Natotevaal. War Chronicle - Андрей Демидов

Natotevaal

(War chronicle)

A novel

Many of them strong, fierce and cheerful

Those who killed elephants and Men

Those who died from thirst in a desert,

And froze on the edge of eternal ice

But still faithful to our planet,

Strong, cheerful and fierce…

Nikolay Gumilev

***

Digital Coded telegram VHV

Confidential level: B.

To the commander of the 156th squadron of 1U Fleet,

Colonel Kokum Yohoud.

Yagd Colonel!

I have to inform you, that yagdishwalder-42 of the entrusted squadron, did not reach the area of concentration to participate in the landing attack operation the “Eartl”.

I also do not have the data concerning the dislocation of LG-42.

Natote!

16-00.

Mars 17

 Year 4725

From the beginning of Natotevaal.

Commander of the tactic group ‘Eartl’,

Lieutenant Colonel, yagd Aprehum Scisert.

***

Digital Coded telegram AHM

Confidential level: A.

To the commander of the 156th squadron of 1U Fleet,

Colonel yagd Kokum Yohoud.

Yagd Colonel!

I have to inform you, that two hours ago the picket boat from patrol division 255, has detected pieces of the 1st class battleship’s ‘Marshall Tote’ armor plating in sphere sector A13N45. The battleship has traces of mixed impact nuclear attack and surface melting, typical for annihilation weapons of the enemy.

With the help of convoy raider ‘Haldesmemur’, of 17th separate destructive crew, we were able to detect and gather a great number of combat vessels and airlifters’ fragments with mark of yagdishwalder-42.

Natote!

/A copy to the Special secret service Department

of the 3rd Galactic Directory

19-45.

18 Mars

Year 4725

From the beginning of Natotevaal.

Commander of the picket boat ‘Ropin-6’

255 patrol division,

Lieutenant Kannet Prehur.

***

Digital Coded telegram AHO 69

Confidential level: A.

To all combat vessels of the squadron 156 Fleet 1U.

I hereby order:

– To abort all current tasks and block the areas adjacent to the sphere sector A16N45 according to the scheme ‘Net’.

– To organize a search for survivor vessels and rescue boats of yagdishwalder-42

– To  bring the lock scanners of the second and the third watch on combat duty

– Cancel leave and enter the mode of 1A degree alert

– Commander of the ‘Tybentite’ battleship, Captain Grafog Tertisote should launch an investigation concerning the circumstances of the YAG-42 destruction.

Natote!

/A copy to the General Headquarters

Of the 3rd Galactic directory

19-55.

Mars 18 a.c.

Commander of 156th squadron of 1U Fleet,

Colonel yagd Kokum Yohoud.

***

The earth, covered with glittering scales of cirrus clouds, decorated with scrolls of ocean cyclones seemed to be a figment of someone's whimsical fantasy.

Slowly spinning around like a huge lazy ball, it seemed, it took dense blackness from deep space and spread it on its surface in various colors and shades of blue, from smoky, white and blue on the edge of the atmospheric film, to dark ultramarine over the ocean breaks.

Awakening continents slowly crawled out on the sunlit side, showing spots of deserts, forests, wormholes of megalopolises, negligent strokes of Islands and zigzags of coastlines.

Pilot of the shuttle "Independence" Lieutenant of the SAS air forces, Ronald Whitehouse sighed deeply and not paying attention to this magnificent picture, rubbed his neck on the collar of his spacesuit:

– When it comes to it, nothing ever turns out! – He put a krypton cutter that has not yet cooled off, in his backpack, circled around the bent bracket that jammed the docking rim of the rescue capsule, and perched on the edge of the shunting engine.

Aiming, he slung a piece of the rod from a broken solar battery from hand to hand, and brandished:

– Geronimo!

A blow.

The bracket trembled slightly, but didn't move an inch.

The astronaut himself flew off to the whole length of the tether on an impact and, after he had stopped the indiscriminate tumbling with great difficulty, began to maneuver the back pack, attempting to re-approach the odious piece of iron:

– Hey, Mackliff, Mackliff, hey! I can’t do it. We should try something else. Maybe we can descend with the Germans?

 Air crackled, and the nervous voice of John Mackliff, the flight engineer, came through:

– The Germans are in no better conditions than us. Depressurization of the capsule. All of their life support systems have failed. Ronald! If you don't straighten out this piece of iron shit, we are going to die, damn it!

Prickly shivers ran down Whitehouse’s back; the indicator of the sleeve altimeter showed indifferent figures-«334».

Only three minutes ago the altimeter was showing 335, 5 miles at perigee. "Independence" was falling down rapidly, narrowing down the number of turns of orbital rotation. Having miscalculated the power of the back pack jet, Whitehouse hit the casing of the radio telescope, broke the sun visor of his pressure helmet and having made a ridiculous flip, found himself on the other side of the Shuttle.

At the right side of ‘Independence’, like a dark sprout, the streamlined hull of the German military ship ‘Das Rhein. WN-4962’ was sticking out.

An authentication check box of the Euro-Asian Community contrastingly stood out on its black armor.

Six hours ago, when ‘Das Rhein’ started a complex maneuver on the selection of the supply container in close vicinity to the research Shuttle, one of its shunting engines broke down.

At high speed the armored nose pierced the belly of ‘Independence’, which was covered only by sunshield.

The blow was terrible.

The right solar battery and the wall-mounted fuel storage containers have been torn off from the shuttle; the shield of the aerodynamic braking was messed up, a valuable telescope was broken to pieces, the rescue capsule was damaged, almost all of the flight control systems were deactivated, and the equipment for ozone-plasma synthesis, intended for ozone input into the atmosphere was broken as well.

Jean Dunois, the flight supervisor and George Fujieka, the second pilot were killed because of depressurization of the laboratory and the engine compartment.

Dick Aidem, the general major of the SAS air forces, received multiple fractures, concussion of the brain and now was lying unconscious in the control room under the supervision of the navigator – Alexander Dybal.

The German ship was less damaged.

However, everything that had been fixed in it without welding, was swept away from its places by inertial acceleration; the clamp bolts were cut from the storage batteries, as well as the main and local computers, propulsion systems, aiming systems, food containers, not to mention personal belongings of the crew, rubbish, rags and oil from the broken gyroscope that appeared out of nowhere…

All of these things were sadly floating inside the battle station that now looked more like a garbage truck, rather than a military ship.

The Germans were all alive, but two of the four officers had fractures and the board gunner Wolff Lawyer Hoffman was in a comatose state.

Otto Franz Eichberger, the navigator of «Das Rhein», who was performing the duties of a doctor, having examined the Lieutenant just sighed:

– Poor Hoffman, he can only be saved on Earth, in a special ‘Raumwaffe’ hospital in Dusseldorf.

Several minutes after the collision, having lost the opportunity of using their engines and in a state of shock, ‘Independence’ and ‘Das Rhein’, sharply started to de-orbit and began to fall.

A few minutes later, having lost contact with the outer world, people realized that there was no possibility to use their rescue capsules and from the thought of it they winced; this was not just a heavy accident: it was a disaster.

For the last two hours Whitehouse has been shaking the bracket, Mackliff has been trying to somehow establish the external communication, and call the repair vessel on duty.

All the while three Germans were consistently working on sealing their capsule.

Now, seated on the cracked telescope casing «Hubble-514», Whitehouse was a doleful observer of their vain efforts to hammer in the titan-stratum fiber into the microscopic cracks by melting them with krypton.

The titanium was bubbling, forming small spheres of an unpleasant brown that burst like soap-bubbles on the rough armor plating, leaving quickly evaporating blots.

At the same time, it was clear that only the astronaut in a pale blue commander’s space suit worked well, and the other two could barely move.

The one, who was meticulously melting the titanium fiber in equal intervals of time, most likely had a broken left arm; it was hanging like a whip.

The other only stirred when an instrument box slipped out of his hands and he had to catch it frantically.

– Listen, Mackliff, do you know what they are doing? Mackliff, hey! Did you fall asleep? Hey!’ – Whitehouse knocked his hand in a dirty white glove on a box of internal communication, which has been finally disturbed; and heard a voice of the flight engineer in response, that sounded muffled like in a dungeon:

– Yes, I can hear you. Who are you talking about?

– The Germans of course, damn it!

– Oh well…They must be messing around with their capsule, like us.

– They are caulking it, like an ancient boat with titanium fiber!

– So are they making progress?

– Seriously? Have you lost your mind, John? Will titanium fiber stand the temperature of atmospheric friction? What about the buffing? I have a feeling that they are doing it only because they want to be engaged in some sort of activity. Perhaps it is easier for them to await their deaths like that.

– Well you do not even try. You are so lazy you will not even wait for your death.

– There is finally a teacher for me! This is insanity. It’s madness to be engaged in this work.

– Of course this is crazy. They are total morons. It is clear as a noonday. They managed to bump into us in void space. I would understand if this happened at zero orbit, because it is crammed with satellites, transports, spotters and other junk waiting for liquidation. – Mackliff coughed and fell silent. You could hear him grinding something and breathing heavily.

Whitehouse took a deep breath.

His stomach was aching with hunger. Cocoa from the thermos has been drunk an hour ago and he did not want to crawl clinging to the rail, get through the narrow doors of the airlock system to change the thermos, check its tightness, and climb back. He had no strength for that.

– Hey, Mackliff, what about the connection?

– Maybe I will be able to fix it…or maybe not, – the flight engineer was obviously nervous.

Whitehouse glanced at the altimeter that was showing 301 mile in perigee, and crawled to his bracket, gently scouring the safety cable.

In order to distract his mind from the gloomy thoughts and a hungry rumbling in his stomach, he switched the intercom headset to a broadcasting wave.

A familiar tongue-twister struck his ears:

– You are listening to CNC, the official radio broadcasting company of the Yokohama pact countries.

Takashi Midzuki is on the microphone.

Transmitting the latest news…

Today at three o'clock (Tokyo time), in Brussels the long-awaited conference on rectification of the consequences between troops of the Islamic States Coalition and the Euro-Asian Union had begun.

The representatives of the military command of the North American community and the Pacific Union will take part in the conference because their troops were also involved in the conflict last year. The conference is held behind closed doors, but it is known from reliable sources that the main issues will be the exchange of prisoners of war and the withdrawal of the forces from the line of demarcation Bombay-Balkhash-Baku-Ankara.

According to our observers, a compromise can hardly be reached, as the main condition of the BIT leader, General Yasser Mohammad Vazir, is the immediate lift of the ban on the export of oil products from the countries of BIG, and the abolition of all trade sanctions… Listen to what is said in the…

A green lamp lit above the right eye of Whitehouse; Mackliff demanded him to switch to internal communication. After the tell-tale voice of the speaker, flight engineer’s speech seemed sluggish:

– Gosh, Ronny! What were you doing? Stop dreaming. Listen, I fixed the transmitter, but I have a feeling that we are being jammed. Do you hear me? Hey!

– I can hear you, but if you do not stop shouting in the headphones my membranes are going to burst. Nonsense! Who would possibly jam someone here? The Germans may be fixing something and that must be the cause of this interference.

-No, it’s not that, the background noise is too stable for ordinary interference.

-You are always imagining things; – Whitehouse slowly turned around and in three hundred yards from the Shuttle saw a matt cylinder with a thin light pen. And he braced his feet on the basis of his camera as if he was capturing an enemy on the wrestling mat of the Amateur club.

– Looks like it is giving in… I have to increase my efforts. What if I try and give a push with my space suit engine? I wish a miracle would happen, for once!