Snake's cradle. Chapter 2. Tachyon

The illuminated racetrack caught Tachyon's eye. Dawn's child watched as the radio-controlled copy of the car rushed forward, overcoming obstacles, and tried to get the words of his instructor out of his head — to no avail.

“Don't be ashamed of the time spent to rest — even the genius mind needs to be reset. Every second of tranquillity can push you to a discovery that previously seemed unthinkable.”

With a grin, Tachyon moved away from a transparent partition and left the old test site now serving to Dawn's Children as an entertainment platform allowing to detonate test samples beautifully. What would a mentor who had long lost his mind say when he found out that his best student was lost in dreams of a perfect car?

Even it could be tamed, adapted to needs, but the human body, which is destroyed by loads, can not be modified. At least not yet.
Immersed in his thoughts, Tachyon did not notice the scientists waving at him. They were clearly headed for the bar and called Dawn's Child with them. For a moment, he wondered what to do — follow them or return to his own compartment drowning in blueprints, and for the thousandth time try to modify the load-reducing fluid compartment?

— Screw it, — Tachyon murmured under his nose.

If he doesn't let himself blow off now, he's gonna go crazy. Who could know that just a week of forced vacation — damn trauma, damn raiders — would turn him from a brilliant messenger of Dawn's Children into an obsessive?

Seeing his friend gesturing to him, pointing towards the bar, Tachyon smiled and nodded theatrically. In the end, he's still human.

— …You barely touched it. Because of the injury? — a companion sympathetically asked, nodding at the only glass of orange liquid that evening standing before Tachyon. A specially designed caffeine stimulant (alcohol was not much welcomed among the Dawn, although it was poured here).

— In a way, — the messenger quickly answered with a careless smile. Since his childhood, Tachyon knew about the inexplicable calming magnetism of his smile and shamelessly used it back in the shelter. — How can I afford to stay longer than usual?

The biologist girl across the table smiled more shy than usual, and Tachyon regained his spirits. Maybe…

— Your reasoning is correct, — a familiar voice came from somewhere above.

Tachyon's eyes met the internal security expert.

— Get up to control. The Messenger of the Steppenwolfs has come to us. Looks like you're gonna be staying with him at the Firestarters'.

For a moment, the world around Tachyon was distorted, and he felt like he was in the cockpit “Nova”, felt a rough steering wheel under his fingers.

— I won't force the management to wait, — the messenger who has just received the long-awaited task, smiled to companions and rose from a table.

Tachyon didn't even notice that the wound in his shoulder stopped hurting.


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15 June 2020
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