Готовый перевод Звездопад / Starfall: Глава 2

Chapter 2

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After looking around, I concluded that I was either hallucinating or still dreaming. As I remembered for sure that I was Alexander Flim, but not Allesandro Cassard! Well, hallucinations are hallucinations. I began to try all the ways I knew how to identify hallucinations. The first thing I did was to press on my eye - a glitch is not supposed to split, but I couldn't remember which eye to press on, so I pressed on both of them in turn. Then pinched me, looked alternately with my left and right eye, and as an apotheosis of my attempt, I stared at the girl and declared "Disbelief" mentally casting a "will-save". Either the will-save failed or something else, but everything was duplicating, the pinches were hurting, and the girl was not disappearing. Watching my experiments, the beauty grew more and more serious, and when I attempted a "Disbelief" - pulled out some sort of mobile phone and called some kind of doctor. //Well, that's it - the good doctor will come and give you a sedative," I thought to myself.

Less than half a minute passed, and the door swung open. Two girls in white dressing gowns with incomprehensible blue symbols on the left side of their chests, some tinny robot parody... and THAT rush into the room.

The THING wore a white dressing gown, was short, had an extremely slender build, and had large green eyes on an almost triangular head. No, it is more accurate to say that the eyes were HUGE, almost the size of a fist, with long dark lashes. The eyes took up most of the face, making the smallmouth and the small, flat nose almost impossible to see. This was completed by a goatee with small sideburns, ears sticking out sideways (somewhat like sheep's ears), and a small white cap.

"Damn! What's that!?" Alex recoiled and reflexively covered himself with the blanket, trying to huddle into the corner of the bed.

"This is Professor Ayuyun Lirria, a leading neurologist at Riena University. He observed you while you were unconscious," the girl shrugged slightly as if emphasizing how obvious this must be.

"I see you're feeling better now, young man! If I may, I'd like to examine you and ask you a few questions," the THING appeared to have a very high, birdlike voice, which was also quite pleasant to hear and melodious.

"The Lord is indeed much better off, Professor," Taer tried to put as much feeling into the word "Lord" as possible, hinting at the inappropriateness of the address "young man".

"Ahhhh... leave it, sweetheart, I don't discriminate between my patients," THE THING brushed off the "security specialist" with a nonchalant gesture.

THE THING... Or rather, the professor approached the bed and tried to take Alex's hand - must be to feel for a pulse (or what do doctors do with hands?), and it became apparent that Ayun Lirria's hands were four-toed with small claws on his thin fingers, which did not add to the desire to communicate.

So the novice lord, defending himself against the professor with a blanket - like shield, began to crawl back to the opposite side of the bed where Taher was standing.

"Don't you think the professor looks a little strange? Well, there... the eyes are a bit large..." Alex attempted to draw Taer's attention to the strangeness in the professor's appearance, thinking to himself: //Oh, shit! And the glitches are getting worse. The monsters are coming!

The girl scrutinized the professor from head to toe and replied in a completely calm voice:

No, sire, Professor Aiyoun looks perfectly normal for a myrlisty of his age.

"I mean, four fingers, eyes the size of a saucer - is that normal?"

"Perfectly normal for members of my race, young man!" The professor cornered Alex after all and was finally able to begin his examination. Quickly feeling his pulse and examining his pupils, he proceeded to question him, which revealed that Lord Allesandro remembered almost nothing except the occasional moments after his poisoning. When, at the professor's request, Alex began to describe what he thought had happened to him before the poisoning, the people around him began to react strangely. The professor asked his assistants to fetch an injector and some chemical vials, and the 'security specialist' began to squint in surprise.

Sensing that he was about to be heavily medicated and would not rest until he was healed half to death, the "lord" chose to quickly drop the subject, fighting back with the standard phrase "I don't remember anything". The questions went on for another hour or so, all with the same "I don't remember" answer. Finally, the professor was satisfied with the result - reality began to match his expectations.

"We seem to be dealing with widespread replacement amnesia, which has developed as a result of nerve damage caused by the active component of the poison," he put one hand behind his back and stared into the distance, stroking his goatee thoughtfully.

"Perhaps, over time, the brain will create alternative circuits, bypassing the damaged areas, and the memory will return, albeit partially," he said, not addressing anyone in particular, but as if he were giving a lecture. Then suddenly. he shook his whole body and, addressing Alex personally, concluded:

"But congratulations, young man, you have survived a dose of Grey Dust (which is unique in itself) by getting away with a mere memory. That's a thing of the past, at your age, after all!" With a cheerful pat on the shoulder, the professor signaled to his assistants to assemble the equipment and, turning to the Taer, added:

"I recommend him to take Fenote regularly, two capsules a day. If there is no improvement, the dose can be increased to seven capsules a day," he held out a plastic tablet to the girl. A prescription or something?

"Thank you, Professor Ayuyong, I will make every effort to ensure that my lord takes this medicine regularly!"

"It's not a medicine. It's just... a mild memory and mental stimulant. That's all I can do in this case, so I'll take my leave," the professor scurried off, the girls scurrying about, packing up and carrying the equipment out of the room. Already at the door... myrlissti (So, like, right?) stopped and tossed over his shoulder:

"I wish you a speedy recovery! And if there are any problems, do not hesitate to contact me!"

Waiting until the door closed behind the doctors and he was alone with his 'specialist', Alex exhaled. //Well, at least they won't take me to the clinic for tests if they don't catch me.

There was an awkward pause. The Taer stood at attention, swaying slightly in her heels. And Alex wondered feverishly what he could say without getting caught.

"Does the security specialist always have to be with me?" With a little hope in his voice, he asked.

"Technically, as you wish, sire, but the Consulate is very insistent that I should always be with you when you go 'out'."

"But right now I don't seem to be going 'out', I'd like to be alone to 'collect my thoughts', maybe remember something," Alex said in as confident a tone as possible, //What the hell am I talking about?

"Very well, my lord, I shall await the call in my room," the girl said coldly and walked out, stamping her step.

Once he was sure by the sound of the retreating footsteps that he was finally alone, Alex leaned back on the bed and surrendered to the thoughts that were pounding feverishly in his head:

//Is she upset or something? Maybe we had something going on with her. After all, there's always a pretty girl around. Though if there was something, she'd probably have hinted, or not, proud as a daughter of savannahs, it seems...

//Anyway, fuck the beauty, I'll apologise if I have to. Or don't lords apologize? Fucking hell!

Alex lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, where a dark-haired young man was calling after him, and chewing his fingernail thoughtfully.

//OK, let's look at all the options. Option one: I, Alex Flim, from Moscow, am twenty-four years old, and so on and so forth, and I'm hallucinating. That's a sad scenario. Well, hopefully, at least the medics will have fun. Option two, I, Allesandro Cassard, ate some "dust," which made him lose his memory and hallucinate that he was Alex Flim. That's more fun. At least all this splendor runs under the heading of "objective reality", which is a joy in itself. But not much.

The lord was lying in bed for a while, continuing to chew on a nail that was almost finished, when his gaze focused on his finger... He examined the entire hand closely. It was a well-groomed, burr-free hand, with fairly long polished nails, something Alex had never done before, but most importantly... There was no small crescent-shaped scar on the back of the palm.

Remembering what had actually happened before he woke up in that castle, he mechanically slapped himself in the face.

//There's also a third option: me, Alex Flim, who's been shoved into Allesandro Cassard's body by some fucker!

//You shouldn't have agreed to the practice test, smart-ass! The inner voice sneered. //All right, stop talking! As a psychologist to a psychologist, I say: the inner voice is the first sign of schizophrenia.

Alex lay there for a while, mulling over the idea of consciousness transfer. Finally, he made up his mind, threw back the dark red blanket and headed towards the mirror.

The mirror was huge, almost as tall as he was, on a massive metal frame, covered in some kind of floral ornamentation. Spinning around in front of it and examining himself, he found out the following. Firstly, he was completely naked and something had to be done about it. Secondly, there was a gorgeous fluffy carpet on the floor, which was very pleasant to walk on barefoot. And thirdly, the body was not his.

Yes, very similar, very similar: height, eye colour, hair colour, shape of face and nose, even the appearance of an abdomen due to the sedentary lifestyle - everything was there. But there were a lot of details, like the scar on his abdomen that he had earned as a child by diving directly into a broken jar, the chipped incisor was missing. And a couple of moles were in the wrong place.

Back in bed and crawling under the covers, Alex began to remember everything he remembered about the transfers, and thought about the risks. The situation was bleak at first - the disadvantages were: he was not a paratrooper (in fact, he had never served in the army), not an expert in hand-to-hand combat (yellow - ha-ha! - Belt in karate and three years in the sambo section after five years of sitting behind a computer and the lack of training can easily be written in the section of pure theory), magic abilities also has not yet found (although he honestly tried to conjure something nice and move the mirror by gaze). He was hoping that Lord Allesandro's body could do something special, though, and he just didn't know it yet.

Well, enough about the cons! There were some pros: firstly, everyone spoke clear Russian, or at least he understood them without any problems. Secondly, there was a roof over his head, and a roof that was not bad and even seemed to belong to him. Thirdly, I was a lord here, and I think that was cool. Fourthly, there was no immediate threat to life, and, moreover, there was a pretty girl whose duty it was to eliminate the threat.

Speaking of the girl... How can I get her to bring me some clothes? And I'm hungry already," the newly made lord started looking for a way to contact his "security specialist". Nothing resembled a telephone, switchboard, mobile phone or, at the very least, a bell. He did not want to wander around the castle naked, so he decided to shout, rightly believing that security must be somewhere near and respond to his wailing.

Chapter 3

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Taer sat in her room and was angry.

She dragged the hog up to the aerocar, stayed up all hours while he was passed out, went through interrogations... And what? And nothing!

"I want to be alone, get my thoughts together," she mocked, turning on the security terminal.

"No, after all, I'm a modest girl, and I didn't expect to be accepted into the House Blades, though they accepted me for less than saving a lord's life. But at least he could have given me a hint about nobility! Anybody else would have been... eh!" The girl, sighing sadly, leaned back in her chair and, turning to the terminal, called up an image from the lord's bedroom. He was twirling in front of the mirror, seemingly admiring himself. This made Taer even angrier, and with the words, "What a smug jerk," she switched the terminal.

Yes, she was unlucky with the lord: her meteoric career crashed against Lord Allesandro like crystal dreams crashing against the harsh concrete of reality.

Taer was born and brought up in a small mining town, there were no prospects there. It was just a shithole. She'd received a scholarship to a public school in Riena, paid for by the retainer of House Fyron. He found the girl promising. She did her best to prove - there was no mistaking her. After school there was Riena University, then a navigator's course and everywhere she was top of the class. A well-deserved reward was the epaulettes of Peleng-Lieutenant in House Fayron's Naval Intelligence Service.

Three successful operations and a record in her personnel file: 'officer with an artistic and original approach', an invitation to the Guard, an intensive training course, and a year as a retainer. By the age of twenty-two, she was already a Guardsman of the 'inner circle' with a good chance of becoming a captain in the next two or three years. It was an obscenely dizzying career that couldn't help but generate rumors. Given her looks, most of the rumors were more than ambiguous. However, two duels, one of which ended in her opponent's prosthetic arm, resulted in the rumors being quashed and a reprimand from the ergo-captain of the Guard.

All in all, things were going so well that they could not have gone any better, and when she was offered - to join the "arm" and the post of "personal security specialist" - she did not even hesitate and agreed. After all, the prospects were such that it was breathtaking: as you know, young nobles tend to grow up, and when they grow up, they take up positions. And she had not just been given an Earl, but a Lord! Which means a family representative in the Consulate, and then a place in the 'Privy'. And that's where they decide who, where and what place will be occupied, and they prefer to appoint people close to them to important positions. So first Blade Taer, then Knight Taer Diltar, and then, who knows, by the age of thirty-five, Countess Diltar! That would be a good time to get busy with her personal life. But it was either fate or jealousy in the Guard that put her in harm's way. And what a swine!

Lord Allesandro Cassard. Completely, utterly uninterested in politics. And if only that. But by this point, he had quarreled with most of the powerful families of House Fyron and had acquired a reputation so scandalous it was doubtful whether it could be called a reputation! So Taer was doomed to remain a perpetual guard under Lord Allesandro.

"It could have been " daim Taer Baron Diltar". Sounds good, doesn't it? Or even " daim Taer Lady Diltar". She was distracted from her pleasant thoughts of the possible title by the shouts from the next room.

"The lord seems to have forgotten where the communicator button is," she guessed and decided to make the most of that guess. First, she blocked the droids, then switched on the security terminal and, making sure no servants or guests were around, waited. The screams from the next room grew more pitiful by the minute.

"There was even a hint of despair in his lordship's voice," she remarked gloatingly.

After about eight minutes, the lord grew tired of shouting and made another attempt to find the communicator.

//Well, I'll catch him with his butt naked as moral compensation, Taer thought and walked into the room, putting on her best protocol face possible.

//Shit, how do I call her? Well, they didn't hide the phone under the bed! Still, it's worth seeing if that's how they do it./ Alex squatted down to look under the bed when suddenly, "Did you call my lord?" came from behind him. Turning sharply, he saw Taer. A wall panel was sliding into place behind her (//Nice castle I've got here, even the secret passages! he thought). He made a reflexive attempt to cover himself, then remembered: he is, after all, a lord, and there is nothing to be ashamed of maids.

"Security, are you always this quick to react? I'd have been stabbed a hundred times by now, or worse," he sat down on the bed and threw the blanket over his hips with the utmost carelessness.

"My lord, if you had used the comm or the servants' call button, I would have arrived immediately. If you had been attacked, the biomonitors in the bedroom would have detected the change in your physical status. When I received the signal, I would have reacted accordingly," Taer said, standing at attention with a completely impenetrable face.

"Look... Taher, eh? What do you want me to do from a memoryless man? I don't remember anything: neither where the button is, nor what a comm is, nor how to use it," deciding that criticism was unnecessary in this case, "lord" decided to come at it from the other side.

The girl, keeping an impassive face, walked over to the bed and showed me where the button was (one of the trinkets on the bed was being pressed) and where the communicator was - Alex mistook it for a desk lamp.

"The communicator is switched on here, Your Lordship. The green channel is the link to the attendant on duty, and the red channel is the security service, i.e. me," showing how to turn on the communicator, Taer bent over and presented herself to the newly minted lord in a rather peculiar way. //Interesting pinching the ass of a Guardsman and a security specialist - how is that? Is it allowed to noble lords, or is it going to be punched in the eye? To distract himself, he moved on to more practical matters. And, trying to put as much gratitude as he could into his words, he thanked:

"Thank you very much, Taer!"

"I am only doing my duty, my lord! I'm sorry I didn't think to tell you sooner!" The girl stretched out again.

Here's the deal. I have a proposition for you: since I don't remember anything yet anyway, we forget all the lordships and milords, and we talk like normal people. You help me remember, and I promise to be a good lord and obey you. And above all, no hard feelings! Do we have a deal?" Alex looked intently into the girl's face. //I wonder if I'm just screwing around, or incredibly screwed up? She even seemed to warm up a little, but it was hard to tell, her face was masterful.

"All right, Your Lordship!" Taer relaxed her left leg and arms, demonstratively moving from " at attention" to "at ease".

"I thought we agreed without the lordships. And you're not on parade - just sit back and relax."

"Good," she sat down in the chair beside the bed, folding her arms across her chest. The mask of impassivity was still on her face.

//Still sulking, Alex chagrined.

"Look, I really don't remember what it was before (even the professor will tell you) and if I've offended you, I really don't mean it. I'm sorry, huh?"

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"Really? That's great! I don't want to offend you," Alex tried to smile as 'friendly' as possible.

"Well, now that we've agreed, no hard feelings, just so there are no misunderstandings... nothing happened between us? Because I've forgotten everything."

"What do you mean?" Taer seemed so surprised that she forgot her mask of impassivity.

"Well, you know, between a man and a woman, especially if they live together, things can happen... well... things."

The girl jumped up angrily from her chair, then came to her senses and sat back down:

"There was nothing!"

"Well, now that we've sorted out all the misunderstandings, you're not holding a grudge. Can you help me get some clothes?"

As she approached the wall, she pressed some kind of panel, and a passageway opened up:

"Your dressing room, My Lord," There was such a range of feelings embedded in the word "My Lord" that Alex realized there was definitely nothing, and pinching her ass was not a good idea, to say the least. Wrapping himself in a blanket, he walked over to the wall and peered into the opening: shelves, hangers, and racks of various garments went deep, forming a narrow corridor twenty meters long.

"Erm... could you pick something up for me. I can't even remember what to wear here," he looked a little confused.

Twenty minutes later, Alex looked at his reflection and sighed sorrowfully. Finally, his soul couldn't take it anymore:

"Don't we have anything simpler? Well, at least like yours?"

"It's your favorite costume, and it's the latest thing," Taer smiled. It was a wicked smile.

//Well, of course: a bright scarlet turban combined with a yellow shawl and grey flared trousers - Zverev would have been jealous. But all he said out loud was:

"Yes, I don't argue, the look is very fashionable indeed, but I'd like something that doesn't restrict movement. I could wear it to the walk around the castle, walk around the park, and, well, have something to eat."

Taër roared softly and went back into the wardrobe. After another half an hour, we settled on a light "hunting" set - moccasins, baggy trousers with an equally baggy shirt. After changing, we went to have a "snack" looking around the castle at the same time.

They walked up the wide staircase, which was a dark red marble with white veining, down a floor, passing several corridors and arched bridges that spanned the vast halls. Taer stayed slightly behind him, appearing over his right shoulder whenever a door needed to be opened. She was also the first to enter any room.

//She's watching, yeah. I'll have to ask her for a map because if I go alone, I'll get lost. That is, of course, if I'm allowed to walk around my own castle alone.

Taer opened another door, and they entered a room paneled in dark red wood. A single but huge window faced the garden.

"This is the small refectory, my lord, where you used to take your friends. I thought you might be more comfortable here now."

"Thank you, very cozy indeed. And didn't we agree on "my lords"?"

Taer pursed her lips and looked away, defiantly ignoring the last words.

//What a prick, sulking for God knows why not communicating...

The room was indeed small by local standards - a measly hundred square meters, to the eye. The room was dominated by a huge, low table accompanied by massive low-backed chairs. The table, like the chairs, was wooden, judging by the legs peeking out from under the tablecloth. Three monstrous machines (those... what do you call them... "droids"?) with trays were just finishing setting the table with a variety of food. The droids were commanded by an imposing man who looked so imposing that if he had put on a burka and a papa, he would have looked like Chapaev. The mustache alone was worth it!

On seeing the entrants, Chapaev bowed his head slightly and pushed one of the chairs aside with the words: "Please, my lord".

"Barra, the steward of this estate," a whisper came from somewhere over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Barra," Alex plumped into the chair with all the aristocracy he could muster and sniffed cautiously. It smelled delicious - roast meat and something else unfamiliar. The implements around the plate were horrifying in their appearance and quantity. Finally finding something on the table that most resembled a fork, he grabbed it quickly.

"What is this?"

"Roast fillet of Karsarg with a side dish of Arnichons, my lord," "Chapaev's" voice came from somewhere behind me. "One of your favorite dishes."

"Right, my favorite..." Alex plunged his fork into the appetizing piece and dragged it into his mouth, but then Taer's hand was on his arm, and she answered his questioning look with a reproachful tone:

"You are forgetting something, my lord."

"What, are you going to make me wash my hands?"

"No, my lord, Professor Ayuyun has asked me to ensure that you take this medicine," Taer placed a small jar of clear plastic on the table, filled with dark blue capsules that sparkled slightly in the light. "But in case you ever want to join in on the hygiene benefits, the door to the lavatory is behind you."

"How nice. Thank you for the information, Guardsman. All right, if medicine insists." Alex, sighing, popped one capsule into his mouth and downed what the alert Chapaev had poured into his glass.

"What was that?" He grimaced and asked, putting the jar into his pocket.

"Fenote is a memory and mental stimulant. You were prescribed to take it three times a day," Taer added gloatingly. She seemed to be hoping that the medicine tasted very nasty.

"No, I mean what was in the glass. Can I get something non-alcoholic? I don't like that stuff."

"This is your favorite wine, my lord, Bentar Dew."

//Oooh, I think I'm busted, the way they're looking at me like I'm asking them for a star in the sky. Looks like Lord Allesandro started drinking early in the morning. Yes, a gift of cirrhosis for everyone who brings it.

"I'll make the arrangements now!" The steward's long practice did not help him to hide the surprised tone in his voice, and he stepped back against the wall and began dictating orders into his sleeve - he must have had a communicator there.

Two minutes later, when Alex was already savoring a fillet of Karsarg, a droid appeared with drinks, which was very welcome.

"By the way, are you guys still going to stand over me and stare at me? I can't get a bite in my mouth," Alex queried, trying to catch the slippery arnichon with his fork.

"I beg your pardon, my lord, if you need anything, then..."

"Stop!" Alex interrupted Chapaev and, pointing to his chair with his fork, continued. "I'm only suggesting that you have breakfast together. Have a seat, Barra. That goes for you too, Guardsman."

"But effectively ensuring your safety means being able to move freely," Taer protested.

"You being able to move freely around the table. And then I'd feel safer with a well-fed security specialist, or you'd pounce and bite me. Anyway, think of it as an order."

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