Natotevaal. War Chronicle - Андрей Демидов

Dybal quickly pulled the cover and spun the bolt wheel:

– Farewell, father "Independence" and mother life!

Pressurized helmet lights illuminated the inner parts of the container; astronauts were cramped like canned sprats.

They could not even stir; there was no question about it.

All they could was to move their hands a little that have been prudently placed in front of the dashboards of their spacesuits.

Von Conrad was either whispering something quickly, or praying, or piling up one of his creepy complex abuse.

Dybal was trying to blow away a chewing gum wrapper from his nose; which had somehow gotten under the glass of his pressure helmet.

Nervously biting his lip, Mackliff was holding his index finger on the timer reset button, looking steadily at his shoulder altimeter which was showing 213 miles at perigee:

– Oh, come on, respond, you damn automatics!

– Station is ready to explode in two minutes fifteen seconds…

– Well, there it goes!

– One minute forty-five seconds.

– What is it, Mackliff! Have you forgotten to turn on the sluice valve?

– Station is ready to explode in forty-five seconds.

– It is not possible! We have already passed the estimated 205-mile mark. It just can’t be true! I'm sorry, guys … – Mackliff suddenly felt like his flesh was being separated from the bone, and the brain was being smeared over his cranial vault.

He was so pressed into the titanium boarding that his guts seemed glued to the spine. Before he sank into the blackness, through his headset he could hear Whitehouse gnashing his teeth and roaring throatily:

– It has worked, damn it, that fucking piece of iron!

Thirty seconds after the ejection of containers, "Das Rein" and "Independence" along with two docked Islamist ships became a swollen fiery yellow ball and then turned into a firework of molten metal.

***

Exchange 2.

Digital Coded telegram VHN 11

confidential level: A.

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

Yagd Colonel Kokum Yohoud.

Yagd Colonel!

I have to inform you, that by the end of 4725, Marr 24th from the beginning of Natotevaal, parts of the entrusted squadron have completely blocked the ball-sector A16N45 according to the scheme "The Net."

Patrols were placed at a distance of 5 Tohs.

All available lock scanners are thoroughly searching the sector and the adjacent space to detect the remains of yagdishvalder-42 and possible raiders of the Swertz empire.

The operation excludes:

– Yaggishvalder-15; convoy to Fort KK22 "Ihteneld-56-R" fortified zone of Stigmarkont.

– The repair ships brigade 446 of the separate remount battalion.

– 4 minesweepers: type "Ohayra" from units YAG-17 and YAG-32 that are undergoing preventive maintenance.

– Strategic reserve fuel tanker of squadron 156 SMI 443: propulsion engines overheating due to excess boost of mergasine.

Total engagement of forces of the 156th squadron is 89%

Natote!

00-30. 25 Marr A.C.

Executive Captain of the “Capture” operation,

Yagd Audun Eydlah.

***

Digital coded telegram OOE

Confidential level: A.

Fleet base Stygmarkont

Marr 25

Year 4725

From the beginning of Natotevaal.

Special Department Coordinator

Of the Foreign Intelligence Board

And Security Service of the 3rd Galactic directory.

An Inquiry regarding the destruction of YAG-42

To: The Security Service Coordinator,

Marshal and Commander of Natotevaal,

Yagd TOTE YASCHEMGART

By the time of losing contact with yaggdishvalder-42 of the 156th squadron 1U Fleet of the 3rd Galactic Directory on Marr 15 a.c., it consisted of the following vessels:

– 1st class battleship “Marshal Tote” /flagship/

– 2nd class battleships “Kekvut”, “Maykopar”, “Rys”.

– Heavy cruisers “Jezera”, “Kahn Sorre”, “Krodis”, “Moztok”

– Minesweepers type "Ogayra" / total number of 13 /

– Patrols type “Zhevur” and “Yunus-5”/ total number of 15 /.

– Amphibious assault ships of the 1U Fleet tactical reserve which had a fully equipped "Blue Lightning" commando division with heavy weapons on board.

/ A total number of D-Sh bots – 7 /.

– The total number of support vessels: 34.

77 combat and transport vessels altogether.

Natote!

Coordinator of 00 FIB SS-3

Captain Commander

Yagd Don Aykorr.

***

Digital coded telegram VHN 13

Confidential level: A

To the commander of the 156th squadron,

Yagd Kokum Yohoud.

Yagd Colonel!

I bring to your notice that on May 26 a.c., having performed a thorough scan and trawling in sphere-sector A16N45; 69 flagship parts of YAG-42 and a large amount of debris and parts of sheathing, frames and engine-power plants have been detected.

The obtained black box of the 2nd class battleship “Kekvut” had been demagnetized, apparently as a result of the strong influence of residual annihilation radiation. BB’s of other vessels as well as log books, nautical books and computer terminals were not found.

Natote!

23-45. 26 Marr 4725

From the beginning of Natotevaal.

Information Department

Under Special Section of FIB SS-3

***

To: Coordinator of 00 FIB SS-3

Captain Commander

Yagd Don Aykorr.

Reference

The commander of Yaggdishvalder-42, Captain GRAFOR Tertisote,

Born on Janu 14th year 4694 from the beginnings of Natotevaal.

From the Three Greyhounds System, Planet Gammun, Klenvule.

 / Code 556749 /.

Mother: Daza Tantane, occupation 5564.

Home address: Klenvule, Captain Dema Highway, Building 99, compartment 588.

Father: Shtarp Tertisote, profession 69870.

He resides at the same address.

In 4707 Tertisote graduated from comprehensive school / Code 48769 / and entered the Yagd Kokum Yohoud Metropili Biological Technical College of 1U Fleet, specialty 487659. In 4712 he was called to active duty into the 44th military transport flotilla of the U Fleet, 1st Galactic directory.

Card record of Corporal G. is attached.

Having accomplished the VGF course in 4715, he was directed to the existing Fleet as assistant of the minesweeper Commander DTO-91. Qualification card of Corporal G. Tertisote is in the attachment.

Cadet student’s book of the Galactic Fleet Military Academy and a record card of Lieutenant G. Tertisote are attached.

In 4720 he was promoted for military service and appointed commander of the heavy cruiser “Jezera” YAG-42 of the 156th Squadron of the 3rd Galactic directory.

He took part in the operation on lifting the siege of Stigmarkont, by storming forts "Ihteneld-21-M" and "Ihteneld-40-R."

For valor shown in the battle on the 11th Feran year 3722 in sphere-sector V44N01 / Blue Flex System / he had been honored with governmental awards – the platinum star of the 6th rate and the title of VGF captain.

On the 1st of Junna year 4724 he became commander of the YAG-42.

Being in command of a unit he proved to be a demanding leader, cautious and prudent navigator, good organizer and executed the combat missions accurately.

He is single and without children.

Interests: 67859, 17678, 58698 etc.

Trustworthiness: 7986

He was verified by the Office of SS Counterintelligence and has never been noticed in any suspicious activity.

Efficiency report is attached.

The central archive operator

Sergeant Mara Shtatlidt.

***

Mackliff was laying face skyward and observing a bug that resembled a scarab; it was crawling onto the bridge of his nose and busily exploring dust adhering to the skin:

“Am I dead or alive?”

He deeply inhaled the dry, hot air.

The beetle in a panic fell to his shoulder, ran to a parched leafless branch of long withered bush and hid.

Only now the flight engineer felt like he was floating in a bathtub filled with something sticky and viscous:

– Good Lord, I am floating in my own sweat!

Feelings returned to him gradually.

The facial skin suddenly wailed with all its nerve endings: “Hide me! Cover me!"

Right overhead like a white globe hung the sun, and it looked like it was gathering all its vigour to wither the astronaut.

He raised his disobeying hand to the face and cried out in pain: the skin was stinging and covered with scabs.

Overcoming the pain in his spine, Mackliff rolled onto the stomach, squelching salty moisture in the fabric of his tight suit, and realized that he was not wearing a heavy spacesuit, it was lying a few feet to the left, charred and pitiful, as if it was cut up with a knife.

– Well, I got really sunburned here, – he covered his head, with a scrap of some synthetic fabric, the first thing that came to hand.

He felt much better.

The astronaut slowly raised his head and froze in shock: in front of him, right behind the withered thorns of a lone bush stretched out the lifeless desert.

Flat as a table, without a hillock, without the slightest hint of dunes or ripples –and dazzling, as if it was glowing from within. Light drifting sand sometimes violated its complete stillness, and at the horizon, a lonely whitish cloud got lost in the sky, and was slowly washed away by a hot breath of scorching sand.

– Oh God! Where am I? I-aaah… – a yearning cry involuntarily escaped from his dry throat…

– Hey, why are you yelling? Do you think you are the only one who feels shitty? Ha … Man, Dammit. Strike me dead… I still see you alive … Stap my vitals… – a hoarse voice came from behind the pilot and a huge shadow loomed over Mackliff. Mackliff turned slowly, and behind Whitehouse, who also had no suit on; at a little distance, he saw the tilted container, halfway gone into the sand.

Dybal has been crawling around it on his knees, searching for something with his outspread fingers.

Two motionless bodies lay in a meager shade of the container: the former commander of the space shuttle "Independence" Aydem and the former commander of the "armored car" "Das Rein" – Colonel Von Conrad.

– Well, I'm glad. I’m very happy … You know, John, you have had a very restless sleep, actually. I covered you with a piece of the parachute, and you started jerking your little hands and feet and threw it off. That’s no good. So, old man, can you get up? – Whitehouse added seriously.

Mackliff struggled to his feet and tried to hobble towards the container.

His feet would not move.

If the dune did not have a slope, he would not even budge.

While he was moving towards the container, dismissing the help of Whitehouse, Dybal finally found what he was looking for – a binocular; and rapidly, for a man who has just darted down to the ground, got on top of the container nastily grinding the metal shield of his shoes on the black wall, which was still warm from the atmospheric heat. Scales of titanium ceramics burnt in the atmosphere flew from the hull of the container:

– It is curious to know where we have ended up … Ooh, my arms and legs do not bend at all … It hurts like hell…

– Yes, Al, it is curious indeed… – Mackliff made it to the container and carefully folded his body in the shade.

– Ronnie says we are not far from the former eastern coast of Venezuela, in Caracas area, which had been covered with sands. Though his eyes tell that he hardly believes in what he says. And so to speak, where is the sea breeze? At the border of the sand and the ocean air currents are mixed constantly, and it must be blowing like in the wind tunnel. But here? Ah, what to say … – Dybal put the binoculars to his eyes and stared at the horizon. Standing on the capsule, he resembled a monument to some Ancient Mariner, who looked through binoculars at the squadron of enemy fleet…

-Well, the main thing is that we are on Earth. It is strange but we're still alive…

– Everything is relative, John. It seems to me that before the accident at "Independence", when there was light, a cold "Pepsi" and different kinds of sausage, we were a little more alive than here, where at best we can catch a weedy lizard and nothing at worst.

– Where is the second container? Where is Eichberger, Hoffman and all the supplies?

– Makliff leaned against the hull of the container, and suddenly pulled back, it was still hot from aerodynamic heating, and moreover warmed up by the sun. It was hot like hell.

– It's not clear yet. Either they landed too far from us, or did not land at all – said Whitehouse. He handed a flat jar of reactive water to Mackliff.

Flight engineer turned the release cover and gray powder filled the cap. In contact with air the powder turned into what looked like icy water in contrast to the red hot air.

Mackliff gently sipped this iron flavored liquid:

– What do we do next?

– We should at least find out our location to answer this question.

– Ronald, you said that we were in the Caracas area.

Whitehouse shrugged his shoulders.

Having had a good look at the surroundings, Dybal spent some time inside the capsule, and then climbed out red as a tomato, as if he has spent an hour in a Finnish sauna. But at the same time happy. He gently cradled a small box of a shortwave transmitter in his hands: