Sideshow
In July 1988, the Soviet Union launched two automatic interplanetary stations "Phobos". They were supposed to fly up to this satellite of Mars, take high-resolution photographs and land an automatic station and a jumping robot on its surface. September 1, 1988 due to an erroneous command, the Phobos-1 station was lost. March 27, 1989 -- communication interrupted from AMS "Phobos-2". It was not possible to determine the cause for certain, it is assumed that the on-board computer failed. On November 9, 2011, within the framework of the Phobos-soil program of the Russian space agency, another expedition to Phobos was launched, which was supposed to deliver soil samples from the satellite of Mars to Earth in 2014, but as a result of an emergency situation (presumably a software failure), the station was not brought to the calculated trajectory, and fell into the Pacific Ocean on January 15, 2012. The launch of the Russian spacecraft Phobos-Grunt 2 is planned for 2024. I wonder if he will be able to get to the unfortunate satellite, figure out what kind of strange furrows are on its surface and what is in the voids that occupy a third of the volume? Reality is changeable. Every moment many universes are born. At first, they differ in the slightest. But gradually disperse to the sides, like the branches of a growing tree. This m ir budded from our sometime in the second half of the twentieth century. At first the differences were quite small, but late summer 2016 , according to the second law of dialectics, quantity turned into quality . This reality has become more and more rapidly related to the one in which we live. But , despite this, the world described by me does not go beyond the limits of the possible. WITH the events in it went along a different branch of probabilities, remaining on the same tree.
Chapter 1
14.05.2017. 8:05
I went! - Bye! Happy studying! Mom called from the kitchen. In a low voice, so as not to wake the father. Today is Saturday, and he will sleep off, almost until noon. - Mom! - I realized. - We with Dasha and Vera will take a little walk after school. "All right," Mom agreed softly. “Only if you’re late, call.” And I ran away. Well, that is, quickly, skipping, she ran down the stairs from our third floor and quickly went out into the courtyard. There are still twenty-five minutes before class, and I have fifteen minutes to go. My school is in the very center of the village, and we live on the southern outskirts in one of the five-story buildings. I, as usual, did not go out onto the Evpatoria highway, but went west, along Gogol. It's faster, and there are almost no cars at all. And, in general, I like such quiet green streets. Especially on Saturday mornings, when all normal people are sleeping and only lonely schoolchildren are trudging to study. I straightened my backpack on my back and moved along the narrow paths between private houses. My village is almost all one-story. Only a small microdistrict with several Khrushchevs, in one of which I live and multi-apartment two-story houses. I moved past them. The morning was warm. The approach of summer was felt with might and main, and I also dressed in summer. Skirt, stockings, blouse and uniform vest. The wind chilled my bare knees a little, but it was even pleasant. And, in general, I was in a very good mood. Saturday, from the lessons only English, Russian and history. And then a week with a ponytail and - holidays! I will become a seventh grader and have a whole summer ahead of me! You can laze around, go for a walk with your girlfriends, drive or just walk on foot to a very close sea. And in the evenings I can play as much as I want on the computer. My brother, leaving for the army, left it at my full disposal, however, threatening that if I erased anything, he would unscrew my head when he returned. But I'm careful! I just put a few toys in and that's it. Well, I download fresh animations, of course. Six months later, when Andrei is demobilized, I will make him see them all. But there is nothing to plant your little sister in Japanese! I went to the corner of Gagarin and turned left along the lane towards Gogol. On the right are the next houses, on the left - a wasteland. From the north, from the sea, there is a distinct chirp of flying helicopters. Probably two or three. But I'm already used to this. Still, twenty kilometers to the Ukrainian coast, and there, after the resignation of the president, some kind of mess again. The news says that the Nazis took power and announced another mobilization. And I'm worried about Andrew. Their part is near Krasnoperekopsk, almost on the very border. Wish he was back from the army! The noise of helicopter propellers seems to be getting closer. I wonder who they are catching? And there are soldiers ahead. Six people in camouflage with large backpacks and weapons. It is strange that it is not on the armor. Usually border guards drive around in armored personnel carriers, they patrol the coast. I slowed down a little. For some reason, I got worried. And the military are walking towards me and their faces are somehow preoccupied and nervous, or something. They looked in my direction and about something quietly, but very tensely argued. Then one, the eldest, ordered something in an undertone, and a young guy, tall and fair-haired, headed towards me. I stopped completely, looking at him. There was something about his gait and look that I didn't like. Somewhere in my stomach, I felt a chill of fear. - Girl, can you tell me how to get to Senokosnoy? - Down the alley, - I waved my hand back. - And when you get out on the highway, then everything is straight along it. - Thank you. All this time, he continued to approach, and suddenly abruptly jumped towards me, tightly grabbing my left forearm. - Ai! I screamed. - Well, be quiet! - and a hard hand covered my mouth, extinguishing the cry. - Come with us! The guy released my hand and with two movements threw off my backpack from my shoulders. He hit hard on the heel. It brought me out of my fainting stupor. I twitched to the side, but a strong arm grabbed me by the shoulders, pressed me against the right side of the soldier. Something hard and angular pressed into his left side. Hurt! And the rough paw tightly closed my mouth, so that I could only mumble something inarticulate. Fear piled up so that my knees buckled, and if the military man had not held me, I probably would have collapsed onto a dusty path. Meanwhile, the guy walked quickly, dragging me along, to a narrow, overgrown with weeds path leading past the abandoned building of the vegetable farming office. The other four surrounded us, covering us from behind. And yet they noticed us: - Hey, where are you taking the girl? came a loud shout from behind. The guy turned abruptly, forcing me to do the same. I squinted my eyes and saw that an elderly man in a business suit was walking quickly towards us. His face was familiar, but I didn't remember where. - XXX! - the eldest of the military swore obscenely and, dropping the machine gun from his shoulder, threw it up and pulled the trigger. The thunder of shots shook me, itching in my ears. The queue knocked the man back, he briefly twitched on the ground and fell silent. - And now - the legs! the shooter yelled. My captor unclenched the hand covering my mouth, took me in his arms, grabbing me under my knees and, breathing heavily, ran down the path. I took a deep breath and screamed. The guy glared at me but didn't say anything. Probably, after the automatic burst, my screams no longer bothered them. The path passed the house and, through an opening in the fence with the remains of a broken gate, led us to the site of the former greenhouse farm. The soldiers confidently ran to the building of the vegetable warehouse - a squat, one-story, with a flat roof. It was also abandoned. The walls were lined with rickety stacks of crates, and the panes in the narrow, sparse windows were shattered. One of the soldiers overtook the others and slammed his foot on the flimsy wooden door with a running start. Something cracked inside her and she flung herself open. In the twilight smelling of rot and mold. - Cat, Tarkan, Bily - to the windows, hold the perimeter! commanded the elder. - Shvidky - with me, let's look around. Zvir, pack the prisoner! The military fled, and Zvir unclenched his hands, and I fell on the dirty floor. From the blow, even in the eyes darkened. The right thigh was in severe pain. There will probably be bruises! The soldier dropped his rucksack from his shoulders and took out a coil of rope from a side pocket. I looked up at him in horror. And suddenly I was thrown up: "Run!" I, at first on all fours, straightening up with every step, rushed to the saving bright rectangle of the doorway. But strong fingers dug into the collar of the vest, grabbing a lock of hair, and rushed back. I yelped and rolled over onto my back. Something huge and heavy fell on top, crushing under itself, twisting my arms so that I was forced to roll over on my stomach. The brush was lashed by a rope. She cut painfully into her wrists, squeezing them. Then a heavy guy sat on top of me, facing my legs and tied my ankles just as tightly. He got up, grabbed my armpits and dragged me into a dark corner. I threw it at him, he remained standing, towering over me like a tower. Fear twisted my insides again. He grew stronger, then weakened a little. But now it rolled up so that I huddled into a ball, all trembling. Tears flowed from her eyes without ceasing, and inside everything turned to stone with horror. At the same time, I heard and understood everything. From the far corner of the room came a burst of machine-gun fire. I trembled all over. - Cat, what's there? - shouted the elder. - Cops, - responded militant. - I - joked. - It's clear. Well, let's wait for more serious guests. - XXX-vo that the task failed, - Zvir grumbled. “That’s how to say it,” the commander replied. - Plan "A" yes, they failed, the mines were not laid. And they did not ambush the quilted jackets. But the "Be" plan is being implemented with might and main. - That is? - Divert attention to yourself and, taking hostages, play for time. Maybe it will be easier for other groups to act. - Axis vono means yak, - Shvidky drawled thoughtfully. - And mi mean in rozkhid? - Why expense? the commander disagreed. We have a protector. So let's get it going, and then we'll go with her. - If there is somewhere to go, - Zvir said quietly, sitting next to me. He grabbed my shoulders and squeezed. - Don't worry, everything will work out. But for some reason it made me even more scared. I don't know how much time has passed. The soldiers were talking quietly, joking. Beast still sat next to me, sometimes stroking my head. He even took out a paper handkerchief and wiped my face. Other soldiers laughed: - You found a good job for yourself! We're targeting enemies here, and you and the girl. - To each his own! he joked. My hands and feet were very numb from tight ropes. I didn't feel my hands at all. Only pain in the wrists. But I was afraid to say it or ask to untie it. Finally, the approaching noise of engines and a rumble could be heard from outside. - Commander, the cavalry has arrived! called the Cat. - Two armored personnel carriers. So it's time to talk. Zvir, drag the girl to the door. The guy again grabbed my armpits and, pressing me to him, awkwardly leaning back, trotted to the doorway. Raised higher, closing like a shield, stood in front of him. After the twilight of the vegetable store, the light hit my eyes. I squinted, trying to see my surroundings. Armored car, visible from behind a brick fence. The green helmets of the soldiers, appearing for a moment from behind him and then hiding. - Hey, we have a hostage! - Loudly shouted the commander of the saboteurs. - If anything, we'll beat her! And we also have a bunch of explosives, if it explodes, there will be nothing left of the girl. So let's live in peace! - What XXX is peaceful? said a distant voice. - Release the girl and go out one by one without weapons. Then XXX will not. - Neither! It's impossible! - switched to the Ukrainian commander. - We better sit here. - How do you know! Just don’t touch the girl, otherwise we’ll cut XXX and shut it up in XXX! “Take away the small one,” the commander quietly ordered Zvir. And he dragged me into the darkness. And again stretched painful minutes or hours. Don't know. From time to time the saboteurs began to shoot. Short mean lines. But, it seems to me, rather, so that they are not forgotten. The military did not answer them. Then the commander of the militants commanded: - Shvidky, Zvir, replace Kot and Bily. Cat with a girl. Shvidky left, and soon a short, plump man approached us. He extended his hand to Zvir, helping him to get up, and he sat down next to me. Friendly asked: - What is your name? - N-nastya ... - I answered. He was the first one who spoke to me. - How are you feeling? Do you want something? "Hands... and legs... hurt a lot," I managed, unable to take it anymore. - Let me see. He turned my face into a corner and fiddled with my hands. I screamed out in excruciating pain. - Beast! called the cat loudly. “You don’t know how to deal with girls at all?” - And what? - answered from the darkness. - Nahhh was it so tighten the ropes? - and, turning to me: - I'll untie it now, but don't do anything stupid, okay. What nonsense is there?! The brushes, when I brought them to my face, hung like rags. And blue-red stripes on the wrists. Soon my hands began to revive and I regretted it very much. It hurt so much that I couldn't even scream, I just whimpered, curled up in a ball. The cat was stroking my back. Then he bent down to my feet and also untied. The commander grumbled something with displeasure, but my new guard replied: - Where will she run away to? She won't be able to get up for half an hour! And I'll tie her again in ten minutes, but not so hard. When the pain subsided a little, he handed me a flask, and I, awkwardly taking it with my still naughty hands, greedily drank cool water. - That's nice, come under my wing. He put his arm around my shoulders, stroked my head once more, pushing the tangled strands of hair out of my face. He said: - You are beautiful. Maybe the boys are watching. For some reason I was confused. And he squeezed me tighter and ran his left hand across my chest. I started. - ABOUT! There is already something! - the guy was delighted. Well, yes, I'm one of the first among my classmates, whose figure began to emerge ... in the right places. - The cat stop pestering the girl, - an unfamiliar voice was heard. This is Bily, I realized. - Are you envious? - She's still small. - No, quite a grown-up girl, isn't it, Nastya? I cringed in panic. I didn't like the way the conversation was going. Let's play with you, shall we? I'm sure you'll like it, - and his hand fell on my thigh. - No! No need! I yelped, trying to wriggle out of the suddenly strong embrace. And my hand is already climbing somewhere ... I almost escaped, but was grabbed by the hair on the back of my head. The cat, no longer feigning friendliness, buried my face in my jacket, so that my scream faded, and now ruthlessly pawed me. It was so unbearably disgusting, scary and painful that I turned into an animal beating in agony. - No! No no no! Save! No need!!! Ai!!! - Let it go, goat! - Bilogo's roar. - And those Th, also hunting? - with a contented sniff. - So join! Hold her legs! - Oh, Rick! I have a daughter! Jerk, fuss over me, the sound of blows. Shouts. I, pressing my knees to my chest, look up and down as two hefty men dressed in the same uniform are fighting. - Stop! - yells the commander. A thunderous shot makes my whole body flinch. The cat sits down, holding his stomach. - Fools! - the voice of the commander is drowned in a roar that is piling up from all sides. I see stone fragments flying from the walls being pierced right through. Like a discarded doll, the Zvir falls on a pile of boards. As the commander directs a black hole of an automatic muzzle at me. And how Bily at the last moment covers me with his body. It falls on me in a twitching pile, pouring something warm, sticky, unpleasantly smelling. And then something flies into the doorway and a blinding light burns the room. I squint, but it's too late. Before the eyes of a bright green veil. Moms!!! The roar stops, but then rolls again, already very close, in short bursts. I don't know how long it takes. I'm scared!!! Terrible-terrible-terrible!!! Rough voice: - Here she is, in the corner. The heaviness from the body pressing down on me disappears. - She's covered in blood, Commander, but she seems to be alive. Girl, how are you? I shake my head. Hands, rough, masculine. I'm being touched again! - No-o-o-o!!! Let me go!!! I wriggle and even bite for something. - Ai! Infection! She bites! - So, alive - some tired voice. - Demichev, bring the doctor here. I open my eyes, but I still see nothing, only bright spots that move when I look away. But they gradually fade, and I begin to distinguish figures wandering and digging in something. Heaps of something incomprehensible. Suddenly it dawns on me that they are dead people. The ones that got me. After a while, a white blurry spot appears nearby. A half-familiar female face leans over me. It seems the doctor from the ambulance, she came to us a couple of months ago when dad had a heartache. - Well, well, it's all gone. A soft hand caresses my cheek. And I'm reaching out to meet her. - You weren't hurt? Can you get up? That's it, don't rush. I can hardly keep my legs trembling. I grab the doctor's wife, I almost fall. - Let me carry it, - a male voice nearby and again... - No! Do not touch! It's so scary when a man touches me! - No, I'm on my own, - the doctor picks me up in her arms and takes me out into the street. Everything around is filled with bright light. The doctor is breathing heavily. I'm already heavy. I move and ask me to lower. I stand up, still holding tightly to her robe. I look around. Around people in military uniform. They fuss, they hurry. Thunder. Far and rolling. Somewhere in the north, a strong, heavy thunderstorm. I look in that direction, uncomprehending. The sky is clear blue from edge to edge. - What is this? - I ask the doctor. She sighs and utters only one word: - War.
Chapter2 . War!
14.05.2017. 11:50
The Acting President of Ukraine, standing on the podium of the Verkhovna Rada, read out his decree. Ukraine is at war with Russia. The country is under martial law. The armed forces are starting to repel aggression and return the occupied territories of Donbass and Crimea. And the orders prepared in advance, in accordance with the plan for conducting a military campaign, flew to the troops concentrated on the southeastern borders. But even faster this news went to the northeast. She was expected and carefully prepared for her. And, as soon as the decree of the head of Ukraine was promulgated and entered into force, the Russian president responded. He expressed regret over the aggression of the neighboring state and said that the Russian armed forces were forced to defend themselves, protecting the country's citizens from an unprovoked attack. It, almost unprovoked attack, immediately occurred. The Ukrainians opened fire on a tank battalion advancing in their direction, forcing it to hastily retreat. And another reason for a full-fledged response was the actions of sabotage and reconnaissance groups. Since night, the border service of the Republic of Crimea has spotted many border crossings, mainly by water. DRGs seeped into the Crimea, trying to get to key places as soon as possible. Roads, bridges, military airfields, command posts. Only a couple of them, very unsuccessfully stumbled upon patrols, were destroyed immediately. The rest were followed for the time being. True, some, noticing this observation, became nervous. For example, a group walking past Razdolnoe to Evpatoria Highway to mine it and set up an ambush, realizing that it had been discovered, entered the village, took a hostage and took refuge on the outskirts. They surrounded her, but they did not try to touch her until half past twelve. And then the order came to destroy the enemy's DRG on the spot, trying to avoid losses among the civilian population as much as possible. Captain Marchenko, who commanded the operation, grimaced at this "if possible." But when a muffled shot rang out from the old warehouse, he ordered to storm the object. Sorry girl, but an order is an order. Almost all sabotage groups were destroyed the same day, having failed to complete their tasks, but several detachments managed to bite the enemy quite painfully. And the Ukrainian special services carried out one operation for five plus. The militants, who had been introduced in advance, were able to elude the watchful eye of the FSB, and made a daring attack on the headquarters of the Black Sea Fleet. They crushed the guards and almost completely destroyed the fleet command along with the building. But there was no power vacuum. The chief of staff of the fleet, the young Rear Admiral Gennady Serpukhov, was at that time in the reserve command post. Now no one can stop him, and his carefully crafted plans will come true. Meanwhile, Russia responded to the blow. For some reason, a couple of Dnipros turned out to be ready for launch, which doubled the already considerable constellation of military reconnaissance satellites. Of course, they still needed to be integrated into the system. But she, the system, already did a good job, collecting almost exhaustive information about the location of the military facilities of the opposing side. And for these predetermined targets, rocket weapons worked out. The Iskanders rushed along unpredictably broken trajectories, low, above the ground itself, the Calibers, Kh-22s and Kh-55s, rushed. Their main task was to crush the air defense structure of Ukraine. And within just a couple of hours, it almost ceased to exist. And only after that the aerospace forces entered the business.
Chapter3 . Fighter.
14.05.2017. 15:10
The fighters flew in a wide pair. The leader is eight hundred meters to the left and a little ahead. Lieutenant Igor Myskin controlled the aircraft with utmost care. It was his first combat sortie. The young pilot graduated from the Armavir military school only a year ago. The fact that he is now flying in the sky over Ukraine could be considered rare luck, or bad luck, if it were not the result of cold calculation. demo group. It's like bait fishing. A pair of Su-27s, as it were, lured out the remnants of the enemy's air defense, which had survived after a crushing missile strike. Certainly, some mobile Buks were able to avoid it, the S-300s may not have been completely destroyed, and not all aircraft burned down at the airfields. Therefore, aircraft with crews that are not very valuable due to their low flying experience are now flying on a "reconnaissance" flight. "Although, this is not entirely true," Igor pulled himself back. The flight commander, Major Komov, is a very experienced pilot who has been flying in the skies of Syria for a whole year. So it is quite possible that he, Igor, was assigned to this flight not for slaughter, but for accelerated training. Moreover, he graduated from college with honors and has already managed to show his good side in the regiment. And ahead, twenty kilometers on the course - the Dnieper. It flows in a wide flood from the Kakhovka reservoir. Beautiful and disturbing. - "Badger-1", "Badger-1", - the dispatcher's voice is deliberately calm. - Three goals. Azimuth two hundred and eighty three, offset two hundred and eight. Presumably MiG-29. Stay on course. At a distance of one hundred and ten, prepare to maneuver. From eighty start up "twenty-seventh" and leave along the azimuth one hundred and forty. How did you understand? - "Badger-1", "Bear cub". I understand you, - the same emphasized calm answer of the commander. - Let's start twenty-sevenths from eighty and leave for one hundred and forty. "Badger-2", did you understand the task? - "Badger-2", "Badger-1", - Igor replied. - You understood. I continue flying without changes. I'm getting ready to move. "Badger two second", confirm the readiness of the missiles. - "Badger two second", "Badger-2", - responded the co-pilot, sitting a meter behind Igor. - All four missiles are ready. Familiar negotiations, and the heart beats loudly. First fight. Although, eighty kilometers. The enemy can leave, but for Igor the maneuver is almost not dangerous at all. But, you never know what ... How time creeps! The plane is moving only a little slower than the sound, and the landscape below it is barely moving. The Dnieper goes back, Krivoy Rog floats on the right. - "Badger-1"! The targets are one hundred and forty kilometers away. Azimuth two hundred ninety-eight. They turn in your direction. Get ready to maneuver! - tongue twister, without the obligatory "as I understand it." - Clear! - the commander also reduced the usual appeals. Second, get ready! Twenty seconds later, three distinct dots appeared on the edge of the radar screen. They were clearly on a collision course, slightly faster than the speed of sound, gradually accelerating. - Here they are, doves! - in the commander's voice tension and excitement. - Second, pull up to seventy. - Accepted. Igor caught his breath. It is not in vain that he received a red diploma. In addition to the fact that he was a great pilot and knew the technique by heart, he also perfectly knew how to count in his mind. Seventy is a risky low. If he gapes or performs a maneuver incorrectly, he will not get away from enemy missiles. “It’s good that the Ukrainians have old R-27s. But the rocket usually flies a little further than the declared sixty kilometers. And he still has to turn around. No wonder the dispatcher instructed to shoot ten kilometers earlier. But in battle, the pilot himself decides, and the commander preferred to go In the meantime, Major Komov in a calm voice gives instructions: "Don't tear on the turn. Three, maximum four. At the end you will switch to the afterburner, and everything will be fine," and, turning to Igor's co-pilot: "Vanya, from you traps." "Naturally," said Captain Selivanov - the co-pilot, navigator, weapons operator and observer. And the marks of enemy aircraft crawl across the screen. "Ready!" - the voice of the commander rings with tension. "Let's go!" - Start! - Igor immediately commanded the second Selivanov did not linger for a second, fired all four rockets one after another. When the third of them fell off the suspension, Igor turned the steering wheel to the left. Softly, smoothly, forcing himself not to rush beyond measure. chair, breathless. Igor turned the steering wheel until he noticed a grayish veil creeping from the edges of his vision. He tolerated g-forces very well, so he allowed his aircraft to turn a little tighter than the pair's commander recommended. And the world behind the fiberglass lantern tilted and floated to the side. A misty strip of sea appeared in the distance. A deadly game unfolds on the radar screen. The MiGs fired ten or fifteen seconds later, and immediately made sharp turns. "Hard!" - thought Igor, estimating that two opponents took a turn from seven or even eight times the overload. And it looks like one of them overdid it. The plane did not exit the turn - the pilot lost consciousness. The second plane began to maneuver, trying to shake off the missiles. And the third, turning on the afterburner, was in a hurry to leave the affected area. In addition, the space around both the Ukrainian and Russian planes was covered with ripples of interference and traps. But, it is unlikely that they will greatly help the enemy. The active-passive homing head with Kalman filtering on new Russian missiles is a terrible thing. And the enemy missiles have already covered half the distance separating them. If only they had not flown further than usual! Taking the plane out of the turn, Igor, at the same time, added thrust and, breaking the sound barrier, turned on the afterburner. Enemy missiles caught up with the "dry", but still not fast enough, and when they, one after another, having spent fuel, pecked down, literally five kilometers away, Igor allowed himself to breathe deeply. But the Ukrainians were not lucky. The pilot of the first fighter managed to wake up a few seconds before three rockets at once tore his plane to shreds. The second, laying one anti-missile maneuver after another, managed to shake off two of them, but the third exploded over the planes, riddling them with shrapnel, and pierced the lantern along with the pilot's body. And the third one almost ran away. He tore on the afterburner, trying to get out of the range of missiles. And he would have come out if it had been the usual "twenty-sevenths", like his. But in fact, the command became generous and modified R-27ERs of increased range were installed on the hangers of the "dryers". So two missiles, almost at the limit of range, caught up with the MiG and exploded behind the nozzles. - "Badger-1", "Bear cub". Mission completed. All three targets have been destroyed, requesting further instructions, - a slightly tired voice of the commander was heard. - "Bear cub", "Badger-1", - an unfamiliar voice in the headphones. - We said to shoot from eighty kilometers. Why did they violate our instructions? “It was safer that way,” the commander replied. - You're always like that! And where do we put six P-37s now? Can you redirect? - Oops, - the commander said not at all in a military way. - Okay, don't be afraid, you're out of focus. That would make you pay for rockets! All. The end of the connection, - a second hitch and the familiar voice of the dispatcher: - "Badgers", return to base. - "Badger-2", heard? - asked the commander. We are still guilty. - Yeah, - Igor answered not according to the charter. Who knew that the headquarters decided to play it safe and fired long-range missiles at the MiGs. - But we will draw three stars for ourselves, - the commander remarked cheerfully. - True, yellow, do not figure out whose rocket hit whom. Igor smiled. The commander, of course, suspects that the second Mig was shot down by his rocket, but does not want to offend his partner. Three stars is awesome!
Chapter 4. Sea Gambit.
15:20. Black Sea. The destroyer Higgins shut down her propulsion engines. He reached the planned point fifty kilometers southeast of Odessa. It was the optimal placement for his assignment. Now all that was left to do was wait for the stupid Russian plane. And he was not slow to arrive. The Su-24 naval aviation of the Black Sea Fleet habitually approached the alien ship. Overflights by Americans have long become commonplace, as they were during the Soviet Union. The degree of their riskiness depended on the orders given by the command, and the dashing pilots. This time the task was "not to provoke", and the pilot was experienced and calm. But, when the "drying" flew up ten kilometers, the radar recorded the launch of four missiles, which Major Snegirev had already seen. Ten seconds later, the plane shattered into flaming pieces. 15:24. Washington. No sooner had the wreckage of the Russian plane sunk to the bottom of the Black Sea than US President Hillary Clinton began her speech. ... Unprovoked aggression forced us to defend ourselves. A Russian plane that threatened our sailors was shot down... ...to ensure safety, we are declaring a 65 mile radius zone around the destroyer Higgins as a no-fly zone. Any flying object that we consider a threat will be destroyed... ...to de-escalate the conflict, we demand that the entire territory of Ukraine be declared a no-fly zone. We count on other NATO members to support us in this... A circle 65 miles in diameter in the southeast touched the Crimean coast, and in the northeast reached Kherson and Nikolaev, covering a significant part of Ukraine with a saving umbrella. 15:43. Nikolaev. From under this umbrella, two Su-24s and three Su-25s took off from the airfield in Kulbakino. All vehicles that survived after the Caliber hit the air base. The planes, at extremely low altitude, first headed south, and when the Black Sea opened up under them, they turned to the east, heading for Sevastopol. 15:47. Moscow. From the speech of the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Russia. - ... It is necessary to prevent the escalation of tension between Russia and the NATO countries, primarily the United States. At the same time, we consider the introduction of a no-fly zone to be unacceptable. The conflict with Ukraine, which occurred through the fault of the Kyiv authorities, is bilateral, and the participation of any third countries in it is unacceptable ... The minister pressed an earpiece to his ear, listening. - As I have just been informed, our radars detected a group of Ukrainian Air Force planes heading towards the Crimea. Curiously, the Americans did not consider them threatening, and did not try to shoot them down. The question arises, what is this no-fly zone? Only for us it is useless?.. The Minister spoke on this topic for another two minutes, until a new message made him start. He closed his eyes and clearly clenched his fists to control himself. In an emphatically calm voice, in which one felt incredible tension, he said: - I have to interrupt the press conference, in connection with the new information coming to us. He quickly stood up and quickly walked out of the room. 15:49. Tarankut Peninsula, Republic of Crimea. Four launchers fired almost simultaneously. Eight "Yakhonts" rushed into the sky, so that, having made a smooth "hill", descend almost to the very surface of the water and go to the northwest. The order given by Rear Admiral Gennady Serpukhov was carried out. 15:52. Black Sea. The Aegis system did its best. She even managed to intercept three missiles. But the remaining five were enough to turn the formidable destroyer into a pile of twisted metal, slowly sinking to the bottom. None of the 337 crew members survived. 15:55. The sky over the Crimea. Of course, Ukrainian planes were not allowed to approach Sevastopol. The S-300 fired back, and the two surviving "dry" finished off the MiGs that arrived to intercept. But the pilots fought to the last, and managed to release four Gadfly. Three missiles were shot down by coastal and ship air defense systems. So only one reached the target. An orange-black explosion cloud enveloped the bow of the Ladny patrol ship. One rocket was not enough to sink it, but the damage was very serious. 16:14. Washington. Hillary Clinton had to return to the hall, which she left a little less than half an hour ago. The president's hands were shaking perceptibly. It was clear that she was barely holding back. The elderly woman felt as if the stubborn stallion, on which she decided to ride, suddenly bit the bit and carried. Yes, such a development of events was also considered, although it was not considered the most probable. The Russians upped the ante. Well, you have to do the same. Otherwise it is impossible. It is impossible not to respond to the destruction of an American ship! Moreover, you can play on this field without much fear. The United States Navy is so much more powerful than the Russian one that it can afford any action. In addition to a full-scale nuclear war. Fear of her squeezed the heart of the forty-fifth president of the United States and made him hesitate to deliver a pre-prepared speech. She felt that she was walking along the edge of the abyss, and now she would take another step towards it. “…We will not let this heinous crime go unanswered!” were her final words. 16:20. Phone conversation. - What are you doing? - The Minister of Defense's voice is heavy. Rear Admiral Serpukhov involuntarily pulled himself up, although the interlocutor could not see him. The young forty-year-old fleet commander respected his chief commander very much and therefore answered without fawning and without showiness: - He answered the blow, comrade general of the army. They shot down my plane, they killed a pilot who served in my fleet. - Yours... - grumbled the minister. - Didn't you get used to the commander's chair too quickly? Honestly, Gennady, at any other time I would have removed you from your post. You take advantage of the fact that there is no one to replace you yet. “I do, Comrade General of the Army,” Serpukhov replied calmly. - If we give up now, we will be pinned down. The Americans will press until they realize that they will suffer really serious losses further. Moreover, they themselves, and not the NATO countries they substitute. - Yes? the Minister of Defense asked sarcastically. And he raised his voice: - Do you understand that they will simply have to hit even harder than we do? Do you have any idea what or who could be their target? “No, I can’t imagine,” Serpukhov said softly. He lied to his commander. In fact, he was almost certain of the sacrifice that would have to be paid. As well as the fact that, by all means, even at the cost of a career or even life, he will bring his plan to the end. - Okay, I don't have time to talk to you. From now on, be more careful and do not forget to request sanctions for such frills. Rear Admiral Serpukhov hung up. He sat for a minute, looking straight ahead, and picked up another phone: - Pass the code "Desna". 17:05. Aegean Sea near the island of Milos. The large anti-submarine ship "Kerch" patrolled the southwestern part of the Aegean Sea. The area between the Peloponnese and Crete, clear of small islands. On the one hand, the ship performed its main function - it kept track of whether someone else's submarine would sneak closer to the Russian shores. And, on the other hand, at the limit of his capabilities, he watched the core of the US Sixth Fleet, the aircraft carrier Dwight Eisenhower, and the ships protecting it, located a hundred and a few kilometers from it. The main problem of the Russian fleet was in vision. Long-range anti-ship missiles became useless if you didn't know exactly where to launch them. Probably, for this reason, once the long-suffering warship, almost scrapped, was nevertheless reanimated and put back into operation. Still, he had very powerful, albeit outdated, radar stations, and could at least determine the coordinates of the American fleet. Now, "Kerch" was listening to him with all its electronic ears, and even raised a deck helicopter into the air. And as the enemy ships blossomed with multiple missile launches, it took less than a minute to realize that the trajectories of the killer missiles were aimed at him. The United States decided on a victim who was destined to repay the death of one of the many destroyers - the second largest ship in the Black Sea Fleet was best suited for this role. Attacking the "Moscow" is scary, and sinking some kind of watchdog is undignified. The blow was struck spectacularly, and extremely ineffectively. A dozen "Tomahawks" and two dozen "Harpoons" would drown an entire squadron, not like an old ship with ancient anti-aircraft systems. Although the sailors managed to shoot down four missiles. From the last dying reckless excitement. Then, in the place where the warship used to sail, a huge fiery cloud swelled up. And when the smoke and flames settled on the surface, only some scraps remained. 17:22. Moscow. From the statement of the President of the Russian Federation: ... It is necessary to stop and understand that there is no further way. An escalation of conflict could bring the world to ruin... ... The responsibility that lies with us... ... If we continue to fight back... ... We condole with the families of the lost American sailors and mourn with families of the dead Russian... 17:26. Washington. This time the Minister of the Navy spoke. They decided to give the old president a break. She is already all on her nerves and feels very lousy, it was not enough even in a crisis to be without the head of the White House. The minister spoke briefly about the retaliatory strike and stated that any provocative or simply suspicious actions of the Russian fleet and aviation would be immediately punished. He looked like a heavily armed Marine threatening to shoot a preschooler with a rapid-fire gun who brandishes a teddy bear at him. Of course, after all, all military theorists know that in its current state, the Russian fleet is not in a position to inflict serious damage on any of the American aircraft carrier groups. Unless all three Western Russian fleets unite into one fist, then yes, they will be able to withstand one of the six US fleets. It's known to everyone! 17:39. Mediterranean Sea. They didn't come up. There was no need for this. "Caliber" perfectly launched from a submerged position. The Krasnodar submarine was closest to the enemy ships. It would seem that she should have fired the last missiles so that they would reach the enemy at the same time as the others. But in the warheads of its missiles there was a completely different, unexpected filling. A minute after it, according to the plan "Desna" developed at the headquarters of the fleet under the personal supervision of Gennady Serpukhov, three other submarines that were within reach also shot back. With a small, carefully calculated difference in time, all their "Caliber" new missile frigates were released one after another. And, in conclusion, she sent Vulkan and Moskva missiles towards the enemy fleet. The cumulative salvo was powerful, but, according to all theoretical calculations, completely insufficient to penetrate the combined missile defense of four Aegis-equipped destroyers, and indeed the aircraft carrier itself. 18:01. Mediterranean Sea. 120 kilometers south of the Peloponnese. The escort plane reported that it had spotted four low-flying targets. Soon, the radar of the destroyer "Trunstun" detected four cruise missiles. By this time, all the ships of the fleet had already raised the alarm, and the operators of anti-aircraft systems were ready to meet. The missiles flew ten meters above the water, at a cruising speed of three hundred meters per second. Strange, but they did not accelerate three times in the final segment of the trajectory. Instead, the missiles began to maneuver, moving away from the first Sparrows launched by him to intercept. Very efficient leaving. The anti-missiles seemed to cease to see the target and, having lost interest in it, were carried away by inertia into the sea. And the strange "Caliber" chose a destroyer for themselves and began to circle around them. It was a shock. The vaunted Aegis systems, which subjugate the entire anti-aircraft and anti-missile defense, began to fail. You can't call it otherwise. Interference appeared on the radars, phantom targets, chaotic commands went to the launchers. Several rockets launched and rushed to no one knows where. The multi-barrel gun mounts rotated and fired from time to time, with one burst of twenty-millimeter bullets piercing right through the wheelhouse, killing three sailors. Meanwhile, helicopters hanging in the distance and loitering planes panicked about new approaching missiles. Lieutenant Commander Steve Dunkins, crouching and risking a stray burst, made his way to the turret and knocked out the automation. The mechanism, with a final howl of servomotors, froze, pointing the muzzle at the sky. Steve grabbed hold of the handles and began to pour fire on an enemy cruise missile that was rapidly sweeping a kilometer away. Of course, the bullets went into the milk. But luck decided to take pity on the brave sailor. Or maybe mock him. A stray bullet pierced the rocket, which wagged to the side, and, raising a cloud of spray, fell into the water. The Aegis system began to come to life. The radars cleared of interference and showed ... Probably, it would be better if this damned missile continued to jam the signals. A dozen or two cruise missiles were approaching the fleet, followed by a second wave of eight larger marks. In other circumstances, it would be a mosquito bite. Well, not with mosquitoes, but with dogs - a couple of missiles could miraculously break through the barrier. Still, Russian anti-ship missiles are difficult to shoot down. But now there was only one destroyer in service, and enemy missiles were less than a minute away. They did what they could, launching as many Standard-2s as they could on the second wave. Forced to ignore the five "calibers" that went straight to their ship. The Russian missiles reached their targets and, where the four destroyers and the command ship Mount Whitney had been, bulged, overlapping, red-and-black clouds of explosions, scattering burning debris far away. Three destroyers and a flagship sank to the bottom of the deepest depression in the Mediterranean. One, oddly enough, the same "Trunstun", remained afloat, mangled and beyond repair. Lieutenant Gunner Steve Dunkins was thrown far out to sea by the blast, and half-stunned, he watched his own ship burn. And then the roar of new explosions covered him. The heroic anti-aircraft gunners of the "Trunstun" managed to shoot down two "Volcanoes". They managed to lay another one from the Dwight Eisenhower. So only five missiles reached the aircraft carrier. Only five five-hundred-kilogram warheads, designed specifically for destroying capital ships, crashed into the giant ship. One swept away deck superstructures, two - mangled the flight deck, punching huge ragged holes in it. And two more dived, exploded above the starboard waterline itself. Water rushed into the huge gaps, the ship, blazing with fires, began to list. But he was indescribably tenacious, and the crew, along with pilots and technicians, desperately fought for their ship and their own lives. With incredible efforts, the ship managed to defend against the water element and, lopsided, still continuing to smoke with fire, was slowly and carefully towed to the nearest base. But that was later. And now, over an open radio channel, came a message in good English, but with a rough accent: "Rockets with nuclear warheads have been loaded into the launchers. If you act aggressively, we will strike." The captain of the missile cruiser Anzio clenched his fists furiously. He really wanted to give the order for a return salvo. Of course, from such a distance, the Russians can only be reached by "tomahawks", and it is unlikely that they will be able to create a sufficient salvo to pass through the vaunted Russian "Fort", but he would try. That's just nuclear warheads meant the beginning of a nuclear war. If the Russians use them, the world will go under. And the junior rear admiral wanted to live. He also thought that if the Russians immediately fired thermonuclear missiles at the fleet, then five warheads each twenty times more powerful than the one that destroyed Hiroshima would burn out the entire fleet. They can do it even now. As well as with any other fleet of America, which seemed invincible half an hour ago. And all because of those four missiles, with their devilish stuffing. 18:27. Phone conversation. - Do you even realize what you've done? - the usually calm Minister of Defense shouts into the phone. Rear Admiral Serpukhov even pushed it away from his ear. - We are two steps away from nuclear war! “So we need to take one more step,” the fleet commander replied calmly. - I have already told the Americans that there are missiles with special ammunition on the launchers. - I heard your message, - the minister suddenly calmed down, wearily answered. Do you think they'll be scared? - This is not. It is necessary to frighten them so that they freeze in horror, and are afraid to move. - We are just discussing this ... at the very top. And... I'll give you your opinion. All. And don't freak out anymore! You've already done ten tribunal cases. 18:48. Washington. Hillary Clinton was as pale as a mummy. All the carefully retouched wrinkles were clearly visible. She firmly gripped the edge of the podium with her fingers and read the speech. ...A terrible challenge... ...We have not suffered such losses since the battles in the Pacific... ...We need to unite like never before... ...We will unite the whole world in the fight against a terrible enemy - Russia. ... ...Our answer will be ... Suddenly, she stopped in mid-sentence, took out a small phone, only outwardly similar to a cell phone. She stared at him fearfully and slowly raised it to her ear. And she stood listening for a long, long minute. Tens of millions of viewers were covered with fear. Many have already come unstuck from the TVs and rushed around their homes, trying to collect the necessary things, or even, in what they were, got into cars and at maximum speed, not paying attention to the rules of the road, tried to get away from cities, to places where they might not be. radiation and a shock wave will get it. And the president staggered, tried to grab onto the podium and fell to the floor like a mowed down one. The officers who rushed to her aid fussed over the old woman who had fainted. It was like a trigger. Now most of the inhabitants of the United States, and indeed the rest of the countries that are members of NATO, are in a panic. And from the TV screens, after a half-minute pause, the face of the Russian president looked at the people rushing about in horror. He read the ultimatum. "... Russia's strategic nuclear forces have been placed on full combat readiness..." The hatches from the missile silos were moving. Glasses with Poplars and Yars were raised to the starting state. Strategic bombers took off into the sky, submarines entered the given areas. "... At the slightest sign of aggression from the United States, the NATO bloc, South Korea and Japan, we will launch a preventive nuclear strike against all of the listed countries. Exactly as I said: if any of these countries attack military or civilian facilities of the Russian Federation, we we will hit all the countries that are part of the NATO bloc, Japan and South Korea, as well as any other states where there are US military bases ... "People in Hungary, France, Japan looked at the TV screens with fear. What are they for? They didn’t do anything bad to Russia? They only wanted to be protected by the greatest country of modern times! And for this they-nuclear bombs?! And what if some Estonian tanker, crazy on Russophobia, shoots towards the Russian border? And what, because of such an idiot, Berlin, Seoul and Sofia will burn down?! The world is frozen. Never before had he been so close to death. And the American president, who managed to bring to life, holding her heart, whispered: - We must stop this. In no case do not provoke the Russians. They, fucking psychos, will really destroy everything! The last thing she wanted in the world was to be president of the radioactive wastelands. And, of course, no one cared about Ukraine, which rushed with its fists at a hefty Russian bear, counting on the support of its overseas owners, and now raked to the fullest. "So be it! If it weren't for those assholes, thousands of American sailors wouldn't have died, and the greatest country in the world wouldn't have received such a painful kick." So far, politicians have not yet realized how painful this kick will be, and how it will redraw the map of the world in the near future.
Chapter 5
Wow! Demonstration! Kagatsuki Shiro got up from his desk and stuck to the window pane. Hana Hayakawa craned her neck to look outside. From her third row, it was difficult to see what was going on outside the window. In general, Kagatsuki either had excellent eyesight or simply caught crows by looking out the window instead of listening to his teacher. Otherwise, it would be difficult to notice people walking along the road fifty meters from the school, and even behind the trees of the school park. For some reason, Kamimura-sensei did not call for order, and seeing this, almost the entire fifth grade of Nishida Elementary School was trying to see people walking past the gates of Shokei Middle School with home-made posters and banners. The teacher glanced at his watch, became thoughtful, and only then spoke. As always, quietly, so that the hubbub that began quickly subsided, and the students sat down in their places, listening to the teacher. - In half an hour, a rally will begin in the wasteland behind the metro workshops. And let's go to it. The children cheered happily. Only Hirayama Yuki, an excellent student and a bore, asked in a harmful voice: - Kamimura-sensei, what about the lesson? - This will be a social science lesson, - the teacher answered seriously. - What is happening now will change our country. I think you will tell your children and grandchildren about this. You will have a lot of activities in your life, but it is unlikely that you will be able to participate in historical events yourself. So pack up and get out. Not a step away from me, and be disciplined. And don't make noise in the hallway! Let's go secretly. The boys almost howled with delight. Yes, and Hana became cheerful and anxious at the same time. They quietly, huddled together, went down to the first floor, changed into outdoor shoes, not even jostling at the lockers, and filed out into the yard. There they lined up decorously and approached the gate in an organized manner. The attendant looked questioningly at Kamiura-sensei. - On an excursion, - the teacher said briefly, and the children went out into the street. "Kamimura-sensei," Kirigaya Tanaka, walking beside him, quietly asked, "Won't you be scolded for that?" "I don't think so," the teacher replied calmly. - Director Sakamoto-sama supports the communists. Maybe he will even be at the rally. So it's all right. It was hot outside in summer. Especially in a uniform jacket. Hana thought it was stupid to break the rules like that and force herself to roast in her uniform. She tugged at the buttons angrily as she unbuttoned her jacket. Defiantly opened it. Her classmates looked at her, but no one but that bully Kagatsuki followed suit. And the teacher gave Hayakawa a disapproving look, but didn't say anything. Hana scowled. It was not unpleasant for her to go against everyone, but doing it together with Kagatsuki was a shame. Meanwhile, a procession of fifth graders passed through the narrow streets and came out to the bridge over the Zenpukuji River, which meandered, squeezed into a narrow concrete channel. There were more and more people on the streets. They all went east to two vast wastelands and a playground separating them, on which a makeshift tribune was erected. Suginami is a typical one-story neighborhood in Tokyo. Buildings are very dense, and it is very difficult to find a place for a rally. Even now, everyone could not fit in the wasteland, and the schoolchildren had to stop on the adjoining street. Fortunately, the house near which they huddled was surrounded by a high, half a meter terraced lawn. The guys climbed onto its concrete edge, trying not to trample the grass, and now they could at least make out something beyond the sea of heads, over which banners waved. In fact, there wasn't much to see. Well, some people are performing, and okay. Loudspeakers carried fragments of phrases: ...Let's take back the country!.. ...true neutrality! Good relations with all neighbors, including Russia, China and even North Korea!... ...not on orders from across the ocean!.. ...They covered us like a bandit hostage!.. ...We don't want to die for Americans! Down with the occupying forces!.. ...Seventy years they have been treating us like a conquered country!... ...No other people's nuclear weapons!.. ...Japan is a great power and must decide for itself how to live, and not dance to the tune!.. Khana heard it all at home. My father hasn't been working for two months now. At their firm, as elsewhere in the country, strike after strike. So he either sits at home and discusses politics with his mother and friends, or goes to such rallies. First, the people sought the resignation of the government, then early elections. Now the Communists, the Social Democrats, the Rising Sun Party and a few other tiny parties of the same size have united in the Japanese National Front and are trying to get a majority in parliament. The girl herself was not interested in what was happening. Yes, we need to drive the Americans away, close all their bases. Return to tradition. Probably it is necessary ... But this is the business of adults. She was much more worried about whether her father would buy the promised computer. And then Khana doesn’t even have a Sonya! Well, how can you live like that?!
Chapter 6
Bad Vihar, Delhi, India.
Kieran saw him near the garbage cans. And froze with surprise and joy. Probably, the former owners decided that the computer might be useful to someone, they did not stuff it into a fetid container, but put it next to it. A light gray system unit and a shabby, huge monitor that looks like an old TV. Kieran looked around to see if anyone would be tempted by this treasure. He approached, squatted down in front of him, touched a tin, standing upright box. He pressed the softly pressed buttons of the black dusty keyboard lying on top of the system unit. "What to do?!" Kieran understood that he would not be able to drag both the system unit and the monitor at once. He was a strong boy, but still he was only nine years old. I wanted to take the monitor first, and then suddenly someone would kick it and break it, but Kieran knew that the main thing in the computer was this very box. With difficulty, the boy lifted the heavy monitor and pushed it behind the last trash can. And then he grabbed the system. It was not too heavy, but it was very inconvenient to carry. The sharp edges dug into the fingers, which all the time strove to slip off, the keyboard slipped first in one direction, then in the other. But the boy, never taking a break, carried his priceless trophy home. He kicked open the door and placed it on the kitchenette floor. And he ran headlong back. He was terribly afraid that he would not find his treasure, that someone would take it away or ruin it. But everything was fine. The monitor gleamed invitingly with its slightly convex glass because of the smelly tank. Here Kiran carried it carefully, stopping a couple of times and resting. Entering the house, he found his mother looking thoughtfully at the prey, and the younger sisters - Vadya and Jyoti, who looked like curious animals from behind their mother's sari. - Well, what kind of trash did you bring? Mom asked sternly. - Computer! Kieran said proudly. I hope you didn't steal it? Mrs. Chaudhary asked for order, although she had no doubt that her son was not capable of such a thing. - Of course not! - he answered indignantly. - He stood near the trash can! - So, we climb the garbage cans? I think my father will be very happy about it. He dreamed that you would become a master, not a garbage man. - Near the trash can! Kieran repeated indignantly. - Eh ... Okay, let it stand. But for sure it is broken, otherwise they would not have thrown it away. And don't you dare turn it on yourself! Wait for dad. In the evening, as soon as his father came home from work, Kieran began to spin around him. Vikarm Chaudhary shushed him and looked inquiringly at his wife. They talked about something, and the father looked into the nursery. The tiny room was cramped. Vadya and Jyoti played while sitting on the lower bunk of the bunk bed on which they slept together. And Kieran sat on a wobbly chair in front of the table, which was surprisingly empty of textbooks, books and toys forever lying on it. A computer sat proudly in the middle of the table. - Nu, and that you such dragged? - tired and doomed father asked. The son silently, pleadingly and devotedly looked at him. - Okay, now we'll figure it out while mom cooks dinner. Vikram left and soon returned with screwdrivers and a tester - a large dark gray, with a twister littered with letters and icons, an LCD screen and long cords - black and red. Kieran, as always, looked at the device with admiration and lust. He was forbidden to touch it, but he wanted to! Father unfolded the system unit and quickly unscrewed it. He began to poke somewhere with probes. The tester beeped from time to time. “There is no short one,” Vikram said incomprehensibly. - Well, let's try to turn it on, shall we? He carefully inserted the plug into the socket. Something inside the computer beeped. And nothing more. - Well, let's see ... Father began to stick the copper tips of the probes into a large plastic socket. - Yeah! The power supply is dead. The reference voltage does not give out ... Father's words were like magic spells. Kieran, with his mouth slightly open, watched as if at a sacred ceremony, at how his father continued to dismantle the computer. The power supply inside is overgrown with a thick layer of dust. - Get the vacuum cleaner! Vikram ordered. The boy darted out of the room like an arrow, dragged the vacuum cleaner out of the pantry, dragged it out, plugged it into the outlet in the corridor himself. The purring machine quickly sucked out the dust. Her father helped her swallow the dirt, brushing it off with a brush. And then he laid out the opened block in front of him and began to carefully examine it. - Hold the tester in front of me. Kiran, not believing in such happiness, cautiously picked up the device and raised it so that it was more convenient for his father to see the screen. Mom barely managed to call them for dinner. Which the men swallowed silently and extremely quickly, and then again rushed into the nursery. Probably for three hours they pored over the computer. Vikram thought that he had not spent so much time with his son and had not been engaged in such an interesting activity for a very, very long time. That is, the occupation was ordinary - he constantly dealt with all kinds of electronics at work, but it was very pleasant to tinker with his son like this. “Maybe he will really follow in my footsteps?” thought my father. “We just need to give him a good education. Otherwise, Kieran will have to be as difficult as it once was for me." At night, lying in bed, mom and dad talked for a long time, and decided that it was time to save money for the boy's future studies. Of course, it was not possible to repair the computer in one evening. But Vikram figured out the damaged parts and on Sunday morning he and his son went to the "radio flea market". On a vast wasteland, numerous merchants spread pieces of oilcloth and fabric right on the trampled earth. In boxes with many compartments, there were radio components, some boards were green in rows, some various devices, coils of cables and other mysterious things.Father, referring to the list, bought three tiny, three-legged octopus-like transistors and a dozen pot-bellied barrels of electrolytic capacitors.Kiran tried to remember the names of the parts and asked his father what they were for.Vikram had to It's not easy explaining this to a little son, but in general terms he did it. The rosin stink of the whole room, and mother wrinkled her nose in displeasure and took her sisters for a walk in the yard. The men finished their work in the evening. Father gently pressed the button, and the computer buzzed, something inside it clicked softly, and the Windows 98 splash screen appeared on the monitor. Kiran looked at his father enthusiastically and Vikram felt such pride, as if he had accomplished an epic feat.
Chapter 7
Urban settlement Razdolnoye, Republic of Crimea.
The war has long rolled back to the north. For two months from the side of Krasnoperekopsk there was a continuous thunder and booze. Airplanes were flying overhead, and along the Yevpatoriya Highway, columns of equipment were going north, and trailers with torn up tanks and combat vehicles going south. Then, the Ukrainian army, which got into the Perekop cauldron, surrendered, and everything was quiet. But it didn't make it any easier for us. Because Andrei died in early June. I remember getting this letter out of the mailbox. For some reason, it immediately became uncomfortable. Mom opened it, read it, and fell down on the sofa like a wreck. Shriveled, sobbed. I immediately understood everything. She sat down next to her, buried her face in her trembling shoulder and roared. So we cried together with her. Father came in the evening. Cheerful and a little drunk. He was talking in the hallway until his mother shocked him with the news. The father literally darkened his face. I never saw my brother. He was brought in a closed metal coffin and buried the same day. Maybe good. I remember him alive. And what was left of him was probably very scary. His commander wrote that an artillery shell exploded near Andrei. I did read the letter after all. It was written by hand, in a clumsy handwriting, but I thought it was better than if it had been typed. After that, it became somehow empty and very, very dreary. My father drank heavily. He used to often apply to the bottle, but now he almost does not come off of it. Mom at first reacted to this with understanding, but time passed, and nothing changed. It's good that we don't have a violent one. He only becomes talkative and quickly goes to bed. But it's still annoying and even scary. That is, I understand that he will never do anything bad to me, but I can’t help myself, I shy away from him. And not only from him. I've become such a coward! There is nothing with the girls yet, and if there is a guy in the company, then I stay away, or even go home. In general, I spend more and more time at home. This summer is black. The holidays are unbearably long. I have only been to the sea once. Father, having made an effort on himself, managed a whole weekend without vodka and took my mother and me right under Chernomorskoye. It was the twelfth of August, and at the same time we celebrated the second time my birthday. Too bad we couldn't have barbecue. The border guards visited us three times already and did not allow us to make a fire. So we just sat up late on a deserted beach. And in the morning they went back. I miss my brother very much. I constantly forget, and I think: "Here it will be necessary to show him this anime! ", or "Then I'll ask him ...". We were not exemplary brother and sister, we often swore, sometimes he brought me to tears. But it doesn't matter. "And the first days were almost normal. Only for some reason they shunned me, and I noticed some whispering. And then, one day, Vitka Solntseukh, nicknamed "The Sun with Ears", a loser and a bully, approached me. And he asked with a sort of casualness: "Is it true that the Ukrainians caught you and kept you in a vegetable warehouse?" eyes - tears. - Aha! So, it’s true! - the small and mischievous Seryoga Novikov joyfully jumped up. - Tell me, how are you? - continued the Sun and pulled his hand towards me. I was twisted by resentment, shame and horror, I, not understanding , rushed away from them, almost fell along the way, collided with Dasha, jumped out the door and ran down the corridor, locked herself in a cubicle in the toilet and sobbed for a long time there. I probably sat there half the lesson. Going back to class was unimaginable. I waited for a change and only then darted for a backpack. Behind, from a flock of boys - gurgling. And the girls whisper and look askance at me. And, the most offensive, Dasha and Vera are with them, hiding their eyes and trying hard to show that they do not notice me. I grabbed my backpack and rushed out of the school. The next day, I pretended to go to school, and I myself hid nearby and, after waiting for my parents to leave for work, I returned home. This went on for three more days. And then our class called mom and asked why I was not in class? I didn't want to, but there was a scandal. Vitka's mother was summoned to see the director. And then, at the classroom hour, Valentina Ivanovna strictly demanded: "So that no one bothers Belyakova! The girl has already had to endure so much, and you bring her up!" And the “glory” of the sneak was also attached to me. Well, the angry "Eared Sun", which apparently flew cool from his parents, continued to get me. He was smart enough to do it unnoticed. Well, almost imperceptibly. But that didn't make it any less creepy. And then he discovered a great way. At recess, he just walked by and touched me, supposedly by chance. And every time I have a cold lump in my stomach and such a panic that I could hardly resist not to run away screaming. And sometimes it didn't hold back. She locked herself in the toilet again. At the next class hour, Valentina Ivanovna again started talking about me, to which "Eared Sun" made innocent eyes and muttered resentfully: - What am I? I hit on her, didn't I? It hurts! She's totally psychotic! And half of the class began to shout that it was so, Belyakova herself was to blame. And the other half looked at me with hostility and slight pity. Like some kind of freak. And nothing has changed. Only now almost all the boys began to scare me. And the girls were even offended that I didn’t react to them like that, and arranged all sorts of tricks. And I endured it all. Because it would be completely unbearable to be branded as a sneak again. The best time at school was the lessons. On them, I sat at my table near the wall, where Valentina Ivanovna put me away and no one could shove me. True, it became very difficult for me to answer at the blackboard. I did not want to look at the hated faces of my classmates. So the ratings went down. I started to roll into triplets. In general, I was indifferent, but to give up even here was somehow completely insulting. But I discovered that I could fix things with writing. Almost all control wrote perfectly well. And mathematics, which was not very beloved before, suddenly became so simple and understandable. There is no meanness, betrayal, malice in figures and equations. And physics followed suit. At the lessons I managed to solve all the problems, and even do my homework. Teachers, seeing this, began to call me to the blackboard less often. I felt a glass cap growing around me and becoming thicker, separating me from everyone else. Moreover, the boys began to scare me less. They must have gotten tired of it. In addition, during the breaks, I quickly left and hid somewhere. Most often in the same toilet, for which she earned the contemptuous nickname "Toilet Mouse" from the girls. The boys altered it more rudely and indecently. And, worst of all, I began to get used to such a life. The life of an outcast. Mom sometimes talked about my transfer to another school. But in our village there are only two of them, they are located side by side, and I am sure that everyone there will quickly find out about me and the same thing will begin, only worse. And... I won't lie. A couple of times I had thoughts of finishing everything at once. But I imagined what would happen to my mother ... She concentrated all her love on me. It used to be divided between me, my brother, and my father, but now it's focused on me alone. And with my father ... He still drank, and my mother carefully asked me who I would stay with if they divorced. Of course, with her, how could it be otherwise?! Also with grandparents. During the autumn holidays we went to Yalta to see them. I love my mother's parents very much. It's a shame they live so far away. And that the father does not like to visit them. Grandfather and grandmother have a large two-room apartment in the center of Yalta. And if...
Chapter 8
Sky over Ukraine.
The fighter of Senior Lieutenant Myskin patrolled the assigned area alone. On board the plane, under the lantern, there were still three yellow stars outlined in red. However, in the entire regiment, in addition to the fighters of Igor and Major Komov, only one crew had a single red star. Ukrainian aircraft ran out too quickly, most of them not even taking off from airfields destroyed by cruise missile explosions. True, about a month after the start of the war, the Ukrainians bought three dozen old, Soviet-built cars from Poland. But they were literally torn to pieces by the Russian aces, starving for prey. So the dream of "the entire world community" of a no-fly zone over Ukraine has come true. There was no one in the sky except Russian planes. And this was not only a plus. Now, for Ukrainian anti-aircraft gunners, any flying object is a target. Yes, the Esok were destroyed in the first hours of the war, but very mobile and agile Buks remained. They quickly deployed the complex, caught the nearest plane, fired rockets and tried to drive away and hide. Only a few succeeded in the latter, and in about a couple of months almost all the Buks were destroyed. But a dozen VKS aircraft were lost. Attack aircraft had much greater losses, and helicopter pilots were especially serious. "Arrows" and "Eagle" at one time riveted a lot, and Western weapons flowed to Ukraine in a fairly wide stream. So in military operations, Russian generals tried to make do with only ground forces and bombers that worked from a great height. And for fighters, like the one that Igor Myskin was now leading, there were almost no cases left. Only patrolling the lifeless sky. The senior lieutenant laid a gentle turn. Looked down at the ground. It flew over the north of the Nikolaev region. Thirty kilometers to the east, smoke could be seen over Krivoy Rog. There are still fights going on. Ukrainian volunteer battalions hold the northwestern regions. The Novorossians are trying to knock them out, but without much success. The Russian armed forces generally try not to participate in urban battles. In the very first days of the war, the armored fists of the Russian army broke through the front, put the enemy in five boilers and spilled over the Ukrainian plains at once, destroying everyone who tried to resist, but bypassing large settlements. An exception was made only for Kharkov and Odessa, which were captured by lightning assaults. And the rest of the city was given to free the Novorossians. In the same Kharkov, the government of the Novorossiysk Confederation was quickly formed, which included all the territories taken under control. And the army, which was based on veterans of the LDNR, filled with recruits from the Kherson, Kharkov, Nikolaev and other republics, grew and strengthened at a rapid pace. Moreover, there were no problems with weapons. Russia didn’t even have to especially launch the “voentorg”, it was enough that the Confederations transferred all the captured equipment, of which there was a huge amount. The boilers did not last long. Perekopsky was the last to surrender. By the way, he was slammed first. Already on the second night after the start of the war, a massive airborne assault in the south of the Kherson region broke all communications, and the tank and two motorized rifle divisions that replaced the desperately defending paratroopers, which broke through north of Mariupol, finally completed the encirclement. Then for two months Perekop was ironed with everything possible and impossible, including cluster and vacuum bombs. The Ukrainians fought stubbornly, recalling that in fact they are the same Russians, and they know how to fight to the end. But, the end always comes at some point. Igor leveled the plane. Now he was flying north to Cherkassy. And further, deep into the "uncontrolled territory." Russia did not, as predicted by all sorts of analysts, capture Kyiv in a couple of days, and Lvov in two weeks. For what? Urban fighting is the worst thing in the war. That is why they were left to the Novorossians. And the Russian army stopped at the northern and western borders of the Confederation, preventing enemy troops from approaching. Infrequent attacks were repulsed brutally, the remnants of artillery were destroyed. So, in fact, the war has already ended, although no one was going to make peace. It's just that the enemy has nothing serious left to resist the Russian troops. The old equipment that their friends from NATO sent was in a lousy state, and Novorossia now has most of the industrial enterprises where it could be revived. And the Americans and their allies were embarrassed to help with modern armored vehicles, especially after several columns of Abrams and Leopards were destroyed immediately after they crossed the Ukrainian border. Yes, and the allies of the United States greatly diminished. Marine Le Pen stated that she was in no way going to fight with Russia, and France, as once under De Gaulle, withdrew from the NATO military bloc. Greece, Türkiye, Austria and Hungary did the same. Germany seethed with anti-war rallies. But the biggest loss for the US was Japan. Clinton spoke very poorly at one of her speeches, at the end of May. She managed to say that it was only thanks to the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki that Japan embarked on the path of democracy. And, if it is necessary to pay for the ideals of freedom, she is sure the Japanese will do it again. She also said that Japan is an outpost of the forces of light. Barrier from evil Russia, China and North Korea. This "barrier" she was not forgiven. Japan not only revolted, it exploded. Being a shield behind which the Americans are hiding is too insulting. And in general, so much has accumulated over the 70 years of the actual occupation ... And now a bloc of communists, social democrats and all kinds of patriotic parties is in power there. The new prime minister immediately threatened that if the United States did not start withdrawing all its bases, then Japan would declare war on them. And in support of his words, he ordered the bases to be blocked by self-defense forces. So the world down there, under the Su-27, was changing, and very quickly. Just as, quite possibly, his country will change. Admiral Serpukhov was not dismissed and was not handed over to the tribunal. The Western powers demanded this with howls, and, therefore, to do this means to follow their lead and show weakness. He was simply transferred back to his former position of chief of staff of the fleet, appointing another admiral as commander of the fleet. But a month ago, Gennady Serpukhov resigned. And last week, the formed Front of the Left Forces announced that it was nominating the "winner of the sixth fleet" as a candidate for the upcoming presidential elections. And, no matter how opinion polls say, he has every chance of defeating the nominee from the "party of power." At least, Igor himself, and almost without exception other pilots of the regiment, will vote for "their admiral." A sharp signal said that the aircraft was being bombarded with radar. The instruments showed the bearing and the distance - twenty-three kilometers to the west. Igor, startled, cursed, extremely abruptly, with almost sevenfold overload, turned the plane to the east. As in that only air battle, at the end of the maneuver he turned on the afterburner. The co-pilot dropped the traps because he saw two rockets take off from the radar area. "Damn! That's bad luck! And they thought they had run out of Buks!" The overload pressed Igor into the back of the seat, and the plane, having switched to supersonic, continued to pick up speed, trying to break away from tenacious, but short-range missiles. They "blown away" three kilometers behind the tail, pecked down and rushed to the ground. And from the very edge of the radar screen, three points crawled across him: an escort MiG and two Su-34s. They rush to bombard the coordinates transmitted by Igor. Most likely, this installation of the khan. Igor only now noticed how tightly he was squeezing the handle of the steering wheel. "Yes, I grabbed the adrenaline well!" The pilot relaxed and reduced thrust. I asked the center about further actions, received an order to return home and headed for my native airfield.
Chapter 9
Suginami district, Tokyo, Japan.
Chapter 10
Bad Vihar, Delhi, India.
But Kiran Chaudhary has almost stopped playing on the computer lately. After he and his father restored it, Kieran begged a hundred rupees from his father and went to the very radio market where they bought spare parts. Even at that time, he spotted a couple of hawkers selling old CDs. And now he hovered over them, probably for two hours. In huge flat wooden boxes, untold riches stood in rows - battered and scratched plastic boxes with DVDs and CDs. Kieran sorted through them, lustfully looked at the bright pictures, and then carefully read the system requirements. They were usually written in small print on the back of the boxes. The father told his son in detail that it should be indicated there in order for the game to go on their ancient apparatus. The computer was, the end of the nineties. K-6 processor, "whole" 32 megabytes of RAM, a ridiculous 8 gigabytes of hard drive. Some drives had no system requirements, and the boy asked the salesperson for advice. He looked at him with pity, and with the words: - Managed to get you such antiquity! He himself began to delve into his goods, sometimes stopping for a few seconds with some kind of game in his hands, looking at it nostalgically. In general, they put aside a dozen boxes, and the merchant, being generous, gave them all for the same hundred rupees. At the same time, he grumbled that it was tearing away from the heart and it would be necessary to request three times more. But, actually, he was happy to sell them. After all, such antediluvian computers like this little boy practically did not survive. Yes, and he liked the kid: so small, but he already understands something and communicates with adults without fear and constraint. Kieran brought the acquired wealth home and in the evening he and his father set about installing games together. In class, when Kiran boasted that he had a computer at home, at first everyone began to envy him, but then Mahavir lazily inquired: "What kind of car?" and, having heard the answer, categorically commented: "Scrap metal. Throw it away better." Well, yes, his father has almost a new one. And the boys in the class were divided almost in half. Some scoffed, others envied and asked to visit. Some buddies got into the habit of going to Kieran's and playing on his computer. Sometimes they were so carried away that the boy had to force them out from behind the screen and kick them out. However, he was kind and sociable, so that the gatherings at the computer did not stop for several months. But by spring, they gradually faded away. Two guys from his class got game consoles at home, and the gang moved to them. Kiran was also called, but he proudly refused. Do not betray your old, but still friend. Kieran treated the computer like a pet - very smart, but stupid. And he was surprised by the stories of his father, how much computers can do. He was offended that he was such a fool, and a month ago, at the beginning of March, once again rummaging through the tray of a disk seller, his eyes caught on a box with a loud name: "The Greatest Programming Languages, from BASIC to C++". Turning it over in his hands, Kieran put it aside for some reason. The merchant raised an eyebrow in surprise, but said nothing. At home, dad was also surprised by such a purchase: - Why do you need this? - I want my Compy smarter, like those computers you told me about. My father chuckled and, rummaging through a chest of drawers, took out a couple of books. He handed it to his son: - Hold on, I studied them in college. I just doubt that you will understand any of them. Kieran squinted slightly at his father and nodded in acceptance of the challenge. Yes, it was incredibly difficult for a boy who had just turned ten years old to understand books on the basics of programming. But, to his father's surprise, he coped with this and a week later he proudly demonstrated a simple program in BASIC that answered pre-conceived questions. "What is your name?" "Compy" "What's your favorite game?" "A lot! In what genre?" "Shooters" "Anreal. Well, also Heretik" And so on. - Here you see! I can already talk to Compy! Kieran rejoiced. The father laughed. But a month later, Kiran installed Delphi, and Vikram Chaudhary reconsidered his opinion about his son. And he decided that it was time to think about transferring him to a more serious school. Even if it's paid.
Chapter 11
Yalta, Republic of Crimea.
I don't know how I survived seventh grade. How many tears did she shed at home in the pillow and in the school toilet? I even had a favorite cabin in which I closed myself. No, of course, I tried to find more suitable places to wait out the changes. It's good for the Japanese - they have school roofs for this. But our attic, of course, was locked. And I had to look for myself some not too crowded corners. True, later, when they almost left me alone, I simply remained in the classroom and sat at my desk in the row farthest from the windows. By the end of the year, I more or less pulled up my studies, finished the year with almost only fours. Even in literature, which I almost failed. Mostly because of the lyrics. I completely forgot how to read them. She memorized them easily, but as soon as she went to the blackboard, she began to stutter and mutter without any expression. But in history and physical education, I still managed to get three. It's a shame, of course. After all, I know history well, but we were almost never satisfied with tests on it, and we had to answer at the blackboard, shivering under the gaze of classmates. Anyway! I don't go to this school anymore! In April, my mother and father divorced. Without any scandals, although quarreled to the bone. Mom immediately sued for the division of property. My father kept the car. Of course, he put so much effort and work into it! Still, he is considered the best car mechanic in the village. And the court decided to sell the apartment and other property and divide the money. We got over half. As soon as my studies ended, my mother took me to my grandparents in Yalta, and she herself returned to Razdolnoye. She sold the apartment and furniture surprisingly quickly and for good money. Just before the elections, the then prime minister made a grand gesture, paying compensation to all those who lost their homes during the battles for Perekop. Mom sold our three-room Khrushchev apartment to refugees from Armyansk and arrived in Yalta in mid-July. We suddenly have a lot of money! Mom put some of them in the bank, for my studies and "dowry", as she joked. I hope I never need it! Communication with the male half of the world was enough for me for the rest of my life. It was just wonderful to live with grandma Olya and grandpa Sergei! I love them very much and they love me too. So in all sorts of care, I just bathed. She also swam in the sea. To be honest, it even started to bother me a little. Five kilometers from Razdolnoe to the sea - more than an hour to walk. Therefore, my girlfriends and I went to it only a few times over the summer. Yes, Razik's father took us out in a car for five. And swimming in the sea I perceived as a miracle, which is very difficult to get to. Like mountaineering, when you need to sweat to climb a mountain. And then the nearest beach is a five-minute leisurely walk! There are still few tourists this year. Of course, not the dead season that was in the seventeenth, but there are no crowds either. So my grandparents and I didn't go far. Usually we swam in the morning or in the evening, but I still thoroughly tanned. And when mom arrived, the holiday began in general! She took me to various interesting places, fed me in cafes, bought a bunch of beautiful clothes. She also gave me a fancy new smartphone for my birthday. I resisted: - Why do I need it?! I can still call you! - Let it be! Show off to your friends! “So I don’t have girlfriends,” I answered a little frowningly. After the betrayal of Dasha and Vera, I absolutely do not want to get close to anyone. Not in real life, not socially. - Don't worry, you'll get into the new school! Mom said confidently. Mom enrolled me in the prestigious Chekhov Gymnasium, it is not far from our house, about five minutes walk up the alleys. By the way, I also live on Chekhov Street! This ancient writer is just haunting me! I even became interested in what and how he wrote. Moreover, according to the program, he was asked for the summer. Grandfather and grandmother have three bookcases, including a collection of works by Anton Pavlovich. Yeah, I even remember his name. I pulled the volume out of the middle and read a couple of stories. I did not like. Boring and kinda annoying to read. I don't like it when people are looked down upon, like curious bugs crawling underfoot. I had to eat the unpleasant aftertaste of Lukyanenko's Knights of the Forty Islands. It's good that grandfather loves science fiction, and they also have a lot of such books. And next to our house are real ruins! Picturesque ones. An old three-story house, or rather the walls left from it, overgrown with bushes and young trees. I really wanted to explore these ruins, but I was afraid. You never know who can live there ... In general, I did not dare, I just look at them when I pass by. By the way, the gymnasium, which I will go to in the fall, is also in the old house. She is almost one and a half years old! The building is surprisingly beautiful, made of stone, with rounded windows, high ceilings and old parquet. I'm even scared to study in such a place. Although, scary for another reason, of course. Here I will put on the first of September a new school uniform with an embroidered monogram - intertwined with the letter "I" and "G", I will come to the eighth "A" grade and. .. And what? How should I behave? Will I be able to start life from scratch? What am I to do with my androphobia? Yes, I have long found the name of my disease on the Internet. "Panic fear of men." Even when the guys are just next to me, I feel uncomfortable. And if they touch me, I just die from fear. We have to deal with it somehow. But how? Mom took me to a psychologist a couple of times. But what's the use of it? Well, we talked, well, he said a bunch of right words to me. Advised exercises for training. But I read about them without him on the net. Mom encouraged me to go in for sports. And I agreed. Of course, it’s too late at the age of fourteen to start doing something seriously, but I don’t need it for medals! I want to feel confident. And in which case to be able to stand up for themselves. Mom and I walked around a lot of sports sections. I rejected my mother's sighs about gymnastics, synchronized swimming and other girly sports. Then my mother suggested that I go to martial arts. But as soon as I imagined that some boy would hold me, I was covered with goose bumps from head to toe and almost lost consciousness. And boxing or taekwondo scares me. I'm still a coward and I'm afraid of pain. And there, after all, they will beat with all their might, even if they are wearing gloves. - What do you think about fencing? Mom inquired. I shook my head. - It's like a toy. I saw the competition on TV. The swords are thin, the athletes try to touch each other with their tips. This is not at all what it was in the days of the musketeers or pirates. If only I could go to kendo... - Kendo? Mom asked. What is it? - Well, Japanese swordsmanship. Do you remember in the animes that I showed you? - A! Are these bamboo sticks? Mom chimed in and thought. - Wait a minute. Give me ... She drove me away from the computer and began to look for something in Yandex. - Here. It? Aikido, Kobudo, Kendo and Iaido. Livadiya, lane Yunosti, three. Bushido club. Well, let's go? - Let's go! While we were riding on the fifteenth minibus, I was all worried. On the way from the stop to the club, we passed a small chapel, and I hurriedly crossed myself. Actually, I'm not a believer, but still ... Maybe this helped me, but most likely something else calmed me. A small Japanese-style patio, a tiny pond with a real bamboo rocking chair! "Dojo! Not a club at all!" As I said this to myself, I suddenly felt a sense of peace. And when a calm man in a white kimono walked towards us and spoke quietly to my mother, looking at me carefully and seriously, I completely pulled myself together. I don’t know what exactly my mother told him, but the instructor didn’t look very pleased. He walked over to me and looked around again. I obviously did not impress him - an ordinary girl, who was only a couple of weeks old, as she turned fourteen years old. Short and skinny. How to fight with such a sword, if one blow can be demolished? He asked skeptically: - Do you really want to practice kendo? - Hai, sensei, - and I bowed deeply from the waist, as I saw it in animes. - Hm. Are you learning Japanese? "Just a little," I chuckled. But now I'm definitely going to start. - Well, if you are so serious, then let's try... Come to practice the day after tomorrow.
Chapter 12
Krymsk, Russia.
Senior Lieutenant Igor Myskin had a day off today. This meant that the whole day would have to be bored in the hostel of the flight crew, which, in spite of everything, was called the barracks. In the small room where Igor lived with two other pilots, there was a gray twilight. The sky was overcast with low clouds, there was a fine cold November rain, from which you want to cringe. Igor thought that above, above the clouds, the sun was shining. And flying over the endless white sea of clouds is very beautiful. And then sit back and do nothing. Six months ago, Myskin would have been occupied with studying flight maps or hovering around the plane, watching the technicians prepare it for the next flight. But now the general cooldown has covered him too. In fact, the war is over for them. No, no peace with Ukraine was foreseen. The government of Ukraine flatly refused to negotiate with the "aggressor". And after the April coup, when an openly fascist junta came to power, reconciliation became impossible. By the way, because of the actions of the Nazis, especially after the shooting of the Kyiv demonstration in July, it is increasingly difficult for Europeans, especially Germany, to find excuses for them and openly support them. So the planes are still patrolling the Ukrainian sky. But now these are planes of the Novorossiya air force. President Serpukhov handed over to a friendly country a whole bunch of previously mothballed military equipment. It was hastily put in order at factories reanimated after a quarter of a century of independence. So now the army of the People's Confederate Republic could well do without the help of its eastern neighbor. True, it lacked experienced pilots, but this problem was quickly resolved. Lieutenant Colonel Komov, Igor's former leader, as soon as he was awarded the next rank, wrote a report and went to Nikolaev as a military adviser - to train local pilots, half of whom also recently changed their country of residence. And he did the right thing! He is just a little bit before retirement, and so he will remain in the service and in the sky. And Igor Myskin is now the leader in the pair. It put a lot of responsibility on the guy. Let now they were patrolling the sky over the Southern District of Russia, but the situation in the world did not allow to relax. Igor did not have a chance to participate in the Syrian operation of the Aerospace Forces this summer. They were just leaving Ukraine then, and his regiment was not involved. But other guys had to fly and bomb ISIS. And again, things almost ended in a big war with America. After closing the skies over Syria to coalition aircraft, they tried to ignore this and lost two fighters. The game of fleets has begun again, the level of readiness of nuclear forces has again been raised. Fortunately, Tim Kane, who a year ago replaced Hilary, who had not survived the stress of the crisis, stopped in time. But tense relations with America persisted. Yes, and with the remnants of the NATO bloc, too. There is now a powerful American group in Poland, the Baltic states and Romania. Other European countries that did not leave the bloc after France, Hungary and other Montenegros are also building up their muscles. And they are trying with all their might to harm Russia. They disrupted the World Cup, which Myskin was only happy about, and did not let our team go to the Pyeongchang Olympics, which was usually upsetting. And, most importantly, continued to adhere to the oil and gas embargo. They themselves froze, stopped industrial enterprises, but tried to deprive Russia of petrodollars. Naive! Do they really not know how to learn from their own mistakes? There are other states that are very willing to buy our raw materials. Let's say, the same Japan, which also has very tense relations with former allies. So Russia has enough funds for reindustrialization, which the new prime minister is deploying with might and main. Why, he's been talking about it and carefully planning for a couple of decades. Only he was not particularly listened to, playing in the liberal economy. But now the well-known leftist economist and academician has every opportunity to act. Igor heard footsteps in the corridor, and there was a knock on the door of his room: - Allow me? - Sign in. - Sergeant Semiverstov. The messenger, - the boy in the parade, ironed, but wet from the rain, introduced himself. - Senior Lieutenant Igor Myskin? - Yes. - The chief of staff, lieutenant colonel Nazimov, is calling you. - Thank you. Now I'm going. Igor quickly changed into parade and, grabbing an umbrella, ran out into the street. He did not put on anything but a uniform and, shivering from the cold wind, under an umbrella pulled out of his hands, ran to the headquarters building. "Maybe it's good that I'm not flying today," he thought. "It's still a pleasure to land in this weather!" Just in confirmation of his thoughts, there was a roar above him and, raising his head, the senior lieutenant watched the plane coming in for landing. With a trained eye, he estimated that he would land normally and ran on. The headquarters was also in twilight. In some places they even turned on the light, despite the daytime. In the office of the chief of staff, the ceiling lamps burned brightly. - Allow me? Senior Lieutenant Myskin has arrived on your orders! Igor famously saluted and stretched out in front of a thick swarthy man with early graying at the temples sitting at a large desk littered with papers. - I allow it. Sit down, Igor, - Nazimov pointed to a chair, standing on the side of the table. Igor sat down and relaxed. - I have a conversation with you. Serious, - the chief of staff carefully looked at the young pilot. He approached, but did not ask anything. - Well, first of all, I want to please you. We sent the documents for the assignment of the captain yesterday. So by the new year, you will probably add an asterisk to yourself. Igor was really happy. Yes, during the hostilities, the stars on the shoulder straps fall quickly. And yet, in a year and a half, growing from lieutenant to captain is great! But now he will probably be stuck in this rank for three or even four years, but it's not scary! - And the second thing ... - the lieutenant colonel began to look for something on the table among the papers. - You received an order from the headquarters of the army. Igor tensed, trying to figure out what it would be for. It seems that no jambs were remembered. Or is it because of that old story with downed MiGs? So everything seemed to be resolved. True, they did not begin to reward them with Komov, but they congratulated them on the victory, and they were allowed to draw stars on the fuselages. - At the army headquarters, lists of pilots were compiled, who graduated with honors from the school, showed themselves well in a combat situation and have good physical training. Especially when it comes to overload tolerance. You are perfect in every way. The only one from our regiment, by the way. Igor allowed himself to show surprise. He still didn't understand what the lieutenant colonel was getting at. And the chief of staff looked point-blank at the pilot and asked in a low voice: - Do you want to try to enter the cosmonaut corps? It's good that Igor was already in jail. Myskin stared at Lieutenant Colonel Nazimov with such surprise that he could not help it and laughed softly with some kind of chuckles. - Well, now you have a face, Myskin! You should have seen! Don't worry too much. This is just an opportunity to become an astronaut. You can still be weeded out on trials. And suddenly serious: - But I don't think so. I have seen many pilots, and I understand something in people. It seems to me that you will pass, and I will still brag that I nurtured the famous astronaut. So, are you willing to try? - Yes!
Chapter 13 . Russian language.
Suginami district, Tokyo, Japan.
Her team blew it again. Hana tried her best and gave out twice as much damage as her strongest ally. And somewhere on the level of the worst players of the enemy clan. "Nnpatby Dpeykonwnx jop", or whatever that unpronounceable name reads, wins as expected. Still, they are the best on the server. Their captains perfectly feel the dynamics of the battle and drive their airships simply divine. No worse than Hana. And again, after the battle, one of them with the nickname "Dunknn" wrote something to her. And Hana once again limited herself to a sad smiley. You could try to write in English "I don't know Russian", but what's the point? She knows English still very lousy. Hana is only in the sixth grade of elementary school. So, alas ... It's a pity, maybe this same "Danknn" wants to invite her to the clan? That would be great! But, without knowing the Russian language, it is impossible to communicate with the guild members. Hana looked with regret at the beautiful screen saver, admired the collection of her airships and turned off the Allods Pirates. She It's been two months since I got hooked on this game.First I played on the English-language server.I got used to the controls easily and began to win constantly.Either the level of the players was very low, or she knew how to feel the combat vehicles she controlled too well, but Hana quickly became it's boring to play here, and then she decided to try to register on the game's home site.It was not easy, the letters were not the same as in the Latin alphabet, and the girl could not put together meaningful words from them. I had to use an online translator, after downloading support for the Russian language on my computer. But in the end, she started the game. And it turned out that here she is just an average player. Hana got angry either at the Russians or at her own arrogance and took up the game in earnest. And after a couple of weeks, she began to win most battles again. With difficulty, but win. Until I encountered this clan in the "capture points" mission. He tore them to shreds. The ships took off to the utmost height, dived under the ruins floating in the sky, skirted the flying islands and blew up the ships of her group one by one with accurate fire. Yes, and Hana's high-speed corvette also went to rebirth every now and then. This fight hit Hana very hard. And now she was trying to find the battles where "Nnpatbi Dpeykonvnks jop" participates and join the group opposing him. And every time it ended like this. Khan in the top lines of his squad and in the bottom of these very "Nnpatbi". Hana suddenly remembered what she had wanted to do for a long time, launched Google Translate, switched it to Russian-Japanese, opened the virtual keyboard with Cyrillic and typed in the name of this damned clan from memory. - Wow! - the girl was surprised when she read the translation. - Pirates of the Dragon Mountains. And it sounds good! And what does the nickname "Dunknn" mean? Nothing? Then let's try transcription. "Darakin". Well, let it be Darakin, not the worst name. Oh! She glanced at the clock in the lower right corner of the screen and jumped out of her chair. She rushed to the locker, grabbed a backpack with swimming equipment from it and, hastily dressing, ran out into the street. Only ten minutes until training! If she is late, Anna Pavorovona will swear! Hana managed at the last moment. She ran into the locker room, out of breath, with her hair wet from a fine autumn rain. She quickly changed into her bathing suit. The workout was normal. Warm-up, stretching, swimming, holding your breath. And then working out the simplest exercises. Somersaults under water, rotation, when the legs are vertically extended outwards, supports. Hana switched to synchronized swimming during her summer holidays. As a swimmer, she practically stopped growing. Apparently, participation in municipal competitions is her limit. The results of the swims almost do not improve, despite all her efforts. And then in the pool they announced that a synchronized swimming section was opening, and elementary school swimmer girls were invited to it. And it was also written there that a Russian coach would train them. And Hana is on fire! For some reason, she really wanted to do this particular sport. After all, he is so beautiful! So she signed up and has been studying for three months under the strict guidance of Anna Pavorovona. The coach - still quite a young woman - a good swimmer and synchronized swimmer herself, took on the girls very hard. Training was much more serious than that of swimmers. And Hana loved it. It's nice when, after class, the body is buzzing with fatigue, and the next day you feel such a surge of strength that you are ready to run around half of Tokyo. One was difficult. The coach spoke Japanese very poorly, and in training she commanded exclusively in Russian. Again this Russian! And, walking home along the dark evening streets, Hana firmly decided that she would definitely learn the language of the neighboring power. Right now, he will come home - and start! Of course, Hana Hayakawa had no idea how much this decision would affect her life.
Chapter 14
Bad Vihar, Delhi, India.
After the holidays, Kieran changed schools. Now he is a seventh grader at the prestigious Salanka School. Parents are proud that their son wears a burgundy jacket and purple pants. But for Kieran, it's deep purple. It was a pity for him to part with friends, to leave good teachers. And the careless life in an ordinary public school is much freer than in this one, where everyone is polite and tries to behave decorously. And it's hard for Kieran. He was always that fidget, he loved to play and run around during breaks. He's only ten years old, after all! So what if he's a seventh grader? In India, children go to school at the age of four, so Kiran is really just a child. Yes, very gifted, versed in computers as well as a computer science teacher, but still a child. "Compy, hello!" "Hello..." A sad face is on the screen. "What's not in the mood?" "Yes... the processor is overheating. Probably the fan is acting up." "No, it's because it's hot outside!" And, indeed outside almost thirty degrees! Wow winter, huh? "And what is the heat?" - meanwhile asked Compy. The face on the screen took on a curious expression. "High temperature," Kieran wrote. "Ah, got it!" Really, after all, it may seem that the computer is intelligent? Do you know how many tens or even hundreds of hours Kieran spent compiling and expanding the program, according to which his friend, rattling with a failed hard drive and buzzing with old fans, keeps the conversation going? But now you can have quite long and interesting conversations with Compy. The main thing is to try to get out of your head and forget all those algorithms that Kieran developed. And at the same time, use the keywords that the program reacts to. But the boy knew how to play, turning reality into a fairy tale, and therefore he could correspond with his friend for almost hours, inspiring him. Kieran briefly thought that he would have to teach Compy how to talk about the weather. And if you ask dad to solder something that will give the computer the ability to monitor what is happening on the street ... For example, a solar battery so that he knows the sun is shining there, or some kind of sensor that reacts to rain. It will be necessary to talk to dad in the evening when he comes home from work! - Kieran! came a loud voice from the street. - Are you home? Go play robber cops! - I'm running! - the young computer scientist responded and rushed headlong out of the house, towards the games and friends.
Chapter 15
Russian segment of the ISS.
Andrei put his ear to the cold metal of the hatch, warningly raised up, or rather, down in relation to Anatoly floating upside down, a finger. The second cosmonaut froze, drifting slowly along the compartment. After half a minute, he could not stand it, he asked in a whisper: - Well, what? - They trample like elephants, - Andrey answered with a satisfied look and unhooked from the hatch. - Elephants? - asked Anatoly. - Well, yes, so pink, with wings. Both astronauts laughed. In general, the composition of the fifty-seventh expedition to the ISS was chosen especially well. The same age, both forty-nine years old, experienced and very much achieved in life. True, for Andrey it was the first flight, but he was a great engineer who devoted himself to space. And Anatoly already flew to the ISS several years ago and was perfectly oriented here. So it is no coincidence that these two were in the Russian segment of the station at the very end of the eighteenth year. Then, when the Americans finally arrived at the tightly sealed "bourgeois" segment. A year and a half ago, when warships of both powers were blowing up and sinking below, the Russian and American space agencies came to the decision that in this situation it was impossible to continue joint flights. An American, a European and a Russian, with all possible speed, but at the same time carefully, put all the ISS systems into conservation mode. Then the American astronaut closed the hatch of the hermetic adapter in some special way. So that it cannot be opened from the Russian segment. The members of the last fiftieth international expedition silently got into the descent vehicle and, having undocked from the empty space house, rushed to their home planet. Thus ended cooperation in space. And the Russian cosmonautics revived. A month later, a Soyuz docked to the Pirs module. A rescue team arrived at the station. It was necessary to reconfigure all systems so that the Russian segment could function autonomously. First of all, the most difficult task was to build in the on-board computer brought with him and transfer all the control lines of the Russian modules to it. There were already very big suspicions that the central computer of the ISS, assembled by the Americans, might have some kind of malicious bookmarks. So the option of taking over control to your own electronic brain has long been worked out. The astronauts did it. In fact, it was possible to say goodbye to the huge station, which turned into a non-residential appendage to our modules. Detach and fly yourself separately. But, the fact is that the Russian segment can live on its own, but the ISS will die without it. On Zvezda there is a control center, life support systems, housing, after all. Also docking stations for trucks. And, most importantly, the orientation engines of those same cargo "Progress" supported the giant colossus of the international station in orbit, without them the station would deorbit after some time and crash to Earth. It would be a good gesture. Not just a slap in the face, but a knockout blow. The loss of tens of billions of dollars and decades of hard work from NASA, ESA and Jaxa. No, maybe Western countries would have managed to solve this problem before the catastrophe, but they would have to do it by emergency methods. At the time, the Russian leadership simply itched to do this with the enemy. But at that time there was a man in power who knew a lot about conflict diplomacy and wrestling fights. If you can strike to death, it is better not to strike, but to make it clear that you are ready to strike at any second. So the ISS has become a kind of hostage. In the meantime, nothing prevented calmly continue to use it, but on their own. Of course, all plans went to hell, we had to disband and re-train the groups. But, on the other hand, Russian experts breathed a sigh of relief. There is no need to look back at "partners", to adapt to them, to limit one's own research. True, there was another problem. There was a noticeable shortage of astronauts. Back in 1917, four of the most experienced cosmonauts, who had flown a total of seven and a half years, retired. Five more people will go on vacation in the coming years. Yes, and Anatoly and Andrey did not have long to fly. But ahead is the construction of NOX - the National Orbital Space Station, and the lunar program! So the recruitment in the military space forces was hastily announced, and soon the engineers will have to be recruited. But it's wonderful! Russian cosmonautics has finally taken a deep breath! What about the rest of the ISS? She flew just like that, joining the Russian segment full of life. The Americans were hastily working on their manned spacecraft. The contractors, the Space X company, again did not go well, as before with the Falcon. Two unsuccessful launches, fortunately without a crew, long trials, improvements. And so, on the eve of Catholic Christmas, the "Dragon" took off and docked at the station. They entered it from the back door, through the "Harmony". Three astronauts had to assess the possibility of restoring the station. And then, next year, you will have to dock a residential and command module to it. And live with the Russians behind the wall, as in a communal apartment with hated neighbors. Andrei, meanwhile, took out a steel rod from his pocket and knocked loudly on the hatch. Anatoly looked expressively at his friend and twisted his finger at his temple. A minute later, from the side of the hatch, response sounds were heard. - Shall we knock? - inquired the flight engineer. - Do you happen to know the prison cipher? Anatoly burst out, swam up to the hatch, took away a piece of iron from his friend and, alternating strong and weak blows, quickly pounded on the metal, slowly saying aloud: - Hi. How was the flight? A minute later came the response message: - With comfort. We have so much space here. Are you cramped, perhaps? - Anatoly translated and explained: - This is Jack. Andrew smiled, remembering something. Commanded: - Knock! "You be careful there, a ghost has wound up in the Japanese module. It scratches at our hatch at night." And, when the partner finished the transfer, he pressed his ear to the hatch. - They laugh. But in vain! Jack, by the way, is superstitious - worse than me! “Actually, I don’t envy them. It must be creepy to climb a huge cold empty station. - Yes, horror and fear, - Andrey confirmed. “Maybe we can ask MCC for access to space?” I'd sneak onto the Kibo and scratch out the porthole. - Dreamer, - Anatoly smiled. - Good idea, - suddenly came from the speaker. But I won't give you permission. And then suddenly the cowboys will start firing from the Colts with a fright. - Semyon Alexandrovich, well, they're not quite psychos ... probably, - Andrey replied. - Speaking of colts. Most likely, they have weapons with them, so keep your farts handy. I don't think they will be needed, but, nevertheless, - the flight director sighed and continued: - And do not get carried away with tapping. After all, we decided that we would not go into any direct communications with the American crew. Only through official channels. - Semyon Alexandrych, but it's boring! - whined Andrew. - Would you like some extra work? asked a voice from the speaker insinuatingly. - Oh! This is me without thinking! exclaimed the flight engineer. - That's it! Okay, guys, keep doing the routine. And to knock ... I sometimes allow it, just don’t abuse it and don’t scare the amers too much! - We're not too. I just want to tell them some kind of horror story after lights out, well, about a coffin on wheels, for example. The earth laughed.
Chapter 16 . Olympics.
Simferopol, Republic of Crimea.
We were placed in a boarding school. The students went away for the holidays and we took over their bedrooms. Our little girl was big, for eight people. It's a little unpleasant to sleep on someone else's bed, but there's nothing to be done. Okay, I'll get through three nights somehow. All the girls were, of course, unfamiliar, but it seemed to be nothing. One, Iolanta, immediately began to get acquainted with everyone, to chat. I instantly found a girlfriend - Vika from Kerch, who is just as sociable and cheerful. And the rest were like me - closed and unsociable. We buried ourselves in the tablets and read or watched something there. I thought, and took out my "Sonka". Probably, it was worth flipping through cheat sheets, repeating the formulas again. But it was lazy. And what's the point? You can't get ready in one evening! So I opened the old, but beloved, "Steel Alarm" downloaded for such an occasion and began to watch. The best thing is to get distracted and not think about tomorrow's theoretical round of the Republican Physics Olympiad. Yes, it's amazing, but I'm here. And how did I get to this point? - Good morning again! - Andrey Igorevich's voice is not like a teacher's quiet and calm. And the class, noisy after the line, falls silent, listens. - We have a new student. The teacher waves his hand in my direction. I freeze, afraid that he will decide to take me by the shoulder, or somehow touch me. There was not enough on the very first day in front of new classmates ... But he remains at a distance. Continues: - Anastasia Belyakova. Nastya moved from Razdolny. Hope you get along with her. A discordant hum was heard. - So, where would you put? Anton, sit down with Sergei Bezmerov. And you, Nastya, sit down with Natasha. A tall, fair-haired boy got up from the second table near the window and, picking up his backpack, slowly moved to the nimble boy sitting in the back of the classroom. He waved his hand, and they bumped their palms in greeting. It seems Indian ... And I sat down in the vacant seat. - Hello! - a slightly plump girl with very thick and slightly curly light brown hair to her shoulders greeted me quietly. - Hello. I'm Nastya, - for some reason, embarrassed, I answered. "I heard," Natasha giggled. - Nastya, Natasha, then you will whisper, - in the voice of Andrei Igorevich there is mockery, not irritation. - I hope that you all had a good rest during the holidays, and now you are eager to gnaw at the granite of science. And we will provide you with this rock, do not hesitate. You know, I was supposed to give you a lesson in patriotism. But you know everything without me. And that we are still at war with Ukraine. And about the economic blockade that Western countries have arranged for us. And about the need to be vigilant. I think you will be told about this many, many times in the lessons of social studies and history. I am a physics teacher, and I see my task in something else. That you love exactly my subject. We realized how interesting and important it is. And patriotism... If you grow up to be literate and honest people, and one of you connects your life with science or technology, then, working for your country, you will show that very patriotism... I was very lucky with the class teacher. Andrey Igorevich is middle-aged, probably in his fifties, calm and friendly. And, which is completely incomprehensible to me, the class obeys him. My old one would have walked on his ears and spit on the teacher, but here ... I don’t know why? But classmates, not too disciplined in other lessons, sit quietly with him and listen carefully. And he is very, very interesting. Not at all textbook. On the first day, he picked it up from the table, grimaced as if from a toothache, and said quite unpedagogically: - Do you know what I would do with those who wrote it? I would force him to take a course of Chinese literature in Mongolian. So I will not ask for this boring publication, but for what I am telling you. If you don't want to take notes and memorize - learn the paragraphs from the textbook. Suffer. And the teacher began to talk about molecules, how they live in matter, how steam is formed, and what happens when water freezes. I have listened. But then it was not physics that bothered me, but much more important things. I was terribly worried about how my classmates would treat me. And won't the old school start? But... A few days later, Vitya, who was sitting behind me, tapped me on the shoulder. I cringed. Breath caught. - What do you want? Natasha turned to him. - Give me a line, will you? - Hold on! You have to wear yours! Nothing to distract people! And, handing over the ruler, Natasha looked at me attentively and a little guiltily. I smiled a little. It seems to have let go. And then the thought burned me: “She knows! How?! But Andrey Igorevich specially put Anton away from her. He didn’t put me with the boy. And, for sure, he told Natasha! But my mother promised that she would not talk about it!” "Don't be afraid," the girl whispered softly, leaning close to my ear. - I'll never tell anyone. This is our secret with you. And I was enveloped in such grateful warmth from this ... In general, the class was good. That is, all sorts of people studied in it, but there were no especially evil or vile ones. I got here a year ago... But I'm not the same as I was before. I can't help myself. The girls came up to meet me, tried to talk to me. But I closed myself, remained silent, or answered inappropriately. And they left me alone. Only Natasha continued to patronize me unobtrusively. She was very kind and kind. And never discouraged. She somehow surprisingly easily and naturally perceived everything. We would certainly have become friends if I had not felt my alienation from everyone, even from her. But we definitely became good friends! Thus passed the first month of study. I still didn't like answering at the blackboard. And during the breaks, she usually sat at the table and poked around on the phone. Everyone got used to me, they stopped paying attention. Well, the person does not want to communicate, and okay. The teachers treated me well. At the parent meeting, my mother was told that I "do not grab the stars from the sky, but I study diligently." So it really is. I, as before, listened attentively to the teachers. This saves me time. I have a good memory and it is enough to listen to the teacher to remember everything. I didn't even open my textbooks at home! Well, except for Russian and English, of course. And I usually did my homework in mathematics and physics at the lesson. This is probably how it would have continued. If not for the school Olympics. Once in October, Andrei Igorevich warned: - Tomorrow after the sixth lesson there will be an Olympiad in physics. Our school. Anyone who wants can come. Yeah, I see that no one will come. Then so: Ivantsov, Sergienko, Stepanyan, Semenova, Olinichev ... and Belyakova. I raised my eyes in surprise. Why did it happen? I have a solid four in physics. Not more. Well, all right, it is necessary - means it is necessary. To my surprise, two days later I was in the top three of those who should go to the city Olympiad in November. Of course, I was glad that I was not as stupid as I think to myself, but I didn’t pay much attention. Especially since I was not up to physics then. In the dojo, introductory classes ended and training began. I took them so zealously that I crawled home barely alive. Dozens, hundreds of blows with a sword... Hands just fell off, and the whole body ached. But I was happy about it! So I'm getting stronger every day! And now, picking up a heavy bamboo sword, I was transformed. She ceased to be that timid and weak girl, which she had recently been. And I also kept a promise that I accidentally made to the coach. Mom found Japanese courses in Yalta, and I diligently went to them and diligently studied the language of the Land of the Rising Sun. Even before, watching anime, I understood something without translation. And now she dreamed of completely abandoning subtitles and dubbing. I did not forget about the upcoming Olympiad only thanks to the elective course in physics. The class teacher insisted that I also go to him. Well, the first time he insisted. Because then I began to look forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays. I thought we'd just sit and solve puzzles. Nothing like this! Andrei Igorevich let us into the laboratory, and we, under his supervision, dragged all sorts of instruments into the classroom and began to conduct various experiments with them. An electrophorous machine that makes hair stand on end, and if you then touch something, a small lightning flashes. All sorts of mechanical devices and stands, a spectroscope, a gas discharge lamp, mysteriously flickering in the dark. In general, these classes were called elective only in the curricula. In fact, it was a real scientific circle. It was attended by children from all classes. Six or seven people were constantly engaged. Of course, I was scared, especially at first. After all, there were no girls in the circle except me. Besides, I'm the youngest - there are no other eighth graders. The guys treated me with condescending patronage, sometimes they gave me light assignments, but most often I just stood or sat nearby and watched their work. My androphobia has not disappeared anywhere, but for some reason I almost stopped responding to the guys from the circle, I only cringed if I accidentally came into contact with someone. And in November, when it began to get dark early, we stopped several times and took out a small but real telescope. That was truly a miracle! I waited impatiently for my turn to look through the eyepiece at the huge cratered Moon, at the tiny dots of Jupiter's moons, at the scattering of stars in the Pleiades, or just at the November sky strewn with sharp grains of light. Vanya Skvortsov spoke surprisingly interesting about astronomy. I really enjoyed listening to this lanky, bespectacled tenth grader. And to see behind his words the expanses of space, stars, planets ... It was better than any fairy tales! And on the twenty-fifth of November I went to the Olympics. Sunday was a little sad. The weather was wonderful, and you could go to the sea, if not swim in the cold water, but just sit on the bank or even sunbathe. But I had to drag myself to the second school, hang around for three hours in a stuffy classroom, solving problems. I seemed to have managed everything, only there was no time to rewrite, so I handed in drafts. Poor teachers, who will have to understand my handwriting, and I wrote thoroughly while I was deciding. Well, okay, it's not serious anyway. The tasks are so simple, for sure everyone solved them. As it turns out, I was wrong about this. - I have good news, - Andrei Igorevich smiles and looks at me. - Nastya Belyakova went to the city Physics Olympiad and won first place there. They hit me like a pillow on the head. I sit and do not understand anything. "Who am I?!" And everyone looks back at me with curiosity and unexpected respect. “Young lady,” the teacher praised me. - Just try to leave time for paperwork next time. And then at first your handwriting did not want to check. But I insisted. You know, I was hoping that you would do well, but so ... By the way, did you hear that Ilya Mikhailovich Frank graduated from our gymnasium? Nobel laureate. Who knows, maybe one day I will brag that I taught Anastasia Belyakova? I shook my head and felt myself blush. - Well, in any case, get ready. During the winter holidays you will go to the Republican. And here I am, in Simferopol. And the tasks here are not at all the same as in the city. I solved only two of the five, and tinkered with two more. Andrei Igorevich warned that it is necessary to write down even attempts to solve, then this is taken into account. So I honestly and as carefully as I could rewrote everything on a clean copy and handed over the sheets. My head was a little dizzy from fatigue, and I really wanted to eat. I couldn't wait to be taken to dinner! It was necessary, following the example of other girls, to buy some chocolate in advance. In the evening, the bedroom was no longer so boring. The girls seemed to have passed the exams, and now we were chatting, exchanging contacts. Then the three girls huddled around me and we watched a few episodes of Alert. One of them - Larisa Kulaeva from Belogorsk - turned out to be an avid animist, and, lying down in bed - ours were nearby - we whispered with her for a long time, discussing our favorite TV shows. All in all, the evening was great! And in the morning, lists were hung out in front of the entrance to the dining room. Who earned how many points and what place they took. With bated breath, I began to look for my last name. Of course, there is nothing to count on, but still. Oh! Hooray! Seventeen points! It turns out that those tasks that I did not solve also helped! And I... share places from fifth to seventh! This is thirty people! - Congratulations, Nastya! I turned around. Vanya Skvortsov stands and smiles at me happily. Oh, how is he? I quickly glanced at the column of tenth graders. Wow! Third place! - And I congratulate you too! What a great guy you are! - Thank you! So, today we will go on a practical tour with you. Don't worry, imagine that you are doing experiments in our laboratory. "I'll try," I answered confidently.
Chapter 17 . Astronaut.
Zvezdny, Moscow region.
Igor zipped up under his chin and admired himself in the mirror. Dark blue jumpsuit with large bright stripes on the chest and both sleeves. Thick, but very pleasant to the touch fabric. Igor smiled broadly at his reflection. Did this happen to him? To be honest, he never dreamed of becoming an astronaut. It was so prohibitively far, so impossible that he only envied those lucky ones who fly into space. But now he is here, in the hostel, preparing for the festive ceremony of joining the cosmonaut corps! Behind more than two months of exams, medical examinations, physical training tests, psychological tests. It was incredibly difficult to go through all this. Igor repeatedly recalled the Japanese anime that he watched a few years ago, while still at school. "Space Brothers" There, slowly and in detail, over a hundred episodes, it was told about the exams at Jaxu - the Japanese space agency and about the training of astronauts under the NASA program. It was surprisingly interesting to watch. Igor did not even think then that he would be in the same position, when the number of candidates is rapidly melting, and only a few remain who were lucky enough to break through. True, the principle of initial recruitment in Russia is completely different. Only in the twelfth year, Roscosmos tried to conduct an open recruitment, and out of three hundred applicants, as a result, only seven became cosmonauts. But, apparently, this experiment was considered unsuccessful and they returned to the previous recruitment methods - a thorough preliminary check of candidates at the place of service. And still, out of seventy pilots, only fifteen were selected. Igor saw the number of applicants decrease. One by one, the pilots dropped out of the race, collected their belongings and left for regiments and air groups to continue their service. Of the three people who settled in this room with Igor, he was left alone. Escorting comrades was sad. Especially Ilya Kuramshin, with whom he managed to become friends over the past couple of months. The guy did not pass one of the complex tests, when, after heavy physical exertion and psychological treatment, he had to pass a physical and mathematical test. Literally missed two points. Ilya was getting ready gloomily, with a frozen face. Wearily extended his hand. Igor squeezed her hard, painfully. Ilya grimaced and looked at him in surprise, and Igor said in a firm voice: - You did not reach just a little, the last meters of take-off. I believe that the plane did not crash, but only slid onto the field. Ilya smiled sadly. But Igor did not let go of his hand yet and, looking into his eyes, he rapped out: - I'll be waiting for you in the next set. - If I'm not old by then. - You can't. There were only fifteen of us. The last set of pilots was ten years ago, and most of them have already gone to Earth, or will do so soon. And we are not enough. You know what plans are accepted and how many people will be needed. And to the "National" and to the moon. I think they will get it in two or three years. So I'll be waiting for you, friend. Ilya finally answered Igor, squeezing his hand tightly. Then they released their grip at once and the guy, this time smiling his usual reserved smile, picked up the bag and headed for the door. On the threshold he stopped and, without looking back, said: - Wait! Igor smiled at this memory, once again stroked the sleeve of his uniform overalls and left the hostel. It was cold outside. The puddles from yesterday's rain were frozen and sparkled in the bright morning sun. Clouds of transparent steam escaped from his mouth. But Igor did not speed up his pace. On the contrary, it's good that you can shake yourself like that before the meeting. It’s good to go not far, and he won’t have time to freeze seriously. Hall sent a wave of warmth and a roar of voices over him. There were decent people, active cosmonauts stood in groups, in the same overalls as Igor, specialists in overalls, military ranks in full dress, and just some civilians. And other newbies. They were visible at a glance. Even those who tried to look confident and at ease were not particularly successful in this. Igor approached a short guy standing near a tub with some kind of tropical bush. - Hello, Zhora! “And you shouldn’t cough,” said Georgy Molchanov, a senior lieutenant from the aviation of the Northern Fleet. He would have become the youngest in the detachment, if not for Igor. - Are you worried? - I don't think so! "That's right," Igor sighed. At this time, the doors to the hall opened and everyone rushed inside. Igor decided not to push and waited until almost everyone entered the room. Stopped on the threshold. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and stepped forward into his new life.
Chapter 18 . Happy life.
Suginami district, Tokyo, Japan.
Chiiruna, come down from the south! Yes, Admiral! Hana's clipper slips between two floating islands, diving into an archway of floating ruins, and finds herself in a wide, debris-free area where the battle is already in full swing. Rush to the damaged enemy frigate, launch torpedoes. Right on board! The enemy hides in the clouds of fire and disappears. - Ready! - Youth! Chii, help Uberd! - I see! Hana actually sees three enemy ships press on the battleship. "Well, where did he get in, on his slug! Always Uberd is a hero!" The torpedo tube has not rolled back yet. So a volley with the left side, a maneuver, with the right. Torpedoes are ready. Start! Another frigate destroyed. The other two are trying to run away, to hide behind a wooded island floating above. But Uberd and Dalkin arrived in time to deal with them. And the score counter is already at the limit. All! Another victory! - Hooray! - heard in the headphones polyphony of exclamations. - Well, are we breaking up, or one more time? - No, Admiral, I have to work tomorrow, or rather, today, - this is Trovl. Hana was tormented until she learned to pronounce this terrible name. Hana, how are you? Are you early in the morning? - This is the caring voice of Talisa, one of the three, counting Hana, the girls of the clan. - Yes. Eighth uture! - And how do you just force yourself to get up at four in the morning to fly with us? - once again surprised Uberd. “They wouldn’t have forced me here!” - I'm a lark! - the girl said cheerfully, although it was difficult even for her to get up at such an early hour. But she's used to it. In recent months, she went to bed early to wake up before dawn and fly a couple of hours before school in her airship and chat with friends who live tens of thousands of kilometers from her in a foreign country. The clan was surprisingly friendly, the people included in it lived in various cities of vast Russia and had never met in real life. "That would somehow get together!" - thought the girl. Khana surprisingly easily and naturally joined this group. Although, at first, terribly embarrassed and, mangling the words, she asked for forgiveness for her poor knowledge of the Russian language. As it turned out, I worried for nothing. She was greeted very warmly, and after several fights the head of the clan remarked: - You are an excellent flyer! Real skipper! Just like Chiiruna. Who is Chiiruna? Khan didn't understand. - This is the pilot girl from the book, according to which we named the clan. By the way, can you change your nickname to Chiiruna? It is customary for us to take names from the book. Hana then thought, and agreed. If only she knew how much trouble this would be! The game "Pirates of Allods" is free, but everything that is possible there costs money. For example, change of nickname. Everything would be fine, but how to transfer rubles from Japan? The head of the guild had to create a WebMoney wallet for Khana and put rubles on it. Hana tried to send Dalkin her honestly saved pocket money in yen, but he flatly refused. But now in the game her name is Chiiruna. All guild members strictly win back their characters and never address each other by their names during battles. Hana was also worried about acting out: - I don't know Chiirun. How to play? - Don't worry! Dalkin reassured her. - You look like her. But then read the book. - Yes, I'm already a sokachara. Indeed, Hana found these very "Pirates of the Dragon Mountains" on Amazon and bought it. Of course, they were only in Russian. But this is wonderful! She'll have practice! So thought the naive Japanese girl. The first book of the trilogy Khan procrastinated for four months. Constantly dragging words or even entire phrases into the "translator" and trying to understand what the abracadabra it gives out means. But, gradually, she got used to it. The second book took less than two months, and she devoured the third in a month of summer vacation. I read the last chapter of Hana the day before yesterday. She burst into tears over the ending, which is a huge rarity for her, and decided that Admiral Dalkin was right in offering her the nickname of Chiiruna. Of all the heroines, it was she who liked Hana the most. And, by the way, about the head of the clan, the girl had a suspicion about his personality. I'll have to try and figure it out somehow. In general, the Russian language was given to the girl surprisingly easily. Not at all like this boring English! Or maybe it's all about interest? In live communication on "TeamSpeak" with real Russians, and absolutely live with trainer Anna Pavlovna. How surprised and delighted she was when Hana greeted her for the first time with "Zadaravusutuvuyte"! The memory was pleasant. Hana stretched and looked at her watch. Almost nine. It's time to get ready for your morning workout. Now during the holidays, classes were held every day, or even twice. Of course, not all girls could withstand such a pace, but Hana - it's easy! Moreover, she did not have to go to additional classes at school, and she did her homework in three days. Studying in the first grade of high school was surprisingly easy. It would seem that both sports and long hours at the computer, and gatherings with girlfriends should have had a detrimental effect on academic performance. But - no! All subjects, especially exact ones, were assimilated instantly and firmly. My father even grumbled that it was necessary not to go to a municipal school, but to some elite one, especially since he does not feel sorry for the money for the studies of his beloved daughter. He even offered to transfer. But Hana was stubborn. She liked the new school, she quickly found girlfriends there, especially since half of the children were from her old school. But for the future, she promised that she and her father would choose a more serious high school. But it's not soon. Three years you can live a carefree and very fun life!
Chapter 19
Bad Vihar, Delhi, India.
Which? - This one, third from the right, - an elderly computer science teacher pointed to an old but clean computer. "It would be better if they did an upgrade than washed up!" Kiran muttered to himself. The boy's mood was not so hot. He was pulled out of recess, not allowed to play with classmates in the school yard. Moreover, the next lesson is Russian, and Kieran did not want to be late for it. No, it's not about love for the "great and mighty". It's just that the boy really liked the teacher - still a young uncle with light blond hair and a short beard of the same color. The teacher's name was Yuri Mukherjee. He said to himself that his mother was Russian and her father brought her from Voronezh, where he studied at the university. In general, he talked a lot and interestingly about Russia, which he himself traveled when he studied there on an exchange, and just different entertaining stories. Therefore, Kieran looked forward to each lesson. They were like glittering jewels among the dull pebbles of other occupations. How good it is that dad insisted on Russian! The Salanka school had a very good selection of foreign languages: German, Italian, Farsi and Russian. Kieran, who started learning French in his old school, needed to change his language anyway. And dad wrote it down in Russian. - Then, when you learn, you finish college or institute, you will become an engineer, - he explained to his son, - and, maybe, you will get a job at one of the joint ventures. There are a lot of them open now. And there the salaries are high, and the equipment is the most modern. Kieran didn't look that far. It's still a horror as it will not happen soon. In ten years. Count as long as he has lived so far. In the meantime, you can just listen to the interesting stories of your favorite teacher and imagine a huge cold northern country. But this was later - now the patient was waiting for him. - Well, what happened to you? the boy asked softly, sitting down in front of the monitor. He pressed the button, listened to the buzzing fans, catching that one was rattling strongly, looked at the flashing white lines on a black background and stared at the "blue screen of death". - OK. Kieran restarted the computer, entered the BIOS and started poking around. “Teacher, Dalarma,” he turned to the teacher who sat down on a nearby chair. - You still don't turn on the air conditioner here? “You know the Student Council’s decision. Children should not live in greenhouse conditions. - Hothouse?! - the boy found fault with the word. - So this is here - a greenhouse! Greenhouse! Okay, we won't melt, and our brains won't evaporate. And why should computers suffer? You see, this one has poor cooling, and in such heat it overheated the processor! - This is serious? the teacher was worried. "Not really," Kieran relented. - But when it crashed, it damaged the system. Need to reinstall it. And call the master, let the fans clean or even change! Yes, and on other computers too. And be sure to turn on the air conditioner! Tell the council that without this you will have to buy new computers soon! - Eh, - the elderly teacher sighed, - well, I'll tell you. And Kieran took out three flash drives from the breast pocket of the jacket in which he had to bathe, meticulously examined them and put them in a row in front of him. - Well, we will treat you, - he even turned to the computer with some tenderness. The teacher leaned back in his chair, watching the eighth grader's deft manipulations. Of course, it was a little insulting that this eleven-year-old puny boy understands computers better than him, but what can you do. Kieran is truly one of a kind. Plus he's a very nice guy. He never refuses to help, especially when it comes to a computer. - Wow, Kieran hung... - came from the door. In its opening are three disheveled boyish heads. - Yeah! - not that upset, not vice versa joyfully responded Kiran. - Play without me! - It's not interesting without you, the "beshniki" will take us out. Okay, don't be late for class. Yuri promised to continue telling how he hitchhiked to Baikal. "I'll try," Kieran replied, quickly swapping one flash drive for another. - I'll start the installation of the system and come running!
Chapter 20
Yalta, Republic of Crimea.
Chapter 21
The Russian segment of the ISS and the planet below it.
Sasha, I see you! - Do not litter the air, - a stern voice from the MCC. Andrey defiantly covered his mouth with his palm and waved his free hand out the porthole, beyond which a clumsy, bulky figure in a spacesuit could be seen. Alexander chuckled. Say what you like, but he had a good crew. Peter is serious and reliable. Completely different from the computer hackers that they are portrayed in the films. And Andrei, resilient and always ready to defuse a tense situation. With such guys, you can fly not only for two and a half months, but at least for a whole year. But the flight time of the expedition ISS-63/64 is coming to an end. Time of the last expedition to the ISS. Alexander continued to carefully inspect the docking station. Soon it will open, and the bulk of the ISS will float away into the distance. In the summer of 17, Alexander was the commander of the crew that was the first to fly to the Russian segment of the station after the break in the joint program. The independent life of the Russian segment began with his expedition. And this flight will complete it. - Petya, how are you? - inquired the commander. “Everything is fine,” the cosmonaut replied calmly. - Now absolutely nothing connects us with the rest of the station. Our computer is ready for fully autonomous operation. I rechecked the Progress control circuits five times. So at least now we can get into the Soyuz and fly away. - No, we can't now, - Andrey sighed and looked at his watch. Three more hours to sit on the suitcases. - Control Center, - Alexander raised his voice. - I propose to go to the descent vehicle and in the remaining time to carry out an additional check of the systems. - Allowed, - came from the speakers after a short pause. - It would be better if they were idle, - Andrey grumbled. “Time flies faster while working,” the commander explained. - Well, let's say goodbye to the station. - Wait a minute! There is one more thing. Alexander and Piotr looked with surprise at Andrei, who swam towards the completely closed hatch leading to the American part of the ISS. Flying up to him, the cosmonaut took out some kind of metal rod from his pocket and began to knock on the metal. - What are you doing? the commander got worried. - Don't interfere, I don't know Morse code very well. Tradition. - Is there an intercom? True, through MCC and NASA, but you can also talk with colleagues. - No, that's not right! And Tolik didn’t tell you how we poisoned Americans with horror stories in Morse code? - He told me, - Peter smiled. - What are you tapping on? - Farewell message. Like, happy to stay at your antediluvian station. Fly on a visit to the NOX, and stuff like that. - I can imagine what a commotion they have now, - the commander muttered. And in confirmation of his words, a voice was heard from the Earth: - What is happening there? Americans are worried. Strange sounds are heard from the gateway. - Everything is fine. Andrey taps the mount in order to determine the malfunctions, - Alexander found something to answer. Nonsense, of course - in the MCC everyone sees and hears. - Eh, they don't have John in the crew, he would have answered me, - Andrey sighed. - Of these, you see, no one knows Morse code. Okay, let's go to the "Union". And the cosmonauts, in single file, pushing off the walls and grabbing the handrails, headed for the docking port of the Pirs module, where a ship was waiting for them, ready to deliver them to their home planet. Three hours later, they undocked and slowly began to move away from the giant station. They were a kilometer away from it when the mechanisms controlled from the Earth worked, and the entire Russian segment - a quarter of the station - separated from the rest of the structure, sailed to the side and, slowly accelerated by the orientation engines of the Progress docked to it, went to another orbit. More convenient for new owners. “Still, it’s a little pitiful,” Andrey sighed. - They flew so much on it, and they would have flown more. - What can you do, - said Alexander. - We don't need two orbital stations. And don't pull. You see yourself, you have to go from expedition to expedition, almost without rest. There are not enough astronauts. - Yes, it would be better to learn beginners. But, I also have a chance to fly to the National before retirement! - And besides, the station will still fly, - Peter also gave a voice. Let not with our astronauts. - Well, we will train Indians for two flights, - Andrey answered. - By the way, Tolik will go on the first flight with them. “Yes,” said the commander. - In fact, everything is correct and good. And we do not have to be torn between two stations, and India has received a wonderful space home. They are thrifty, they can support it for ten years until their station is launched. - And even the Americans feel good with the Europeans, - Peter supported. Now they are completely masters of the ISS. - Only the Japs are sorry, - Andrey spoke out. - Samurai pride does not allow them to fly with amers, and their station, when they still raise it. So their "Kibo" sticks out sealed on the ISS. - Well, they took up space so zealously, - the commander smiled. - I think in two or three years they will have a house in orbit. The cosmonauts fell silent, looking at the ever-shrinking ISS and Vriddhi - this is how the station sold to India will be called. And then their eyes involuntarily slipped to their home planet, spread out under them, hospitably welcoming their children. There, on the green and blue planet, lives seven and a half billion people. With your desires, aspirations and dreams. Someone has already found his way, and someone is just looking for it. Bank of the taiga river. Igor Myskin stirred up the fire. Just right. The firewood is burned out, and dry heat comes from the coals. He carefully placed twigs with fish strung on them over a makeshift brazier. Zhora caught eight fairly large chebak, proudly gave them to the fireman on duty - that is, Igor, and with a sense of accomplishment climbed into a hut made from a parachute. Nothing, now it smells of baked fish, and everyone will catch up! The bushes rustled. Ashot came out into the clearing. With an artificially enhanced Caucasian accent, he was indignant: - Well, what kind of wild animal is that, right? Ne wants to hit the snare with his paw! He wants to eat the bait, but he doesn't want to be caught! - Is it empty again? Igor sympathized. - Yeah. Ashot sat down near the fire, grimaced: - Fish again? - Well, I'm sorry, it's you we have a hunter! - I'm not a hunter. That would be my gun! - And with onions - weakly? What am I, an Indian? Yesterday he tried to shoot a hare. Just lost the arrows in vain. No, well, tell me why they didn’t even give us a gun to survive? - Maybe you still need to fit your SU-34, with bombs? - It would be nice. I threw off the thermobaric and go, collect the animals already fried. - You are cruel and not romantic, - Zhora said. - And in general, there is nothing to find fault with my fish. Thanks to her, we feed for the third day! Igor smiled and turned the chebakov over. He enjoyed life. Survival training? Yes, as much as you like! After endless lectures, tests, centrifuges and bullying of doctors, being with friends in nature is wonderful! A pleasant pause in the most intense, minute-by-minute schedule of general space training. Just wave an ax, equip a dwelling, fry a fresh, impossibly appetizing-smelling fish over a fire ... - One hundred and ninety-eight! Swing - blow! - One hundred and ninety-nine. Swing - blow! - Two hundred! I threw a bamboo sword on the sofa, shook my hands to drive away fatigue, and reached for the textolite blade. It was given to me by the guys from the dojo. Ordered from some craftsman who makes weapons for roleplayers. The katana turned out to be quite good, almost like a real one by weight. For training, that's it. Of course, it would be cooler with a steel blade, but you need to know the measure in your desires! Ha ha ha, measure. I say this after the second place in physics in the Crimea? After the kendo championship in Podolsk? And after you set yourself a prohibitively high goal? Well, not prohibitively - let's say, several hundred thousand, or millions of kilometers from the Earth. No, I'm definitely crazy! Okay, let's go. Legs wider, slightly bent at the knees, spring up. The blade of the katana is at the hip, and... I explode with a series of blows and movements, clearly fixing the final lunge. Still, Iaido is more beautiful than kendo and much more practical. It's just the way I like it! It's just a pity that you can't really take care of them at home. Although we have high ceilings, I hit the chandelier three times. The last time was really good. Grandmother grumbled, and grandfather removed the wreckage and hung such a flat lamp with fluorescent lamps. So now you can swing the sword almost without fear. So, I'll wave the sword for another five minutes - and for studying. Physics and mathematics are wonderful, but I still have to take Russian and history. That is, in any case, they will take me to the tenth grade, but I want to break into excellent students! "Hello!" "You too! How was your day?" "Good! Yuri praised me for translating the text about Moscow. And then we played football with the guys!" "Lucky you! And I'm sitting here, buzzing." "Okay, don't make a fuss! Do you want me to play chess with you?" "Of course I do! You'll see, today I'll beat you!" "It's unlikely" "And you check. I know how fast I learn!" "I know, I know. Okay, start the game." The dialog box moved to the side, and a chessboard appeared on the screen. Compy is a really fast learner, and it's not for nothing that Kieran spends so much time developing self-learning algorithms. Now with his pet, he can not only talk freely even on abstract topics, but also slowly teach him more complex things. But Kiran himself is learning! I wonder after all, which of them, a live boy or his computer, will win today? The copter flew at full speed through the half-open window, made a dashing turn, without stopping, swept over the table, grabbed a box of pencils into it and slipped out into the street. Hana, without releasing the remote, jumped to the window and sat on the sill. She led a small flying machine between electric wires, glided a dozen centimeters above the roof of a neighboring house, raised the device high into the sky and stopped the propellers. The silvery four-screw flyer froze in the air and began to fall towards the ground. About five meters away, Hana turned on the engines again and braked over the very path leading to the gate. She dropped the box into the center of the circle drawn in chalk. - What else could you think of? - the girl thoughtfully twisted a strand of black straight hair around her index finger. Her father gave her this toy two months ago. Hana graduated from her first year of high school first in the rankings and honestly earned a promotion. The control of a small aircraft fascinated the girl. It was even more interesting than controlling different tanks and planes in computer games. She even temporarily abandoned all the simulators she loved so much. Well, except for "Pirates", but she played them not for the sake of flying on airships, but because she really liked to communicate with her guildmates. And so, learning to control a copter is much more fun! But, in two months, she achieved such mastery that it became difficult to come up with new, more difficult tasks. And I was also very upset by the limited possibilities of this toy. Here's to managing something more serious. Something real and incredibly complex! These young inhabitants of planet Earth have a long and interesting life ahead of them. Who knows where the roads of fate will lead them, and where they are destined to meet?
In total, there are about 300 species of octopuses and they are all truly amazing creatures. They live in subtropical and tropical seas and oceans, from shallow water to a depth of 200 m. They prefer rocky coasts and are considered the most intelligent among all invertebrates. The more scientists learn about octopuses, the more they are admired.
1. The brain of an octopus is shaped like a donut.
2. The octopus does not have a single bone, which allows it to penetrate into a hole that is 4 times smaller than its own size.
3. Due to the large amount of copper, the blood of the octopus is blue.
4. There are more than 10,000 taste buds on the tentacles.
5. Octopuses have three hearts. One of them drives blue blood throughout the body, while the other two carry it through the gills.
6. In case of danger, octopuses, like lizards, are able to discard their tentacles, breaking them on their own.
7. Octopuses camouflage themselves with their environment by changing their coloration. When calm, they are brown, frightened, turn white, and when angry, they acquire a reddish tint.
8. To hide from enemies, octopuses emit a cloud of ink, which not only reduces visibility, but also masks odors.
9. Octopuses breathe with gills, but can also spend quite a long time out of the water.
10. Octopuses have rectangular pupils.
11. Octopuses always keep their home clean, they “sweep” it with a trickle of water from their funnel, and put the rest of the food in a specially designated place nearby.
12. Octopuses are intelligent invertebrates that can be trained, remember their owners, distinguish shapes and have a simply amazing ability to unscrew banks.
13. Speaking about the unsurpassed intelligence of octopuses, we can recall the world-famous oracle octopus Paul, who guessed the outcome of matches involving the German football team. Actually, he lived in the Oberhausen Aquarium. Paul died, as suggested by oceanologists, by his own death. In front of the entrance to the aquarium, a monument was even erected to him.
14. The personal life of marine life is not too happy. Males often become victims of females, and they, in turn, rarely survive after childbirth and doom their offspring to an orphan life.
15. There is only one species of octopus - the Pacific striped, which, unlike its counterparts, is an exemplary family man. For several months he lives in a couple and during all this time he does something very similar to a kiss, touching his mouth with his soul mate. After the appearance of the offspring, the mother spends more than one month with the children, takes care of them and educates them.
16. This same Pacific striped boasts an unusual hunting style. Before the attack, he lightly pats his victim "on the shoulder", as if warning, but this does not add to her chances of survival, so the purpose of the habit is still a mystery.
17. During reproduction, males use their tentacles to take out spermatophores “from the bosom” and carefully place them in the mantle cavity of the female.
18. On average, octopuses live 1-2 years, those who live up to 4 years are long-livers.
19. The smallest octopuses grow up to only 1 centimeter, and the largest up to 4 meters. The largest octopus was caught off the coast of the United States in 1945, its weight was 180 kg, and its length was as much as 8 meters.
20. Scientists have successfully deciphered the octopus genome. In the future, this will help to establish how they managed to evolve into such an intelligent creature and understand the origin of amazing cognitive abilities. At the moment, it is known that the length of the octopus genome is 2.7 billion base pairs, it is almost equal to the length of the human genome, which has 3 billion base pairs.
As you know, in science there is nothing more practical than a correct theory. Of course, the creation of such a theory is the lot of geniuses. Classical examples are D. Mendeleev's periodic system of elements and N. Semyonov's theory of chain reactions. The absence of such a theory in the field of psycho-social phenomena determines the deplorable state of modern science in this area and, as a result, ignorance of the nature of man and society. Perhaps the most thorough attempt at a systematic approach to the development of such a theory was presented in the work of V. Shmakov in the early 1920s (1). However, for a number of reasons, this brilliant Russian thinker was blacklisted, and his works were banned in Russia as contrary to Marxism-Leninism (2). Only since 1994, thanks to the Kyiv publishing house "Sofia", the books of this philosopher have become publicly available. “No matter how absurd the idea is that the manifestations of human activity and human communities in a phenomenal sense hover in some unknown area, they still continue to directly or indirectly exert their detrimental influence,” this remark by V. Shmakov remains true in our time. .
Based on the law of synarchy formulated by him, V. Shmakov substantiated the antinomy of human nature - it is both noumenal and phenomenal. Human life simultaneously proceeds both according to the laws of the phenomenal environment and according to the laws of the noumenal world. In other words, life is the result of the relationship of the individual with the phenomenal and noumenal worlds. This is the basic antinomy of a human being, which is realized in his consciousness. In an ideally perfect cosmos, the phenomenal world is completely and organically associated with the noumenal one, and therefore their hierarchies are consistent with each other and harmoniously unite in a realized synarchy. We live in a world that only aspires to this state, as to some infinitely distant entelechy. Potentially uniting in his being both these poles of being, a person must actually and organically match the links of the antinomic hierarchies of the universe. This final goal cannot be completely achieved, but each person must endure the world tragedy in himself as much as he is given the strength to do so.
The results of a detailed study of the conjugacy of the noumenal hierarchy of monads and the phenomenal hierarchy of sets in the life of the cosmos allowed V. Shmakov to draw a number of conclusions, the relevance of which seems undoubted. Let's consider them briefly. The idea of multitude is organically connected with the idea of personality. Only such a set is organic, which has a known personality, i.e. all its elements are bound by some general law, subject to some synthetic idea. Personality is a phenomenal analogue of noumenal individuality, which is the entelechy of personality. Personality itself does not have an independent substantive justification and draws its being from individuality directly and through multitudes. Since the personality of any phenomenal organism simultaneously participates in the noumenal and the phenomenal, it must necessarily experience two systems of opposites: between the noumenal and the phenomenal, and among the own nature of the phenomenal world. These opposites are irreducible, because only in their entirety they reveal their own idea of subjective being. Through the idea of personality, the main antinomies of the universe are conjugated, and therefore the tragedy of world life is centered in the idea of personality, i.e. in the idea of man in general. Considering the life of society on the basis of the doctrine he developed about egregors as an organic set of actual consciousnesses of a certain set of people, V. Shmakov noted that the part of world history known to us does not know such egregors of the mind that would cover at least a significant part of the corresponding society. The idea of man and the idea of society are inextricably linked with each other. Just as in the human organism the function of thinking is chiefly concentrated in the brain, so in the social organism it will always be the property of a comparatively small number of people. Sad as it is, it would be just as absurd to require intense mental activity from all members of society. The law of synarchy asserts that society in relation to man is an organism of a higher order and therefore its consciousness is transcendent to the consciousness of each individual included in it. From this it follows that the life and laws of human societies are inaccessible to immanent comprehension. No collection of facts, no hypothesis or theory, no observed pattern of social life can be considered adequate to reality. All this is just a projection of social life into individual consciousness with an irremovable, in principle, distortion. Moreover, the more perfect the society, the more transcendent its life and consciousness in relation to the consciousnesses of its individual members. Therefore, any rationalization of history, the search for causes and effects, is a conscious or unconscious deception. By this we only satisfy our need for a logically consistent contemplation of events, but do not at all clarify the essence of the matter. The impossibility of rationalizing history is not due to the fallacy of the laws of our consciousness, but because of their insufficiency.
At first glance, the stated understanding of the nature of man and society, as organisms of different hierarchical dignity - identical in essence and similar in quality, leads to despondency, because a harmonious society is an unattainable ideal, a utopia. But after all, even Sisyphean labor is useful - it strengthens muscles, develops willpower, etc. “All evolution is born from antinomies and proceeds in antinomies. The evolution of the consciousness of a phenomenal organism entails a continuous increase in the number and intensity of collisions with other organisms and their collectives, and therefore the tragedy of life. The experience of antinomy is a tragic process, and its creative overcoming is the overcoming of tragedy” (1). This is how A. Zinoviev assessed the modern utopia - Russian communism - in his latest sociological novel: “I am happy that I was born in Russia, in this accidental exception in human history, during the social utopia that was realized. I am happy that I lived during this time the best part of my life. I am happy that I got the opportunity to appreciate my life's fortune by seeing the death of a utopia. Amen!" (3). How strong the influence of this utopia on the consciousness of the younger generation can be seen in the example of the first poem by V. Vysotsky "My oath", which ends like this:
The name Stalin will live for centuries,
It will fly over the earth,
The name Stalin will shine on us
Eternal sun and eternal star.
This poem was written on the third day after the death of I. Stalin. The well-known Soviet human rights activist, academician A. Sakharov, did not hide the fact that he cried when he learned about the death of the leader. The religious and metaphysical aspects of utopian realism were studied in detail by V. Shtepa, paying special attention to the tradition and the probable future of Russian utopia, capable of replacing the current timelessness. The author noted that a new civilization should simply be created with all the available opportunities, without waiting for manna from heaven. What kind of harmony of our civilization in the foreseeable future can we talk about if, according to A. Zinoviev, humanity as a whole has lost the meaning of its social existence?
If the physical basis of non-politics is nature-likeness, as A. Devyatov claims, then it means that one must follow the ancient wisdom - “know yourself and you will know the world”, i.e. explore human nature. This wisdom was rediscovered by the last Russian philosopher of the Soviet era, A. Arseniev, who noted that the world can only be understood through a person, and not vice versa (5). Figuratively speaking, God gave this world to man, but they don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. A person can really be a unit of a higher social organism only because he is an organism in itself - the conjugation of unity with multiplicity. The simplest living organism, for example, an amoeba, is qualitatively more complex; more synarchic than any technical product created by man. Man, as an organism, is a visual manifestation of the law of synarchy, as a hierarchically organized unity, and this is his natural similarity to society and the world as a whole.
An important problem of modern civilization is how technology affects the harmonious development of man and society. Back in the 1920s, N. Berdyaev outlined his understanding of the role of technology in the fate of man: “Earlier, man was organically connected with nature and his social life evolved accordingly with the life of nature. The machine radically changes this relationship between man and nature. It not only liberates a person in some way, but also enslaves him in a new way” (6). Over the past 100 years of scientific and technological progress, a psycho-social regression has been quite clearly observed, primarily in the life of Western civilization. An outstanding encyclopedic scientist V. Nalimov noted with concern that in the near future artificial intelligence will develop as a powerful and, possibly, formidable technical assistant. “Just as machines have come between nature and man, so computers will stand between man and meanings.” Substantiating his fears, V. Nalimov emphasized that until now, as a result of a long evolution, a certain balance has been established between the logical and technical activity that can be transferred to a computer, and that specific human activity, in which the contemplative component of thinking is essential. “If we speak in metaphors of the two hemispheres of the brain, then the activity of one of them will be enhanced by many orders of magnitude already before our eyes. And then this imbalance will grow exponentially. Where it leads?" (7).
The founder of transpersonal psychology, S. Grof, based on the results of many years of practical research on consciousness, concluded that a radical inner transformation and ascent to a new level of consciousness is perhaps the only real hope that we have during the current global crisis. “But if we continue to implement the old strategies, which in their consequences are clearly self-destructive, it is unlikely that the human species will survive on this earth” (8). If we accept a harmonious society as a noumenal archetype, then according to the law of realization - the foundation of the doctrine of the phenomenal world, "every noumenon in the phenomenal consciousness must be illuminated from sixteen different points of view" (9). In sociology, such an archetype corresponds to the social attractor of an evolving system.
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Literature
1. Shmakov V. The law of synarchy. Kyiv, 1994.
2. Eremin V.I. Paradoxes of the fate of the forgotten genius of Russia. \\ National Security and Geopolitics of Russia, 2006, No. 3-4, pp.157-162.
3. Zinoviev A.A. Russian tragedy. M., 2007.
4. Shtepa V.V. RUtopia. Yekaterinburg, 2004.
5. Arseniev A.S. Philosophical foundations for understanding personality. M., 2001.
6. Berdyaev N.A. The meaning of history. Paris, 1969.
7. Nalimov V.V. Spontaneity of consciousness. M., 1989.
8. Grof S. Psychology of the future. M., 2001.
9. Shmakov V. Great Arcana Tarot. M., 1916.
An octopus is a hunter of tropical and subtropical seas and oceans, which can sometimes become someone's victim itself. The secret weapon he possesses is an ink bag filled with a coloring liquid. The first ink was born thanks to this marine life.
The octopus belongs to the type - mollusks, the class - cephalopods, the detachment - octopuses. The body of this creature with eight tentacles extending from it looks like a ball. But in fact, behind his baggy body lies a highly developed brain and nervous system of an amazingly intelligent animal. Deciphering the octopus genome in 2015 can serve as good evidence for this claim. In terms of the number of base pairs, it lags behind the human by only 400 million (2.7 versus 3.1 billion).
Octopus habits
The octopus is a nocturnal animal that lives in shallow water in rock crevices and depressions. Sometimes he digs a nest in the ground or builds a stone fortress at the bottom of the sea. Most often, he crawls or swims. During the day, he hides and watches the immediate surroundings.
Its large eyes have adapted to the low light of the deep sea, they are able to recognize shapes and react to moving objects. Instead of changing the shape of the lens, his eyes move when adjusting the focus on the surrounding objects.
Octopuses are pretty lazy. By the shells and husks lying at the entrance, one can recognize their shelter. These small piles of rubbish appear due to regular cleaning in shelters and removal of garbage from its territory. This type of mollusk is trainable and has a good memory, which allows you to recognize geometric shapes and recognize your breadwinner. It's hard to believe, but the garden snail is a distant relative of the octopus (belongs to the same class).
Food and hunting
At dusk, the octopus leaves its place or shelter and goes hunting. Most often it feeds on crabs, crayfish and various mollusks, but usually eats everything that moves. He is an excellent swimmer, often taking his food by surprise. The octopus is able to change color, adapting to the environment.
When disguised, it pounces on moving prey and paralyzes it with its venom. To hold slippery prey, it has two rows of suction cups on strong and mobile limbs. The octopus has many small but very sharp teeth, with the help of which, when a mollusk enters the shell, it breaks it.
To get rid of competitors like lobsters, he adopts a different method. To attack the lobster from behind, he makes an ink curtain and attacks him.
Enemies and protection from them
Moray eels, conger eels, dolphins, sharks are the enemies of adult octopuses. He runs, turning away from them, from behind and uses the force of repulsion. The octopus can also hide from them in narrow crevices inaccessible to the pursuer. He often stays alive through disguise. It can almost completely merge with the situation. The pigments that are in his skin can change their concentration and form stripes and patterns. While hunting, and when he is defending himself, he uses a trick. The octopus throws an ink cloud into the water if it is being chased. It also releases a liquid that paralyzes the stalker's sense of smell. As if from a hose, he can also bombard the enemy with jets of water from a funnel.
reproduction
When mating, the octopus, as if holding hands, secreting sperm through a modified tentacle, the male fertilizes the female. After a week, she lays eggs that resemble grapes and pours a jelly-like liquid over them. But if the female is in captivity, she weaves a nest basket and lays her eggs in it. Then little octopuses emerge from them, which she guards, cleans and provides them with a constant influx of fresh water.
When a female becomes a mother, she can easily become prey, because at this time she is very weakened. Small octopuses barely reach 3 mm. Like plankton, they are carried by the water, then settle to the seafloor where they continue to grow.
The female can lay 150,000 eggs and guard them for 4 to 6 weeks. Their incubation time depends on the temperature of the water.
Basic data
The length of the octopus reaches up to 3 m, but usually less. Their weight is about 25 kg. Females reach puberty at a weight of 1 kg, and males 100 g.
Puberty in females begins at 18-24 months, males earlier.
Octopuses are nocturnal, they are loners. Females live up to 2 years, after the birth of offspring. Males live longer.
Close relatives are decapod cephalopods such as cuttlefish, squid and nautilus.
Close relatives of the octopus can be found off the west coast of Sweden.
Dec 6, 2010 Marina
It only seems to Russians that the symbol of their country is a bear. In the West, for almost 150 years, Russia has been perceived as an all-suffocating octopus. The last Romanovs, Stalin, Putin and Gazprom were painted with octopuses. On the other hand, in recent years, scientists have found that octopuses are not so scary: they can be trained, have a good memory, and distinguish geometric shapes.
© Gennady Afanasiev
Starting from the middle of the 19th century, as soon as Russia was appointed after the suppression of the European revolutions of 1848 as a world gendarme, it was customary to draw her image in the form of an octopus. The octopus then, and even more so in the Middle Ages, was represented as an archetype of the dark side of the Universal Mother, destroying the Ego of man. But even back in the 19th century, Jules Verne presents octopuses in his works as fantastic monsters that can devour a diver or drag a whole ship to the bottom of the sea. However, most of all, Victor Hugo, the author of the novel “Toilers of the Sea”, is to blame for the notoriety of the octopus, where this cephalopod is characterized as “a plague in the form of a monster.” And all these negative characteristics of the octopus were transferred by the West to Russia.
For example, in this allegorical Japanese drawing depicting the war between the two countries in 1904-05, Russia is described as follows: 
“The black octopus is the name given to Russia by a high-ranking Englishman. The black octopus is so greedy that it stretches all its eight tentacles in all directions, and tries to reach everything that is within its reach ... We Japanese are not supposed to talk about the causes of the current war. Suffice it to say that the continued existence of the black octopus directly depends on the outcome of this war. The Japanese fleet has already almost completely destroyed the Russian naval forces, and the Japanese army is already ready to trumpet the victory over Russia in Korea and Manchuria ... An ugly black octopus! Hooray! Hooray Japan! 
However, in the middle of the twentieth century, the experiments of scientists showed that the octopus has many positive features. They have the most developed brain among all invertebrates - it has a rudimentary cortex. Amenable to training, have a good memory. The octopus distinguishes geometric figures - a small square distinguishes from a larger one; a rectangle set vertically from a rectangle set horizontally; a circle from a square, a rhombus from a triangle. They recognize people, get used to those who feed them. If you spend enough time with an octopus, it becomes tame. They keep their dwelling clean: they “sweep” with a jet of water from a funnel, put the leftovers outside in a garbage heap. The main requirement for shelter is that the entrance is narrow, and inside it is wide. They even settle in boxes, cans, tires and rubber boots - that is, they are undemanding to the environment. In general, the image of an ideal Russia, which should be strived for (probably a lot in this case depends on the trainer). 
It is no coincidence that one of the archetypal modifications of the octopus - Cthulhu from the works of Lovecraft, has become so widespread in the Russian Internet environment. At President #2 Putin's press conference in 2006, the question of Cthulhu became one of the central points of the show. Putin did not comment on the issue of the octopus in any way, probably in order not to reveal the foreign policy secrets of the world gendarme ahead of time.
Today, both Putin himself and his Gazprom enterprise, the West continues to draw in the form of an octopus. However, this image already means rather than fear, not an all-consuming Mother, but a funny invertebrate, at the very beginning of the evolutionary path.
