Where is your shuttle, Oppenheimer?
11/02/2120
The shuttle was going down. This was already the second landing. Landskricht chose the landing site purely visually, circling the place on the screen where she wanted to put the shuttle. According to her, technically she could do it even in the city, at the crossroads of wide streets. True, in addition to technical limitations, there were other ones - in the case of such a landing, the surrounding houses would be damaged - blown out glass, possibly fires. There was also hope that people, seeing a deadly lamp in the sky, would have time to figure it out and run away, and in the right direction.
Of course, the chosen landing site was located in a deserted area, in brown-yellow autumn fields. It was deep night. The omnipresent green glow flickered here just like in the southern hemisphere. The activation of the braking engines pressed Zavirdyaev into the chair. Then the engines used at launch started working. Having printed another white cross, the shuttle stopped at the designated place.
Well, that's it, we're going down, - Landskricht announced, - And I'll take this with me - she reached somewhere behind her seat, after which she showed the depreciated folders with plans for attacks and political conspiracy.
- Yes, that would probably be more correct, - Zavirdyaev agreed, - and what should I say? What should I say if they ask where I put them?
- Say that you opened the airlock and threw it into space. Technically, it is quite possible, if there is a desire.
Then there was the airlock and the descent. Holding Landskricht in his arms - it would have been difficult to do otherwise there, at the elevator, Zavirdyaev thought about how he had worked side by side with her all these years and had not noticed her at all. - I will miss you, - he said, already standing on Earth.
- Come on, for all these years, - as if echoing his thoughts, she began, - you are now a macho and a playboy, and before, it seems, you did not miss your own. Remember about the biochip? It can work in terms of such personal attachments. But now you do not have it. So this is already purely yours. You are becoming human again. This is good. I do not want to direct you in some romantic direction now, but you stop being a puppet with a biochip and frames. This is important. Perhaps you will refuse your fateful mission. We will talk about this in a couple of weeks, I will find you.
If you change your mind about leading the nations, then I will use the document allegedly thrown into space, its copy, to dismantle the plans that they will have time to build for you. You can always disappear, at least to that Earth, to that world where we were.
Some lights appeared on the horizon. There had been lights before, but they were definitely the static lights of some village, the residents of which, one would think, were quite stunned when they saw the shuttle land.
- Aviation? - said Zavirdyaev.
- Looks like it, - answered Landskricht. - It will fly here and I will run away.
- Well, shall we say goodbye?
- Well, not exactly goodbye. I will still find you. You will not have to wait long. And if they do something, arrest you, then I will find you and get you out. You already understand how I do it. Someone will be left scratching their head for a long time. And this time I will go behind you, but do not look back. You will not notice anything anyway.
- I will do as you say, - answered Zavirdyaev, who had long since stopped wanting to check what would happen if he did something wrong. The lights moving over the horizon seemed to have changed direction - the movement slowed down, but the altitude began to increase.
- Looks like helicopters, - said Landskricht, who had been standing nearby all this time, - you will hear the sound soon. I can already hear it.
- I wonder what they will tell me? And what should I tell them? - Zavirdyaev said thoughtfully.
- You will figure it out, don't worry.
With these words she turned, put her arm around him, then hugged him with the other one, holding two useless folders, and kissed him.
It was all rather fleeting. Zavirdyaev turned his head, but there was no one nearby. Only the shuttle still towered like a pointed tower and hummed with its units - it never fell silent, neither at the rocket launch site nor on the island.
Zavirdyaev wandered towards the ship, along the way he looked into the gaping mouth of one of the engine chambers and sat down on the spread leg of the landing leg, after which he simply spat on the ground. It was a little sad. Maybe even more than a little.
For some reason the helicopters did not go straight to the shuttle, but began to circle the landing site in a circle with a radius of one and a half to two kilometers. Judging by the sound, they were not transport, but some lighter combat ones.
- Maybe raise hands up? - a thought flashed through his head, - Although why the hell is this?
This was really completely unnecessary.
It started to rain - during landing, Landskricht managed to fly into a narrow gap between the clouds - on the one hand, this was necessary for a safe visual landing, so as not to accidentally burn anyone, and on the other, if you didn't show off, you could just choose a cloudless region. Now the gap had closed. Zavirdyaev raised his eyes and looked at his rain-protection canopy worth countless millions and billions.
- Well, Oppenheimer, where is your shuttle now? Where is your toy? What about your plan, constellations? Only now he begin to realize that here, under the dismal autumn rain in the middle of a damp night field, he was free. Maybe Landskricht, having been repeatedly amazed by the recklessness of the decision to contact those with whom he had once contacted, got through, got her way? Probably so.
Zavirdyaev stood up and walked away from the ship. He walked towards the distant lights of the village. Of course, he was not going to go all the way, but for some reason he just wanted to walk away from the shuttle that had done so much. There was a burning smell - Somewhere to the side, the grass was smoking, although no flame was visible.
But there is something in this, - thought Zavirdyaev, walking across the night field. He had once taken similar country walks, but in a more traditional way - in winter, on skis and during the day.
The sound of helicopters finally increased to an indecent level - these either hunters or rescuers were already very close.
- They ruined everything, - Zavirdyaev muttered out loud.
Both aircraft landed about fifty meters ahead of him. Zavirdyaev raised his right hand and calmly walked forward.
Apparently, these were helicopters of the national forces. It was visible how the cockpits of both opened and the second pilots jumped out of them. It looked rather strange, but apparently they decided not to wait for some transport to pull up.
Both pilots rushed to meet Zavirdyaev, who had slowed down. The green glow, now hidden by the clouds, still did its job even so - the night was much brighter than usual, like near a large city with its glow. Nevertheless, one of them was holding some kind of flashlight in his hands, which he constantly shone forward.
- How are you? - the first thing to shout was one of those who ran up.
- Order, - Zavirdyaev said. - Will someone look after my car? - he added.
- They will, don't worry, - the second one shouted amiably.
- Zavirdyaev remembered with longing how Landskricht had climbed to close the entrance to the shuttle, but, of course, he had no intention of doing anything like that. He turned his head towards the standing and humming ship and sighed sadly for the umpteenth time.
- What now? - he addressed those who had run up.
- Ugh! - the first one began rather emotionally, - Let me at least shake your hand, - without waiting for an answer, he squeezed Zavirdyaev's hand and shook it. The second one, who had jumped up, did the same.
- To be honest, my communication has been poor for the last few days. The ship practically flew here in manual mode.
Landskricht had taught him that. Back there, when they were flying in "low gear", she had briefly outlined to him what and to whom to say about how he had flown here. She had also described how people should have reacted to his appearance. Judging by the pilots' reactions, she wasn't lying or mistaken - both were more than friendly.
- As for the warheads, I can say one thing - I simply got rid of the weapons, - Zavirdyaev began.
- Yes, everything is clear. And about the fact that we went crazy, everything is also clear. Stanislavsky-Nemirovich-Danchenko might not have believed it, but it worked, - said the first, pointing at his helicopter, - climb in there, in my place.
- And how are you?
- Yeah, I'll get by, - the helicopter pilot answered cheerfully, - Let's go, I'll show you. Sit down, fasten your seatbelts and don't touch anything.
- Not the first time, - thought Zavirdyaev.
He also wanted to find out a bunch of little and significant details, but now was not the time to ask. It was much safer to remain silent.
- Be careful with the shuttle - there are engines there... - Zavirdyaev shouted to the pilot, who was showing him how to fasten his seatbelt.
- Radiation? - he asked.
- Not really... Still, keep your distance. About here. Do you have contact with Blok's staff? The ship can stand like this for weeks, but it shouldn't stall - there's a reactor there. If it stalls, you'll need a special mobile generator to start it. There's a starter there... the size of a wagon.
- We'll figure it out, - the pilot answered and slammed the glass shut.
The further conversation was indeed pointless - Zavirdyaev knew nothing about the reactor, the pilot probably understood nothing about it. If only the necessary specialists were delivered in time so that the super shuttle would not disappear. But it happened that all the forces of the Bloc and even the planet wanted and tried to shoot down this shuttle. Only a little later Zavirdyaev remembered that there was also an MHD generator on board, which played the role of a "starter". The machine the size of a train car was a refueler, and everything at once - and deuterium, and the working fluid and fuel for the auxiliary generators. It was all the same.
The helicopter went up, then tilted its muzzle and went at an altitude of no more than a hundred meters. It was a frontline Mi-58.
- We are America now, - the pilot shouted cheerfully into the helmet.
- How so? - Zavirdyaev asked, holding back his emotions, realizing that such a phrase could mean anything.
- Well, like this. Oppenheimer and his staff plopped down here. Didn't crash, but landed. Deliberately here. Now he and his gang are a government in exile. Consider the entire Pentagon, only remotely, and the reserve fund, too.
- And what about the Americans?
- Who the hell knows. Everything seems to be going down the drain there. Revolution and all that.
- I wonder what Russia should do with this gift now? And who's getting the gift? - Zavirdyaev wondered mentally.
- Did they deliberately head for Russia? - he asked out loud.
- Well, yes. I'm telling you, we're America now. With all the pretenses. The Asian Bloc is at war with itself. Have you seen any explosions there from orbit?
- No, - Zavirdyaev answered almost muffled.
- Well, maybe they'll do without the bombs then. Maybe they'll just beat each other up and everything will calm down. They are no longer dangerous.
- And Lebedev? The President? What about them?
- Where would they go? They are still sitting where they were. In their chairs. But all the same, the American elite is now with us. Two countries in one. Everything is as you said.
- Maybe he means a multi-republic? - thought Zavirdyaev.
A multi-republic implied something completely different, but Zavirdyaev did not elaborate or explain anything.
- They have the keys to America, so everything is fine. You know what I mean - communication codes, communication with headquarters, electronic bureaucracy and all that. The constellations still recognize Oppenheimer as the legitimate head of the United States, the elections have been postponed, so everything is fine. Of course, it is not known how long this will last, but everything is calm here now. Unlike everywhere else. A holiday has come to our street.
- Haldoris Landskricht, why did you leave us, - Zavirdyaev groaned mentally, - It's a complete madhouse here, - you couldn't just wash your hands of it. You're not like that.
The helicopter raced through the autumn night.