The historical digression clarified many points, but still getting into an alternative version of Mass Effect ... is a very unexpected twist. Interesting, I don't argue. I passed the game in one breath (if I finish this "game" without extra holes in the trunk or severed limbs, then it's fine... however, it looks like "my" profession does not have it), but to be in it?!

In any case, I had to put my amazement in the back drawer and concentrate on more pressing issues. The decision turned out to be more than successful — historical research, even if not immediately, was able to normalize my mind, and most importantly, my memory. The memory, both mine and my counterpart, came in order, and each memory began to take its place, like millions of little things meticulously laid out on the shelves.

So here's what we have. Alexander Vladimirovich Romanov. Born on February 20, 2150 on the planet Tsargrad in the Russian royal family. The only son and the future heir to the throne (the first thought of this was equally exciting, inspiring and terrifying). Biotic, or mutant in a simple way, a person capable of supernatural manipulations with the energy of the zero element. The most terrible secret of the royal family is Alexander's mother... already mine... ahem. My mother, together with the then Tsarevich and my father, Vladimir Vladimirovich, in 2150, were victims of a major man-made accident in Singapore, which resulted in one of the largest leaks of element zero, which is known to mankind. All the people in the area received serious exposure to the zero element... the fact that the mother survived, and her child was not born with nightmarish deviations can only be called a miracle and nothing else.

Mom died of cancer a year ago — doctors kept the disease in check for a long time, but over the years it still took its toll. My father is dying and at the moment the ship I am on is rushing at full speed to the capital. That's the reason for the desire to get drunk, which was successfully done by my recipient ... and it's not surprising — to lose both parents in a year. So, apparently, during a solitary binge, Sasha "successfully" turned up and hooked his head on the corner of the table. Unfortunately, this part of the story does not shed any light on why I got here. Unless someone at the top really did not want the death of the heir ... or there is just a completely impossible combination of circumstances.

"I got distracted."

At the age of 16, he graduated from school as an external student and, after several months spent with his family, entered the Military Space Academy. After five years, he graduates with honors. But, even more importantly, at that very time, biotic abilities manifested themselves for the first time.

— Exactly!

I must admit that here I caught fire and already wanted to try everything out, like a boy… in theory, I should have been grieving or getting used to a new environment, but someone else's memory played an interesting joke on me and my sense of time, because I now have an extra twenty-eight years of a completely different life and a new experience behind my back, which I am slowly replaying now in my head. The moment of my entry into this world already seemed relatively distant, the excitement subsided, the bitterness subsided.

However, at that time I was not thinking about the "high" at all, but just wanted to get the moments of using biotics out of my memory as soon as possible. An uneaten sandwich was appointed an honorary experimental rat, which still soared into the air on the third attempt, and ... as soon as I waved my hands joyfully, it flew like a bullet into the wall ... at that moment I was glad that I had not chosen a heavier object for training, and also that a thank-you sheet from the commander of the fleet hung in a frame, behind glass.

Having played enough with a bit of new abilities, I again began to turn the recipient's biography in detail in my head.

After the academy, he was assigned to the missile cruiser "Stoyky", which is part of the Russian grouping under the Alliance. Despite the fact that Sasha was the heir to the empire, few people on board the ship knew about it, except for senior officers. However, their awareness was not guaranteed any indulgences at all (there were also a couple of those who tried to treat the heir more strictly). However, no indulgences or "closed eyes" were required. Alexander, brought up in rigor and discipline, turned out to be the ideal material for turning into a responsible, exemplary and truly good officer who knows and performs his duties and tasks assigned to him flawlessly, while not forgetting to help both comrades and ordinary colleagues. He was loved by the lower ranks and respected by senior officers — the subsequent career rise was natural, and most importantly — deserved. The future emperor made himself. A significant event in his career was Operation Retribution on Turfan in 2178. A kind of response to the Batarian pirates (vile four-eyed humanoids who love slavery) for attacking human colonies in general, and for the infamous massacre on Elysium in particular. Alexander was one of the developers of the operation and personally, on his own initiative (many tried to object ... oh, many) headed one of the landing groups. They were expected. While the battle with the unexpectedly appeared pirate ships was raging in space, the Batarians counterattacked and destroyed the ground headquarters of the operation, Alexander, as the most senior officer, took command of all the landing units of the Alliance. In the shortest possible time, he managed to localize the Batarian offensive and force them to retreat, after a while a human attack followed, quickly crushing the enemy's defenses. Pirates, slavers, mercenaries and other trash lost up to two and a half thousand fighters killed that day. As for their commanders, they were captured. People, after taking command of Alexander, suffered minor losses — 204 fighters (the fleet lost only ammunition from valuable). A new star also lit up in this operation — Lieutenant D. Shepard, who captured the leader of this "coalition" of pirates, especially distinguished himself.

After this operation, Alexander was awarded an extraordinary rank — Captain of the 1st rank, and for a complete set, he was also "sent" as a captain to the cruiser Seductive. According to the legend told by the old guard, the first captain of this ship, having been captured by an Azari pirate, managed to seduce her and persuade her to let him go ... whether it's true or not, no one knows, but many are jealous.

This ship patrols trade routes within the Russian Empire. Despite the flawlessly planned and carried out operation on the Turf, Emperor Vladimir II was furious that his only son and heir participated in this operation and risked his life. He took a long time, calmly (and it was obvious with what great difficulty he was given such self-control) scolded his son. Without detracting from his merits and paying tribute to his courage, he could not approve of such a risk when it comes not only to service, but also to the future of an entire Empire! "Your Empire!" — as Vladimir sometimes liked to remind. There were other representatives of the Romanov dynasty, but they did not particularly shine and did not get into politics. Given the experience of the past, the intra-family hierarchy was extremely strict. The emperor's brother, Konstantin Vladimirovich, was an outstanding scientist, and his son, Nikolai, was not yet twenty years old. The emperor's sister, Svetlana Vladimirovna, left for another path — a thirty-five-year-old harsh businesswoman who built her business from scratch and without the support of her older brother, so, at least, she says herself. No husband, no children. However, the succession to the throne was not the only reason for such a reaction. Both understood this, but one justified it with a duty to the fatherland, and the other did not dare to raise such a topic in conversation with his father. A few months ago, the Emperor buried his wife, and he definitely does not intend to bury her only son after her.

— Correctly kept silent... correctly. I whispered softly to myself. I wonder if Alexander hears? Does he know? Does he understand what happened? — I think I'm starting to go crazy.

He clenched his teeth, shook his head, banishing unnecessary thoughts.

On the ship, and even as a captain, Alexander came off in full, iron discipline (I would say excessive), total accounting of property (poor old caretaker), bringing the ship's combat capability from seventy-nine percent to ninety-six in one year (a record). The crew called the captain a tyrant and a despot behind his back, but in pubs they beat faces for him who dared to belittle or insult their "dictator".

It is now 19 hours 26 minutes of ship's time on June 3, 2179, according to the Earth calendar, having put himself and the cabin in order (and at the same time wiping the remains of the sandwich from the frame), I called the first officer on the shipboard communication.

— Slava (short for Yaroslav).

— Yes, Comrade Captain of the 1st rank. — Despite the disapproval of the "remnants of communism", it was decided to leave the military address "comrade" in order to emphasize the continuity of Russian history.

— Be kind, send me lunch and anything for a headache to my cabin.

— There is! Permission to perform?

— Permission granted.

Yaroslav Andreevich Losev, an excellent officer, although he likes to play cards ... sometimes even, hehe, with the captain. Lunch was delivered by a sailor (tradition, gentlemen). Borscht, cutlets, boiled potatoes and a decanter with compote, and a couple of tablets lying on a napkin. I could hardly wait for the moment when the sailor came out to pounce on all this splendor like a predator. Having had enough, and having drunk a pill (I must pay tribute to the pharmacists — the pain was removed in ten minutes), I decided to inspect the ship.

A third-generation missile cruiser (there are still four generations of ships and weapons. The first generation is the first full—fledged in—system spacecraft, the second is ships designed and built before 2100, the third is ships developed before the First Contact War, and the fourth is after it) of the Diana class, seven hundred meters long, forty wide and high. The main armament is six hundred, compactly located, missiles of various classes of the latest generation, from "buckshot" against LCA (Light combat aircraft) homing mines, to nuclear laser missiles "Sting" capable of digging out any dreadnought, working on the principle of pumping energy through a nuclear reaction, a disposable laser. However, there are only ten of them on board. In addition to missiles, ten evenly spaced laser short-range defense sparks, four cluster cannons firing projectiles that explode when approaching the target, bringing down a stream of plasma and fragments on the target (incredibly effective against LCA and missiles, but too low rate of fire and range, and the cruiser may not be lucky).

The standard mass-driver gun is located in the bow, but, according to the military space doctrine of the Russian Empire, kinetic weapons in the navy are given the role of auxiliary, while priority is given to rocket. The ship itself resembles a huge domestic submarine, both from the outside and from the inside. The interior spaces are small and separated by numerous bulkheads, which gives a significant bonus when fighting for survivability or boarding. The crew has to live in truly spartan conditions, with the exception of the captain, who has, in comparison with the rest, a luxurious living space. The portholes, when performing a combat mission or patrolling, are closed, special hundred-meter nozzles absorb the ion trace of the engine, which, coupled with the non-striking coloring of the ship itself, makes it extremely invisible, both visually and with instruments. Such a design is accepted as universal, and all ships of the cruiser class in the Russian navy look the same and differ only in size. Plus, all the weapons are in hidden compartments, which makes it difficult for a likely enemy to determine which type a particular ship belongs to, and therefore how dangerous it is. It is not surprising that many cosmonauts, both Russian and foreign, call such ships, because of their appearance, "coffins".

— The captain is on the bridge!

— Drag Captain, during your absence... — I let the officer of the watch finish.

— At ease.

— At ease!

— How much longer do we have to fly?

— An hour and a half, drag the captain!

— Great.

There are no excited, overly joyful or skeptical looks. Everyone knows their captain here and many are more confident in him than in themselves.

After a little over an hour, the ship began to reduce its speed and approach the planet. The planet is called Tsargrad, the heart of the empire, located far from any repeaters (the Russians were paranoid about their state security, and they will remain so). There are hundreds of different space stations in orbit — from huge orbital fortresses, to relatively small commercial stations where you can buy and sell anything your heart desires for any price (only legal goods, of course). Thousands of small ships carrying goods and passengers scurry between the stations and the planet. The planet itself belongs to the so-called oceanic type, because most of the surface is covered with water. A heavenly place. People live on three large islands, the largest of which is slightly larger than Greenland, but almost thirty percent (and the percentage is growing) of the population lives in underwater cities, where they are mainly engaged in mining and scientific research. In total, about three hundred million subjects of the empire live on the planet.

Having accepted the highest access code, the dispatchers allocated us a pre-reserved seat at the spaceport closest to the royal palace. The excitement of traveling in space has not yet passed, as it was replaced by fear, which for the first time is not able to smooth out even the memories of the recipient, who went through it more than once (and even he found such an action exciting). Entering a saturated atmosphere. Entering the saturated atmosphere is not a small vessel, but a seven—hundred-meter ship - this is not a view for the faint of heart. Especially when you're inside this ship. But I was wrong to be afraid, the landing turned out to be soft, and at the exit from the ship I was already waiting for, a dozen (conspiracy is our everything) black as night (in the tropics?..) armored eight-meter aircars. After a second of digging in my memory, it's getting easier and easier, like reflexes, I remembered the name of the aircar — "Vizier". Specially designed to save the person inside from any troubles. Well, a hundred guards lined up. Special units of the tsarist army, consisting entirely of biotics. They protect the royal person and her family, perform various highly secret and difficult tasks, where they are recruited from and how they are trained, a state secret, but I feel that it will soon be revealed to me.

A middle-aged man with a bald head and gorgeous sideburns, wearing a gold-embroidered doublet, came up to me and bowed. Remembered. His father's adjutant is Alexey Olegovich Yudov.

— Hello, Your Imperial Highness.

— Greetings, Alexey Olegovich, how is your father?

— I will not reassure you, things are very bad. — While we were talking and going to the punishments, the guards took us into a "box" — the death of your mother severely affected the sovereign's already weak health. The disease began to progress rapidly, and the best doctors not only of the Russian Empire, but also of the Citadel space were powerless.

Alexey's voice, usually calm and hard as steel, sounded genuinely sad. He was a long-time friend of his father, who went through a lot with him... in a sense, I even envied such a friendship — such a treasure still needs to be found and earned. At this time we reached the cars and got into them. It was spacious and fresh inside, not at all like in my old rattletrap, which had rotted in a landfill for a hundred years. All ten cars took to the air and headed to the royal residence.

We got to our destination in forty minutes, all this time we talked with Alexey Olegovich, he asked me about my service and personal life (Sasha (abbreviated from Alexander) thank God, there was no date, and the tension can be relieved at any station, if you understand what I mean), I was interested in life in the capital, politics and economics. Alexey turned out to be just a wonderful conversationalist. Erudite, knowledgeable, expounding well... he was able to quickly describe the situation to me. Society froze in tension, because the news of the emperor's illness shocked the entire empire. Vladimir II is loved and respected not only by all subjects of the empire, but also by people outside of it, although they were more afraid than respected. The police, the army, the Navy, the Imperial Security Service (hereinafter ISS), are on full alert in order to prevent provocations and unpleasant events arranged by "partners".

The Imperial Palace was impressive. In the center of the island, on a picturesque river surrounded by mountains, a colossal complex of buildings was erected, united into one whole (not the most economical use of the limited island space, but the imperial government should have a proper "nest").

The memory made itself felt. I "remembered" that this is not only the residence of the emperors, but also one of the headquarters, which receives more or less important information from a dozen departments and intelligence services from all over not only the empire and the Alliance, but also the Citadel space. This complex is properly protected — hidden, powerful air defense, electronic warfare and missile defense, almost a regiment of imperial guards with heavy weapons and equipment, plus, a few kilometers away there is a space marine division.

After landing, Alexey Olegovich escorted him to his father's chambers. They were already waiting for me at the door. Uncle, tall, with sparse gray hair on his head, in a simple suit and with a downcast look. Nikolai, a handsome young man, a thunderstorm of girlish hearts, from whom there is arrogance and a sense of self-importance a mile away, no bright talents and successes worthy of mention were "remembered". Aunt, also tall, like all the Romanovs, a beautiful and statuesque woman in a strict pantsuit. The black hair is gathered in a neat ponytail. A minimum of cosmetics, which emphasized her natural beauty. She walked nervously from side to side with a tense face.

My appearance attracted everyone's attention, they exchanged strong handshakes with my uncle, greeted Nikolai dryly, hugged my aunt.

— Good to see you, Sasha.

— Thank you, Uncle... how is your father?

— It's bad, Sasha, I'm afraid that he has no more than a couple of days left. — Aunt sobbed, and turned to the window, — He's waiting for you.

Nodding to my uncle, I opened the door, went into my father's chambers and closed it tightly behind me. The room was bright and fresh, but despite this, a very unpleasant atmosphere hung in the air. If there is a smell of creeping death, then this is it.

My father was lying on the big bed in the center of the room. It feels like the disease has drunk it like a bottle of mineral water, which it then crushed with a strong hand. In just one year, a healthy man under two meters tall and weighing under one hundred and ten kilograms, who was supposed to turn sixty this year (in a country where the average life expectancy is one hundred and fifty), turned into a creepy parody of a mummy. Painful thinness, completely bald head, pallor, barely audible hoarse breathing, and for complete "happiness" for about a month he is no longer able to get out of bed.

— Hello, Dad. — I took a chair against the wall, put it next to the bed and sat down. — How are you feeling?

— Hello, hello, son. — It is clear that communication is difficult for him, however, he seemed to brighten up a little when I came, as if he had saved some of his strength for this conversation. — I'm glad that you managed to arrive before my death... it's not for nothing that I endured these ubiquitous doctors. Hush! Don't even think about interrupting me... I have a lot more to say, and time is running out. Here, take this.

He took off a massive ring from his left hand and handed it to me.

— There are all the access codes and the most important information for you, and with it the dossiers on many important bigwigs of the empire, memorize the codes and erase them. Come into my office today. In the safe, in the floor, right under my chair, take the uni-instrument. It is unique — made to order especially for you. Only you can activate and use it, it is encoded on your genome. Through it, you will be able to access any classified information of any department. It has the latest version of the VI, created specifically for hacking and decrypting databases and programs, as well as analyzing and systematizing the information received. With it, you will be able to manage the empire without leaving the palace or cabin… this is in theory, of course. You know, even my sister with her business all over the Citadel will marvel at how much this trinket cost me. You... forgive me, son. I know we haven't seen each other for a long time, but... let's be honest and open. It will take a day, two, maybe a few more, but I will die. And you, son… you will become the new emperor. It's a pity it's so early. I will not see how the sun of your life will be at its zenith, I will not see my grandchildren. You will have to shoulder such a burden in the dawn of youth... but do not be afraid — the Lord does not give us trials that we are not able to cope with.

He is not looking for words — the conversation was thought out long before it took place. However, after such a long and information-rich monologue, he had to take a break for about a minute — now willpower and spirit cannot compensate for a failing body. They can't, but he fights to the end, refusing to increase the already small staff of his personal servants (not counting doctors)... even in such a small thing as taking a glass of water with a trembling hand. And here is a test, and here is struggling and would not accept help.

— When you stand at the head of the empire, you will have many enemies. More than it's ever been, more than you can imagine. "Trust, but check, and then check again" — this proverb should become your credo in life. Do you hear? Don't even expose your back to Kostya (from Nikolai) and Sveta ( from Svetlana) don't show slack even in front of them. Life is changing, and they can change too. The head of the ISS is still a homegrown schemer, but he doesn't have the guts to act against you... at least in the near future. The Minister of War, Sergei Yulievich Frolov, though old, is loyal to the throne and knows his business. When it's time to shake up the office — do not drive it at least for the first time, such shots are too rare. Minister of Foreign Affairs, Viktor Alekseevich Shagaev... You know him well, you sly fox, as a pro in his business should. He will be extremely useful and at the same time extremely attentive to your actions. All the other ministers are useful and efficient, but they are not very proactive, they are too dependent on our Kind, and they will not dare to speak out against you. Another thing is the chancellor, cunning, calculating, smart, consolidated many anti-imperial subjects around him. It is he who can take actions to weaken the dynasty, stop them quickly and harshly.

Put them in their place right away — no one should have any doubts that the grip of our family will not weaken… These are worrying times — you'll see it in the reports. I'm afraid that not only humanity, but the entire galactic community is on the verge of war. Worse, too many people want it. Do everything to prevent it, but do not hope for success. Try to find allies. The army must be ready for war, industry must be ready to provide for it, the treasury must be ready to pay for it, without condemning us to collapse even in case of victory.

Silence and pause again. My joy of getting into this universe was blown to the wind. Grief for either his own or someone else's father — and she retreated. Now I was really scared. And it seems to me that Alexander would feel the same, if this burden made the heart of someone who was born for this freeze, then what can I do?

The emperor's hand pulls me out of my thoughts, gently falling on my shoulder. Weak grip, almost weightless. Only then did I realize how much his illness had undermined him.

— And now, Sasha, help me get up and get dressed.

— ... are you sure?

— Since when do you doubt my word?" — There is a note of irritation in his voice — he clearly does not like being taken care of too much. — I didn't save my strength and obey the army of doctors in order to lie like a dying swan.

I silently began to fulfill someone else's request. Whether I like her or not, there's no point in arguing.

— I didn't put up with not being around my son when he finally came home. — His outfit is prepared in advance ... white, luxuriously decorated, hiding a terrible thinness. He had even thought of that. — Besides, it's not good for a monarch to just quietly fade away in his chambers. We were not born for such a fate.

It seems that he also thought out the last lesson he wanted to teach his son. The closer to death, the purer people are. It's him. Vladimir II. Not broken, not doubting, at the same time fiercely confident in his actions and humble in accepting the blows of fate. There is nobility in every action, every word is balanced, every thought is honed. And this person I will need to replace…

Father was enough for one day. One day of life, every minute of which he won from certain death. He said goodbye to relatives and friends, he gave his last orders, he even managed to repent.

On the second day, he fell ill and almost wouldn't let me leave his chambers. We talked about everything and every conversation made us look into Alexander's memory again. He really loved him very much and was proud of him. I don't know by what miracle I managed not to burst into tears that day. Probably, I didn't want to upset him with my whining, Sasha's excessive sentimentality irritated him from childhood.

On the third day, he died, and his... no, now my country has plunged into mourning. In those days, a lot fell on me, the organization of the funeral, my personal coronation in three months, numerous letters of condolence from more or less significant personalities in the empire, the first experience of ruling the state.

The day after the funeral, I called the government and the heads of intelligence in the palace. The access codes I learned by heart allowed me to get access to the ministerial files, my father was right, most of them were ordinary, non—initiative performers. But there were exceptions.

I walked briskly into my father's office, where there was a huge T-shaped table, and the ministers stood up when I appeared. Someone quickly, and someone with ostentatious laziness. I will remember the latter very well. In total, excluding me, there were twenty people in this hall.

— Sit down, gentlemen.

I waited until they sat down and was about to say a welcoming word, when Chancellor Alexey Semyonovich Gruzdev beat me to it.

— Please accept, once again, our sincere condolences, Your Imperial Majesty (officially, my father abdicated the throne a day before his death, and just the other day I became head of state, and the coronation performs a purely decorative function).

The Chancellor was short, with receding hairline, clean-shaven and with a confident look, sat first on my left hand.

— Thank you for your condolences, Alexey Semyonovich. I'm sure we all miss his strong hand, but we're not here to grieve. Unfortunately, I spent my entire adult life on board a warship and did not delve into the management of the state, thinking that I still have a lot of time for this. But we assume, and the Lord disposes. Now I will need to get up to speed as soon as possible, while we have time before my coronation.

The ministers, like dummies, nodded gravely.

— Therefore, I ask you to prepare reports on the departments entrusted to you within a month, as well as an analysis of the ongoing processes in our economy, social sphere, and in the armed forces, as well as your proposals. Less water means more specifics, gentlemen. — I take a pause for a few seconds, letting my words settle in the heads of the ministers. — Mr. Chancellor.

— Yes, Your Majesty?

— I will ask you to create and head a temporary committee to organize my coronation, I think the head of the ISS will help you.

The skinny and tall man sitting third on the right side nodded.

— Great, is there something urgent for me?

— Yes, Your Majesty…

— Introduce yourself, please, I don't know you well yet, I'm sorry, — Did not let a plump man with a chic and thick mustache a la Stalin finish.

— Of course. Sukhoparov Sergey Viktorovich, Minister of the Interior.

— Thank you, so what did you want to say?

— Until what date should we maintain a high security regime?

— I think that up to the coronation celebrations, is it possible?

— Yes, quite.

— Great, I think everyone who took part in this, give out bonuses.

— It will be done, Your Majesty.

— If there are no other questions for me, you can be free, but I will ask the Minister of War, the Minister of the Interior, the Foreign Minister and the heads of intelligence to stay.

There are five people left in the office. Ministers appointed personally by the Emperor. I had a detailed dossier on each of them.

The Minister of the Interior, Lieutenant General Sukhoparov Sergey Viktorovich, a veteran of operational investigation, a great organizer and manager, does not get into politics and is devoted to the throne.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Viktor Alekseevich Shagaev, is a short man of sixty, with a "professorial beard" and a sly smile of an omniscient wizard. Professor, has five higher educations and speaks six foreign languages, as well as a couple of dialects that are common among alien races. A specialist in the ancient history of mankind, has an extraordinary sense of humor and is a decent person who is not used to sycophancy to the point of gnashing his teeth. He has a great practice of teaching at the Academy of Foreign Policy at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, however, the rector drove him out of there for a personal reason. But Viktor Alekseevich was noticed by his father, who was interested in his scientific research. He gave lectures on history to "me" in his youth, a cool guy, but if, in his opinion, I act dishonestly, he will immediately resign.

The Minister of War, Admiral-General Frolov Sergey Yulievich, is an old man who has crossed the centenary milestone, although it is difficult to call him an old man. Strong and youthful. Tall, broad shoulders and good physical shape. Clean-shaven and short-cropped. A participant in the First Contact War, he commanded the frigate Mercury during the Indian crisis, secretly delivering humanitarian aid to the besieged Indian colonies, and then on the same frigate he chased pirates who had recently been captains of the Indian space Fleet. Straight as a sleeper, always tells people what he thinks, the personnel of the MSF and GF (Ground Forces) adores him. He is devoted like a dog (although such a comparison is rude), but he will always express his opinion if he has it on the issue under discussion or if he does not agree.

The head of the ISS, Lieutenant General Glazov Mikhail Viktorovich. Skinny and tall middle-aged man, unremarkable appearance. I'm sure as soon as he gets out of here, I'll forget his face. A rare schemer and manipulator, he still thinks that he got his place because he framed the former head when my father and the former head of the ISS played a scene in front of him. What for? I don't know, this fact is not disclosed in the dossier. Perhaps it was necessary to take the former head into the shade. Mikhail Viktorovich knows his business for five (A+) and his department fulfills all the invested funds, a high—class professional in his field, although he likes to turn various gray schemes, but he is not an idiot - he did not run across his father's path. I hope it won't spoil my blood either. Loyalty is average, but it is compensated by professionalism — you need to be very careful with him, and start looking for a replacement.

The head of the Foreign Intelligence Service, Lieutenant General Andrey Petrovich Kartonov. Another unremarkable-looking man, but here is his dossier... a participant in dozens of secret operations, access to information about which only the emperor and the head of the Foreign Intelligence Service have access. Loyalty is extremely high and unquestionable. While.

— Gentlemen, I want to give you a separate assignment. I need a comprehensive in-depth analysis of your departments on all matters concerning our international partners in the Alliance. I need an analysis on foreign policy, how many colonies they have, how great is their influence in the Citadel space. Socio-cultural analysis, I want to know what social processes are taking place, what political forces exist, what and how the Chinese, Americans and others live. Analysis of the economy and the financial sector, their foreign economic activity. The military sphere, how many soldiers and officers, their level of training and combat experience, how many and what quality military equipment and spaceships, in what condition is their military industry, how influential and effective are their special services. Also, as an application, prepare a similar analysis for the Russian Empire and for the races of the Citadel.

— I think... — Shagaev took the floor, — I think everyone will agree with this — the analysis for our human brothers will be ready at the end of this month, and it will take much more time for the Citadel races.

— Well, I'm waiting for people at the end of the month, as for the xenos, I give two months. Any questions? No. Great! Everyone is free.

I left the most interesting meeting for the evening. Father's personal team. Three gray cardinals going about their gray business. Their contacts and dossiers on them were also on my instrumentron. But their contacts were not useful to me — they contacted me themselves.

I decided to receive these, without a doubt, interesting guests in a small office. Four upholstered chairs arranged around a coffee table.

Three people froze in front of me, one of them is well known to me. Alexey Olegovich Yudov, my father's adjutant and old friend. During my youth, he helped and supported me a lot, defended my choice to become a military cosmonaut in front of my father and mother, for which I am grateful to him. In this troika, he deals with personnel issues: he is looking for talented scientists, officers, politicians, entrepreneurs, checks them for lice, competence, decency, and these checks can last for years. If they pass them, they are offered extremely lucrative employment contracts with career growth in state institutions, in corporations controlled by the emperor, as a rule, through third parties, in classified research institutes. Again, most of these people do not know for the rest of their lives who they really work for.

The second person, Mr. Solovyov Eduard Vyacheslavovich, I see for the first time. A former officer of the Guard, a participant in many special operations, dismissed to the reserve due to injury. He got a job in the local police, where he became the most effective employee, but crossed the road to the "big uncles", or rather their kids, who were engaged in drug trafficking and had fun with rapes, including minors. In general, they were mad with impunity. And the local police chief was covering for them. According to the laws of the empire, they were all waiting for the gallows or neural resocialization (brainwashing) and enlistment in a penal regiment, but these gentlemen remained not caught, thanks to their wallets and connections. Eduard Vyacheslavovich was kicked out of the police and threatened that if anything happened, his family would become the next victim. But they attacked the wrong one. Having hidden his family, according to all the rules of the sabotage operation in the deep rear of the enemy, he waited until all these geeks arranged a sabbath, and according to all the rules of the Marvel Punisher, he killed them. And when the ISS special forces arrived to detain this gang, they found only Eduard Vyacheslavovich, surrounded by the corpses of their targets. Eduard immediately surrendered, and this situation was immediately classified, Eduard's family was safely hidden, all the remaining criminals were found and punished, and he himself received an offer of cooperation from Yudov. Ten years later, he became the chief security officer in this trio, however, this was only part of his duties. He and his people are engaged in counterintelligence, espionage, both industrial and military-political, the organization of power operations, without involving the power structures of the empire. He was also responsible for the elimination of particularly dangerous personalities for the empire: traitors from the special services, terrorists, their sponsors, traitors in law enforcement agencies and in the army. In general, he is engaged in unsightly and dirty, but necessary work.

And finally, the last in this trinity and the most interesting and colorful character I have only seen in both my lives. Katz Yakov Solomonovich. A natural, straight all according to GOST, a Jew, a brilliant financier, but moreover a surprisingly decent and honest person. He was waiting for the verdict of the court for financial fraud on a particularly large scale, for which he would have been hanged. But this gentleman attracted the attention of Yudov and my father, because in fact, he opened a huge network of underground casinos (in the Russian Empire, casinos can only be built in certain territories), which combined brothels and drug dens to a heap. Moreover, in the brothels there were girls, people and Asari, bought from Batarians, that is, in fact, slaves. With all this, Yakov Solomonovich revealed the system by which the organizers of casino-brothels withdrew money from the country with the help of various charitable foundations, and even established the names of these organizers. Naturally, these names coincided with the names of those who made every effort to open a criminal case against him. Officially, Katz has been hanged, well, he has been dealing with financial issues in this troika for many years, getting money for everything "I want" for Yudov and Solovyov. Creates and registers corporations and banks for third parties, both in the empire and abroad, where they very quickly turn into a good source of income and leverage. Conducts financial scams in the interests of the empire and the emperor personally. And, with the permission of the tsar, money sticks to his hands. And the organizers of underground casinos-brothels-dens, now, rest at the bottom of the boundless ocean of the planet Tsargrad. But their network came under the control of Katz, brothels and brothels were destroyed, but the casino remained — they turned into a reliable and inexhaustible source of information and debtors, sometimes extremely high-ranking.

This trinity, as the figures of the Soviet era said, is ideological. They do their work not for money and not for a high position, although they have both. Officially, there are none, with the exception of Yudov, they are doomed to live in the shadows. They do their job because they understand that no one but them. They know that behind them is not just the emperor and the monarchical idea, in which they sincerely believe, but the whole country, and what kind of future awaits the Russian Empire largely depends on them. The realization of this fact makes them clench their fists until they crunch and get into work. Their father chose them not for their talents, although this was also taken into account, but because of the similar thinking that the father himself had. There was no "subordinate - boss" in their relationship, they were friends, colleagues, like-minded people, they were a team where the father, as the team captain, made the final decision. I will try my best to become a member of this team.

Our communication lasted about three hours, we looked at each other. Yudov was a kind of bridge between me and Katz and Solovyov. I feel that we were all satisfied with this conversation. They continue to do their job, but already reporting to me, they will also prepare reports on what they did with my father, and what plans they made. I asked to look after a couple of sensible secretaries and an adjutant, as Yudov replied to my request to become my adjutant that he was "too old and would not keep up with me." Satisfied with the conversation, we parted, I don't know what the plans of these three were, but I was going to get a good night's sleep.


Note: I am not the author of this story, it is . This is a translation