The Nuclear Fortress, page 8
However, while Byuros-Ut was thinking about the gymnasium geography course, there was a new change taking place outside. Surely it was fairly local if you compare it with horrible nuclear mushrooms in the distance, but it concerned the four brave bomb-carriers directly.
So, we put geography and geophysics aside. Byuros has his obligations. By the way, he is a machine-gunner. There is a dark spot moving on the screen controlling the machine-gun in the rear hemisphere. Byuros is trying to achieve the maximum resolution of the monitor. The visual angle reduces. One cannot believe it but the fighter aircraft is completely alone. Or, may be, the Empirians do not have them any more, do they? What if everyone who was in the air was blown off by the thermonuclear explosions? And the blast wave sealed tightly all the exit gates of the underground aerodromes of the Fortress. One would like to believe that.
“Machine-gunner 'three'. I am seeing an airborne target!” Byuros-Ut reports. “It pursues us. Supposedly, a fighter aircraft. The enemy is the target!”
“Distance?” the bomb-carrier Commander asks.
“Supposedly from ten to eight kilometers,” the radioman-machine-gunner answers after checking the table.
“He won't catch us,” Thrice Major Tavasa-Pi says sure of himself.
Byuros-Ut does not agree, but he is of a lower rank and knows that upstarts and know-alls are not appreciated in the Army. However, Tavasa-Pi is an experienced pilot and because of that hopes may stay hopes but it won't hurt to secure themselves against an attack.
“Radioman, notify the other aircrafts!” he commands speaking in the intercom.
“To break radio silence?” Byuros-Ut asks just in case. None of the crew went on air since the moment of the coordinated bomb throwing and turning to the ocean. Besides, the air is still filled with cracking and hissing. It seems that the explosions affected even the World Light.
“That's right, radioman!” the squadron Commander confirms.
Now Byuros-Ut has to split and be both a radioman and a machine-gunner at the same time. Actually the moment is not the best one. He notifies the neighbours over the radio: now they are flying in a tighter group than while bombing; there are no more than two thousand meters between the aircrafts.
He maximally focuses his attention at the screen. He has a narrow vision angle. The fighter aircraft can at any moment dart away to one of the sides, and then it will be necessary to catch it again. Unexpectedly the target becomes distinctly visible because of its bright lights. What's that, massaraksh? The launching of missiles?
“Firing of air-to-air missiles!” he informs aloud.
However, this is a mistake. Not the report – here he did everything right, but the identification of the action taking place on the screen is wrong. They are not missiles. Thrice Major was right that a common interceptor, which turned up somewhere far behind, would not be able to catch bomb-carriers. Both types of aircrafts are similarly propeller-type. Technically developed nations have already made everything possible employing this technology. And that means that flying in the usual mode an interceptor has to follow a bomb-carrier for hours in order to approach it just a little. But there are no interceptors with such a big fuel resource. And because of that here we have a new but already well-known trick. There must be missile accelerators attached to the wings of the imperial aircraft. In the sense that they are definitely attached as the illuminated point on the screen begins to grow noticeably.
“The target is approaching quickly!” Byuros-Ut reports.
“Really?” the bomb-carrier Commander is surprised and says it aloud. The others must be surprised as well, only they have no right to interfere and break into the conversation.
“He must have jet accelerators,” Byuros-Ut supposes.
“Most likely,” Tavasa-Pi nods in his chair. “That's real massaraksh!”
“Engineer!” he barks unexpectedly. “Get down to business! This bastard can really have missiles!”
“Understood!” on-board engineer Resim-Us answers at once. It seems that he already has everything ready, and he was just waiting for an order as new reports follow at once.
It seems that the passive noise is going away – the finely chopped foil, and some other noise appears within the radio range. Byuros-Ut is not listening very attentively, he is following the target on the screen, and he is looking out of the corner of his eye at the correlation tables for the distance and angle sizes. Actually there is no reason to worry. What is the chance of a single fighter aircraft to evade the fire of four six-barrel guns on board in the stern? It is just doomed; if the pilot does not turn back, he is dead.
On the other hand, what if it really has missiles? There was some information that the Northern Empire was working out something like that, wasn't there? No, the Temporary Union was right to be the first to attack. Who knows what these barbarians could invent in time? The bright spot is growing on the screen of the telesight. The imperial suicide pilot is approaching the four bomb-carriers fairly quickly. You want it or not, but they will have to fight him.
Byuros-Ut is waiting. When the enemy crosses the three kilometer line (certainly the machine-gunner is defining it approximately, according to the table), it will be possible to start pressing the trigger. It seems that the fighter aircraft chose their Princess Cardo for the attack. Well, it means that Byuros-Ut will be the first to pour bullets into it, and his friends from the other aircrafts will join in their turn when the table data and reality will converge for them. And certainly if Byuros-Ut does not finish the target by then. Six machine-guns in a bunch are a very serious threat. The chance to hit is great.
The radioman-machine-gunner is watching very carefully. Especially since there is something to look at. The enemy aircraft is no longer a point, it grew up into a discernible structure. He already sees the aircraft type: some advanced imperial Ishta-Kharita. The IK, if you say it simply. Well, there will be not a bloody thing left of this IK now. His left thumb is tense. Byuros's right hand is busy: it performs a much more complex operation — it keeps the enemy covered with the help of a small electric multi-position control knob. Unfortunately, the machine-gun has no automatic aiming system, so he has to work with his two hands.
At that moment something falls from the Ishta-Kharita. What's that? The imperial old junk is breaking on the way because of the overload?! And here Byuros understands what's going on. Massaraksh! This is really a hanging missile! It is still falling, it has not puffed yet, it has not started its own driver. He wants to see it more clearly, however, he cannot do it. The vision angle of the machine-gun is maximally narrow now. The missile, which separated from the aircraft, is beyond the screen limits now. Byuros-Ut understands fairly well that it is required to notify the Commander and the crew about the missile. But the pilots will at once start their tricks – throwing the Princess up and down. That's absolutely senseless. The jumbo of a nuclear bomb-carrier especially with a nuclear engine is a too inertial thing to maneuver and get away from such a small and mobile aircraft. But they will break all his aiming at once. There is just a second or two left and...
Here it is! Byuros-Ut presses the key which because of remote control substitutes the usual trigger for him. There are more than seventy meters between him and the subordinate machine-gun. He cannot in any way hear the roar of the six uniformly functioning large-caliber machine-guns. He just imagines it.
Massaraksh! Either the imperial rascal has a sixth sense, or he has such a good eyesight that he caught the moment when the machine-gun bunch under the bottom was finally ready. The IK bends a little and the picture of the sharp points of the wings change: the ailerons and elevons present some corps de ballet performance. Well, guy! It’s no use trying it on with us! Any movements of material bodies are just trifles in comparison with the angle change. One millimeter change of the multi-position control knob's position, and the Ishta-Kharita is again in the center of the screen. Byuros's thumb is tense again and he presses the trigger key. The fighter aircraft slips away, and lies on its wing. Did it decide to do some exercises? My ass. Byuros sees the radiating fiery lines drawn very closely to the imperial aircraft – they are the tracer bullets inserted according to the instruction after every two common ones. Well, he was a little bit wrong in his anticipation. Either his visual estimation, or the table are wrong. Enter anticipation. The imperial ace — let's consider him an ace, why not? — turns his aircraft up. What does he intend to do? To go higher than the bomb-carriers and attack from the top? That's too bad. Then he, for all Byuros knows, may get out of Byuros's area of influence and transfer into the hands of some navigator, who is now responsible for the machine-gun in the upper hemisphere.
At that moment the radioman-machine-gunner narrows his eyes. There is a bright twinkling flash on the screen. Just on the tip of the right wing. No, that's not a new missile. And these are not missile accelerators either, which, it seems, have burnt out long ago. The fiery arrows of the tracers are directed exactly there. He definitely hit the target. The fighter aircraft does a new trick now. It nearly falls out beyond the screen side, and the tracer springs go round it. However, Byuros did hit it. The Ishta-Kharita is nodding. At that moment another fiery spring hits the imperial aircraft's side. That was one of the neighbours. The upper part of the fuselage of the fighter aircraft catches fire. And at once the silhouette of the IK starts huddling up – the aircraft is losing speed. Byuros-Ut tries again to put it in the center of the sight marking on the screen. Finally he manages to do it. He presses the trigger key again. The black-and-white television world makes its own corrections. The fiery lightnings here shine white and turn into white drops when heavy bullets hit the target. Byuros-Ut is suddenly surprised. There is some strange background behind the aircraft covered with smoke and again turning into a dot. Ah! The machine-gun sights are just looking nearly directly down.
There has been the ocean under the Princess Cardo for a long time already. If the imperial ace even manages to eject, it won't be easy for him. The ships are his only hope. But even increasing the vision angle to the maximum, the radioman-machine-gunner does not see them at all. That's all! It's high time to return to the crowded little world of the zinc-plated cabin, to report and do all the rest. Since the fired missile disappeared somewhere beyond his vision and it is possible not to mention it. Who knows? There could be just some speck of dust in his eye. He is not obliged to report such trifles.
*
22.
One should say that probably it was a good thing that attack aircraft pilot Boesi-Ti fell into the ocean and died somewhere on its bottom. We are not speaking of his getting in the hands of the “overseers over the inside” alive, in that case they would have skinned him. And had he gotten into their hands burnt and not with deadly wounds, they would have seen first for the surgeons and nurses not to be idle and return him to this world after communicating with the World Light on the other side. The counterintelligence has lots of patience. They would have waited for months until he came back to his senses and then they would have skinned him all the same. And that would not look good if the colonial wars veteran cried as if cut to pieces betraying all secrets and all his history. And still that was not the reason why it is good that Boesi-Ti died at his favourite wheel. He would not have born the disappointment. Disappointment because all the victims – and he really did kill several hundred people – were all absolutely useless. Well, they only served the effectiveness of the spectacle. When palaces and yachts are scattering becoming chips and dust – this really looks impressive.
The main thing is that King Bura-Key-I was safe and sound. As they say, he was “not in that place and not at that moment”. He was neither in his palace, nor on one of the drowned yachts at that ill-fated half hour when pilot Boesi-Ti methodically flattened the land and water area. By the way, the King was not present on the yacht the veteran of the war for the Burlan-Shairo Double Mountain Range did not manage to find either. At that time His Majesty was the guest of his third cousin – Duke Manysa-Ba, whose palace was located in the same resort city of Arisvery. Though who knows those Kings? The charming cousin could be just a cover, and really King Bura-Key-I who was no longer very young but still full of life, could enjoy himself somewhere else with some court favourite. There were rumours that Her Majesty, the old hag of a Queen, was very jealous and because of that the King of Noyui had to invent only the World Light knows what multi-step combinations in his private life in order to communicate with someone privately and for pleasure. That is even if the lonely attack aircraft pilot had his own intelligence and destroyed the cousin's structure in addition to the rest of the Ikebana, it is not a fact that His Majesty would have suffered in any way.
Well, it became all the same for veteran pilot Boesi-Ti after going down in the water for half a kilometer. It was much worse for... No, not for the construction companies. They were lucky on the contrary. It was such a state order! To build His Majesty's palace by the sea anew. This was a dream and not just a construction site. Financing from the state budget, any credits you want. And how much specific work with marble, black wood and ruby decorations?
It was bad for Boesi's colleagues. The “overseers over the inside” as if broke loose from their chains and hit the roof. Well, that was a monstrous terrorist act and definitely directed at the head of the Kingdom to add. The detectives and secret agents turned not only the room of the dead man at fault upside down. They turned upside down not a single attack aircraft squadron but the whole attack aircraft division. Well, the immediate superior is always at fault. But they clipped the whole command chain as well, starting from the Air Force division and further up. Then they got down to his friends and comrades-in-arms, that is everyone who was nearby. Aircrafts did not take off from the base for a whole month until all the bolts were checked in search of enemy states’ and kingdoms' instructions as well as undermining literature in general.
And the latter was exactly to the point. Bull’s eye. Not in the sense that someone buried some proclamation of the left movements prohibited long ago under some lining. The matter is that the undermining literature was the heart of the business. Who could have thought that a glorious veteran, awarded a lot of medals, adhered to some anti-royal, anti-feudal and other anti-views and ideas? No one would have ever thought that. And they found a fairly big stack of undermining books behind his central heating radiator. And according to rumours they were full of marks, many places were underlined in pencil and there were notes on the margins.
It was even worse that next day nearly all the pilots from the squadron started finding some explanation notes left personally for them and again in the most unexpected places. They were found either under a toilet lid or in the inside pocket of the flying suit left to the technicians for keeping. It was awful! And it was not the notes that were so awful but the other matter. Someone after weighing all pros and cons went with his confession to the “overseers over the inside” who were swarming all over the aerodrome. Like, “Look, dear uncles, what I found here. And I was not his friend, I...”. But the “overseers” were overexcited. That's understandable. Those of them who were the curators of the squadron and the Air Force division were in some secret basements themselves already, probably with needles under their nails or in places where nails should be in accordance with the anatomy of human like mammals. Because of that those smart asses who came with the notes were not just called to account for them, but — “Your hands, Mr. Pilot!”, and oops – he is handcuffs already.
Certainly some did not go. They ate those notes with their porridge or they shoved them up some parts. It seemed that they thought that they would not have trouble. Aha, really. They shook the squadron in such a way that not a single pilot ever took off again. In the very best they were thrown out of the Army after a month in some “overseers'” cells. Just in case. Who knows? They all have attack aircrafts at hand and sometimes much more advanced that the King Zraffa. And the guys knew bastard Boesi-Ti personally. So, well...
By the way, there was something like the following in the notes: “Dear friend... (surname, first name), the thing I did – I killed King Bura (he believed he did, that's massaraksh!) — I did not do in a fit of madness. I did it because our rulers like the rulers of other countries are getting ready to start an unseen before war on the World Sphere. Not just a nuclear war – we are already used for them – but an all-out nuclear war of annihilation. As you know, I took part in a war. I saw the war very close. But small wars are just a half-trouble. However I cannot allow a start of a global nuclear war. Let me pay my life for that but I'll get rid of at least one of those who plan it. Maybe, inspired by my example, that will be done by other people as well. The patriots of the countries in the other states. If we get rid of all the tyrants, there will be no war. And there is this other thing as well...”
It followed in the same way with presenting the theory of the World Sphere's improvement by way of cleaning its surface from all the gilded bastards, retail and wholesale.
Sure thing, those who read these notes were looked upon by the “overseers” as potential rebels. No matter what you say, but the fighting personnel of this air base was very much cleaned by Boesi-Ti who was deprived of all his awards posthumously.
