Four Comrades

by General_Pankow

Chapter V: The Order.

Previous Chapter

Snow covered the forest with a thick winter coat. Nature has been sleeping soundly for four months now. A rare sound will disturb the peace of the Forest, a rare creature will slip between the ancient trunks, looking for food and salvation from the frost.

Thunder crashed. Snow fell from the spreading fir trees, birds soared into the air with a cry. Peace is disturbed, and the culprit gets up from a snowdrift, throwing a smoking gun on his back. He is wearing a gray sheepskin coat and an earflap, cut in the Liktid style. The changeling crossed a small clearing and found himself at a nearby pine tree. There, under a branch, lay the gray body of a squirrel he had shot. He bent down and examined her: right in the eye, the skin is not spoiled, if the comrades get more, the proceeds will be decent.

Reinis had been walking through the forest since morning, and this prey was his only one for today. The sluggish northern sun was at its zenith: it was time to return to the camp...

Rhaenys nodded in response to the praise. A small hunting camp is located in a small clearing between four large trees. The shifters were in the forest for the second day, this hike was one of many this winter. Not too successful, not too disastrous, but necessary for earning. Hunters counted their prey, boasted of their skill: Artis was not the only talented shooter in the artel, and it was difficult to call him the best of the best.

For a long time, Lyctid hunters have specialized in small animals with expensive fur. Squirrels, sables, martens and minks were found in the Liktida Forest in huge numbers, and were not translated over time, because the locals knew the measure and did not shoot animals more than they should. So this time the one-and-a-half-day hike ended with a natural loot. The Changelings rested by the fire, refreshed themselves and began to gather back. They didn't always need fur here. A shifter can eat not only essence, but also meat, although it is less saturated from it. Usually enough essence was delivered from the hives to the villages, but there were times when changelings had to get food the old-fashioned way - by hunting game.

A small detachment was walking along a well-known path. The travelers moved in a trail, out of old habit, in order to hide their number. Reinis Jr. brought up the rear of the column, he, as the youngest in the group, was supposed to carry most of the belongings. It was not the first time for him, and it was done not in offense, but according to tradition.

Here in the distance appeared the smoky jets of a hunting gang.

Kiris panted heavily.

Changeling muttered in response. He was in a bad mood: today, he failed to get anything. He was already quite old and his eye was losing its former accuracy... the
returning squad of Reinis Sr. was joyfully welcomed. The hunted animal was left in the care of the art workers, and the hunters themselves either went home or gathered in the company, and began to discuss the events of the last campaign. Someone was more lucky, someone was not lucky at all. The trophies of all the hunters were gathered together: tomorrow or the day after tomorrow there was another trip to the Hive.

Reinis Jr. sat silently under the windows of his house, watching what was happening around. It was hard to tell from him what he was thinking and feeling. After sitting there for a while, Changeling got up and went into the house.
There was a council in the Big Room of Reinis Sr.'s house. At the same table as on the night of Wilnia's wedding. This time the meeting was not festive, but the most serious. The upcoming campaign was discussed, namely: who to send there, what to buy in the Hive and everything in that spirit. All the most senior hunters and their wives were present here, they participated in the discussion on an equal basis with their husbands, because they were fully responsible for the farm in the artel and they were listened to as equals, understanding the importance of their role in the common cause.

— If the snowfall continues, we may be cut off from the outside world.

Willis answered him.

Reinis calmly listened to the conversation of the older comrades, perched on a bench in the corner. He had seen quite a few such meetings over the past few months. He liked everything that happened in his life after returning from Vrax. He was where he was born and where he was needed. What else did he need? Periodically, news reached the artel. The newspapers wrote that the country is getting stronger, that the people are pacified, that some kind of "class peace" has been achieved (I would like to know what kind of thing this is...), that everything is stable and joyful now. They listened to Chrysalis' appeal on the radio with the whole artel and sincerely believed every word she said. But their life was far away from the noisy and stormy hives, where something was constantly happening and something was constantly being discussed. It was quiet and peaceful here, as perhaps in all the surroundings of Lyktis, and in itself. One Rhaenys has been to the big world outside the Liktid lands. He saw Vrax smoking with factory pipes, and even quieter than Lictida Hurnd. And yet, he saw a war, a terrible and bloody war, a war where brotherhood, honor and conscience meant nothing. A war that was waged not in the name of survival and the glory of the Motherland, but to achieve someone's incomprehensible and cruel interests. An unnatural war against its own fellow citizens, fanned with banners of lengthy slogans and ideas, vague rumors and stupid speculation, going not for life, but to the death, with a fanaticism that would give odds to the longest and bloodiest wars of the Old Gryphonia. Reinis did not want to remember this time, only one image remained in his thoughts: a diner filled with soldiers, four shifters sitting at a table and drinking. Agrias, Artis, Kulex and himself. Old comrades together, for the last time…

— Your wife should buy a new scarf, our anniversary is coming soon...

Reinis Jr.'s mother jokingly remarked.

— It will be in time, my soul. And what else? Maybe what about the housework?

Kirisa's wife replied, and Reinis Sr.'s wife nodded in agreement.

—He's right about something. Are you sure you don't need anything there?

The Changelings have dispersed. Reinis did not interfere in this conversation, and the conversation usually went about the same thing, with minor changes. He had no questions for those who made these simple decisions. He knew they were right and was pleased with that. Without waiting for attention to be paid to him, he went outside again. The artel has always had something to do in terms of work. Reinis was not lazy in this case either. He was young, and a lot of responsibilities fell on him. He thought it was fair and justified.

as soon as he went outside, one of the elderly hunters called out to him. — We should get some water into the house. I'll send my son, but he's a little weak.
Reinis just nodded his head. He had known both the hunter and his son for a long time.

Two Changelings stomped through the snow. They didn't differ much from each other, except that one of them was smaller and didn't walk so confidently.

— How so?

— It's not about luck.

Rhaenys sighed. He didn't like these kind of "molested".

— It's about you. You're doing something wrong, you've got a mistake somewhere, you know? Take a closer look, think about it, ask your older comrades. We were taught in the army that shooting is the essence of mathematics and physics, that shooting means thinking, counting, figuring out with your head where your bullet will hit. If you don't see what to hit, look better. Although the beast changes its skin, but an experienced shooter will notice it like black on white. Luck is a fool and a liar. They don't do things with luck, but with intelligence and skill.

There was a key near the hunters' settlement. It was small, and in the cold winter it was seriously freezing. Changelings took with them not only buckets with rocker arms. Rhaenys was dragging a heavy, heavy stick with him. Here it is: a small frozen lake covered with thick ice. Reinis took off the buckets and the yoke, stood on his hind hooves and held a stick in his front ones.

— That's how they beat the butt in the army.

Here are the artels at home, they came very dark: Reinis' old watch showed ten minutes to nine. There was no one at the houses: everyone gathered again at Reinis Sr., there was a radio there and in the evenings the changelings listened to it. It was a kind of tradition. Previously, only a small number of changelings in the village were literate, so when some correspondence reached them, everyone gathered at someone literate's house and listened attentively to the contents of the newspapers. At the present time, everyone has already learned to read and write, and they began to gather at the one who had a radio.

The big room was heated, and even a little stuffy. The art workers sat on the edges of the room, on benches and chairs. There was a radio on the table, Reinis Sr. greeted Reinis and Jurgis who came in (that was the name of the guy with whom he went to carry water), the young ones left water at Jurgis' house, and almost ran here. It was already freezing and blowing hard outside: there will most likely be a blizzard at night.
Reinis Sr. knew how to handle radio equipment, and he was good at it. It was said that in his youth, after military service, he studied for some time either in Vrax, or in Dirtrisium, and since then he knew a lot about various receivers. The one that was now on the table was very cheap and simple, catching only certain frequencies. The mass production of such devices was presented as "The high complacency of Her Royal-Imperial Majesty before her people." The receiver was turned on, interference began, which was quickly replaced by the voice of the announcer:

"The other day, the construction of a large pulp and paper mill was completed in the vicinity of Liktida. This large-scale construction has already provided many jobs, and will be able to provide even more in the future, have a beneficial effect on the rarefaction of the hive, the relocation of the Liktids to more favorable living conditions..."

— It's high time, otherwise they are already living on each other's necks...

— someone said, he nodded approvingly. The announcer continued to talk about what was built and in which hives. Weather news was also touched a little: they promised a snowy and cold winter, this was so understood by experienced and observant changeling peasants. They listened in silence, but occasionally someone made comments that were often unnecessary.
"Today, the final meeting of the Queen with her Council of Ministers took place. After weighing all the conclusions and suggestions, a number of significant decisions were made..."

Everyone froze abruptly, focused: this was the most important part of the broadcast, changelings across the country have been waiting for something important for a long time, waiting for the fulfillment of their hopes, hoping for the mercy of their power.

"... By the Supreme will, the Labor Code was established — a set of laws to regulate relations between the worker and the employer. There are many points in it, but the most important ones can be considered the widespread introduction of an eight-hour working day, the establishment of mandatory pensions for those who have reached an advanced age, cash benefits for victims at work and other payments in excess of wages. Also, a decree was issued on the creation of the National Workers' Front, a trade union organization, for the civilized mediation of workers and employers, and the protection of the interests of the former before the latter. Branches of the Front will be created in all large settlements where there is a factory, factory, on the basis of folwarks or other kind of production..."

one of the young men smiled.

Kiris answered him.

Meanwhile, the announcer continued. Having finished a rather long list of innovations in terms of working legislation, the announcer paused. She was almost not noticed, the Changelings were talking in low voices about what they had heard. Reinis was calm, he was sitting at the threshold in an unbuttoned sheepskin coat. He did not want to joke and discuss what concerned politics. The pause ended, the announcer, who had taken a break from a long speech, began to read again. "Oh, we would put our harmonica player there! He was blowing for five hours in a row, and there was enough spirit...", flashed through Reinis's head, he remembered the cars, the warm cars, the close crowd in gray overcoats and the biting cheerful song "Laura, Laura, Laura!..".

"The economy of our country is getting stronger day by day. Peace and order have been established for a long time, the wounds of the past have been healed and the encroachments of enemies have been repelled. But foreign powers in the future will clearly not miss the opportunity for aggression against us. We need to be prepared for the fact that Equestria and Olenia will cross the line of our national interests. Therefore, Her Royal-Imperial Majesty declares: the term of military service should be shortened from six to three years, according to the Royal Decree, all male changelings, aged from 18 to 25 years, are called up to the troops. All changelings between the ages of 18 and 35 who were discharged into the reserve after serving must reappear at recruiting stations and join the ranks of the armed forces."

There was a dull silence again. Reinis Sr. got up, turned off the radio and sat down heavily on the studio. Someone looked down at the floor, someone silently looked at each other, trying to extract the meaning of what they had just heard with their eyes. This time they were really "touched", and "touched" seriously. Almost all young hunters in the artel fell into the category "from 18 to 25 years old". There were also "reservists", but all of them came out of military age, except one... Reinis was still sitting on the bench at the door, he was looking at his father sitting at the table. He looked with apparent calmness, but what was he thinking at that moment?

Kiris finally broke the silence. At that moment, Reinis Jr. realized that everyone in the room was looking at his father. Not with pleading, not with suffering, but with the simple question "What now?"

Under the weight of other people's eyes, Reinis Senior hung his head. He, already an elderly changeling, pondered hard and strained over what had happened. Finally, he stood up and looked around at everyone gathered.

— The choice, as you know, is not enough for us. The forest gives not just one skin, but also us, hunters. If we have to stand up for the Motherland again, then we will stand like our ancestors.

He paused, looked around the audience again. Everyone listened, there was neither anger nor indignation.

No one objected, no one agreed. Changelings always fell into a stupor at such moments. On the one hand, they have just been told that all their mature sons must leave the artel, that they are needed somewhere far away, for some great plans, that they are leaving, and may not return at all... But on the other hand, there was the inflexibility of the royal decree. For centuries and millennia, this people have been drilled, trained, and taught to obey the supreme authority, regardless of the fairness of its decisions. And now, when this supreme power contradicted their interests, they hesitated. The silence had been hanging for too long, apparently because someone just accepted everything as a fact and had already accepted it, someone just had nothing to say. Reinis Sr. hung his head again, and announced that it was time to go home.

After a while, only two people remained in the big room: father and son. Reinis Sr. was shaking a little

— That's how it happens...

He almost whispered, still not daring to look up. There was no sign of the calm and responsible head of the artel, an optimistic and cheerful hunter, whom the whole district respected and knew. In front of Reinis Jr. sat a broken, broken shifter, not the first and not the last victim in the name of a "better future".

— I had a son, and I don't have a son... I thought I'd see enough of you again, I'd see your grandchildren, but I don't...

Reinis Jr. got up and walked over to the table where his parent was sitting: the one he had respected and valued all his life. He looked into his father's eyes: green, emerald, exactly like his own. They glittered with a defeatist, suppressed brilliance, like shards of shattered glass.

"I'm sorry, Dad. But there is no choice.

— If there is a war— I will return home, I give my word.

Reinis Sr. was regaining his firmness.

— I know what it's like, they say first, "I'll come back, I promise," and then there's nothing to return, to scrape off the trench wall with a spoon into the pot. I wouldn't let you in if I could.

— I also heard this radio program.

"I'm going to the hive tomorrow. And from there to the army.

Reinis answered just as calmly, hanging his head.

— I'll come home alive, for you. It's stupid to ask you not to worry.

She smiled, revealing beautiful white teeth. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Reinis hugged her again, burying his nose in the large woolen handkerchief she was wearing. They stood there for so long, not thinking to let go. Saying goodbye, maybe forever. They both disliked words and had their own pride, both were too firm to seethe with emotions in the hour of separation. Reinis wanted to ask his father for marriage, but tonight crossed everything out. They will break up without ever getting together. The embrace broke up, and the two gray figures moved in different directions. The wind began to grow stronger again, Rainis walked through the rising snow, towards the complete unknown.