In the illuminated and, in comparison with the slushy street, rather cozy room sat Flaxen-Haired, looking out the window, finishing another cigarette.
Besides Flaxen-Haired, in the small room was Undersized, as they always called him. Having appeared at the fortifications a couple of days ago, the young and early militiaman had managed to distinguish himself with exorbitant show-offs and constant tales about his tactical abilities.
And this was the case when a person himself believed in what he was weaving. However, since he was very entertaining with this, he could be forgiven for it. Undersized was a little over twenty, and by his appearance he looked more like a student than a person who could handle a weapon in his hands.
- Have you seen the saboteurs? - Undersized turned to Dragovich. - They started a showdown here. I see they're lashing out, they're about to start hitting each other with shovels. The guys are watching, probably hoping that they'll calm down on their own. And the rest of the civilians are standing there like they've shit their pants. As usual - "our hut is on the edge". I come up, shoot into the air, and everyone immediately calms down.
- A hero, f**k, - the Big Guy, who was sitting at the table opposite the Flaxen, said with displeasure, but not without a grin in his voice, - Don't do that again, got it?
- As you say, but I think that's the only way to go, - Small continued calmly, - The invasion could start any minute, and they're here...
- What are you croaking about! - Flaxen came to life and knocked on the table.
- I'm not croaking. It's just that in a combat situation you have to work out any options, - Undersized said with a thoughtful intonation and took out his phone.
- I heard that shot. Why were they fighting there? - asked Dragovich.
- Well, two of them were working, digging, and suddenly they met one who used to be a big shot, well, let's exterminate him, - answered Flaxen-Haired. - Nothing special in general. Now all three of them will get a punch in the ribs and go back to work.
- And the one they exterminated, will get it too?
- Of course. Apparently, he was an asshole back then, - Flaxen-Haired grinned. - What now, sort it out? Give drubbing to everyone and that's it.
- Oppenheimer's rating has dropped by three percent in a week, - Undersized showed himself again, looking at something on his phone. - That means there are still minus six percent before the elections, even a little more.
- You're getting on my nerves! - answered Flaxen. - He's still calculating who's going to win, - Flaxen glanced at Dragovich and nodded towards Shorty.
- Let's go already, - said Big Guy.
- Where are you going? - asked Dragovich.
- You're coming with us too, - answered Flaxen with a sly tone in his voice.
- What's this?
- Here, - answered Shorty, and climbed somewhere into a pile of carelessly dumped things lying next to him.
- Boo-baa! - Shorty imitated the sound of a gunshot or an explosion, and with a bang put a three-quarter liter bottle of vodka on the box.
- You! Take it away, or we'll all get "Boo-baa," - Flaxen grumbled.
- Who'll see now, unless someone comes in suddenly.
- Well, you answered your own question, - said the Big Guy.
- If that's the case, then let's say we found it, - the Small Guy calmly answered. - The workers who were just brought in hid it in the bushes, and we went and found it.
- Better give him the first aid kit, - the White Guy turned to the Small Guy.
The Small Guy immediately took out the well-known orange box from the same rags and handed it to Dragovich.
- I don't need this crap, - Dragovich resolutely objected.
- It's okay. You're sick, you can. You even need it. Otherwise, pneumonia will be a real pain in the ass, - said the White Guy.
Dragovich twirled the plastic first aid kit that was handed to him, once so desired by the extinct drug addicts, so to speak, the drug addicts of the previous generation.
- There are pills in a glass tube - you'll be able to pull them like a tractor. There's also a sleeping pill, - that's the opposite, - Flaxen began. - A doctor I know, well, he's almost a doctor, told me that you need to drink an energy drink first, and then three hours later take a sleeping pill. You'll sleep for a day and you'll be healthy.
- What the hell! I don't need it for! - answered Dragovich, holding the first aid kit in front of him. - I'd rather go over there... - he nodded toward the rags where Undersized had hidden the bottle. - I'll warm up your throat and that's it.
- If it gets worse, take the pills, - answered Flaxen. - Inflammation is no joke here in the field
There were about two weeks left before the US elections. Since that visit a year ago, the entire Superfederant on both warring banks began to follow and root for Harlington, who was already credited here with supposedly becoming the 68th President of the USA, he would first of all deal with the Superfederant, as the problematic region was also called. The region of Russia. Russia, which in 2114 declared a policy of demarche to the Bloc. The Bloc of Western Nations, which fought with the Asian Bloc in the "Great War", as it was called. Or simply in the War. They always wrote about it with a capital letter and it was clear where just war as a phenomenon and where this War was.
The War was preceded by the Pre-War, because of fucking Indonesia. This was in 2117, when Dragovich was still a schoolboy. Against the backdrop of such a scale, what was happening now in the "triple-S-F", that is, "triple-S-F" was somewhere on the third page of news for Harlington himself, who had cut points for himself by settling the situation around the Super-Federate.
For the average person in the world, all these clarifications of the SSSF's relations with the central government, with New Kronstadt, the Russian capital of wartime, were generally lost, like a separate leaf in the fall of leaves. Even for Russians, a much more painful issue was the confrontation between the government and parliament.
Because of it, because of this all-Russian political crisis, Lebedev, having untied his hands during the capital confrontation, decided to deal with the unyielding region at the same time. And of course, to get some of his own political benefits. When will they get enough of their benefits?
If Harlington wins, then Kronstadt will go away that same day, - Undersized continued his chatter. - And he will win...
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Dragovich noticed some kind of glow to the east. The glow was slowly growing.
- What the hell is that?! - exclaimed Shorty.
- It looks like a shuttle, - said Dragovich.
- No, it's too bright for a shuttle, - answered Shorty. - I was watching them. Actually, it's not an arrival.
- True, - said Big Man thoughtfully. - It's too powerful for a shuttle.
In the meantime, a white, slightly flickering light began to rise above the horizon.
- Yes, that's what I thought too. I thought it was too powerful, - continued to babble Shorty, like everyone else, having spotted the light and made sure that it wasn't a warhead, but something taking off. - At first, my first thought was that something had arrived, but then I realized that it was a shuttle taking off. I realized that even before it showed up. The glow is even and gradually increasing.
- But the shuttles don't emit such a glow, - said Flaxen. - It's usually yellowish, but here it's the color of electric welding, only it emits evenly.
Now the distant layered cloud was glowing, over which the spacecraft was tearing upward.
All four of them slowed down, stopped, and stared to the east. The light disappeared in the distant cloud stripes stretching over the horizon.
- How far is it to the rocket launch site? - said Undersized. - About a hundred kilometers?
- A little more, even, about a hundred and twenty kilometers, - answered Big Guy, - I thought you knew better. You're tough.
A little higher than the shining cloud and the closer curtain, a gap with twinkling stars was clearly visible. It was obvious that the launch vehicle would soon enter the visibility zone. All four of them were now expecting this.
- Some kind of powerful one, - muttered Flaxen.
- I think they said that something similar happened last week, most likely, it was him who landed, - answered Big Guy.
Finally, a rather bright light appeared above the cloud, shining with the same white light, more reminiscent of a frozen electric discharge than a rocket engine.
Then a cone of light beating towards the ground became visible - at high altitudes, no longer accessible to conventional aviation, a rocket engine turns into something like a lantern, the light from which easily breaks through the hot but transparent rarefied exhaust gases. Everyone has long since learned this.
And everyone also knew that these gases form something similar to an upright airship or an elongated bubble, which then falls for hours into the lower layers of the atmosphere.
Something similar also took place here, but the outlines of the light cone from the "lantern" were much clearer, and the light itself was brighter.
- A nuclear engine, - said Small
- I haven't heard anything about nuclear booster engines, - answered Flaxenie. - Although who knows. We didn't have enough crap, so they decided to shit some more.
- It's definitely not ordinary, - said Big Guy.
- Haven't you heard? We had starships, starship projects with a nuclear plasma engine.
- A fiery plasma nuclear one, - Flaxen said thoughtfully. - If this device is something special, maybe even a superweapon of the season, and now it's flown away... It would be better if it was standing at the rocket launch site - Lebedev won't be allowed to invade if it threatens some super shuttle. And regular shuttles too. Come on, fly back, - Flaxen said, looking towards the ship taking off.
Meanwhile, the light was moving upward, and more and more energetically. Usually, spacecraft do not fly somewhere vertically upward, but taxi somehow parallel to the earth's surface. This is what was happening now. Apparently, the device intended to pass almost above the observers. The altitude would already be cosmic. The device, which was moving, which was unusual, to the west, against the rotation of the Earth, was preparing to show off at the very zenith.
However, low clouds, hiding most of the sky, prevented further observation. The glow had long since faded, and the light was lost in the dark shroud.
- Okay, let's go, - said Flaxen, - The show is over.
Everyone silently agreed and walked on. Suddenly Dragovich felt his phone vibrate. Another device, it seemed Flaxen's, emitted an intermittent signal.
- Air raid warning, region-wide, - said Undersized, taking out his phone.
- It's been a while, - answered Big Guy sarcastically, implying that there had been one recently.
Everyone walked on. It was unlikely that the Asian Bloc would show any interest in the fuss that was going on in the field, or in such domestic affairs of Western nations as the events in the "triple-S-F" region.
Nothing had changed on the field at all - there was no warning system in the form of sirens - the phones did the job perfectly well, and the officers had army communications. The absence of any changes in the nature of the measured work also had its explanation - the area is far from significant cities, and even with fortifications, albeit under construction - it is much safer than anywhere else. Of course, all this related to the question of an attack from the Asian Bloc. Lebedev's OMSDONs are a different story, but their movements were also tracked, so no one would allow them to do God knows what here. There is a rocket launch site, a terminal here, and also radars, including "Amanda", all Bloc-owned. There was no time for intruders to run wild.
The phones burst out with some warnings again. - Now it's a non-localized nuclear alert, - Sturdy announced without much emotion. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Lebedev and his gangs had nothing to do with it.
- Because of the shuttle, - Flaxen suggested.
- Looks like it, - Undersized agreed.
- But the "Chiggens" reacted to our shuttle somehow quickly, - Dragovich doubted. - Do they want to attack from orbit? And where? At the still-warm launch pad?
Somewhere in the western direction on the horizon, things began to flare up. The familiar flickering glow indicated the launch of an anti-missile, then another one.
The launches were carried out from the remarkable Blok facilities, which, like the adjacent square kilometers of territory guarded by the Blok units, were supposed to serve as obstacles to the maneuvers of the invasion forces, that is, for Lebedev's OMSDONs.
The noise of work on the field began to die down - everyone had been taught by life experience and knew that such launches could be followed by all sorts of nuclear special effects, from flares at orbital altitudes to explosions in the atmosphere. The huge AEX AMANDA super-radars with their attached lasers were able to determine trajectories and filter out false targets so clearly that selective explosions were not required in most cases, but this was not always the case. However, the clouds that interfered with the laser selectors, in this case also acted as certain "friends" of the hidden people. The clouds were able to minimize the flash.
- Does anyone have glasses? - Sturdy asked almost rhetorically. Everyone continued on their way in silence, staring at their feet.
The measured hum of an airplane was heard. Nothing else followed. No flashes or launches - if the hum had come from an air defense aircraft and it had started shooting - the roar of missiles breaking into a mad flight would have been heard at a much greater distance than the plane itself. Maybe it was an air defense aircraft, but it had not yet taken any action.
The terminal that had fired two anti-missiles was located a little further away, and their roar, having traveled tens of kilometers and significantly weakened, had yet to pass over the field.
A group of trailers appeared ahead, to which everyone was heading.
In the trailer where everyone went, Dragovich actually spent the night. There was a gas stove and kitchen utensils in the form of a dented aluminum saucepan, a mug and a bag for everything else.
Dragovich once again took out a piece of sheet, blew his nose and cursed.
- You need to go to the bathhouse, only a normal one, so you can steam yourself with a broom, then have a drink, - Undersized began.
- And then walk around the street and that's it, - Flaxenie objected. - It's good when you're at home, when it's warm and dry, and you don't need to go anywhere. And even after that, nothing ever went away for me. It's all just talk. Take your pills and sleep all day, no one will even notice. If anything, we'll say it like it is, that the doctor prescribed his useless antibiotics, and they didn't help you. And the doctor...
- So sleep peacefully, - Dragovich continued his thought and folded his arms across his chest, like a dead man
Everyone burst out laughing.
- So are we drinking or what? - Dragovich continued. - The pills are for tomorrow then? It's not advisable with vodka.
- Energy pills are ok, - answered Bigwig, - sleeping pills are not advisable, but these are ok. You'll recharge right away. The miners drank them several days a week. And they drank a lot while doing it. There's not much good for you, but compare - either they regularly, or you just once. And don't worry, you won't get hooked on them that quickly.
- It makes sense, - added Small, - I tried it myself. It's a strong thing, and there are no hallucinations or anything like that. A clear mind, just energy through the roof. Then, it's true, it's total crap, you can barely crawl to the toilet, but that's if you take them without everything else. You'll sleep for a day, maybe a little less, and everything will level out, your body will recover and you'll get up like a cucumber. And your sore throat will go away in your sleep.
- So how did the miners drink them if you can't crawl to the toilet afterwards? - asked Dragovich.
- So if the energy runs out, they drank the next one, - answered Sturdy.
- And sleep?
- One does not interfere with the other, especially if you combine it correctly with others. Everything is provided. And then before the weekend they drank something else, like sleeping pills, and everything was neutralized. They slept and recovered on the weekend.
- What nonsense. There are a lot of other things to do on the weekend... to rest.
- So they earned - wow! - answered Sturdy and looked up at the ceiling.
During his year-plus stay in the SSSF, Dragovich had already discussed more than once the crap that the local miners had once done, or had done to them. He had discussed it with different people, listened to, so to speak, different points of view, so he did not continue this topic, which now directly affected him - he had said everything so far.
- There is porridge with stew, - Dragovich announced and pointed to a cardboard box standing in the corner, where, in addition, there was a three-liter cylinder and a stove.
It turned out that the cylinder was dead - Dragovich only now remembered that it had barely been producing gas since morning. All he had to do was run to the storage house and drag a new one.