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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.
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