Frankly using our official position, we decided not to rush, but to go see the parade, which was to begin in fifteen minutes. We arrived at "Chelomey" well in advance. Zinaida Petrovna had deigned to get up before dawn today, having excused herself with the first roosters, so there was plenty of time to get ready, get weapons, and order a flip to the city. We even managed to check the entrusted operatives twice for their knowledge of instructions and hidden weapons in case of an emergency, while simultaneously requesting reports from the Enterprise security service, and arguing about a couple of points. And after intensive six-month preparations, couldn't we fool around a little?
We frankly let loose, becoming, for about fifteen minutes, ordinary young people, adult children, whose childhood was still squeaking in their asses. To the monotonous drone of CHAR-les, we ate ice cream, drank soda, and snacked on cotton candy. And our most childish act was that we treacherously climbed into a phone booth... and called a completely random number. Well, not exactly us. I stood guard while Katya openly teased the interlocutor on the other end of the line, sincerely congratulating them on the holiday.
It was not surprising that when we reached the route of the supposed parade, we could not get closer due to the dense crowd that had occupied both the park and the approaches to the neighboring streets.
After watching the opening of the parade, realizing that the crowd had only gotten denser, we entered a gateway and used the "Whip" protocol, climbing to the roof using polymer manipulators. After running across the sheet-metal-covered houses to the memorial, we solemnly walked through the memorial site. The playful mood vanished as if by magic. Even the talkative CHAR-les fell silent.
It was in this thoughtful state that "Tereshkova" found us, and seeing our passive state, bombarded our ears with a whole lecture on "polymer enlightenment." I didn't want to be rude to the temporarily stupid piece of iron, it was a holiday after all, so I had to listen stoically, damn it. Waiting for it to pause, I asked:
"This is all very interesting, of course, but unfortunately, we have limited time. Perhaps we can move on directly to installing the scanner?" expressing with all my demeanor that I wouldn't accept refusal, I pressed the emboldened robot.
CHAR-les in my glove just chuckled.
"Seryozha is right. You tell stories so interestingly and excitingly that we simply forgot about time!" Katya copied the machine's grimaces and intonation, batting her eyelashes.
"I understand... You are valiant testers of our Enterprise!" "Tereshkova" exclaimed, even straightening up, waving her hands as if inviting us in. "Please, come to the table! Your polymer capsules with modules are waiting for you!"
"Well... it's our job... to test all sorts of things," I said, embarrassed by the whole scene. I even felt awkward that I interrupted and didn't let her finish her story. Damn, how do they do it?
We installed a new neuropolimer for ourselves, testing the scanner along the way. It's cool, if not for the hand gesture. In combat, you need two hands. I'll have to change it in the settings later, like other polymer modules. And I've stuffed so much into the glove already that I'll get confused soon, but in our business: a spare doesn't weigh down your pocket.
While we were testing, the robot kindly called us a flip. In some moments, their access codes will be a priority over ours.
"There's no romance of 'Turbina' in this air taxi," CHAR-les said nostalgically, as soon as we took off. "Especially since it was a tribute to tradition, from the time when I still had a fleshy body, and hot blood flowed through my veins."
"That was about five years ago," I waved away the victim of my own clumsiness. "And I don't see anything romantic about dangling in a car suspended by cables, several kilometers above the ground. The flip has at least a parachute, if anything."
"Perhaps he meant that romantic green color of everyone's faces who normally reached the ground after the bumpy ride?" Katya inserted a barb, teasing me.
"Live to my age, then you'll understand..." CHAR-les had the last word.
Making a beautiful arc, allowing us to enjoy the stunning view of the flying city, our transport began to descend to the parking lot in front of the Wizard's office.
"How many times I see this, but I never cease to be amazed at how beautiful it is! Like a dream come true!" Katerina exclaimed childishly, looking with all her eyes at the opening view, hugging my arm, pressing it to herself and resting her head on my shoulder.
It is for such moments that it is worth living in this world. And yes, the view is truly magical, befitting the master of this place. He is the one who truly made a fairy tale come true.
The flip landed softly on the clean, soap-washed asphalt.
"Our leader gathered us under the red banner, and our destiny is glorious. To those who gave their hearts to science: honor, recognition, and glory!" Katya recited, reading the slogan on the building's facade with passion and expression, as only workers can.
"Truly so. Without the conscientious work of my colleagues, none of this would have happened," commented the polymer bore.
"You have no idea how literal those words are!" I thought with irritation. This crap is getting on my nerves with its incomprehensibility. Like a grenade without a pin or markings. You don't know how it will explode, or if it will explode at all.
"Well, we also lent a hand to this moment. By the way, risking our lives," my other half replied, slightly indignant, skillfully hiding her irritation, only slightly wrinkling her nose. She didn't like the cocktail of Khariton and who knows what either.
"Am I denying that?" the latter countered, feigning bewilderment with his synthesized voice. Clever bastard. He juggles facts masterfully.
Entering the building, nodding to the armed guards, who froze at attention and saluted us as we approached, we proceeded into the lobby. Soviet architecture borrowed heavily from past styles. Ancient Greece was no exception. If you know where to look, you can see many symbols in their places where the Greeks would have had statues of gods. A sword, an ear of wheat, a staff with a snake, a rocket, a chemical flask, the sun, a dolphin, damn it all – these are all symbols of the main complexes of the Enterprise. The architects and designers really put in a lot of effort.
And I know this because I studied biology and veterinary medicine, while also touching upon myths and much more. If we encounter alien scum in an firefight, this knowledge will help me make them a little more dead. A veterinarian has a better chance of understanding alien guts, and therefore, of effectively killing them. So to speak, I'm working on self-development in my spare time. Maybe I'll become an astrobiologist, which, on the eve of upcoming flights to the stars, won't be superfluous.
I've already mastered field medicine and surgery and passed the relevant exams, becoming a full-fledged medic in the detachment, which, by the way, didn't exist, which is a huge screw-up. Of course, our fighters are their own doctors, but Katya and I almost died because of that approach. So, soldier, improve your skills! You'll save a comrade's life someday. I can even deliver a baby now... In "Vavilov" there's even a special simulator, a real one, which is fucking incredible. I'll say this, some of this shit will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.
I know robotics, polymer synthesis, and programming at a pretty decent level due to my work as a test pilot. As the smart guys said, after a couple of years of practice, I could even qualify for a lab assistant-engineer position at the Enterprise, which is quite a lot.
Lost in thought, we walked through the lobby, entered the elevator, and went up to the Wizard's office. No matter how many times I've been here, I'm always amazed by the scale of the place. My godfather had a sense of taste, so the huge spaces and ceilings five stories high were skillfully incorporated. Katya, who got interested in architecture and art in general, grumbled, "It's immediately clear that the owner of the office is a man. He dragged his 'toys' to his workspace instead of a garage. But there's something to it."
Her relationship with her suddenly appearing father was complicated. Each carefully approached the other, using knowledge of psychology. My wife decided to study her to better understand the godfather's thought process. She also helped me with biology and medicine, which she managed to download much earlier, also for the same purpose.
We couldn't get to Dmitry Sergeevich's workspace. At the entrance, a Brute stood frozen like a steel sculpture, standing monumentally, like a fucking mountain, with his arms crossed and his mirrored mask piercing the entrance doors.
"The boss is busy. He's rehearsing a speech. Preparing for a performance that will be in twenty minutes," the ironclad explained condescendingly, not even thinking of moving aside to let us pass. "He sends you the following order: report to the 'Vavilov' laboratory. Here's your key so that the air defense systems don't shoot down your flip. And now, get lost before I help you!"
"We're glad to see you too..." Katya said neutrally, taking the key that materialized from the spatial storage above the robot's palm.
"Speak for yourself!" I mumbled, sizing up the robot. "I don't remember being such an asshole."
"When your mom helped you with your vocabulary, you were the same for the first two days," my other half said with a sly smile. "And your facial expression was... regulated."
"And you should know what it's like! At least you, a flesh-and-blood, can ease your soul, but they installed a software block for me!" the machine said, copying my frown, deliberately turning its head towards me so that my face would be reflected in the mask. It knows I hate that.
"That explains a lot," Katerina mused, with whom she had a fairly normal relationship with her robotic copies, as much as possible. They are much friendlier.
"Just don't tell your mom, okay?"
"Afraid she'll install the same thing for you?" the wife asked slyly, entering the elevator.
"Knowing the technical impossibility of such an action, but knowing your mother perfectly well, I dare to assume that she might even succeed. She's a woman of the old school and has done the impossible more than once. Therefore, it's in your best interest to remain silent, Major," CHAR-les added his two cents.
The elevator quickly counted the floors, bringing us down to earth. And it doesn't matter that the earth itself was floating somewhere in the air. With the platform's decent speed, you don't feel it on "Chelomey." The anti-G dampers work reliably. It's a shame they're currently the size of a decent country house, but scientists are working on it.
"It's still very beautiful here," Katya stated.
"This place was specifically built to make such an impression. We put a lot of effort into exalting scientific triumph in concrete and glass as well," the polymer blob in my hand declared proudly. "I personally designed the VDNKh complex, and I hope it will also remain for centuries, so that our descendants, looking at our legacy, can be inspired to achieve great things."
"As I said, it turned out very beautiful," my wife agreed. "But I prefer the interweaving of greenery and modern materials."
"That's what Moscow lacks. You can only find trees in the park there," I supported her. Greenery, red flags, gilding – all of this truly made "Chelomey" alive, not stuffy like the capital.
"It just needs to be rebuilt. Unfortunately, we still lack the resources for some initiatives. The Palace of Soviets alone should become the jewel of the updated architecture of the "white stone city." To begin with, it needs to regain its white color. I've seen the designs. There's a lot of work to be done, but it's interesting. The plan includes more than ten climate control systems alone. You, like all residents of "Chelomey," should have already felt the convenience of scheduled weather."
"That's true," I agreed with the polymer snot, offering Katya my hand to help her get into the flip. Sometimes his grumbling contains sensible things.
The craft began to smoothly gain altitude as soon as I brought the key close to the control panel. Making a circle over the city, the machine glided upwards, allowing us to enjoy the bird's-eye view.
"I must admit, you've very skillfully incorporated replicas of monuments into the terrain," my wife admired the architect's talents.
"It couldn't have been otherwise if Soviet scientists took on the job," CHAR-les said, as if shrugging his shoulders, accepting the praise as a matter of course.
"And again, I can only agree," I agreed, clenching and unclenching my fingers. Without the scientists, my hands would be detached from my body. But I wouldn't care. If things had turned out differently, Katya and I would have been dead long ago and would be standing in a cemetery columbarium in beautiful urns with ruby stars, awarded by the state to every military officer who reached officer rank.
The flip flew around the entire territory of the Enterprise, giving us a good panoramic tour. Even though we had flown like this before, something new was added each time. Scientific thought doesn't stand still. Moreover, this time we had a guide, although we didn't ask for it much, not at all.
Making a beautiful loop, the craft landed softly on the roof of the ground laboratory "Vavilov." There, another "Tereshkova" was waiting for us.
"Welcome!" she said, as usual with enthusiasm, gesturing, and spinning around, which made her strange clothes flutter slightly. "You are already expected in the procedure room."
"Procedure room?" I asked, raising an eyebrow expressively.
"Of course! They'll install the latest modules in your military-grade polymer manipulators," the machine explained, walking slightly ahead of us, showing the way, although we knew the layout well. After all, we were treated here.
"The latest? That's good," I had no choice but to agree.
"Don't you think there are too many 'Vovchiks' in the corridors for a half-working day?" Katya asked me.
"Indeed. Too many," I frowned. "Maybe that's why? Only the most important experiments are being conducted now, or those that cannot be interrupted. Someone has to monitor them..."
"Your paranoia sometimes amazes me. Not everything in life is trying to kill you," CHAR-les said admonishingly.
"It's better to be a living paranoid than a dead optimist," I retorted.
Going down one floor, entering the bright and spacious laboratory, we instantly tensed up, seeing how the lab robots dispersed among the living employees, freezing behind their backs. Exchanging glances and seeing the worried faces of each other, we came to the same decision.
"Are you sure?" Katya, now Blesna, said, getting into a fighting stance.
"Absolutely," I agreed. "It's better to get beaten by the bosses for ruining the holidays than to miss something."
"Hello!" the senior lab assistant's voice drew our attention, but seeing our tense state and that Katya was typing something on her "Chebetar," he faltered. "What..."
I intercepted the hand of a mechanical lab assistant who lunged at us automatically, preventing him from crushing the communication device along with Katya's hand. Jerking the limb, I broke it at the joint, pulling the robot towards me by it.
The machine turned from the jerk, exposing a vulnerable spot – its coccyx. A blow with my knuckles dented the chassis near the port, disabling the robot's polymer battery.
"Yes... what do you think you're doing?!" the lab supervisor chimed in.
"Saving your life, you idiot!" I shouted, tripping him with a leg sweep, saving him from the fate of dying from a broken neck, as the machines were rushing at us, ignoring the employees, which was exactly what I needed.
I pulled out a PM pistol from the spatial storage and immediately fired a bullet into the processor of an overly hasty robot. With a kick, I sent "Tereshkova" into an involuntary flight, right under the enemy's feet, creating a pile-up.
"How rude!" the tin can exclaimed, trying to get up, which only increased the jumble.
I didn't wait for them to sort it out and charged into the robots, tearing off the head of one with a good kick as it was on all fours, and piercing another that had already managed to get up with my hook. Sparring with Argon in boxing did its job...
Finally, the sound of an alarm siren rang out! The whip from Katya's glove flashed in the air, cutting two machines in half. Two shots from her pistol boomed, finishing off the wounded.
"What are you waiting for?! Move, smartasses! There's sabotage at the Enterprise! Someone activated military mode for the robots!" she shouted at the stunned white coats.
Somewhere, a distant explosion of a generator sounded, and automatic bursts rattled. All this, accompanied by the specific wail of the siren, illustrated the whole mess that had befallen us. It's good that "Chelomey," where most of the people were gathered, has a separate control circuit. Like in "Korolev" or at the Enterprise's thermonuclear reactor. Otherwise, it would have been minced meat!
We were already running through the corridors when a downed robot crashed into the laboratory where we were. Anti-aircraft gunners, damn it, never sleep! Along the way, we were disabling all mechanical things, gathering people and getting them out of the laboratory, sometimes just throwing them out the window. It's only a few stories high, so even the smartasses won't kill themselves!
Bursting out onto the ground floor, we silenced the ironclad machines with precise shots that were trying to dismantle the facility's security for souvenirs, which had managed to react to the alarm and give the machines a hard time.
"Thanks," the security captain grumbled, securing his broken arm with his army belt before the shock wore off.
"Move! Move! If we get trapped in the building, we're screwed!" I urged everyone to get out.
Without bothering to open doors, I simply broke through the glass barrier with my body. I rolled to absorb the impact and shot from a kneeling position at the head of an already broken robot that was staggering at the entrance.
New explosions and the wail of small rockets sounded. Flames flared up somewhere beyond the trees.
"There was a kindergarten there!" someone among the scientists shouted.
"The iron ones don't care now! They were given a program, and they executed it!" I stated.
"It's good that the children were taken to 'Chelomey'," Katya added, looking grimly at the rising flames...