The Nuclear Fortress, page 2
But the egg-headed exerted themselves nevertheless. The ones from the Empire, sure thing. So what? They have uncountable subordinated slaves in their totalitarian state, and the Treasury is always “a full chest”. But they did manage to keep secrets until recently, bastards! Who could have thought about it?
On the whole, they were tearing apart something in the forest beyond the Blue Snake for ten or twenty years. They dug, they deepened. They spread the rumour that there were excavations or something like that. Some paleontology, ancient pangolins or pterosaurians with three heads. Or even the gold reserve of ancient civilizations, those before the Flood. They read the clay tablets and now... The academicians – massaraksh and massaraksh again — were the first to listen open-mouthed. Their ears are hanging like plums. There are so many noodles on them that they no longer remind plums, they are more like coconuts. Well, academicians are not in the habit to clean their spectacles. “Scientific Renaissance! The Mesozoic lizards are the main thing that unites us! We'll gave a triceratops skeleton to each school! Well, a tail at least!” They sweep the dust from ancient volumes with pieces of velvet, “shir-shir”, meaning they clean them. Their theses are sent to the capital in special trains. There is a long line for the grants — it cannot be compared even with the historical battle when they were fighting on swords in the Kalmius-Khangi steppes.
No, everything is clear for the clever: they are neither academicians, nor associate members of the Academy. What idiot will throw half of the budget into cleaning of fossils? Even into excavating ancient buried treasures? No matter if there are one hundred tons of platinum. If you run across ten millions tons of reinforced concrete – it does mean something. Ha, you are covering a scelidosaurus with concrete there, aren't you? Aha, aha!
Surely, the neighbours keeping their fingers on special keys thought that everything was as usual. So, they are drilling especially deep, making earthquake proof mines for intercontinental ballistic missiles, presenting it as if they are excavating some ichthyosauruses. So what?! Well, the Northern Empire will have just a little bit more intercontinental missiles, so what? If they go to the poorly colonized, non-divided honestly until now areas of the central part of the continent, insult the natives, who belong to no one now, all of us will strike them so hard that no new warheads with air bases will help them. Who could have thought that the residents of the Empire will turn out to be more cunning than usual this time?
And they, those persistent totalitarians – massaraksh and massaraksh again — created the first and the only one on the World Sphere anti-ballistic defense area – ABD. That's their local name. It is called Missile Destruction Center – MDC – in the Noyui language.
And now everything changed.
*
4.
No matter the secretiveness, but more likely thanks to the legends told in whispers and repeated to one another, Uksun-Boo definitely knows why the first piloted hypersonic liners did not return to the base. The matter was certainly not with the bolts and screws, which had not been properly tightened, just a half-turn. After the first catastrophe the next machine was dismantled, each millimeter examined with the help of the magnifying glass, finger prints found on titanium and aluminum sheets were scanned and cataloged, and then it was assembled again. And when some worker with two diplomas tightened some screw, the process was supervised by a couple of Doctors of sciences and they were certainly not some Doctors of Philology. However, when the next machine went up and came down only in the form of some dross which pierced the Dead Mountain Climbers Glacier, they decided to work with pilots.
They scanned each bone with the help of a tomograph. All suspicious teeth were extracted and replaced with plastic ones. Massaraksh, damn it, but what if any micro fissure in the enamel tears molar teeth and premolar teeth like a grenade in the vicinity of the World Light? The splinters pierce the brain and... In short, when you are at the steering wheel of a supersonic craft, and the brain parts responsible for tiny movements of your fingers for some reason – actually because the neuron networks are torn by tooth splinters — do not receive signals from the frontal cortex responsible for the logic, then...
The brain was certainly not forgotten either. The nagging and faultfinding maniac psychologists spent several days in heart-to-heart talks with the candidates. They screened and eliminated everyone who, for example, “dreamed to be a pilot from childhood and is happy now because...”. Who knows what happens to those enthusiasts beyond the impenetrable layer of silvery clouds? What if their blood goes not to the required places because of their euphoria?
Certainly the “overseers over the inside” hopped up. They screened the biographies of the pilots selected for the action again. On the whole, there were only the very best left after the hay sweep and the vacuum-cleaner of special services. The nerves are as steel ropes. The muscles one can use as an anchor chain. Coordination good enough to catch a fly, without looking, in a falling upside down bus, full of old women with baskets. Memory, skills, professionalism – such people just do not exist.
However, the next best of the best managed to plow again... No, he even missed the Dead Mountain Climbers Glacier, he dived in the ocean.
Well, on the whole Uksun-Boo definitely knows why the Glacier in the Khafif-Koldilier Mountains is the place most hated by general designers. The brains are at fault. The best, the most checked up brains fail when a man flying a hypersonic aircraft jumps higher than the layer of fleecy clouds and other clouds. Watching the World Light pointblank turned the best trained in the world pilot into an imbecile and nitwit. “What is it? Where I am? What are these levers? Why are there so many coloured pieces of glass with scales? And what is this pipe stretching to my face?” And after that, surely, is the Dead Mountain Climbers Glacier coming with the speed of five Mach numbers.
So, Uksun-Boo definitely knows why the observation ports are covered by leaden blinds. They are the covers protecting him from insanity. But like all the rest, including the wise chief designers, he does not know WHY a man goes insane in the vicinity of the World Light. No one below, on the whole World Sphere knows that.
*
5.
Thrice Major Tavasa-Pi is an eccentric man. But they are not worried about oddities in the Air Force. The fact that you get inside some iron monster on your free will and then you elevate this jumbo with propellers nearly to the fleecy clouds is such an oddity that nothing can compete with that. The belief that some kerosene will hold a construction of horrible shape, which is besides that heavier than the air, for about five-ten hours somewhere up there is not better than believing in sorcery. That's the reason why small oddities added to the main one are forgivable. Especially since Tavasa-Pi is a Commander, and there are no Commanders without some dash of madness or imbecility: every one who served in the Army knows that really well, and learns about it at the moment they put on the Army boots for the first time. And as a matter of fact, Tavasa-Pi should really be not just a little crazy, he should be really mad. Are there any other variants if your job is carrying one, two or even four nuclear “crackers” above the continent at once?
And that's the reason why no one from the crew reacts when the first man on board changes the usual list of questions about readiness for some improvisation.
“Oh, the World Light! Please forgive me, a sinner, for dragging a whole pile of dangerous rubbish to your celestial chambers. Do not blind me beforehand because sooner or later all of us will get to your chambers, and I will not evade that either. And you, the World Sphere, forgive me for breaking from the prescribed for the two-legged creatures walking on dry land only! And also forgive me for disturbing your peace and firmament seriously, which I’ll do today.”
The rest of the crew is silent and they do not even exchange glances. One cannot rule out that one of them will be a bomb-carrier Commander himself in time, and anything can happen to their brains in the course of that time. Who knows? There may be some demons taking residence in the crevices of the convolutions of their brains under their sculls. Why not? Especially since the people surrounding the Commander are not generally trained to dive into philosophical meditations, and there is no time for that either.
The squadron Commander comes down to business without changing the tone of his voice at all.
“Pilot 'one'. I fix that all the tumbler switches entrusted to me are in the positions specified by the instruction. Measuring sensors have been checked up and are in working order. The control hydrosystems are filled in, the levers are moving,” he says according to the take-off ritual as well as for everyone on board and for the recording devices. “Pilot 'two'?” he moves further according to the service list.
“Pilot 'two',” pilot 'two' says, he is the Deputy Commander, his friend and Once Major Guyo-Syu. And after that comes “like this is like that, and this and that”.
“Navigator 'one',” Tavasa-Pi calls the next one.
“This is like that, and this is like that,” navigator Redesya-Chi answers and not just in the sense that all fuel calculations were checked up in accordance with the route, the required maps are on boards and other navigator's pies are also in the required places and the front machine-gun is in working order and tip-top. That's because Redesya-Chi is at the same time the machine-gunner 'one', but he will be responsible for the machine-gun only when flying over the ocean. As for the navigator's work, his area is the dry land.
After that in accordance with the play, known to everyone present, the floor is given to navigator Banjolu-Su, who also says that everything is fine, the guidance gyroscopic systems, both the main one and the reserve one, are functioning, supplied and their reserve batteries are also OK. Well, and compasses as well, as it is obvious. And he also says, repeating what was said already, that machine-gun ‘one’ is loaded, oiled and the cartridges in cartridge belts are not rusty. And everyone again listens to those already known facts, because Banjolu-Su is responsible for the same machine-guns, only now while flying over the dry land. And he will deal with the ocean when the time comes. And if the World Light grants it, nothing will happen to those fragile gyroscopes and compasses because no matter the amount of fuel, enough for the bomb-carrier to fly around the whole World Sphere, one does not want to rush up and down above the waves unable to find anything to do.
Now it is Resima-Us's turn, who is an on-board engineer and all that. He lists what is what and how it is functioning for a long time as there are no less instruments in front of his nose than in front of the pilots sitting in the first row, and the scales of the instruments are beyond belief, such that no common man can deal with them.
Well, now its Gyura-Zi's turn to report. Some guys who served on common bomb-carriers before are all ears at the moment as there is no such expert on board of any other aircrafts in the world, only they have him, on board of the Princess Cardo. Gyura-Zi is not just an engineer, he is an engineer-physicist. They have their own infrastructure for extracting energy on board – a nuclear reactor. If you look from this point of view, the previous navigators' reports about the availability of enough fuel were just phrase mongering. Why should they measure fuel if it is enough for massaraksh knows how many years? However, the Bomb-Carrier Air Force has its own traditions: one cannot do anything about them.
And now Byuros-Ut's turn comes, ahead of some others, even those of higher rank, because Byuros-Ut is nor just someone but the radioman on board. And he is not just a common radioman but a spy radioman and besides that he is a radioman-machine-gunner. And Byuros-Ut monotonously but clearly mumbles that this and that, and both radio set ‘one’ and radio set ‘two’ are all flashing their lamps, and the ranges these and those can be listened to and everything like spare triodes and pentodes are at hand as well as screwdrivers. And the machine-gun in the rear hemisphere for which Byuros is responsible is also “maina-vira”.
“What about the new special equipment?” the bomb-carrier Commander asks. And he is right to ask. As this sub-item is completely new and it is not stipulated for in the primary instruction. And because of that the radioman-machine-gunner nods to himself and adds that this is like that and the new equipment is fixed reliably, it is ready and when it is required, it will be heated immediately, started, etc.
Now it is the turn of navigator-bomb-aimer Tasha-Ki. And he gabbles energetically that the bomb sights are like they should be and the keys opening the doors under the belly of the Princess Cardo are also always ready.
Finally it's the turn of “lazybones on board” or “good-for-nothing rider” as the crew calls him, Chirini-Uk. He is as if the second physicist on board as he is responsible for the nuclear warheads loaded in the holds. He is the amourer ‘two’. And he is really lazybones because he can snore all the way there and back. However, one cannot use the warheads without him, without him their usefulness is “zero”. Certainly it is possible to drop them nevertheless, but then they can only break someone's roof, and that's the maximum they can do. And because of that Chirini-Uk slowly reports without spirit that such “items” are on board, and the required attachments are attached to them where they are required. Essentially physicist-engineer Chirini could tell everyone good-buy with a clear conscience and get out of the hatch to the ground after doing just one thing. In contrast to normal bomb-carriers, it won't be possible here in the process of the flight to leave the cabin to go to the bomb holds for fastening and cocking those attachments. As to his bomb kingdom, the only thing he can do is to enter codes through wires for switching the blocking off. If he does it now, everything will be absolutely ready. However, here we again have the habitual stereotype in the attitude to the use of heavy bomb-carriers. Armourers ‘two’ were always present before in the fighting crews, weren't they? So let him ride with them now as well. Well, something may happen to those “special” parts required for fighting, why not?
In short, the business is coming to the end. Because it is Lyutfan-Be's turn, who is pilot ‘three’ as a matter of fact and because of that he is not responsible for anything yet, only for himself. Like he is here and always ready to replace either the first pilot or the second pilot if something goes wrong, either appendicitis, or diarrhea, or enemy shell. Ah, yes! He is, it turns out, the machine-gunner ‘two’ as well and he is responsible for that machine-gun which protrudes above the fuselage of the Princess.
Whew! Well, today they have stopped tormenting themselves, and the Thrice Major switches his attention to other subordinates. He is not only the Commander of this very bomb-carrier. He also has three similar ones in business. There they have already done their own test-questioning, so the commanders of those machines are energetically reporting over the radio that everything is OK and there are “all pluses”. Only they speak in coded phrases in contrast to the bustle on board. Like: “tomato is green” or “reddened”. Everyone understands that radio is such a thing that spreads the news over the whole region or even the whole World Sphere.
Naturally such long-drawn out proceedings when they are getting ready for the take off are suitable for bomb-carriers and not for some fighter aircrafts-interceptors, and that’s clear. If the latter ones speak for such a long time, they will never catch a single enemy bomb-carrier. Besides, there is no need to hurry too much with reporting now, after all the times are not just exactly peaceful but they are not absolutely war times either. So, they are still at the stage of lukewarm equatorial conflicts. However, everyone on board understands that when they are airborne, or to be more exact, get to the point marked on the maps of navigator Redesya-Chi, the peaceful times will be over. It turns out that they are not just some aviators in bomb-carriers, they are the hit of the season!
*
6.
Only those who will look at the problem from the outside, will be able to answer the question as to why the pilots of experimental hypersonic aircrafts go mad. The people of the Earth could be good candidates for guessing, however, they will not appear in these lands soon enough. So there are no candidates yet and there is nowhere to find the answer from. Everyone, including pilot-stratosphere-flier Uksun-Boo, and even those knowing slightly more, doctors-psychiatrists looking after the pilot “number four” who sometime ago returned to the World Sphere, will never be able to guess the truth. “Number four” provides them with hints and cues but he is unable to fall asleep unless some sedative is injected. He is speaking about some “black-black space everywhere”, “million of needle holes in the sky”, “half of a stone looking like rotten cheese, hanging in the middle” all the time, but none of the hospital attendants will be able to understand what he is speaking about. They are only able to tighten very-very long sleeves of the straight jacket and give him a double portion of pills before his semolina.
Not a single soul on the planet of Saraksh knows that “black space everywhere” can exist not only in a madman's head but really as well. And as a matter of fact no one here understands what “a planet” is, to say nothing of a certain “Saraksh”. When you look from the surface of the Saraksh up, there is an impression that the world is covered with something looking like a big zinc-plated bucket. This celestial body has a layer of silvery substance in the atmosphere, formed by something similar to fleecy clouds of the Earth, plus a special kind of the Northern Lights only spread over the whole surface. And there is also a horrible refraction distorting the far-off perspective and just eliminating the horizon. And because of that when exiting beyond the limits of the screen, a man runs into an unseen before phenomenon – the starry sky. A very ugly local moon hangs somewhere on the traverse, among those horrible for the unprepared psyche bright spots. One has to be a brainless herbivorous creature in order to live through this sight and not go mad.
