The Renegades

by Vasily Mahanenko

  “You think they train ninjas or like super-duper-Spetsnaz here?” Chip drawled, examining the obstacle course. “Hell, we should record this and show it to the recce squad—they won’t believe it otherwise.”

  I was in agreement with the pirc here—I’d encountered things like this only in far-fetched action flicks about commandos—or in fantastical books. Pendulums, balls with spikes on ropes, some kind of toothed contraptions sawing in and out of stretches of bog punctuated by mounds of earth, between which something more dangerous than toads and frogs lurked in the muddy sludge…

  “Well, we won’t be bored here,” the pirc took heart. “Want to bet who’ll complete this mess first?”

  I didn’t share his enthusiasm. Not because the obstacle course scared me, but because I was haunted by my sense of guilt. It was my stupid oversight that landed Chip in this pen.

  “Forgive me for putting you in a tough spot. I messed up and you’re paying for it,” I drooped my head and prodded a fresh molehill with the toe of my shoe.

  “Come on now,” Chip nudged me with his elbow. “Found something to be upset over. This is a game, buddy! We’ll level up here for a bit. I don’t see anything catastrophic in this. I’ll relive my days as a snot-nosed recruit when I would go AWOL for any dumb reason. What a time it was…” the pirc squinted in reminiscence. “This place—why it may as well be a resort. There’s nature, warm weather and a charming lady for company…This is a recruit’s fantasy!”

  “Charming as in she’ll charm you, lead you into a bog and then drown you?”

  Chip’s levity caused me to cheer up. If he didn’t mind losing several weeks of freedom, then maybe things weren’t so bad. After all was said and done, I can read about the local stories in the books and maybe slap together another song or two. And after that, there’d be the embassy, the new alliance and, I can bet, an easing of the border security. While I’m here, I’ll see what it’s like to learn a new language by reading. And I’ll level up my Bardic Lore. I can’t wait to reach 100 and discover the properties of Cypro’s gift.

  “Everyone knows you can’t drown a pirc in a bog!” Chip proclaimed dramatically. “Right, oh my intrepid lily of the valley, let’s check out what there is to do here.”

  “I think, officially, the options are leveling up and geeking out. When the books arrive, I’ll research the local legends and gather some material for our album. I could also raise my stats or mine some ore and chop some lumber. When it comes to unofficial ways of spending time, there’s no dating house here, so the options are rather limited. I don’t know the prices they charge there, but I doubt we’d afford it anyway.”

  “The dating house is like Barliona’s version of a whorehouse, right?” Chip asked. “No thanks. That kind of thing doesn’t draw me in the least. To be honest, I’ve never been able to understand the pleasure of tumbling with a bunch of numbers and letters.”

  “I think the point is that full VR immersion simulates real-life sensations…” I objected. “Plus, you’re not likely to find an elf, a gnome or some orc maiden out in meatspace. It’s exoticism! Or, you could even order yourself a copy of Anastaria. Half of Barliona has lost its mind over her.”

  “I think I belong to the other half,” Chip waved his paw dismissively. “I saw her a couple times before I ended up in the hospital bed. They showed her on the news. I wonder how she lives out in meatspace, as you call it, knowing that there’re hordes of nerds in here ordering copies of her at the Dating House all night and day.”

  “To be honest, I can’t imagine either. It’s hard to fathom why someone would give permission for their likeness to be used in a VR bordello. Maybe in extremely dire circumstances, but I doubt that the face of the largest guild of her continent needs money that badly. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but in my view, it’s not that different from prostitution. Even if she doesn’t personally service the johns, how must her husband feel when his buddies tell him that ‘I ordered your wife in Barliona the other day; she’s a hell of a ride.’ That’s beyond my understanding. Am I bigot?”

  “If you are, so am I,” Chip voiced his solidarity. “But…another’s soul is not for us to know. Then again, there are peoples who exchange wives as gifts, as a show of respect.”

  The very thought of it made me start.

  “More like, there are men who exchange wives as gifts as a show of respect,” I objected. “Ain’t no peoples who exchange husbands as gifts as a show of respect. All right, let’s look around and figure out how to use that obstacle course. Hell, we might die in a flash and respawn in a cemetery outside of this reservation.”

  A quick examination of the training ground didn’t add much to my initial impression. It was the size of a football field and offered a fairly exotic inventory of exercise equipment. There were the ordinary dummies as well as complex, anthropomorphic ones, created it seems for special rogue training. I was also pleased to see dummies in clothes hung with bells. As Chip the know-it-all explained, thieves would use these back in the Middle Ages, the objective being to steal something from the dummy without ringing a single bell.

  The obstacle course turned out to be much more complicated than it looked. Almost right away I understood why in army jargon (again according to Chip), these were called ‘death valleys.’ Except you couldn’t die here—my Hit Points would simply drop to 1 HP and then I was sent back to the beginning—but sometimes I wished I could. And also I wished I could kill a certain two-meter tall ball of fur, whose extremely long tongue never missed a chance to let the ‘vegetable brats’ have it. I swear—by the end of the day, Chip was alive only because I didn’t have the strength to smack him on the head, or the mental energy to kill him with my spells. But at least I managed to increase my Constitution by two whole points! Against the backdrop of this achievement, a respectable increase in my agility seemed like a fairly insignificant development.

  The books arrived by courier—a taciturn and serious biota whom I recalled from one of my visions. He was one of Eben’s apprentices. And he showed up the same way—through a portal—which suggested that there weren’t any other exits. He refused to make small talk, ignored all of Chip’s quips and, dropping off the books, re-entered his portal without a word.

  “Good chat,” I muttered, assiduously arranging my personal prison library in my bag. Who knows how realistic things are here? Maybe it’ll start raining and the books will get wet and fall apart, and later I’ll be responsible for them. Or not, but either way, I wouldn’t have anything to read.

  “What’s there to chat with him about anyway?” Chip plunked down on the ground and stretched loudly, then threw one leg over the other and dreamily stared at a convoy of clouds plowing through the heavens.

  “Eh, when I get better, it’ll be straight up into the sky in my bird for me,” he shared his reveries.

  “What’s with you anyway?” I asked carefully, sitting down nearby. I hadn’t the strength left for anything but conversation and as it happened, our circumstances welcomed an open and heartfelt exchange.

  “Uhh…A stupid turn of events, let’s say,” Chip sighed. “I was coming in for a landing. We were picking up some infantry. A rebel launched an RPG from the jungle. Hit my right engine. I ordered the navigator and my snipers to bail, and then tried to save the bird…Didn’t make it. My bird crashed and I got crushed in the cabin. There was a fuel leak…and, well…”

  For a few moments, I stared at him blankly, trying to comprehend what he’d told me. Either I didn’t understand something or Chip crashed in his helicopter, the fuel leaked and he…

  “Did you get burned?” I asked the dumbest question in the world.

  “That too,” nodded Chip. “Fractured my spine when I fell, broke my legs and some debris cut up my face. I lost an eye and a part of my lower jaw. If it weren’t for the grunts, I’d be done for. One broiled pilot au jus. The boys pulled me out as the bird burned. They laid some fire down on the rebels and rescued me before I could cook in my flight suit.”r />
  Chip fell silent and I simply looked at his furry face at a loss for what to say, all the right words escaping me. What could I say here? That I’m sorry? A stupid and meaningless phrase. What kind of words of consolation were available here? And does he even need that from a person he barely knows? Should I cheer him up? How can you cheer someone up in this situation? Or maybe I should stay silent? That’s even worse…

  “What do the doctors say?” I asked directly.

  Since I struck up this awkward conversation, I should at least go through with it until I have a complete idea of Chip’s condition—maybe I won’t say something wrong later. Maybe he’ll only be able to walk in-game now. Although, no, hadn’t he mentioned being ‘out of bed’ repeatedly? Either way, knowing for certain won’t hurt here.

  “They’re promising an almost complete recovery,” came the reply. “Paid for by the ministry of defense, naturally. At the moment, I’m limping around the apartment like some kind of cyborg—decked out in all kinds of equipment. The only awful thing is that I can’t eat properly—all the grub at the moment is liquid and tubed in down the old gullet.”

  “And how is that they released you from the hospital in this condition?” I wondered at the carelessness of the army doctors.

  In my imagination, traumas of this level required lots of rest in a regenerative capsule. Although, I have to admit that my medical knowledge was limited to cold remedies, dealing with alcohol poisoning and providing first aid to various non-serious traumas.

  “I asked them myself,” Chip confessed. “They monitor me around the clock and the doctor comes by daily. In the hospital…I just can’t. It’s horrible there. Burn-victims all around me—and above us, patients with abdominal wounds. And sometimes…” he fell silent, staring at the grass. “Well…when the morphine wears out, they start screaming…” the pirc added, when I already thought that he wouldn’t be saying anything further. “And that’s…horrible to hear.”

  I had been lucky enough that I’d never even heard of these kinds of things and had difficulty imagining what it was like. But I had enough imagination to cringe. Yeah. When you have neighbors like that, I would prefer to hobble around my house too, even if I had to crawl, as long as I wasn’t in the hospital.

  “Does someone stay with you in your apartment? To help out, bring food, wash the dishes or do laundry?”

  “Well, like I said, the doctor comes by,” Chip faltered. “As for the rest of it…It’s not a big deal. I can always just order what I need on the web.”

  “And where do you live?” I asked, contemplating an idea.

  “In the Russian sector,” Chip replied a little taken aback. “In Pyatigorsk, if you’ve ever heard of it. A resort region. The so-called Caucasian Mineral Waters.”

  “Why we’re practically neighbors! I’m in Russia too, near Voronezh. It’s all forest, mountains and barbecue here.”

  “Pff, please!” Chip snorted playfully. “What could you know about barbecue, oh child of the northern forests? Why, you people still use vinegar as marinade.”

  “To each her own. But in general, here’s your chance to teach the savages how to make proper barbecue. I’ll come by for a visit, help you around the house, take care of you a bit and then you’ll return the favor by making me some barbecue, southern style. How do you like the idea?”

  “Are you serious?” Chip didn’t believe me.

  “Uh-huh,” I nodded. “I have a friend who works for the Kislovodsk monorail. I’ll catch a ride with him in the service car right to your area. I’ll borrow a good holoprojector from Straus, so there won’t be a problem with band practice, and other than that, I’m as free as the wind in the steppe. I have no work, and I’ve amassed plenty of material for the album, I can compose wherever I am, and as it happens, Barliona’s offering a promo in which they lend out their newest capsules for a month. All you’ll have to do is hobble to your front door to let me in.”

  And here a miracle took place! Chip, the long-tongued, was stumped. I swear—if we’d been in reality—he would’ve blushed as red as a tomato. In Barliona, however, he expressed his embarrassment by pressing his ears to his head and kicking the earth with his paw.

  “That really would be very wonderful,” he managed at last. “But…don’t be scared, okay? I don’t look so good these days—I could play a villain in an action movie.”

  “Have you seen yourself in the game? A pirc doesn’t even fit the edict that ‘a man should be a bit better-looking than a monkey,’ so I doubt that you’ll outdo your alter ego in meatspace.”

  “And, what, you’re not afraid to up and go visit some man you don’t know?” the pirc asked, surprised.

  “I trust my sense of people—and it’s not like you’re the one beckoning me into a dark lair,” I laughed. “Again, if your jaw is in place and you have your Sauce-given two eyes, I’ll turn right around and head on back. And if you’re hobbling like a zombie, then I’ll manage one way or another. I’ll make sure to leave the address with my friends.”

  “And how is your boyfriend going to react? He won’t turn into an Othello and make a scene, by any chance?”

  “The last Tarzan already had his scene and the curtain dropped a good while ago. But even if he were around, I doubt that in your condition, you’re a victim of whatever romantic impulses you may have.”

  “You can say that again,” Chip scratched his head. “To be honest, my only true impulse is to gobble up a normal piece of steak.”

  “Just promise me that I won’t be said steak, so I can come visit you without any reservations.”

  “You’re not meat. You’re salad. So come on by with peace of mind,” Chip joked. “The most you have to worry about is me yanking out a few bundles from your mop—for garnish, you see.”

  “I happen to identify as a poisonous plant,” I warned him for good measure.

  “In that case, I’ll whip up my fugu soup. When are you coming?” the pirc asked, smiling. “I’ll prepare a room for you. And I’ll ask a friend to drop off a capsule—he’s off on vacation and won’t need it for three months.”

  “When it comes to the capsule—great! But as for the room…You’re barely walking and have a fractured spine and you want to prepare something or other?” I asked. “Sit and chill. I’ll figure it out on my own. If something, I’ll toss a sleeping bag on the floor—I’ll sleep perfectly fine on it. As for the rest of it—I’ll call Frost and find out when the monorail leaves and whether I can catch a ride on it.”

  “I have enough strength to order some fresh sheets and order that lazy robot to prepare your room,” Chip assured me.

  “In that case, tell me your address and I’ll find out when I can be there.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I climbed out of the capsule in that rare careless-impatient attitude that takes over when an adventure looms on the horizon. And even if it was merely an unplanned trip to an unknown city to visit a person I didn’t really know, it’s moments like this that cause the heart to beat a little faster. Someone might think it flippant, but I always thought that these were the moments that made life worth living, when the sensation that what you are doing is right empowers you to disregard your reservations.

  It took me a half hour to pack and I limited myself to a large backpack. This was joined by a hardcase with my guitar synth and—aside from the issue of the holoprojector—I was ready to set out.

  The boys reacted to my announcement with understanding—the only catch was that Edilberto announced implacably:

  “I’ll come along with you to see this goon with my own eyes. When it comes to what he says maybe he’s barely walking but then it turns out he’s some sort of prevert. If everything’s fine, I’ll roll on back with Frost. And if not, I’ll smack him in the gob and we’ll come back together.”

  It was pointless to object and useless too, so I called Chip and informed him that I wouldn’t be coming alone. He assured me that he didn’t have any problems with this and it seemed to me lik
e he was only happier that I’d bring more company. I guess he was sick and tired of sitting around on his own.

  “Just don’t say anything to Toad or he’ll pitch a fit,” Charsky counseled. “If a concert comes around, we’ll warn you ASAP so you have time to return. It’s only five hours on the mono so there shouldn’t be any issues.”

  “Listen Kiera, leave me the keys to your place, what do you say?” Straus popped up. “It’s all the same to you and I’ll be able to get away from my parents for a bit.”

  “Make sure you don’t become a parent in the process,” giggled Charsky. “The breath of liberty could make you lose your mind at the worst moment.”

  Straus waved his fist at him but Yuri didn’t seem particularly afraid.

  “Here,” I handed Straus my keys. “Rent’s on you while I’m gone. And when I come back, I better not hear any complaints from my neighbors about things that go bang in the night. If you go through my drawers, I’ll kill you.”

  Once Straus had done giving me his oaths and assurances, I grabbed the holoprojector and headed to the station with Beast. Edilberto brought a bottle of cognac with him—a perk for Frost for his understanding and support.

  “At least I’ll be able to get some fresh air,” he explained the grin on his face. “There’re also nice places to visit out there. I’ll head out to the mountains for a day or two. Sit around a fire. Think about my thoughts.”

  This explained the hiking backpack and sleeping bag on his back.

  “If something happens, the city’s right at the foot of the mountains. I’ll come running as soon as I get your call,” he added.

  “Don’t worry,” I smiled hearing the concern in his voice. “You know firsthand that I’m smart when it comes to people. Everything will be fine.”

  “What I like about you, Kiera, is your healthy faith in other people,” Beast laughed. “You’re always ready to help and you never forget to bring your taser with you.”