Shield and Sword
— Wake up, Sharr! Wake up, finally! — Alisha's scream could be heard above the noise and crackling. Sher was in a daze and did not understand anything. Where is he? My vision was blurry, and my head hurt a lot. He was lying on the ground, frozen with clumps of mud and dead leaves. A fierce battle was going on nearby. There was the clink of metal, the crack of wood breaking under pressure. The scuffle, accompanied by exclamations and groans, took place very close by. There was a smell of smoke and soot. Sher coughed violently.
— Pick him up and let me hit him! Hold on! That's it!! — a familiar voice with unfamiliar metamorphoses and with a deep hoarseness, changed by the sound of a powerful blow. There was a crunch of breaking bones and a desperate cry of pain. The owner of the deep voice emerged victorious in a fight with no one clear.
— I think I broke his arm!" Let's move on! I'm going to finish him off! Oh, you! Look, there seems to be help coming to them! They're coming here!
— Grab Shara! Let's go! There are too many of them! — this time, it was definitely Alisha's voice. Shara was lifted up and dragged somewhere to the side. Sher tried to walk by himself, but the weakness in his legs did not allow him to move fully. He tried to rub his eyes, but it turned out to be almost impossible. He was trying to get out of his stupor. Just now, on a quiet summer morning, in his own backyard, when the heat had not yet entered into its rights, he climbed onto this swing and swayed to the point of stupidity. Standing on the board and closing his eyes, exposing his face to the gusts of pleasant breeze, he caught that bliss in his stomach when the swing fell down from an incredible height. He had a strange feeling that all the answers were here, under the plane tree and in this swing. Grandfather Nazir spent a long time calculating the flight path of this board. Strangely long. The plane tree had many strong branches on which it was possible to install this swing, but grandfather, for some reason, chose this particular branch. He wasn't sure exactly what he was guessing. The answer to everything that had happened was nearby and hidden in this plane tree. Share had a feeling of something subtly mysterious in what Grandfather Nazir was doing in the last few days before his disappearance. He did a lot of weird things. He retreated into himself for a long time, as if he were falling into nirvana. I was doing some calculations on paper. One day, Grandpa suddenly decided to make this swing. There were more questions than answers. Sher understood that something was happening to his grandfather. His sensitive perception screamed that something bad was going to happen. And one day he disappeared. And so, at the call of his inner self, which is called intuition or insight, you can call it anything, he got on this damn swing. But the incomprehensible and inexplicable happened.
He was finally lowered to the ground and leaned against the wall of a building. On his head was a steel helmet with a visor that obstructed the view. Thick leather gloves with sewn-in metal inserts made his movements more difficult. More dirt and soot. What's going on here?
— Where am I? What's happening? — Sher tried to speak with a sluggish tongue and felt dizzy again when he tried to get to his feet again.
— Look at that? I'm awake! What are you doing, Sharr? Why are you so upset? — That deep voice again, with a familiar timbre.
— What am I wearing? What is this? A helmet? — Sher asked, stammering. He sat down, got comfortable and tried to take off his helmet. It was not so easy to remove. The sophisticated lock on the strap did not allow such an opportunity. Someone carefully helped him to finally take off this headdress. Sher was able to look around now. The first thing he saw was the sky covered with smoke and smoke. Through the rare gaps, one could see the gray and murky expanse of the firmament with bright, fiery flashes on the horizon. It was quite chilly, and the cold penetrated his ears and his sweaty head. There were two people nearby. One tall and rather plump man was standing sideways, watching the horizon. He had a huge axe in one hand, and his other hand was holding a triangular shield against which the big man was leaning. The big guy gave a voice, which turned out to be the one with the bass timbre:
— Well, how are you, Sharr? You hit your head pretty hard. Have you lost your brain?
Sher looked at these features and listened to this voice and asked in shock:
— Yusuf!? Is that you, Yusufchik!?
— Well, finally. Sharr's brain is still in place. The big man chuckled and added:
— I'm doing this, Cher. I'm glad you're okay.
Sher couldn't believe it. Where is the intelligent, well-read and well-mannered Yusuf with neat handkerchiefs in pressed trousers. In front of him stood a warrior in steel armor, covered with scratches from blows from swords and daggers. His majestic figure looked heroic against the backdrop of burning skeletons of buildings and the smoky sky. His unusual helmet gave him the appearance of a Space Marine who flew to perform a dangerous mission on a planet full of monsters and monsters. Sher couldn't believe that all this was happening in reality. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to wake up. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that he was in this terrible place. He spoke in a voice that seemed to be someone else's, not his own:
— What happened? Where are we?
The big man and the second warrior exchanged glances, and another fighter in a space helmet, who was squatting next to Shar, holding his strange helmet in one hand and two thin swords in the other, replied in Alisha's voice:
— You tried to fix the transmitter. We had your back. Covered up as always. But this time, something went wrong. There was a flash. Have you seen anything for yourself? There was an unusually bright glow. And suddenly you were thrown off the tower or thrown away, I don't know how to explain it, but you seemed to fly out of there.
— I was thrown away? — Sher asked after a pause, as if savoring the word, and after a moment, he repeated:
He seemed to want to remove the veil from his eyes, he wanted to wake up and get out of this nightmare. But the dream became more real with every minute that Shar was in his domain. Alish, who used two short swords with a narrow blade, similar to samurai swords, put them behind his back with quick and well-honed movements. He held out his hand to Sher and helped him to his feet.
— We have to go. — Yusuf said, handing a large sword to Sharu. He added,
— You dropped it when you fell off the tower. Hold. And here's the shield, I do not know where you sowed it.
Sher took the heavy sword Yusuf held out. It wasn't a simple sword that he knew from medieval movies and history books. This item rather resembled a modern and advanced weapon because it was packed with some kind of electronics with sensors, light detectors on the hilt and with a retractable blade. It was not new, judging by the small scratches dotted along the length and small dents present in places. Sher only now took a closer look at what he was wearing. It was only at this moment that he took a closer look at his steel suit. These were not medieval knight's armor with clumsy bending mechanisms at the elbows and knees. It was a comfortable pressure suit made of an unknown material with protective metal inserts around the perimeter and reinforced straps on the body part.
— Where are Mom and Dad? And The Width? — Sher seemed to have stunned his companions with his new question. They stopped, peering intently at Shar. And the big guy, seemingly losing his patience, said to Alisha:
— I was wrong, his brain is still not in the right place. Come on, I'll give him a good thump, and he'll be back to who he used to be. It's starting to piss me off. I've never seen him like this.
Alish stopped the big guy, saying:
— Come on, Yusuf. I think I understand what happened — he calmly took off his helmet and Sher saw a large scar on his friend's cheek, which ran from his forehead to his ear, giving a prematurely masculine look to a boyish face, saw an adult and strong-willed look beyond his years. Alish was different, not the one Sher knew so well. He was a tough, battle-hardened, otherworldly Alish. But he still has the same warmth towards his friend. Alish walked up to Shar and gently took him by the shoulders, saying,
— Buddy, how are you? Tell me, what's the last thing you remember? Do you remember our assignment?
Seeing Shar's lost look, Alish patiently continued:
— Your father went to the moon a year ago, just like mine. They were both called by the council. Your father is Anvar Borykush, a second-level master and regional regent at the planetary board. My father has been an ambassador to the Order of the Sword and the Rose for a long time. The Galactic Council has issued a directive on joint opposition to the Glizerians. And we, the novices of the Knight Academy of the Eastern Corps. Do you even remember anything? And who is the Width? Alish asked slowly and patiently, realizing that his friend had completely lost his memory. Apparently, the fall from the height of the transmitter caused a serious traumatic brain injury. Suddenly Yusuf growled:
— They're close! Stop talking! We have to go!
When Alish heard this, he quickly put a helmet on Shar's head and put his own on, saying,
— Come on, we'll leave here now and talk when we're safe. There's a Bucephalus waiting for us on the hill.
— Is it a horse!? — Sher was surprised and taken aback by such a surprise.
— This is a gorgeous horse! — Yusuf chuckled, running up the hill. On a small concrete platform, which miraculously survived among the destroyed buildings, of which only charred skeletons remained, a real space shuttle, the size of an average car, hovered half a meter above the ground. There was a bright, lightning—streaked inscription on the case - "Bucephalus".
Sher, sitting on a soft, comfortable armchair, looked out the window in the low-flying galeas and watched the picture of destruction, fires and ruins from a bird's-eye view, reflecting on what had happened. The soft neon light in the cabin illuminated the face of a friend who was also thinking about something of his own. Yusuf was sitting at the dashboard, driving the car with confidence and swagger. But this Yusuf was not the one that Sher knew so well. This Yusuf didn't need any help or protection. He could protect anyone by himself. Bold, bold and strong. Not that "cute and fluffy" nerd. And Alish? Yes, the character of this one was almost the same as the other one. This Alish was only a little bit sterner and more silent than the other Alish. This was not his world. Rather, an alternative reality. It's the reality, the real thing. Not a dream or a glitch. So all the secrets of Grandfather Nazir are slowly coming out. He gradually began to realize what he had been rejecting from himself all this time while he was in this world. He began to understand the gravity of the situation, which seemed comical on the one hand, but the other side was quite deplorable. Sher decided to analyze the whole situation and weigh all the pros and cons. The swing is a portal. It was undeniable. Also, he didn't have his beloved sister Shiro in this world. This parallel universe was very different from his world. His dad was on the moon! Oh, my God! Master of the second level! Master of what? His beloved dad, always calm and gentle, who wouldn't even hurt a fly. And here you are, Magister! In this world, they have mastered space. Flights to the moon are not uncommon. If I go back and tell my Alisha and Yusuf, they'll both collapse from shock! And this sword, it's just a miracle. Sher stroked the cold metal of the weapon in his hands and imagined it in battle. The calm voice of Alisha, who was sitting opposite and watching his friend, brought Shar out of his thoughts,
— You're not our Shar, are you? I realized that right away. Who are you? Calm down, we won't hurt you. Just tell me where the Sher I know is.
After listening to the briefing from the First, the Fourth hid the transmitter in the dashboard and straightened his tie, got out of the car. After walking a little along an asphalt alley, which the lush branches of green ornamental trees and bizarre plants tried to capture, he reached the glass and concrete lobby, climbing up the long steps. The night lights on the LEDs turned on, marking the onset of dusk. The fourth entered the brightly lit lobby and saw a young uniformed security guard at the reception desk, who was surprised by the late guest and got up to meet him.
— Where are you going? The institute has already been closed. — said the guy in the uniform, adjusting the radio on his belt just in case.
— I need Professor Latypov. Where is he now? — the Fourth asked in a confident and calm tone, taking out and revealing a thick, bard-colored ID in front of the guard's face. The guy in the uniform swallowed imperceptibly, his throat suddenly dry, and giving his voice confidence, he said:
— The professor is in the laboratory. It's on the second floor. Shall I escort you?
— Thank you, it's unnecessary. I know where his lab is. — the Fourth One answered as he walked, heading for the stairwell. Suddenly he stopped and added, turning to the guy:
— In about fifteen minutes, two more of my colleagues will arrive. I hope you can escort them to the laboratory.
After climbing the stairs to the second floor, the Fourth headed deeper through an extensive network of corridors. The footsteps of a special police officer echoed in the deserted and deserted building of the Tashkent Institute of Archaeology and Paleontology. Turning to the right, following a previously studied pattern to the final dead end where the laboratory was located, the Fourth reached his destination. The only room from which beams of light poured into the dim corridor of the second floor. The fourth one knocked on the open door and entered the laboratory, uninvited. It was a huge room filled with laboratory tables, on which chemical processing devices, various spectrometers, autoclaves, microscopes and other various equipment were piled up. In the corner sat a man with glasses, who, at the sight of the Fourth, looked up from his laptop and asked:
— Are you coming to see me? Isn't it too late for a visit, young man?
— Good evening, Nadir Nizamovich. I think it's not too late. — having said that, the Fourth pulled out a weighty certificate again, and showed it to the professor. Latypov, peering at the open crust of the document, smiled and asked:
— What is it that interests your office, young man? I'm not a spy or a saboteur. Have a seat.
The professor motioned for the guy to sit down and pulled out a laboratory chair in front of the Fourth one.
— My name is Jasur. You're right, you're not a spy. I'm here for another reason. — Sitting down in an armchair, said the Fourth.
— I'm listening to you. — said the professor, taking off his glasses and carefully slipping them into the case.
— I'm talking about the primates you brought back from Mehrikanan. You've already studied them. Is it really an extinct species? — asked the Fourth.
— How quickly everyone found out. Yes, this is a sensational find. And I'm just writing a report for the World Paleontological Congress. As you know, it will be held this year, in November, in Thailand.
— You should suspend your report. Your research is coming under our jurisdiction. Since yesterday, everything related to primates has been classified. Here's the order. Having said that, Zhasur pulled out a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Latypov. While the professor was opening the sheet with the red stamp "secret", the Fourth added to what was said:
— Specialists from the nursery management laboratory will be here soon. We're taking primates, and we'd like you to help us figure this out. But I want to warn you, you will have to sign a non-disclosure document. This is a temporary measure until we find out the source of the appearance of extinct primates in Mexico. Are they here? At the institute?
The professor finished reading the secret paper and said:
— Yes, they are here. There is our zoological laboratory in the basement of the institute. Having said that, he added sadly:
— They're dying. Unfortunately, the impossibility of the existence of this species in our time is bearing fruit.
— What do you mean, they're dying? — The fourth did not expect such a turn. In the ideal plan of the First, an unexpected flaw appeared. And he asked cautiously,
— You're scientists. How did you let them die? Our experts will figure out how to save them.
— You don't understand, young man. It's not our fault. No one is to blame. This is our world. Our microorganisms, our air with our benign microbes was not suitable for them. They lived in a completely different ecosystem. Latypov pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief and wiped his sweaty forehead. Then he added, in a resigned voice,
— We thought our world was a shield for living beings. A shield for all forms of life. But he turned out to be a sword for them. Our world is not for them and it is not their environment. And I realized that they were from a completely different world.…