Dmitry Glukhovsky - Metro 2034 English fan translation (v1.0) (docx) (2 page)

“Then we will clear the matter with the search party.”

At Istomin’s you would always get a special tea, a fine selection from the
V
DNCh
.
Hanza taxed the favorite tea of Vladimir’s three times on its way from the other end of the
metro. That made it so expensive that Istomin wouldn’t have allowed his weakness for the tea, if he didn’t have such good connections to the
Dobryninskay
a
. There he had served in the war with someone and so when the caravan leader returned back from Hanza, they always had a neat package for him.

Istomin always picked it up personally. One year ago for the first time, a delivery didn’t come and alarming rumors that threatened the entire orange line was being threatened by apparently unknown mutants from the surface. They were almost invisible, practically invulnerable and could read your mind. It was said that the station had fallen and Hanza fearing an invasion had blown the tunnels past
Prospect Mira
. The price of tea went through the roof and then for some time you couldn’t get any, which got Istomin seriously worried. But a few weeks later the waves calmed down and the caravans continued to bring the famous tea along with bullets and light bulbs to the
Sev
astopolskay
a
. Wasn’t that the main thing?

While Istomin poured the colonel’s tea into the porcelain cup with the cracked golden edge, he enjoyed with closed eyes, the aromatic steam for a moment. Then he poured himself a cup, sank heavy into his chair and started to stir a Saccharin pill into the tea with a silver spoon.

The men were silent, and for a moment the melancholic sound of the spoon hitting the cup was the only sound in the dark, tobacco smoke clouded office.

But it was suddenly drowned by a shrill ringing bell, coming out of the loud speakers and the tunnel: “Alert!”

The commander of the outer guard posts jumped surprisingly agile from his place and stormed out of the room.

At first a lonely rifle shot sounded off in the distance, than a Kalashnikov joined in – one, two and then three.

Military boots hammered on the train platform and you could hear the bass voice of the colonel and how it – even from some distance away – was shouting the first orders.

Istomin reached his hand after the shiny Militia-machine-pistol hanging on his cupboard, but then he held his back, sighed, sat back at the table and took another sip from the tea cup. On the opposite side of the table the colonel’s tea steamed lonely and right next to was his beret – he had forgotten it in his haste. The head of the station made a grimace and began again, this time half loud, to argue with the absent colonel. It was still about the same topic – but this time he found new arguments, which he hadn’t thought about in the heat of the moment.

At
Sev
astopolskay
a
many dark jokes circulated over just why the neighboring station was called
Tschertanov
skay
a
; you could read the word “Tschort” (
devil
) too clearly out of its name. The mills of the hydroelectric plants extended rather far into its direction and although it was supposed to be abandoned nobody in their right mind thought about occupying or acquiring it. The teams of technicians that had built the outer generators and regularly maintained them under supervision were always careful to not get closer than a few hundred meters to
Tschertanov
skay
a
.

Almost everyone who had an expedition like that before him and who wasn’t a fanatic atheist secretly made a cross with his hands and some even told their families goodbye.

The
Tschertanov
skay
a
was an evil station; everyone felt that who just approached her even half a kilometer. At first, in their naivety, the inhabitants of the
Sev
astopolskay
a
sent heavy armed scouting parties to extend their reach.

They came back, if at all, heavy injured and at least decimated by half. Then they sat stuttering, slobbering at the
fire, so close that they clothes almost caught fire but they never stopped trembling. They struggled to remember their experience – and one report was never like any other.

It was said, that beyond the main tunnel of the
Tschertanov
skay
a
, side tunnels plunged down into an enormous labyrinth of natural caves and allegedly were swarming with monsters. The people of the
Sev
astopolskay
a
called the place “the gate” – an arbitrary term, because nobody in the metro who was still alive, had entered this part of the metro.

Although there was a story from when the line hadn’t even been built yet – supposedly a big recon unit passed through the
Tschertanov
skay
a
and discovered “the gate”.

Over a transmitter – a kind of cable telephone – the radio transmitter communicated that it fell down, almost vertical at the end of a small corridor. They didn’t get any further. In the coming minutes the leaders of the
Sev
ast
opolskay
a
heard shrill screams full of horror and pain.

It was strange that the recon team didn’t shoot – maybe they knew that conventional weapons wouldn’t protect them. The last man of the group to be silenced was a mercenary without a conscience from the
Kitai-G
orod
station, who cut of the small finger of defeated enemies as a souvenir.

He seemed to be some distance away from the microphone which had slipped out of the hand of the radio operator, because you couldn’t hear his words very clearly.

But after listening closely the head of the station understood what the man was sobbing while he was fighting for his life:

A simple prayer. One of those simple, naive prayers that religious parents taught their small children. Then the connection broke off. After this incident all further tries to reach the
Tschertanov
skay
a
were stopped. Yes, there had even been plans to abandon the
Sev
astopolskay
a
and return to Hanza. This cursed station seemed to be one of those borders that marked the end of human rule in the metro. The creatures that pushed against these borders brought the inhabitants of the
Sev
astopolskaya
many problems but they weren’t invulnerable and a good organized defense could fend off the attacks with slim to no casualties – as long as they had enough ammunition. Some of these monsters could only be stopped with high-explosives and high voltage traps. But in most cases, the guards had deal with less terrible – but still dangerous – creatures.

“There is another one! Up there, in the third pipe!”

The upper searchlight had broken out of the frame and dangled twitching like a hanged man on the cable, scattering its hard light at the scenery of the fortifications: Sometimes it illuminated cowering silhouettes of creeping mutants, other times it hid them in the darkness or blinded the guards with its glaring light. Treacherous shadows raced around, became smaller and bigger, appeared as distorted faces so that you couldn’t distinguish the humans from the mutants.

The post was in a good position, because in this place two tunnels ran into one. Right before the apocalypse the Metrostroi (
Russian term, means workers in the metro
) began their repairs, but they had never been able finished it. The residents of the
Sev
astopolskay
a
had transformed the junction into a fortress: Two heavy machine gun-nests, one and a half meters thick protection walls made out of sand bags, tank-stoppers made from tracks, high voltage traps and a carefully thought through alarm system. But when the mutants came in waves, like on this day, it seemed like this fortress would fall.

The machine-gunner mumbled with a monotone voice to himself. Bloody bubbles came out of his nostrils and he looked surprised at the shiny red wet palms of his hands. The air around the Petscheng (
it is a
heavy
machine gun
) flickered because of the heat but now the damned thing was jammed.

The gunner made a short grunting sound and leaned against the shoulder of his neighbor, a colossal fighter with a closed titan-helmet and turned silent. In the next second they heard a bloodcurdling scream: The creature attacked.

The man with the helmet pushed the blood-smeared machine gunner out of the way, stood up, raised his Kalashnikov and fired a short burst. The disgusting, sinewy, grey-skinned animal had already jumped; spread its claws and flight membranes and flew at them shrieking. The hail of bullets ended the scream and the dead animal continued to fly into the same direction. Then the 150-kilo (
300 pounds
) body slammed into the sand bags and created a thick cloud of dust.

“That’s it”

The seemingly never ending onslaught of creatures that came out of the sawed-off pipes on the tunnel ceiling, just a minute ago, had stopped. The guards left their cover carefully.

“A stretcher! A doctor! Bring him to the station, fast!”

The colossal man that killed the last animal attached a bayonet to his assault rifle and approached the dead and injured creatures that were lying around on the battlefield leisurely. He pushed down the head of the first animal and ran the bayonet right through its eye, then repeated the process until he was sure that every creature was dead. Finally he leaned himself against the sand bags, looked to the tunnel, raised the visor of his helmet and took a sip out of his canteen.

The reinforcements from the station arrived after everything was already over. Even the commander of the outer guard posts came limping, breathing heavy, cursing at his illness and with his jacket open. “Were do I get three men now? Am I supposed to cut them out my body?”

“What are you talking about Denis Michailovitsch?”

Asked one of the guards.

“Istomin wants to send a recon team to the
Serpuchov
skay
a
. He is fears for the caravan. So where do I get three men now? Especially now …”

“Still nothing new?” Asked the man with the canteen without turning around.

“Nothing.” Reassured the old man. “But not a lot of time has passed. What would be more dangerous? If we
weaken the south now, there might be no one left to greet the caravan when it arrives”

The other one shook his head and turned silent. He still didn’t move when the colonel asked if any of the guards would join the three men team.

There were enough volunteers. Most of the guards had enough from sitting around and couldn’t imagine anything more dangerous than guarding the southern tunnels.

From the six volunteers, the colonel choose those who he thought to be expendable. A reasonable thought: Nobody of the three ever returned to the station.

It had been three days since they had sent the recon team on the railcar. The commander thought that the others were whispering behind his back and looking at him with distrust. Even the most intense conversations ceased when he entered and the tense silence that followed seemed to be a silent request: Explain it to us, justify yourself.

But he only did his job – ensuring the security of the outer guard posts of the
Sev
astopolskay
a
. He was a tactician, a strategist. They didn’t have enough soldiers anyway. What
right did he had to waste them on doubtful and senseless expeditions?

Three days ago he had been absolutely convinced. But now, because every afraid, disapproving, doubting look was hallowing out his certainty, he was starting to doubt as well.

A recon team with light weapons didn’t even need a day on their way to Hanza and back – even accounting for possible fire fights and delays through the independent stations.

The commander ordered to let nobody enter, closed the door to his small office, pressed his hot forehead against the cold wall and started mumbling. For the hundredth time he went through all possibilities. What had happened to the merchants? What happened to the recon team?

The people of the
Sev
as
topolskay
a
weren’t afraid of humans – except maybe of Hanza’s army. The bad reputation of the station, the inflated stories told by the few eye witnesses about how dear the inhabitants had to pay for their own survival – all that had been spread by the merchants throughout the metro using word of mouth.

And soon that proved results. The leaders of the station quickly realized what advantages a reputation like theirs would bring them and took the fortifications of the station in
their own hands. Informants, merchants, travelers and diplomats were allowed, with an official permission, to spread the most horrible lies about the
Se
v
astopolska
y
a
and the neighboring stations.

Only a few were able to look behind this curtain of smoke and lies and realize the true potential of the station.