City-21 “Kyiv”, UNSA Protectorate, Avril Dominion
The Palace of Sports
Maksim Chernykh’s Team, August 12, 2049, 2:39 PM
In the sprawling urban maze of Kyiv, Maksim had never really paid attention to the shopping prospects near the Sports Palace, despite frequenting this venue for competitions. However, he was aware that post-renovation, the area had burgeoned with shops and vending machines selling all sorts of sports gear and equipment.
Yet, acquiring weapons was another matter. Hunting stores had vanished long ago, erased by eco-activists’ successful campaigns to outlaw animal hunting across most states and polises globally. As for firearms shops, Kyiv had never entertained them; the city’s security strategy was anchored on robust cybernetic surveillance and numerous city police volunteers.
Indeed, nobody had expected to find anything serious here. At most, they might get lucky and find a pistol on a random victim... But stocking up on food, water, knives, camping gear, and basic tools was definitely doable.
Genuine wilderness exploration was a thing of the past, yet various packaged outdoor experiences like trekking persisted, sustaining the production of related apparel, equipment, and various essentials.
Surprisingly, the local shopping mall ‘Gulliver’ also boasted a well-stocked military gear outlet, Militant Mark – a name well-regarded among strikeball and hardball enthusiasts, and other fans of the “Military” style.
“Time is tight, so we need to move fast. I’ve already scoped out the pla…” Maksim started, pulling up a virtual interface in their shared visual space.
“I’ve seen it too and even drafted shopping lists for each store,” Dasha interjected hastily, quickly sharing her screen filled with meticulously planned purchases. “I, really, I mean – truly, very – very much... like, really a lot! Need new pants, you see, yeah! They have them… Teen’s Republic…”
“Pants?” Nika raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What pants?”
“Vasilevskaya!” Max intervened, merging her display in the VR, and dragging it under his own one, to keep things focused. “We’re short on time, seriously. Let’s stick to the plan and cut the chaos.”
“And yes, Nika, she needs pants,” he sighed, resignedly. “They are always the same ones, and I know which ones. Yes, WonderKid, we’ll get them.”
Maksim pinned four virtual containers to his display: Athletix, Adventure Nexus, Militant Mark, and Teen Republic. After a moment’s consideration and a quick online check, he added one more – Kyiv Store.
“All these stores in the ‘Gulliver’ mall operate automatically 24/7, processing and fulfilling online orders. And – that’s the main point! – they are currently working. I checked each one’s status,” he assured. “We don’t know how long we’ll be on self-reliance, so let’s prepare for the worst.”
“In the TACTA store, we can acquire ANYTHING whatsoever,” Dasha declared, twirling her vape pensively in front of the camera. “First things first, we’re gonna fix Max’s back and wait out the curfew. After that, it’ll be easier. I’m currently working with TACTA’s documentation on Informatorium... well, actually, the Ravens are – not for nothing I brought them back.”
“So… Yeah, this very TACTA trades just nicely in weapons, armor, ammunition. Yup, they really have anything… Absolutely anything!” She concluded contently, “and even provide access to advanced medical tech, molecular assembly, and antigravity modules. Though, high-tech like that requires a significant rating and isn’t cheap. And, certainly, none of it’s available without calling in a drone.”
“Anything new on the drone call, by the way?” Maksim immediately asked.
“No,” Daria shook her head. “There’s only a directive that after curfew, connecting to the TACTA’s network via cellular service in Protectorate territories is forbidden. Of course, we can do it, but it’s basically a suicide. Plus, the Protes consider a three-hundred-kilometer zone around captured polises as their own, though officially they say it’s just a hundred.”
“Got it. No change in plans, then,” Maksim decided. “We’ll stock up on quality gear, price no object. That will spare us wasting money of TACTA on basic survival goods and other clothing. Next question, Nikola, you've been to Zelman’s clinic before, right? Think there’s any food there?”
“A tricky question,” Nikola pondered, rummaging through shelves for suitable metal strips to craft blades. “There’s a full kitchen and big refrigerators. After all, it’s a full-service clinic. They stocked up on raw foodstuffs, not pre-made meals; an android chef cooked everything. It’s probably taken, but the food might still be there.”
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“Let’s bet they didn’t haul all the food out; no point in that. Just in case, we can grab military rations from ‘Militant Mark,’ enough for three for two weeks. What do you think?”
“Oh, those war game enthusiasts? Got a few of their stores in Warsaw too,” Nikola gestured broadly. “Never thought I’d be shopping there!”
“Well, we’re not here to judge someone’s hobbies,” Maksim smiled. “The important thing is that the military corps are happy to sell them good field uniform, gear and MREs, even if overpriced.”
“Haha, agreed. But, Max, from what I’m seeing here, we won’t have enough carry capacity!” Nikola exclaimed confidently. “Actually, I’d rather grab five weeks’ worth of those damn military rations. Trustworthy, quality stuff, long shelf life. And tasty too, I must confess. To carry it all...”
Nikola paused dramatically, miming a drum roll with her hands, “pam-param-pam-pam-pam.”
“We’ll grab a cart from ‘Mikea.’ They always have those big, motorized ones for family shopping! What are we if not a family?”
“Nothing at all,” Dasha snorted under her breath so quietly that no one heard her.
“Brilliant! I was breaking my head here, over how to haul so much, but such a simple solution never occurred to me!” The guy gave a thumbs up. “I’ll factor it into our route; we hit there first. By the way, Nikola, as a cyborg, do you need anything specific? Something we should pick up at the mall?”
“I doubt it; my limbs are all military-grade. But I hope to sort all that out at the cyber clinic.”
“Great,” Maksim concluded. “So, let’s do it like this. WonderKid will trim down her list to ditch anything non-essential for the next month, especially bulky or heavy items.”
“Okay, okay,” chirped Daria, adding, “But, Max, please-please-please, since we have so much money, maybe I can order several pairs of pants at once? Hmm?”
“Go for it,” he chuckled. “Nika, let’s discuss our shopping needs at…”
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“Alright, here’s the plan,” Maksim continued after a fervent, yet brief debate finalized the shopping lists, and orders were placed. “Dasha, Nikola, see this geo-tag? It’s a meetup point with the truck, in the parking lot near the Sports Palace. It has four underground levels – no signal past the second. Likely empty, but you never know what lurks in the shadows. Still, we’ve got our scout.”
“And if we do encounter shaiszu there?” Nikola interjected, practical as ever. “What’s our plan B if we come up empty on arms?”
“Got it covered,” Maksim assured with a nod. “There are two more lots nearby. Less ideal, but they’ll do in a pinch. Worst case, we fallback to the mall’s underground.”
“Since we’re not overloading CaTZ,” he continued, seeing Redhead nodding in agreement, “it can handle Alisa’s body just fine weight-wise. Nika, you’ll fetch me first, we pick up the android, and then head to the rendezvous. We’ve got reconnaissance, so it’s just about staying sharp. Then we wait for WonderKid and get ready. As soon as that truck arrives, we hop in and move out. If there are no further questions, let’s go!”
Dasha loaded the drones and set off on the platform to retrieve Moira from the club, while Maksim and Nikola set out on their mission. They took the modified courier bot as a primary scout, and the unloaded CaTZ acted as an additional carrier and mobile shield. The basket on top, capable of holding up to two hundred liters, was reserved for lightweight and compact essentials only, as it would later also need to accommodate an android chassis.
The bot was prepped for the journey – bindings on its sides allowed attaching large bags or backpacks. To avoid any last-minute searching, the guy secured a bundle of five rolls of duct tape to one of the side hooks and threw a couple of dozen rubber cords with carabiners into the basket.
Nika, after some rummaging, found a pair of metal strips which Max quickly fashioned at the workbench into decent, albeit makeshift, swords.
They decided to exit through the nearest emergency door. As CaTZ trudged upstairs, Maksim quickly dashed out with ‘Swifty’ – the small scout’s nickname – through the service areas to the main facilities.
“I just remembered – the mall’s supposed to have a whole array of vending machines. Maybe there’s a ‘pharmacist’ among them!” Max rejoiced, peering through the camera feeds. “Bingo! Here’s the med box for us!”
This made sense since traditional pharmacies had long vanished from cities. In an era when serious medicinal interventions were calculated based on hundreds of parameters, including a patient’s genetic code, and drugs are custom-made for individual patients and specific needs, the old-fashioned ready-made medicine stores became obsolete.
Instead, vending machines took over – stocked with everything from bandages and antiseptics to erotic products, and of course, universal molecular medicine drug, which had virtually eliminated nuisances like the common cold, the flu, and most infections.
So, such a raid was top of Maksim’s agenda, and it was a stroke of luck that the needed “pharmacy” was found close by. Thus, though the plan called for Nikola and the bots to proceed alone afterward, they all went to the device together.
“Alright, Nikola, let’s swoop in,” Maksim grinned broadly. “But first, grab the bandages, plasters, antiseptics, and regenerative gel. We’ll take care of your back real quick.”
After setting bots to guard the corridor, the young man washed his hands with newly purchased water. By the time he was done wiping his palms with antiseptic gel, Nika had already stripped off her shirt and pulled out a couple of large “gift bags” with “I ♥ Kyiv” on them, which she had hurriedly grabbed at a nearby shop.
She had discarded the trivial souvenirs from them and was now stuffing both bags with essential medical supplies, turning them into makeshift portable first aid kits – a clever idea, indeed.
“Nika,” Max said, examining her back once more. “This is gonna hurt. Want to take some painkillers first?”
“Uh... no,” Nikola somewhat faltered in her response. “No need. Just clean the wounds, and I’ll be off. Time is against us.”
“As you wish,” he replied, beginning the treatment.