Natotevaal. War Chronicle

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

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

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

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

Von Conrad helped him lower the heavy round hatch:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dybal quickly pulled the cover and spun the bolt wheel:

– Farewell, father "Independence" and mother life!

Pressurized helmet lights illuminated the inner parts of the container; astronauts were cramped like canned sprats.

They could not even stir; there was no question about it.

All they could was to move their hands a little that have been prudently placed in front of the dashboards of their spacesuits.

Von Conrad was either whispering something quickly, or praying, or piling up one of his creepy complex abuse.

Dybal was trying to blow away a chewing gum wrapper from his nose; which had somehow gotten under the glass of his pressure helmet.

Nervously biting his lip, Mackliff was holding his index finger on the timer reset button, looking steadily at his shoulder altimeter which was showing 213 miles at perigee:

– Oh, come on, respond, you damn automatics!

– Station is ready to explode in two minutes fifteen seconds…

– Well, there it goes!

– One minute forty-five seconds.

– What is it, Mackliff! Have you forgotten to turn on the sluice valve?

– Station is ready to explode in forty-five seconds.

– It is not possible! We have already passed the estimated 205-mile mark. It just can’t be true! I'm sorry, guys … – Mackliff suddenly felt like his flesh was being separated from the bone, and the brain was being smeared over his cranial vault.

He was so pressed into the titanium boarding that his guts seemed glued to the spine. Before he sank into the blackness, through his headset he could hear Whitehouse gnashing his teeth and roaring throatily:

– It has worked, damn it, that fucking piece of iron!

Thirty seconds after the ejection of containers, "Das Rein" and "Independence" along with two docked Islamist ships became a swollen fiery yellow ball and then turned into a firework of molten metal.

***

Exchange 2.

Digital Coded telegram VHN 11

confidential level: A.

To the commander of the 156th squadron of 1U Fleet,

Yagd Colonel Kokum Yohoud.

Yagd Colonel!

I have to inform you, that by the end of 4725, Marr 24th from the beginning of Natotevaal, parts of the entrusted squadron have completely blocked the ball-sector A16N45 according to the scheme "The Net."

Patrols were placed at a distance of 5 Tohs.

All available lock scanners are thoroughly searching the sector and the adjacent space to detect the remains of yagdishvalder-42 and possible raiders of the Swertz empire.

The operation excludes:

– Yaggishvalder-15; convoy to Fort KK22 "Ihteneld-56-R" fortified zone of Stigmarkont.

– The repair ships brigade 446 of the separate remount battalion.

– 4 minesweepers: type "Ohayra" from units YAG-17 and YAG-32 that are undergoing preventive maintenance.

– Strategic reserve fuel tanker of squadron 156 SMI 443: propulsion engines overheating due to excess boost of mergasine.

Total engagement of forces of the 156th squadron is 89%