Path book 1 Igor

It may seem — what do humans and Turians have in common? Completely different species. And military gymnastics is suitable for both them and people, because the way to move is dictated by weapons. But it is the same for all races of the Citadel Space, there is even a single standard for calibers, types of mass generators, containers with metal mold powder. The handles are replaceable, with the possibility of fitting a certain type of arm, and must be included in the delivery package.

In general, the Bioware was rigged up with ammunition — a metal bar, from which a piece is chewed off and a bullet is formed ... Nonsense! In reality, there was no bar — there was a plastic container with metal powder, which was squeezed into a formatter, and in it, under the influence of a mass field, a bullet of the right size and shape was formed. And most importantly, for high-quality weapons, the form chamber could change and form bullets of different shapes, weights and lengths. The compression force for sintering powder also changed, this affected the type of bullets: armor-piercing, shock or, for example, petal. It wasn't until I got to know railguns in this world that I figured out how to heat weapons. The heat source turned out to be a form chamber — it created the heat that needed to be removed. In civilian models, a powerful radiator served to remove heat, but in the military, thermal clips were used. Indeed, why would a hunter shoot in bursts? However, my father's carbine served as an amazing example of mixing civilian and military products. This "Mantis-B" was not only bicalibre, that is, it had two barrels, under 6.5 and 11.3 mm, but also had, in addition to the radiator, a nest for thermal clips, which was limited by the laws of the Citadel. Therefore, the nest was tightly screwed with a special plug... but, as the folder says, if a reasonable person's hands are not growing out of his ass, then it's easy to turn a civilian model into a military one. And thermal clips are standard for all types of weapons, from pistols to heavy machine guns. He could also fire bursts, though only from 6.5 mm, but with four types of bullets, while his pulse power was regulated: from 1 to 2.5 kJ for 6.5 mm and from 10 to 15 kJ for 11.3 mm. The large caliber had only two types of bullets and could not fire automatically. In general, megapushka!

My father said that after comparative tests of the carbine, as a promising type of sniper rifle, the military seized it with a pincer. But the politicians fucked it up, the senators were strangled by the toad to arm the infantry with guns for eight thousand credits. So our marines are running around with fucking M7s for eight hundred credits. It's shit, of course, it can't shoot at all without thermoclips, but it's cheap. And the carbine went into production as a civilian hunting rifle, with a sealed socket for thermal clips and the automatic firing mode turned off... but, as they say, if only there were hands!

When a local gunsmith in Gagarin brought a batch of these carbines for testing, the folder, howling with delight, took Dahi with an Anchor and sped off like a madman! He returned clutching a suitcase with a carbine to his chest, as happy as if he had won the lottery instead of pouring twelve grand into a cannon. The others looked just as pleased, and it was often possible to observe, for example, how Anker would take it out of the trunk, lovingly stroking it, unfolding it, putting it to his shoulder, aiming, then folding it and putting it back in the trunk, softly muttering something affectionate in Batarian. Just like with a child. At the colonial hunting forum, Dad boasted about what a cool cannon he had managed to buy — and the excitement took hold of the people! Over the next six months, the merchant sold twelve batches of such carbines, so now the entire male part of the colony and half of the female part go with them, and the dealer gave the Dad a fifty percent discount on everything, as a favorite customer. My grandfather, by the way, has the same carbine — his father gave it to him immediately after the decision to stay.

I hear my grandfather's voice, which means that gymnastics is over, and now the young people will run away to cross-country. I wonder how much Grandfather will solder them today? Well, at least five km, that's for sure, they haven't run less for a long time. Jokes and laughter can be heard, slaps and the rustle of light boots on wet grass — young people lined up in a column and ran into the forest.

And for some reason, I remember a dream I had recently. At first, I see an unusually beautiful Asari in him. Of all the beautiful blue ladies I've ever seen, they look so much like a succubus. She looks at me strangely with her unusual blue eyes and smiles. She has eyebrows, though they're painted, but that's what quite a few Azari do, especially those who live near people. For some reason, I don't feel emotions. Who is she? Is it really Liara?..

Then, strangely, with a gap, I see a once beautiful city, now littered with rubble, with burnt trees standing here and there. We are walking in a large group, consisting of representatives of almost all races, through a beautiful park in the past. The park is filled with smoke, and the acrid smell of burnt wood is mixed with the suffocating smell of burnt plastic and flesh. This terrible stench of burnt meat seems to permeate everything around, it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, it makes you want to spit. The sentients walking nearby are armored and heavily armed. I see several Turians, humans, Asari, and a Quarian, and she is not in a space suit, but in the usual light armor of the Alliance, only on her legs converted to the ankle of a Quarian. The park ends, and a pile of debris appeared out of the smoke — what it was originally is not entirely clear. There are bars of reinforcement sticking out everywhere, with pieces of concrete remaining in some places. The ground begins to shake rhythmically, as if from the steps of a giant, the whole group immediately spreads out and hides between the rubble. Camouflage cloaks flash by, and instead of a group of sentients, it's just a mountain of debris again. The beautiful Azari and I are sitting under the same cape, her lips are moving, I am reading over them — she is whispering a memorial prayer. She turned to face me, and under the glass of her helmet, I see her eyes full of pain. Wet tracks ran down her cheeks. I touch her helmet with an armored glove and say something that I don't understand myself, as I'm deaf. I touch her helmet with an armored glove and say something that I don't understand myself, as I'm deaf.

A strong gust of wind blows the smoke away, and a wide street opens up to us. A hefty black machine is stomping on it, slowly rearranging its six paws. It can be seen that it is damaged, in some places the armor is dented and twisted. It's half a kilometer away, and it's not as big as the one the Keepers showed me, but it's also big-about eighty meters high. It's like a walking twenty-five-story building.

From behind a pile of rubble on the other side of the street, a group of three massive machines drives out. Most of all they resemble tanks, only, for some reason, on wheels, small turrets with long thick gun barrels sticking out of them are visible from above. The turrets aimed their guns at the reaper, and a heart-rending roar filled the air. Continuous trails of torn and twisted air stretched from the guns, they rested in the middle of the black body of the creature. The Reaper swayed, fragments and pieces of armor flew from it, it turned, growled, turning towards the tanks. With a lucky shot, a hefty layer of armor was chipped off from the reaper, and with a roar that covered the howl of the cannons, it crashed into the ruins, crushing them. Clouds of dust floated down the street. But the reaper did not give up, a dazzling ruby ray shot out from its lower part and rested on the tank on the far left. He stood for a while surrounded by a sparkling film of a power shield, a moment later the shield burst, and the beam touched the armor, there was a loud hiss, sparks flew, and the tank disappeared in a blinding flash. We were hit by a shock wave, a pile of debris and small stones. The other two tanks did not stop firing, so the tracks converged on one place of the already damaged reaper armor, broke through it, and the shells began to hide inside. Suddenly, the reaper straightened up, leaned on the dilapidated building standing at the back, seemed to glow white from the inside, and the rear part exploded with a bang, collapsing the building to the end. The Reaper, thrown back by the explosion, blazing with crimson fire from the joints of the armor, collapsed along the street, raising a cloud of dust.

I squatted down, and my hand touched something soft.... I look down and see a very young girl, almost a girl, Azari — she's probably not even thirty yet, her body is half covered with debris. She's wearing a once-white, but now purple-brown unik, a bar of rebar sticking out of her chest, and a black-brown pool of congealed blood around her body. Pain and surprise were frozen in his wide-open lilac eyes, his left arm was torn off, and the handle of the Apostol was tightly clenched in his right hand. The shotgun itself is crumpled and mangled. I reach out and close her eyes. Inside is a cold, heavy lump of hatred and pain. A hand touches my shoulder, and I start and wake up.

In the evening of the same day part 8/2

Azat Tanir

Today we're all sitting at the Shepards'. The younger ones, with squeaks and laughter, are playing monopoly, and Den is in charge, working as a banker along the way. All this is accompanied by bursts of laughter and friendly teasing. Igor's are especially sharp! That's a little man, red-haired as fire, and with the same explosive temper. It's strange, but I love him more than everyone else, and I can't answer why. Who would have told me three years ago that I was getting so close to people? It's amazing how easily they accepted us. And after all, none of them will give up the bonds of friendship. I know that's all.

Basma is sitting huddled next to him, reading something from a datapad — probably another human fantasy about dragons, knights and all sorts of other magicians. "Elf meat," as Igor says. That's how he says, "not in the eyebrow, but in the eye," as Leshka says! In the holovision, talking heads talk about the latest successes in some kind of negotiations, all this is interspersed with stupid commercials — squalor! But, as Igor sometimes says, it will do for the background.

I'm trying to read a history textbook myself. Mathematics and physics are taught through a mnemograph, and we learn history the old-fashioned way — it's boring! Tell me, why would I, a Turian, need to know when the Terran Alliance of Systems was formed there, and who stood at its origins? Which state initiated the creation? And they are forced to teach, as well as the history of the Republic, Hierarchy and the Salarian Union. At least it's not very long for people....

My mother, Aunt Diana, and grandmother, along with Ratnait, have taken chairs and are enthusiastically weaving macrame — this is such a human needlework. They bought ropes of all types and thicknesses, and they weave all kinds of crafts out of them. Then they use these crafts to hang the house, potted flowers, and other things, and Azanti helps them. But Igor is indifferent to this, as is Nasar — they prefer to clean the carbine or tinker with the equipment. Father, Uncle Misha and grandfather, in the company of Tael, are playing preference in the kitchen, Sei and Ivan are also sitting there. The little one just fell for her grandfather, and he is very indifferent to her — he takes her to his place whenever possible, and she is glad to sit on her hands. In general, the old admiral treats the female part of his grandchildren much more gently than the male part. Although Igor says he loves the same way, he's just stricter towards guys and that's it. You can trust her, she feels it!

Deniska's voice came from the carpet:

"I'm going down the path of crime!" and, after a while. ""You got caught smuggling and you were put in jail, skipping three moves!". Well, bli-in!"

"Ha ha ha, gotcha, sit down now!" Leshka laughs.

My frernd sits and watches dejectedly as the others play. Bina gently strokes his hand and whispers, but I can hear:

"Don't worry, Dishy, it's just a game!" Did she have a crush on Deniska? After all, a brat is still quite small by the standards of the Asari! Although, who would understand women?..

Igor is here in a clear voice:

"And I'm going down a criminal path too!" And after a while: ""You become the leader of several criminal gangs, and this earns you 10,000 credits for each of the next five moves!" Oh-oh-oh! Cool stuff!"

That's where she gets those words from?

"Some people are lucky!" Denis is drinking. "You're a real Aria, Snake!"

"Oh, yes, I am! — Igor stands up and, spreading his arms, speaks in a low voice. "I am the Omega!"

A chorus of laughter follows, even the women laugh.

"Where did you see that?" Ratnait asks through laughter.

"Yes, over there!" Snake answers and points at the holovision.

The game continues, and I'm trying to stuff into my long-suffering head the dates and surnames of prominent political figures of the Earth two hundred years ago. It feels like everything I've read is falling right through my head into the abyss. I close my eyes and try to remember what I just read, oh spirits, I didn't remember anything at all! I put down the datapad and stare blankly into the holovision. Basma sighs next to me and snuggles closer to me — I've read sad things in the book again. I stroke her neck, gently running my claws, she presses my hand with her own and gently bites it. I'm just melting with tenderness, and the thought is in my head that if it weren't for Igor, then nothing would have happened! We would just walk around looking at each other....

Some clowns are jumping around in the holovision and pretending to sing, in sharp, shrill voices to absolutely wretched music! Igor, who was sitting in front, straightened his hair and threw the dice, and the redhead was sitting next to them and watching them go. He's always there for him, well, except for school. After the service, when I return here to Mendoir, I will definitely buy myself the same cat! I'll get into debt, but I'll buy it!

I look at his back, and under his thin T-shirt I can see his skinny figure, thin arms, and protruding ribs with shoulder blades. He seems so fragile and defenseless, even though I know perfectly well that he's not. The little man is much stronger than Nasar, heavier and, despite his appearance, tougher. But sometimes you still want to hold her, who seems so defenseless, with thin, almost transparent skin, under which a blue network of veins is visible, to yourself. Pin her down and protect her from the whole world. He turns around and smiles at me with his soft, understanding smile. The empath!