. And it worked great with all kinds of intelligent school students. Humans, Asari, Turians, Batarians, and Drells all found this way of resolving claims quite appropriate, if, of course, the verbal arguments ended. So, I rebuilt my consciousness into a combat one, and I succeeded. The lightweight and comfortable carbine, with low recoil and good 2x optics, allowed me to shoot 95 out of 100 at a 150-meter range and hit the "muks" from four hundred meters. Nasar was doing well too.

Our artist is not shining yet, and anyway, she has plenty of other advantages. She doesn't like hunting, she feels very sorry for the animals, even to the point of tears. Her grandfather does not force her, on the contrary, he teaches her to notice various subtleties in nature, to see nuances with her artistic perception. She sees details that we don't even notice. Azanti simply fell in love with her grandfather, and the old admiral reciprocated the love of the little Batarian, calling her his granddaughter and responding when she calls him grandfather. Natoli is simply shocked by the behavior of the strict admiral! And I'm glad — I feel like Arthur just got younger inside, what a cheerful fire his eyes are burning. An avid hunter and fisherman, he received a huge patrimony on Mendoir to realize his passion. And even if you can't hunt on the plains, hunting in the foothills, for nazumi and mukliks, is quite enough to satisfy a hobby. I remember a recent conversation between him and my grandmother, where they decided to stay with us on a permanent basis.

"Archie, tell me, are you so eager to participate in local life... aren't you going home?"

"Tell me, Liv... tell me, what awaits us on Earth?"

"Well... we have a house there. Where we lived for many years and where our children grew up."

"Olivia, but it's empty! There's not even a cat in it. And here we have everything! All of our people are here, everyone we love is here, even Stephen visits the guys more often than we do. So what have we forgotten on Earth? Longing? Loneliness? What?! Olivia, look at you! It's like you've lost twenty years, you've blossomed, you're glowing! Why should we leave here? We don't even have any friends left on Earth! What about our house? Back on Earth... What will happen to him? And what about the house? It's just a pile of rocks, it's useless without tenants. We'll hire a company to keep an eye on you, because you don't even have flowers there, Liv!

"So, are we staying?"

"Yes, Liv, I'm in favor of staying! Do you agree with me?"

"You old fool! Of course, I agree! But, Arthur, where are we going to live?"

"Liv, our savings are enough to buy a whole city here, not like a small house across the street."

"Arthur, there's no house there!"

"So we'll put it on!"

Since then, the house of my grandfather and grandmother has been standing in front of our house. And grandfather, with all his fervor, is engaged in its arrangement, attracting us all little by little. Azanti paints paintings that his grandfather puts on the walls. I embroider small pillows that my grandfather laid out on sofas and armchairs. The boys brought live perennial flowers from the foothills, and grandma planted them in pots, placing them on the windowsills. Kaadi and mom went to Gagarin, and there, in a shop with an Azari, they bought very beautiful curtains. Kassia and mom went to Gagarin, and there, in a shop with an Azari, they bought very beautiful curtains. Grandma, in company with Ratnait, arranged flower beds, and now she has a flower garden no worse than our doctor's. My soul is just singing! If there is happiness, then here it is, around me, I can touch it with my hands!

We're lying in the grass, on a slope. At a distance of about six hundred meters from us is Muklikov hill, I practice long-range shooting. I have a praying mantis in my hands, an eight-fold optical sight with a built-in ballistic calculator and small removable bipods are mounted on it. But now the calculator is disabled, and I'm learning to shoot on my own. My grandfather is lying on the left, holding a monocular rangefinder in his hands. Nasar is on the right, holding army binoculars. Azanti is sitting three meters behind me, and what's in her hands? That's right, the album! The hill is clearly visible through the optics, and it is still empty — the mukliks saw us on the slope and hid. However, one appeared, stood on its hind legs, ears pricked up, looked around, and flew over the hills: "Kli-kli-mukli, Kli-kli-mukli." At the same time, the animal shuddered all over its body in a funny way.

"Igor, calm down. Distance: half a thousand and thirty. Wind: five, headwind. Drop: twelve down," Grandpa mumbled.

I am calm, emotions are suppressed. I put the risks in the crosshair, and there's an animal in the crosshair, and I clearly realized: I'm going to miss, 530 meters is almost the maximum distance for the praying mantis. Fuck you, bitch, fuck you! goosebumps crawl down my spine. What should I do?! What if... I turn on the combat mode and spread my wings. Emotions turned off, the picture slowed down, the chirping of pseudo-grasshoppers turned into a mournful rasp, you can hear the rustle of a pencil on a pipe, Nasar's heavy breathing and grandfather's voice, as if from a pipe, low, low.

— Wind: three sideways oncoming, on the right.

It seems that my grandfather uttered this phrase for half an hour. I aim the scope, muklik stands, the ears turn slowly, the crosshair is slightly to the left and higher. Words cannot convey my state — my head is like a calculator, the equations are solved by themselves, it is only necessary to pay attention to a particular problem. I pull the bracket -BOOM! — the butt pushes into the shoulder, I see a bullet flying, hitting muklik in the neck, just below the head, piercing through, throwing out a reddish cloud at the exit. The animal falls, its hind legs twitch. There are zero emotions of my own, only the joy of my grandfather and sister is felt nearby. I close my eyes, take off my shield. Oh-h! Rollback started!.. I want to jump and jump, yell and fool around! With an incredible effort, I hold myself in place. Nasar whispers fervently in my ear from an excess of feelings:

"Well, what a good fellow you are!"

Grandfather's voice:

"Clever boy, Igor!" and there is love and pride in feelings.

We switch places with Nasar: a friend lies down in my place and looks at the scope, and I pick up binoculars.

This army binoculars is a good thing: comfortable, in a soft plastic case, non-breakable, with a built-in rangefinder, as well as wind, humidity and temperature sensors. It's both day and night, and it also has a thermal imager.

"Nasar, my boy, breathe! Breath control, inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale! Clever boy! Imagine that you are a holly bush. Standing here, rustling the leaves, you're calm and unperturbed," Grandfather says slowly. You don't care about the mukliks, let them run. Under the recitation of his grandfather, Nasar calmed down, serenity crept into his feelings.

"Distance: five thousand forty. Wind: two, sideways, on the left. Drop: eleven down.

The sound of sight rollers is heard. Nasar is calm, his breathing is even. I look through binoculars — not far from the lying one, another muklik sticks out, anxiously looks around and, shuddering, pulls: "Kli-kli-mukli, kli-kli-mukli!". Silence, the soft whistling of the wind in the grass, even Azanti is sitting, not drawing. DAMM! I'm startled. Muklik is thrown back, he shudders a couple of times and falls silent.

"Ah, I got it, I got it!" Nasar shouts. We jump up, hug, laugh, shout and jump at the same time.

"Ah, well done! Oh, my beauty!" Grandfather shouts, laughing. "Come here, my hunters, my grandfather's delight! — and hugs us both.

Azanti looks at us, feeling a little envy and, for some reason, regret. Grandfather turns around, looks at her, smiles, lets us go and sits down next to her. Hugs her and speaks softly:

"Hunting can be taught. Yes, it's long and tedious, but you can make a hunter out of anyone! And you can't teach how to draw like you, granddaughter. So you're a hundred times more expensive than any hunter!"

Azanti clings to her grandfather's side and looks at him with love and adoration. And you magpies, what are you waiting for? Now Nazumi will appear — you will only say goodbye to the loot! Come on, get after the shot!"

And we are skipping, shouting and hooting, rushing towards the hill, followed by the glances of grandfather and girlfriend.

A month later

Somehow, unnoticed, the old admiral gathered all the youth of the town around him, organized several interest groups and sections. He smacked the headmaster, the huntsmen, and the mayor. Our director was so enthusiastic about my grandfather that he used him as an example whenever he could. At the initiative of my grandfather, all responsible colony workers, heads of services and the colony's leadership were gathered. At the meeting, my grandfather demolished the civil defense system, saying that the measures taken were criminally insufficient for a rich colony in the border region. The population is not trained and is not learning, reasonable people do not know how to behave in certain situations. A third of the colonists are former military personnel, but their experience is ignored. He gave his speech for about forty minutes, and the whole colony listened to him on the broadcast. The management got into it, realized it, and immediately, without departing, as they say, from the cash register, appointed grandfather the senior civil defense officer of the entire colony and obliged him to provide all possible assistance.

That's where he turned around: he requested a list of all the retirees in the colony with their military specialties, distributed them among the colonists, built a mock-up of the town on the outskirts of Leonov, and bought electric markers with his own money (these are automatic machines like paintball machines). And he started training. He was given an assembly hall at the school for lectures. At first, it was difficult, but then the people got involved, and the registration for the grandfathers' training ground was two months in advance. Moreover, not only various combat situations were trained on it, but also emergencies, such as fires, floods, and so on. Doctors, including Ratnait and Dahi, gave lectures on emergency care for any of the races represented in the colony. Grandma, being a naval security officer with the rank of lieutenant colonel by profession, organized an analytical counterintelligence service on an optional basis, mobilizing local hacker youth into it. The whole Strafer gang was on the extranet, in Tael's company, monitoring various mercenary forums and making sure that the name "Mendoire" didn't flash anywhere. The huntsmen, led by their chief, Toliyat Tanris, gave lectures on the flora and fauna of the planet to everyone without exception: what grows and lives where, what of all this can be eaten.

The cunning drell tricked his grandfather and the company back then. The Tyrannodon would never climb into the bushes, and when Grandpa pinned the huntsman with arguments, Drell confessed, laughing. The grandfather appreciated the joke, but warned that he should not do that anymore, but honestly tells what and how in the steppe, and most importantly, how it is possible and necessary to survive there.