Андрей Демидов - Natotevaal. War Chronicle

At this point from the utilization camera of sanitary block they heard blows of metal upon metal, buzzing of krypton cutter and already stifling air was filled with the smell of welding flux; Board engineer John Mackliff was in the process of making something:

– Hey, anybody! Come here quickly! – His excited voice pierced the silence.

Two German astronauts started moving, but Whitehouse stopped them and began to examine their wounds. Dybal went to see Mackliff, taking first-aid kit with him just in case.

But first-aid kit was not needed; Mackliff sent the navigator back with the task to rip off the heat sealing siding from the cooling compressor of the engine.

Bandaging Eichberger’s hand and watching Dybal flying back and forth with thermal insulation mats, dragging a trail of debris and wiping sweat from his forehead, Whitehouse asked:

– What is going on there, Al?

– He didn't say. Probably afraid of the evil eye, but he looks determined. He is messing with the garbage bins.

Von Conrad caught a receiver with a ‘Jean Dupois’ label, which was hovering nearby and tuned in.

A familiar voice of the CNV commentator could hardly be heard due to constant noise:

-… that has forced the Countries of the Big Three to allocate additional seven billion dollars SGSA to the ‘TRANS-Selva’ state company, formed at a Congress of the South American Union in order to carry out the works on restoring forest belts along the left bank of the Amazon and its tributaries: Rio Negro, Mara;;n and Juru;.

According to the statement of the UN Commission on controlling the spread of Equatorial deserts – CSED, the sands come with the speed of up to three miles per year. The Amazon, which has lost the Northern part of its water basin, is rapidly drying up. For the last six weeks the water level has reduced to two feet… Amazonia, the lungs of our planet, may die within a few years. The world community…– Von Conrad tuned in to another frequency.

– You are listening to the World sports radio… Hugo Stern is at the microphone. Listen to a brief news summary… The Norwegian football team, having defeated the footballers of French Canada, reached the final of the world championship ahead of time…Who will be their rivals in the finals? Is it going to be the National team of Wales or the Italians? Ring bike race in Tampa-Set is still going on.

The unsurpassed Marc van Gal from Belgium has gathered seventy-six points in the standings and is leading… – von Conrad scratched his index finger on his grey temple:

– It is strange how they keep talking about this rubbish, but they do not say a word about the war…

– True – agreed Eichberger– If the Islamists had started another commotion, then all the channels would have been already broadcasting it; caution, nuclear alarm, and so on, without a break.

The Colonel nodded, feeling the bandage on his arm and at the same time squeezing raspberry jam from a tube in his mouth.

His eyes shone with the reflection of emergency lights, over the bridge of the nose deep wrinkles were ingrained, while he was eating, his lower jaw protruded like an excavator bucket.

– Hey, commander! Ronald! – Mackliff emerged from a sanitary unit. Everything is ready.

– What is ready? – Whitehouse had to step aside, and press his wet, sweaty back into a dead power distribution cabinet in order to let Dybal in. – What a crush!

– Well yeah, it is not a stadium, – confirmed Dybal, who was dragging a couple of reserve oxygen regenerators.

Flight engineer gleefully shook the working cutter, from which yellow flames were bursting out:

– I melted thermal insulation from refrigerators on the internal surface of the garbage containers, fit a control panel in the automatic shields of aerodynamic braking and parachutes. I made the locks on the inside. Of course, I understand that sanitary rubbish container is not the most convenient means of transport in the world, but this is still a chance. So, you can put your suits on and occupy the best seats.

– You have gone nuts! What do the trashcans have to do with it? What is the remote control on the braking shields meant for? – Whitehouse could barely restrain himself, not to thrust a bunch of repair keys tucked under his arm at Mackliff. All this sounded too gibberish.

Flight engineer grinned, pulled out a crumpled paper from a pocket of his overalls, and gently tapped the pilot on his broad shoulder:

– Here is the calculation. If we release the braking shields five minutes forty-five seconds earlier, and at the same time open up the first couple of parachutes, the internal temperature in the containers can be held at the level of forty to fifty degrees Celsius. Plus our air conditioned suits which we will be wearing. The temperature will be quite permissible. The first couple of parachutes will burn up of course, but the main domes will still be there…

– All of us will not fit in there, – glumly said Whitehouse, reckoning something in his head.

– Why? Two containers are ready. One will carry the badly wounded, the doctor and supplies. All the others will fit in a second container. We will have to leave the deceased, though.

The Shuttle twitched and there was a grinding sound, all port windows were closed by the body of Islamist station; the Arabs docked to the ‘Independence’ side-by-side.

Eichberger grabbed Whitehouse by the sleeve of his overalls:

-We can wait no more, Herr Commander. They will be inside the Shuttle in half an hour. We have to make a decision. We either give up, discrediting ourselves, or turn on the system of self-destruction and attempt to escape in the containers.

At this time, Von Conrad, looking like a samurai, who was sentenced to death, took out a screwdriver from Eicherger’s pocket, and clasping it in his hand, turned to the airlock.

From the outside you could hear the sound of scuffling, soft footsteps on the shell plating, the hum of the cutters; Islamists began to open the airlock hatch, and ‘Independence’ was rapidly falling under the escort of enemy ships.

Whitehouse was trifling a piece of paper with Mackliff’s calculations in his hands, unseeing eyes looked at the lines of differential equations of eighth order while he listened to his inner voice, that always helped him out. When he was a kid, on his way back from Grandma Theresa he had turned to a totally strange yard and in a minute a war between clans of Stone and Ho Chi broke out in the Great Park. Afterwards the police up nine corpses of random passersby that had been pierced with holes from quick squirts from the pavement.

And later, in Foot Strasse, at the training base of 51st wing of the U.S. air forces, where he did not make to after dismissal, because he got drunk in a pub just opposite the CPT base, at the same time, when his perfect all-weather interceptor with a pilot substituting for him was broken to pieces. And then, on the frontline in the center of besieged Ankara, when he and two rangers entered the rear of the command post of the 115th shock division of the Islamists, found themselves in the lair of the enemy, under the mass of concrete just a few minutes before a local nuclear attack…

Now, floating in zero gravity among the rubbish and garbage, under a luminous board showing 251 miles at perigee, he did not hear that inner voice, and therefore lingered.

– Hurry up, Ronny, don’t fall asleep, – Dybal startled him out of his apathy.

He and Eicberger were already fully clothed in suits and gently shoved Aydem into the suit.

The light blue emergency lights were slowly fading, giving deathly shade to faces of feverishly working people, the altimeter was signaling monotonously, changing the decreasing numbers, heat sealing that was cooling off in the containers had a disgusting smell.

It was getting unbearably stuffy with every minute; without getting enough voltage, the respiratory mixture regenerators had stopped functioning.

The Arabs had already passed through the outer hatch of the airlock, and there was a sound of grinding diamond drills, that were exposing the first inner membrane.

Someone was rummaging in the engine compartment, having got in through the hole in the empty fuel tanks.

– Why the hell did you take «Coke», throw it out immediately. And what's this? Goose liver? Will do. Dried rice? All right. Strawberry jam? Leave it to the Arabs. Chocolate? Suitable…– Whitehouse and Dybal loaded the second container with product packs and most valuable instruments.

Unconscious Hoffman was already inside with Eichberger, who was taking the load and arranging it in a form of small pyramids.

Mackliff and von Conrad dragged Aydem:

– Step aside we are going to ship the commander.

– The most interesting fact is that he will not fit in there. He will have to fly in our container. See how many things we have got? And we cannot put Hoffman in a different position. You do not want to tie his knees to the chest while he is unconscious. – Whitehouse froze with a box of rice in his hands and a blank face.

– Meanwhile Dybal leaned over the hatch to Eichberger’s container, turning his shoulder timer to him:

– Hey, man, if you do not want us to be blown apart by a couple hundred miles, then listen carefully and memorize. Let’s check the time first. It is fifteen forty – forty one– forty two– forty three on my timer …

– Have you managed to set the time? Good for you.

So, you must reset the timer at start, and when it comes up to twenty-seven minutes fifteen seconds, you press that button there below the elbow. Shield braking will open and the parachutes will shoot off.

It will shake, but not much. Then you can relax.

All the rest will be done automatically. If we do it synchronously, we will land within half a mile from each other. If not, then much further. Yes, there is one more thing. If at landing a ‘010’ symbol appears this will mean you have landed on water. Do not unlock the hatch in any case, and turn on the beacon immediately. Got it?

– All right. God bless us! We are 99% dead already. Therefore farewell. – Eichberger crossed himself and closed the glass of his pressure helmet.

Von Conrad helped him lower the heavy round hatch:

– Goodbye. But still you should sit back. Just in case we get lucky.

When there was a click of internal bolt, still warm from Mackliff’s design tweaks, flight engineer sighed with relief:

– Seems that it worked. Let us hope that design of our capsule will not fail us either, – he was looking for something wooden to knock three times against the evil eye by the Russian tradition, which he remembered all of a sudden.

He did not find anything wooden, of course, so he spit three times over his left shoulder, and climbed in the container.

– Yo, damn mechanic, what is that hissing sound? – Whitehouse asked warily; he could hardly settle between Dybal and the colonel.

-Oh… I opened a goodbye helium tank, – said Dybal and listened to the whistling sound, as if overheated steam burst out from a kettle. He added with a wry grin:

-That will be a nice big blow when self-destruction is triggered. The "Green ones" will definitely enjoy it.

The Arabs were creaking with their diamond drills in the airlock, exposing the inner flap; liquid helium was hissing, flowing like a mist; self-destruct timer was buzzing; an alarm sound was roaring at regular intervals and dispassionate voice in the headsets repeated:

-The station is ready to explode. Three minutes left…

– The station is ready to explode. Two minutes forty-five seconds left.

– Batten down the window, Al. Automatic start will set off in a minute, – snapped Whitehouse and rolled down the glass of his pressure helmet.