[Witches' Horses] Sibir
Title: first time
'Verse/characters: Sibir; Ruslan Sergeievich
Prompt: 57D "sacrificial"
Word Count: 1050
Notes: After not exactly zakushi.
---------
He had no idea how Kostenko had gotten his hands on terem-made vodka. Well, yes he did, but he wasn't prepared to confront the man about bribery and had no interest whatsoever in reporting his own sergeant up the chain of command for someone else to confront the man about it. For all he knew, there might even be no bribery involved at all, just complicated family connections and care packages.
He might also be somewhat drunk on Kostenko's vodka.
"Tradition, kid," Kostenko explained, several more shots in, "We always do this the night before a new lev takes his druzhina out for the first time."
Ruslan felt it was a little unfair that Kostenko wasn't even wobbling, though he'd put away as much or more than Ruslan had. "Does being hungover somehow help?"
Kostenko nearly spilled the next round laughing. He eventually put the bottle down so he couldn't spill and rested his forehead in his hand, chuckling.
Once he'd recovered and had poured the next round properly, he leaned back in Ruslan's spare chair, hand wrapped around his glass and said "Most levs have nerves like you wouldn't believe right before. Second-guessing all over the place, hesitating--getting 'em drunk the night before gets at least some of the nerves out."
"Oh." Ruslan thought about that. "You realise this isn't my first time, right?"
Kostenko pointed at Ruslan's glass until he took the shot. He wasn't even having to suppress a wince anymore, though whether that was the quality of the vodka or how many shots he'd had was up for debate--his hair was falling in his eyes.
"First time in charge, not first time out," Kostenko corrected as Ruslan was struggling with a hair-tie and uncomfortably clumsy fingers. "First time it's your word that sends a man to die."
Ruslan, hair finally pulled back out of his face, raised the glass Kostenko handed him, intoned "To fallen friends."
Kostenko toasted him back with "To the decisions that have to be made."
They stopped toasting when they ran out of vodka; Ruslan would have been all right with continuing with water, Kostenko said it was vodka or nothing but he was out of the good stuff. Ruslan sent him back to his own quarters to sleep it off, then collapsed into his own bed, automatically strapping himself in before darkness claimed him.
---
Call to horses found him with a raging headache and a small rat's nest in his hair, but dryswallowed painkillers and long practiced fingers sorted both out around getting into cold-weather gear and his boots.
Kostenko and Gregorovich had only just barely got the artel in order before he showed up, and everyone pulled to attention for him as he cleared the door.
Well, except the riders who'd be carrying his unit, but they weren't in his chain of command. The riders' lev waved--he nodded back, remembering the last sergeants' game--then went to do his own review.
Kostenko and Gregorovich knew their business, he saw as he looked over his men, and pressed down the single butterfly squirming in his gut as he gave his sergeants a "Well done, gospoda. Now get aboard."
He wasn't one of the gunners aboard his assigned horse, for the very good reason that he needed to be able to track communication channels. Lievtenant Gavriilovich patched in briefly to tell him the horses were ready to go, and he cast an involuntary glance at the mirror he had to show positioning.
"All?" he asked on his own channel, and after he got acknowledgements, he patched into the riders' channel. "We're ready. Good hunting, gospoda."
"Likewise," Gavriilovich said cheerfully, and clicked over the internal gravity coils.
Ruslan was riding with one of Gavriilovich's nickels--the brass had finally worked out that putting all the officers on one horse was just asking for trouble--so had the dubious pleasure of watching most of the horses precede him out of the zastava's stable. He watched the horses scatter on his screen, and tried not to wince as one went tumbling in a barely-controlled roll.
"Nikita, ease over to get some cover for that tumbler," he told his gunner as they came out into the black, "let's see if we can't surprise 'em."
"Sir!" Nikita Andreievich acknowledged, and from there things just got . . easy. Every thought he'd wished his sergeants or levs would pull out of his head he could voice, twist his artel into immediate reaction to what he was seeing.
He automatically extended that to the riders, he discovered after one of Gavriilovich's sergeants dove his horse up under a troop cart so Nikita and Oleg Vladimirovich could catch the cart from both sides.
He'd have to hope Gavriilovich didn't punch him after they got back.
Especially if that nickel didn't get out, he thought, wincing as a horse tumbled end for end and then hung for a heartstopping moment with its head dark.
"Sunnova--" Alexandr Vitalov muttered, then the horse's head lit again to a chorus of crashes.
Not quite fast enough--one of the other horses was circling in like a wolf after a staked-out lamb.
"Pretend you don't see him, Oleg," he said, fast, "just for a minute."
"Sir?" Oleg was replying when Alexandr demanded "What?" overtop in the channel.
'Two more seconds,' Ruslan thought, 'just two more--' "--Now," he ordered, and watched Oleg's horse stutter a little in her path as he cut loose with the heavy gun.
Nikita followed up with theirs, going after the second horse that had been lured in, and the whole channel erupted in cheers as the horses crumpled.
---
Kostenko found him after they had all come back staggering back in to the stable. He'd gone to make sure the casualties were being cared for appropriately--Vitaly Yulshenov's burns had been nasty--but had finished the round of congratulations to his wounded by the time his sergeant caught up with him.
"Congratulations," Kostenko told him, and Ruslan couldn't help but ask "Is there a night after ritual, too?"
Kostenko choked on a laugh. "Not usually, no. If you're going to get drunk we just make sure you get home safe. You won't be, though--" the half there 'will you?' hung in the air between them for a moment.
Ruslan shook his head. "No, I won't be."
'Verse/characters: Sibir; Ruslan Sergeievich
Prompt: 57D "sacrificial"
Word Count: 1050
Notes: After not exactly zakushi.
---------
He had no idea how Kostenko had gotten his hands on terem-made vodka. Well, yes he did, but he wasn't prepared to confront the man about bribery and had no interest whatsoever in reporting his own sergeant up the chain of command for someone else to confront the man about it. For all he knew, there might even be no bribery involved at all, just complicated family connections and care packages.
He might also be somewhat drunk on Kostenko's vodka.
"Tradition, kid," Kostenko explained, several more shots in, "We always do this the night before a new lev takes his druzhina out for the first time."
Ruslan felt it was a little unfair that Kostenko wasn't even wobbling, though he'd put away as much or more than Ruslan had. "Does being hungover somehow help?"
Kostenko nearly spilled the next round laughing. He eventually put the bottle down so he couldn't spill and rested his forehead in his hand, chuckling.
Once he'd recovered and had poured the next round properly, he leaned back in Ruslan's spare chair, hand wrapped around his glass and said "Most levs have nerves like you wouldn't believe right before. Second-guessing all over the place, hesitating--getting 'em drunk the night before gets at least some of the nerves out."
"Oh." Ruslan thought about that. "You realise this isn't my first time, right?"
Kostenko pointed at Ruslan's glass until he took the shot. He wasn't even having to suppress a wince anymore, though whether that was the quality of the vodka or how many shots he'd had was up for debate--his hair was falling in his eyes.
"First time in charge, not first time out," Kostenko corrected as Ruslan was struggling with a hair-tie and uncomfortably clumsy fingers. "First time it's your word that sends a man to die."
Ruslan, hair finally pulled back out of his face, raised the glass Kostenko handed him, intoned "To fallen friends."
Kostenko toasted him back with "To the decisions that have to be made."
They stopped toasting when they ran out of vodka; Ruslan would have been all right with continuing with water, Kostenko said it was vodka or nothing but he was out of the good stuff. Ruslan sent him back to his own quarters to sleep it off, then collapsed into his own bed, automatically strapping himself in before darkness claimed him.
---
Call to horses found him with a raging headache and a small rat's nest in his hair, but dryswallowed painkillers and long practiced fingers sorted both out around getting into cold-weather gear and his boots.
Kostenko and Gregorovich had only just barely got the artel in order before he showed up, and everyone pulled to attention for him as he cleared the door.
Well, except the riders who'd be carrying his unit, but they weren't in his chain of command. The riders' lev waved--he nodded back, remembering the last sergeants' game--then went to do his own review.
Kostenko and Gregorovich knew their business, he saw as he looked over his men, and pressed down the single butterfly squirming in his gut as he gave his sergeants a "Well done, gospoda. Now get aboard."
He wasn't one of the gunners aboard his assigned horse, for the very good reason that he needed to be able to track communication channels. Lievtenant Gavriilovich patched in briefly to tell him the horses were ready to go, and he cast an involuntary glance at the mirror he had to show positioning.
"All?" he asked on his own channel, and after he got acknowledgements, he patched into the riders' channel. "We're ready. Good hunting, gospoda."
"Likewise," Gavriilovich said cheerfully, and clicked over the internal gravity coils.
Ruslan was riding with one of Gavriilovich's nickels--the brass had finally worked out that putting all the officers on one horse was just asking for trouble--so had the dubious pleasure of watching most of the horses precede him out of the zastava's stable. He watched the horses scatter on his screen, and tried not to wince as one went tumbling in a barely-controlled roll.
"Nikita, ease over to get some cover for that tumbler," he told his gunner as they came out into the black, "let's see if we can't surprise 'em."
"Sir!" Nikita Andreievich acknowledged, and from there things just got . . easy. Every thought he'd wished his sergeants or levs would pull out of his head he could voice, twist his artel into immediate reaction to what he was seeing.
He automatically extended that to the riders, he discovered after one of Gavriilovich's sergeants dove his horse up under a troop cart so Nikita and Oleg Vladimirovich could catch the cart from both sides.
He'd have to hope Gavriilovich didn't punch him after they got back.
Especially if that nickel didn't get out, he thought, wincing as a horse tumbled end for end and then hung for a heartstopping moment with its head dark.
"Sunnova--" Alexandr Vitalov muttered, then the horse's head lit again to a chorus of crashes.
Not quite fast enough--one of the other horses was circling in like a wolf after a staked-out lamb.
"Pretend you don't see him, Oleg," he said, fast, "just for a minute."
"Sir?" Oleg was replying when Alexandr demanded "What?" overtop in the channel.
'Two more seconds,' Ruslan thought, 'just two more--' "--Now," he ordered, and watched Oleg's horse stutter a little in her path as he cut loose with the heavy gun.
Nikita followed up with theirs, going after the second horse that had been lured in, and the whole channel erupted in cheers as the horses crumpled.
---
Kostenko found him after they had all come back staggering back in to the stable. He'd gone to make sure the casualties were being cared for appropriately--Vitaly Yulshenov's burns had been nasty--but had finished the round of congratulations to his wounded by the time his sergeant caught up with him.
"Congratulations," Kostenko told him, and Ruslan couldn't help but ask "Is there a night after ritual, too?"
Kostenko choked on a laugh. "Not usually, no. If you're going to get drunk we just make sure you get home safe. You won't be, though--" the half there 'will you?' hung in the air between them for a moment.
Ruslan shook his head. "No, I won't be."