City-21 “Kyiv”, UNSA Protectorate, Avril Dominion
Industrial Zone “NES Factory”, Medical Center “Lizard Tail”
Maksim Chernykh’s team, August 13, 2049, 12:35 AM
# Contact Confirmed
The mediaglyph of the clinic’s security complex chimed softly, showing an augmented reality image from one of the entrance cameras.
“Miro is goddamn punctual, huh! One minute before the appointed time,” Nikola smiled, glancing at the man approaching with a submachine gun slung over his shoulder. “Well, Max, shall we go up?”
“Wait a moment!” he quickly stepped into the next room, which had been turned into an operational warehouse and, incidentally, an armory. Though it was currently empty. After about ten seconds, the guy emerged, already fastening a bandolier to his belt and slinging a pump-action shotgun strap around his neck.
“What’s the point? We’re not planning to fight, are we?” Redhead was surprised. “And we only have ten shotgun shells. Not much at all.”
“Of course not. It’s just for appearances. You know how this crowd is. They come in all tough and armed. We need to look the part too, so we don’t seem like some nerds from med school. So, I’ll stand there, flashing my guns.”
“Oh, because I called them ‘real psychos’? Well, yeah, the ‘Balkans’ are like that, but it’s also mostly for show. And their leaders aren’t idiots at all. If this Miro is who I think he is...”
“All the more reason,” Maksim countered. “We shouldn’t show them that we’re unarmed; they’ll jack up the price.”
“It makes sense, you convinced me. Let’s go then.”
“Guys, hold on another second!” Alisa’s voice called out, and the android entered the room carrying a small plastic box. “Take this with you! It can reach the surface; there are relays up there. Just don’t stray too far from the clinic.”
With these words, she handed Max a portable medical diagnostic scanner.
“This thing streams all the data to Mei Li. The AI gives a preliminary analysis on the fly, cross-referencing with our med databases and supplies. This way, we can diagnose and estimate the workload without bringing potential patients down here. I still don’t trust those guys...”
“Smart, a solid idea. I’ve used one of these in field medical courses. Anything special we need to know?”
“No, it gives on-screen tips, just make sure the connection is not lost on the surface. But it’s a field model; it should work fine.”
Maksim nodded, and then he and Nika headed to the surface exit.
Once they ascended, the guy approached the exit door and checked the scanner. The green signal icon showed a steady five bars. They could go out.
In person, both guests were even more colorful than on video. Miro was the first to approach — a handsome, statuesque man of indeterminate age. At first glance, he could be thirty, at most thirty-five, especially if you didn’t look at his face. His lean figure, graceful stride reminiscent of a hunting tiger, the muscles rippling under his military shirt, and the thick, jet-black hair pulled into a neat ponytail could give that impression. But the piercing gaze, as if drilling into the interlocutor, betrayed a person with far more experience, as if he’d lived a couple of lifetimes already.
And the fine mesh of wrinkles around his brown eyes, along with the slight gray at his temples, left no doubt that Miro was likely well over fifty. His hand rested casually on the submachine gun slung over his left shoulder, and a homemade cigarette, smoldering with black smoke like an ancient diesel engine, juts out from his lips.
image [https://i.imgur.com/E5v5QRo.jpg]
Behind the leader unobtrusively loomed the second “combat unit” — a very young guy, no more than twenty, but of threatening size — at least two meters tall, maybe more. However, it was hard to tell exactly, as he was sitting on a self-propelled platform, legs tucked under a tarp. The protruding barrel of a rifle in his cyber hands made the whole composition look like a tank turret.
Unlike Miro’s relaxed expression, the young man’s face was stony and grimly focused. But a closer look made it clear to Max that this wasn’t concentration, but the effect of strong painkillers.
Seeing Nika, the gang leader’s face broke into a wide, genial smile.
“Oh, well hello, sister!” he said, spreading his arms and stepping forward. Nikola reciprocated, and they performed a ritual hug, just like classic mafiosi.
Maksim, keeping a stoic expression, stood behind them, holding his shotgun.
“So glad to see you again!” Miro continued. “When I heard the Mad Fox was looking for a meeting, I figured it must be our little Kowalski! When they told me a year ago that this cute girl would be in the final, I didn’t believe it. But after watching her past fights, I saw the potential – and placed a very good bet. Thus, I made a nice haul back then, so you didn’t let down all of us who believed in you!”
“Ah, yeah, those were the days,” Nika smiled bashfully. “Now, see how small the world is. We’re meeting here now. Different time, and the world... has changed, yeah…”
“Tell me about it.” Miro took a deep drag on his cigarette and nodded towards the young fighter. “So, let’s get to it. This is Tomasz. Former deserter from the ‘Watsonians,’ has a lot in common with you in terms of hardware. He clashed with a shaiszu today while covering our guys on a raid. One leg’s damaged, the other ripped off. His sub’s a bit off the rails, so we had to sedate him with what we had in the police kit. The severed spot is frozen, and beyond that, we don’t know what to do. So, as soon as I heard about your setup, I responded right away.”
“Familiar situation. I fought a shaiszu too and got hit to the leg, but my cyber-core managed to shoot it off in time, so I took the bastard down. Let’s take a look! Max, come here.”
Maksim slung the shotgun behind his back, pulled out the scanner, and stepped up. He hesitated for a second, unsure whether to shake the gangster’s hand, but refrained. Miro didn’t extend his hand first, so “gangster etiquette” apparently didn’t require it in this situation. The guy settled for a respectful nod and received one in return.
Lifting the tarp, they saw Tomasz’ mangled left cyber leg and the remains of his right thigh, frozen with a cryo container. Given Max’s practical experience in field medicine, he wasn’t horrified by such injuries. He just calmly activated the device and began scanning.
“Our chief doctor downstairs in the operating room will get the data,” Redhead announced, looking at the scanner’s screen, “and we'll decide what can be done. Give us a moment to consult.”
Processing the received data at the control post didn’t take Alisa long. Maksim and Nika stepped a few paces away and had a quick consultation. In the end, the android summarized:
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
[The easiest and fastest solution is to reconstruct the pelvic bones, which is doable. The main arteries are fine, but new ports need to be installed, along with everything else. Both cyber legs obviously need replacing. We have a set similar to Nika’s, though slightly inferior. But they can be adjusted to his height. That’s my treatment plan suggestion.]
[Sounds good,] Nika agreed. [Those legs of the fifth series that I found?]
[Yes. Unfortunately, we don’t have anything better.]
[It’s fine. I’ll try to negotiate the price.]
They returned to Miro, who had already replaced the tarp and was watching the discussion with a deceptively relaxed gaze.
“Our doctor will take on the job. But the only hardware we have are fifth-generation ‘Vipers,’ combat-grade, with good jump capabilities and top-tier power buses. Or do you have your own replacements? Our other leg hardware is all civilian-grade.”
Miro met Tomasz’ eyes for a couple of seconds.
“We have our own gear, plenty of it. But there’s no way we can get to it now! It’s only three kilometers from here to our base... but the Protectorate’s checkpoint is right over it. So, we’ll go with the Vipers. What’s the timeframe? Will he need to stay with you, or can he walk out on his own?”
“Six hours for the whole job and six hours for initial rehab after. He’ll rest in our ward, and we’ll keep an eye on him to make sure everything’s good. But I’m afraid Tomasz won’t be able to walk right away,” Redhead replied, glancing at Alisa’s suggestion. “Moreover, after the operation, he should stay in bed for five days with a regen belt. We’ll provide the supplies. But once we’re done, he’ll be conscious and able to move around in a wheelchair.”
“Fine. Would you stream the operation?”
“Sure, no problem,” Nika agreed. “By the way, you mentioned two fighters needing fixing?”
“Yeah, but let’s do the first one and see the result. If everything’s okay, we’ll bring the second. His case is complex but not critical. And just so you know, he’s my nephew! If anything goes wrong with him, I’ll never hear the end of it from my sister.” He smiled and blew out a cloud of black smoke. “Shall we talk numbers?”
“Of course. Remember, we agreed on the pre-war exchange rate in eddies. So, it will cost... this much!”
After these words, Redhead smiled broadly and showed the communicator screen with the amount displayed on it. The gesture was quite theatrical, like haggling at a bazaar in Istanbul. Miro appreciated it, but when he saw the number, he whistled and burst into laughter.
“You've got to be kidding me! Seriously?! Even considering wartime, urgency, and everything else, the figure should be a third of this. And if we take into account ‘friend discounts’ and that you don’t seem to have a queue...”
With that, he inserted a decimal point before the last digit in the written number.
“Alright, alright, truth emerges in argument. We just need a lot of stuff and weapons, so I risked setting the bar high,” Nika smiled, adjusting the number. “Dobrze, a third of the original will be fair.”
“That’s better,” Miro nodded. “So, we agree on the price?”
“Deal! Though I’m afraid we won’t have enough for everything we want. Alright, Max, let’s get the guy downstairs.”
“If everything goes well, I’ll personally add a quarter more to that figure,” Miro patted Tomasz on the shoulder and nodded. “Plus my nephew, which won’t be any less. If the money isn’t enough, and I know your appetites, Foxie, will you take care of my guys’ maintenance? A third of my fighters are cyborgs. I think we can agree on everything you need. So?”
“Super. Let’s quickly go over my list, then?”
Maksim guided the platform into the clinic and went downstairs. Dasha prudently decided not to show up. Alisa also received the patient remotely as soon as medical robot placed the guy in the operating room.
When Max stepped out of the clinic again, Nika was coughing from the black smoke, holding a cigarette just like Miro’s.
“Yeah, kurwa, this stuff’s fucking strong!”
“Yep, this herb grows only in the mountains, where my mom used to plant it. Pure genetic line from the 1990s, can you believe it? A rarity, especially nowadays. But back to your list. Assault trooper, main weapon – ZX-79 automatic rifle and a Hyperion grenade launcher. Sniper with a Lynx X12. Field medic with the appropriate gear, doubling as a support fighter equipped with a TX-10 SMG. And you, with a heavy HX-90 rifle. Plus armor and helmets for each role, plus ammunition, plus grenades. Did I miss anything?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Redhead nodded, taking another drag from the gangster’s cigarette.
“No, Nikola, we need an arsenal not just for defense, but also for assault and reconnaissance.” Maksim decisively intervened in the negotiations. “So, not just helmets, but tactical systems, plus tech kits or ready drones, primarily scout ones, smart grenades and mines, laser-guided missiles, and similar stuff!”
“Alright, guys,” Miro looked at them intently, “clarify for me who’s in charge here, who am I negotiating with? I don’t want to be in an awkward position!”
“Well, we’re kind of... a democracy,” Nika replied uncertainly. “Basically, all decisions in our team are made collectively. So, now Max is fully involved in the negotiations.”
“Oh, as Pythagoras once said, ‘there are three real threats to humanity: materialism of scientists, ignorance of priests, and the chaos of democracy’,” Miro said, looking meaningfully upwards.
“Hmm, first time I’ve met a gangster quoting ancient Greek philosophers!” Maksim was obviously surprised.
“Nikola, doesn’t your friend know who I am, you didn’t tell him?”
“When was that, Miro? I only just recognized you when we met in person! You didn't have that tan or that hair the last time we saw each other!”
“Hah! Then let me introduce myself! About ten years ago, I would have signed off as ‘Professor Miroslav Goric, Department of Anthropology, New Sorbonne University’.” Miro struck a pompous pose, savoring the effect.
“Really? So, you’re the ‘Bloody Professor’?” Maksim finally realized who this strange person reminded him of.
“Yep! Once just a professor, laureate, and many other things. Then the ‘Bloody Professor,’ who escaped a Russian concentration camp with Drago’s thugs and left a trail of bodies along the way. And now, simply Miro! Miro, whose presence makes everyone stand up!”
“Well, then it’s my turn to introduce myself!” the guy matched a few things in his memory and adjusted an imaginary tie. “Maksim Chernykh, at your service.”
Now it was Miro’s turn to be surprised. He froze, staring intently at Max’s face. Finally, the seasoned gangster and former professor’s face broke into a smile.
“Seriously? His son? I was wondering who this guy reminded me of! Of course, Sergey Chernykh! Spitting image! I was on the academic council when he demolished the Japanese with their concept of the personality matrix. I had great respect for your father... My condolences. And it’s a pleasure to meet you!”
With these words, Miro extended his hand to Maksim.
“Sergey had a daughter too, didn’t he? How did you manage to get out?”
“Yes, it’s a long story. Another time, perhaps?” Max waved his hand. “But briefly, we made it out with the last medical convoy of Médecins Sans Frontières. In cryo.”
“Alive? You guys sure can take risks! I respect that!”
“Well, I’ve heard about your escapades too!”
“True enough,” Miroslav laughed, “I did get myself into quite a situation! I accepted an invitation from the Russians to teach at the Higher Party Institute, a course for the children of officials and the military-police elite. They were strange; wanted to educate their children, hand over the country to them, and invited the best professors from around the world, but continued to harshly censor education. Thus, turning potential shepherds into the same sheep!”
With that, Miro kicked a crumpled can with force and cursed in Serbian.
“So, what happened that you ended up in a concentration camp?” Redhead interjected. “I hadn’t heard about these adventures!”
“Ah, it’s pretty simple! My lectures provided an objective assessment of societal developments, which didn't always align with ideological dogma. When one of the generals’ sons — a bright kid, by the way — started arguing with his father about methods of governance after my lectures, they went ballistic. Security service, secret police, interrogations. They pinned ‘subversive activities against the state,’ ‘discrediting the army,’ and even ‘foreign agent’ on me, despite my Serbian passport, by the way.”
“And that was it, no status could help me. Off to a camp on the Kola Peninsula, where they mine nickel. But as I said, censorship in education severely lowered the level of the Russian Empire — even among the camp builders. Who else would come up with the idea to build a concentration camp for spies, terrorists, and other ‘enemies of the people’ twenty kilometers from the Norwegian border? Only someone with an alternative intelligence – let's be honest, a complete idiot.”
“So, you met Drago’s people there?” Redhead continued her relentless questioning.
“Yep, our shared Balkan heritage made it easy to find common ground. And my knowledge helped plan a successful escape.”
“By the way, Mr. Goric, there were rumors you cut off your right hand to remove the tracking bracelet?” Max examined Miro’s fingers, which were no longer on the weapon but deftly rolling another cigarette made of his “herbarium.”
“Oh, c’mon, just be informal like your red-haired friend,” Miro waved his hand. “And really, that’s from the realm of legends and myths! See, everything’s intact, no scars even in that place. And they probably also said I ripped out a guard’s liver, grilled it, and ate it! Ha-ha! In short, it’s been ten years, and I’m a different person now. Drago himself gave me the ‘Balkan Serpent,’ and I’ve never regretted changing paths. Here, I don’t have to lie, don’t have to conform, and I’m at peace with myself. Sometimes our ‘cave laws’ are better than the ones written on paper and voted on in parliaments. They’re simpler and more honest.”
With these words, Miroslav rolled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo — a globe entwined by a snake, the “Balkan Serpent.”
“So, let’s get going; I need to head back to base. Still have a lot to do. I invite you tomorrow at ten-thirty. Pick up the arsenal, and we’ll chat later; I have some ideas. Fox has the contact details and address on her communicator.”