"I'm scared, Hame! Very, very scary! The most terrible war in the history of the galaxy is inevitably coming upon us! It will be so monstrous that we cannot even imagine! And anything can happen, the galaxy is a dangerous place...."

"But maybe we should tell the adults?"

"And what are we going to tell them, Hame? That I have nightmares in which an unknown race of machines destroys all sentients in the galaxy?! They didn't believe the scientists! Did you see? Scientists! They were booed and ridiculed. And they'll just roll me into a madhouse and feed me pills like crazy."

"And the parents?"

"What about the parents? I don't want to pin this on them — let them live in happy ignorance. Can you just imagine what it's like to know that your children are doomed to fight an enemy that is almost impossible to defeat? To a war in which they will most likely all die?!"

"Will I be able to carry it around?"

"I'm sorry, but I just can't carry this alone anymore! And you're the only one I can tell this to! You'll believe me and you'll never tell anyone what you've learned. You, the one who loves and trusts me! He trusts you even more than everyone else! And he loves you more than anyone else, too...."

"But... how can I help you?"

"I don't know... but in some of my dreams I see you-you're next to me, out there in the burning galaxy. In the midst of pain and death, in the realm of despair... I see you next to me! My older brother, my Hame..."

Chapter 9.1 Hiking in the foothills of the Rattlesnake River.

Eugene (Mendoir, June 2361)

We, the whole class, are going camping, to the wild part of the colony. A crowd of youngsters, diluted with older guys, with my grandfather, a teacher, and our classmate until the end of high school, Rien Vais. On his shoulders is a compact but rather heavy backpack with a sleeping bag and groceries, a three-liter flask with water, salt and spices; on his belt, in a magnetic grip and a plastic pencil case, a carbine. My favorite is a Claw on my hip, and a communicator bracelet on my right arm.

I'm wearing short shorts and a tank top, a windbreaker rolled up and strapped to my backpack, a baseball cap on my head, and on my feet are my pride-powerful, metal-studded pigskin boots with thick, fluted soles. We plan to spend a week or more in the foothills. As my grandfather explained, we are going to field training to introduce us to survival in the wild: what you can eat and drink, how to hunt and fish properly, what plants and for what you can use.

"I will prepare you, and you will prepare everyone else, and so you will pass this baton to the younger ones!"

"That's right!" We barked together.

The sun is hot, even though it's still early in the morning, and dust is spreading along the trail and settling on my shoes.

The echo of footsteps, reflecting off the rocks to our right, rushes and flies away into the canyon of the river. The echo of footsteps, reflecting off the rocks to our right, rushes and flies away into the canyon of the river. The Rattlesnake River rumbles about thirty meters below, among scattered rocks and fragments of rocks. It is bitterly cold, because it originates from the glaciers of volcanic mountains.

"At least someone told a rhyme or a counting book to simplify walking", I hear someone's voice from behind, I think it's Nain.

"Do you want a poem?"

"Come on, Shepard!" a voice is heard from the front of the column.

"Then listen up!"

We're foot-slog-slog-slog-sloggin' over Africa

Foot-foot-foot-foot-sloggin' over Africa

(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up and down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

The people pulled themselves up, went more cheerfully. And I keep going...

Seven-six-eleven-five-nine-an'-twenty mile to-day

Four-eleven-seventeen-thirty-two the day before

(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up and down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

Their faces are thoughtful and determined. The column keeps pace. I chanted further, and my words echoed over the column, echoing off the rocks.

Don't-don't-don't-don't-look at what's in front of you.

(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again);

Men-men-men-men-men go mad with watchin' em,

An' there's no discharge in the war!

Try-try-try-try-to think o' something different

Oh-my-God-keep-me from goin' lunatic!

(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

Count-count-count-count-the bullets in the bandoliers.

If-your-eyes-drop-they will get atop o' you!

(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up and down again)

There's no discharge in the war!

Everyone got into a rhythm and walked along to the verse.

We-can-stick-out-'unger, thirst, an' weariness,

But-not-not-not-not the chronic sight of 'em

Boot-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again,

An' there's no discharge in the war!

'Taint-so-bad-by-day because o' company,

But night-brings-long-strings-o' forty thousand million

Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again.

There's no discharge in the war!

I-'ave-marched-six-weeks in 'Ell an' certify

It-is-not-fire-devils, dark, or anything,

But boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again,

An' there's no discharge in the war!

"What a powerful verse!" A loud voice is heard from the front of the column. "Whose is it, Shepard?"

"Hartman, is that you?" I shout back.

"That's right, Alex Hartman!" I hear in response.

"It's a Rudyard Kipling poem, darkness! It's called "Dust"!"

There was laughter in the ranks, and the people cheered up.

"She's like that, Shepard! Thanks, I'll read it later!" Alex shouts.

"Eugene! Is there anything more fun?" Gina shouts loudly from the end of the column.

"Do you want to have more fun?"

"Yeah!" the whole column shouts in unison.

"Come on, burn it, Shepard!" Hartman shouts from the beginning.

He is echoed by loud laughter from the column. And I'm starting!

Если долго-долго-долго,

Если долго по тропинке,

Если долго по дорожке,

Топать, ехать и бежать,

То, пожалуй, то, конечно,

То, наверно-верно-верно,

То, возможно-можно-можно,

Можно в Африку прийти!

А-а, в Африке реки вот такой ширины!

А-а, в Африке горы вот такой вышины!

А-а, крокодилы, бегемоты,

А-а, обезьяны, кашалоты,

А-а, и зеленый попугай,

А-а, и зеленый попугай!

Smiles sparkled on their faces, and I continued....

Если только-только-только,

Если только на дорожке,

Если только на тропинке,

Встречу я кого-нибудь!

То, тому, кого я встречу,

Даже зверю, верю-верю,

Не забуду-буду-буду,

Буду "здрасьте" говорить!

The chorus was picked up by almost everyone, and clear children's voices flew through the foothills.

А-а, здравствуйте, реки вот такой ширины!

А-а, здравствуйте, горы вот такой вышины!

А-а, крокодилы, бегемоты,

А-а, обезьяны, кашалоты,

А-а, и зеленый попугай,

А-а, и зеленый попугай!

The people cheered, and laughter was heard. And I sing the last verse.

Но, конечно-но, конечно,

Если ты такой ленивый,

Если ты такой пугливый,

Сиди дома, не гуляй!

Ни к чему тебе дороги,

Косогоры-горы-горы,

Буераки, реки, раки,

Руки, ноги береги!

The whole company, including the adults and the grandfather, has already picked up.

А-а, зачем тебе море вот такой ширины?

А-а, зачем тебе небо вот такой вышины?

А-а, крокодилы, бегемоты,

А-а, обезьяны, кашалоты,

А-а, и зеленый попугай,

А-а, и зеленый попугай?

({Verse 1}

If for a long, long, long

If for a long time along the path

If for a long time along the path

Stomp, go and run

Then, perhaps, then, of course

That, probably, is true

That, perhaps, is possible

You can come to Africa

{Chorus 1}

Aa-ah in Africa of the river is such a width

Aa-ah in Africa Mountains such an embroidered

A-ah, crocodiles, hippos

A-ah, monkeys, sperm whale

A-a-A-A-A-A-A-Green Parrot

A-a-A-A-A-A-A-Green Parrot

{Verse 2}

And just like that

And as soon as on the track

And as soon as on the path

I will meet someone

Then who I will meet

I even believe the beast

I will not forget, I will, I will

I will "hello" to say

{Chorus 2}

Ahhhh, hello rivers here is such a width

Ahhhh, hello mountains here such an embodiment

A-ah, crocodiles, hippos

A-ah, monkeys, sperm whale

A-a-A-A-A-A-A-Green Parrot

A-a-A-A-A-A-A-Green Parrot

{Verse 3}

But of course, but of course

If you are so lazy

If you are so shy

Sit at home, don't walk

No need to do nothing to you

Kosogors, mountains

Books, rivers, crayfish

Hands and legs take care

{Chorus 3}

For you, what is the sea to you such a width?

For you, you are such an embroidered sky?

A-ah, crocodiles, hippos

Ah, monkeys, sperm whale

A-a-A-A-A-A-A-Green Parrot

A-a-A-A-A-A-A-Green Parrot)

"Oh-oh-oh! Shepard! That's a song! Whose is it?" Hartman's voice again from the front of the column.

"From an old movie! Very old, taken back in the twentieth century! "About Little Red Riding Hood" is called! Do you hear, Sanya?"

"Got it, I hear it! Thank you, Eugene!"

"And let's sing it again?" Gina shouts from the end.

"Yeah, come on!" The others pick up.

"People, let's sing in chorus! Did you remember the verses?" One of the adult guys is shouting.

"What is there to remember?" laughing, someone commented from behind.

Eugene, sing along!

* * *

We sang again, and then again.... And then there was a rest stop, where we cooked food on a portable heater, brewed tea and just rested. In the late afternoon we reached the pass. Here, a rattlesnake had gnawed through a canyon in the rocks, and above it, on the other side of the river, a rope bridge was thrown — two ropes made of synthetic fiber stretched over each other. Slowly, one by one, they crossed to the other side of the river and went in the opposite direction. There, after a couple of kilometers, the path curved and rose from the river to a plateau overgrown with forest. That's where we'll stop," Grandfather told us.

Chapter 9.2 Two weeks later

Moons hang over the camp, flooding everything with an unreal yellow-blue light — the faces of the intelligent ones have a surprisingly scary color! But the color scares, probably, only me, in whose memory horror films about zombies are stored, the local population is not spoiled by such creativity. The lucky ones!

Bonfires are burning in the camp clearing, a late dinner is being prepared, laughter is heard, guitar is strumming, one of the elders is singing softly, and those sitting next to him are singing along. The perimeter of the clearing is surrounded by thorny bushes, which were specially planted by adult "partisans" last year, setting up a kind of summer camp. In a small passage, with their backs to the lights, the guards sit with carbines on their knees and look into the darkness. A couple of days ago, the same guards shot snuffle who came to the noise. His scrubbed and treated hide is now hanging on stretchers and is almost dry. Nick should carry her home. Although, as they say, it doesn't carry its own burden.

There are delicious smells: spices, grilled meat, porridge and herbal tea. Under light reed canopies, datapad screens are lit — people are reading or writing notes, and there is a lively exchange of opinions.

In two weeks, everyone was tanned, their faces were weathered, their hair was burnt out, and the whole crowd turned blonde or brown-haired, although there were no brunettes. Fair-skinned Nain turned the color of coffee with milk, and there was very little milk there, only bright blue eyes and a snow-white smile burned on her face. Gina turned dark orange. I got tanned too, and my hair turned pale red when it was sunburned.

I'm sitting on a log that replaces a bench here, and I'm cleaning a carbine. Centuries have passed, and dust is still the main enemy of weapons. The ultrasonic cleaner in the multitool hums softly, causing displeased grimaces from the Turians, but there is nowhere to go, they endure.

There are a dozen muklik skins in my backpack. When we get back, I'll ask my father to sell it through friends on Earth and buy me an engineering toolbox. A fancy one like my father's is very expensive, but it's simpler enough for me — I'll order one like the corporation's technicians. By the way, civilian models do not have an omni-blade, that is, not at all, and for self-installation the term is 10 years of hard labor! When I asked my grandfather why it took so long, he told me that omni-blade wounds are usually fatal, and a civilian doesn't need a weapon to kill. If you're wearing this, then you have malicious intent! For a civilian, a knife that can be carried completely freely is enough for his affairs.

Suddenly, a clear voice is heard from the guards:

"Wait, who's coming?"

A man's voice is displeased from the forest, you can hear what the Turian is saying:

"Yes, I'm standing, I'm standing! They're nervous!"

"Identify yourself!" flying away from the guards.

"Partisans, we're leaving the raid. We went out to the camp, but it was busy. Who are you going to be?" They chattered out of the darkness. The Salarian! They're the only ones who talk so fast.