The fact that my luck comes to an end, I felt in advance before refused the control unit flicker, so I did not wonder that my Tornado has not performed a maneuver discrepancies with interceptor missiles, released at close range. And instead of cursing the irrepressible imagination of the technicians of the Department to ensure the training process, sent all engine power to the front force shield. Then I shot off all my remaining traps and activated the generator for the production of active interference. Or rather, tried to activate. Schazzz! Calculate in advance the program counter to my behavior in an extreme situation room hell knows what happily tick made my point. And with sadistic pleasure switched to the next line. Providing the appearance of a problem in the generator. And its emergency shutdown. Therefore, seeing that four of the sixteen messengers of death flying towards me from the ship Kloss, not deviated from his course, I immediately activated the memory block with domestic developments. And in just a few seconds left before my heroic death at the hands of the enemy, which, incidentally, is the best pilot on the course, managed to make a feint ears. Changed the configuration of the protective field so that it passed through both the right wing of the Tornado. Between his body and the weapon pylons, previously tightly blocking atmospheric hatches of two of the four mines and activating the retarder system of self-destruction dozen missiles. Cut, like a laser beam, pylons have not started the rotation around the new center of mass when next to my "Tornado" blazed a terrible brightness flash.
Shaking from the close explosion of the combat units of the "Piranhas" was so strong that I for a moment lost consciousness. And therefore overlooked, as past my ship, moved with the trajectory of flight in man-made analog flickerfly rockets Kloss. And for the same reason, missed the only remaining me a chance to launch their rocket nozzles it "Tornado", who at this point almost defenseless...
...Alas, a moment of respite received in the result of the criminal destruction of the entrusted to me by the Academy ship, did not last long: just a tenth of a second after the aft hemisphere "Tornado" were wrapped in a cocoon of protective fields, I have refused the shunt. No, the feeling of the connection of consciousness to the ship left. And slow the perception of time, allowing to adequately react to the situation in the fleeting oncoming battles too. Disappeared only direct connection to iskino[1] of the ship. That is, any possibility somehow to influence the processes taking place inside the center of the engineering genius of SCD[2] the Earth Confederation...
My attempts to respond to maneuvers Kloss with touch console emergency control panel was so pathetic that after a couple of seconds of fluttering, I realized that he had lost: well, couldn't my fingers move as fast as thought. And prepared to "death"...
...Think about the prospects of landing to the launch site of the Academy I did not want. As the procedure developed techniques ootp specifically to "promote the fighting spirit of those who lose a training fight", humanity did not differ. It is enough to mention the fact that the output of trainees on the airfield plastobeton on foot considered happiness. However, such "happiness" in my memory was rolled units, as a rule, the lifeless body of the loser was placed in the flyer snow white and for the next few days, he "rested" in the hands of sadists from military medicine. So by the time "Tornado" broke in crazy peak of the dotted line landing glide path, the scarlet thread of burning at the tactical screen of my helmet, I mentally prepared myself for the worst: the ship dropped like managing them machine was going to put him in the "dead" mode. With congestion, several times exceeding the capabilities of the compensator and the protective cocoon of the pilot's seat. Full shunt trip for five minutes to touch, I took it stoically. Well, almost — to not knock teeth, the forces I had, and make a mental not to whine — no. So, having lost all ability to see what is happening outside, just in case tried to verify the integrity of the castles of the cradle and the green light over the sensor alarm activate the catapult...
Touch I noticed: clicking to shoot clips of the diving bell and the whistle started to come into the cabin air seemed to be the usual glitches. Delusions arising in the brain from excessive overloads. Therefore, the phrase of the wizard: "Move it, pipsqueak," delivered in my helmet, reacted immediately.
Hello, Wolves! You have twenty seconds to leave the ship and be in the "Zebra"!!!
Jumping on the tarmac of the airfield, just in case glanced on his car. That is, fight with Claws imitation was not. So, my "Tornado" COULD NOT get into the regime of civil dropship!!!
"Zebra", a ten-seat boat that is designed for the selection of the shipwrecked in the ocean, just finishing the turn. And, judging by the mode of operation of the engine, to not stop going. So I had to string up and fly into the open cargo hatch. And then keep falling on the floor of the jaw: a pilot of the bot sat Koschey!
— During a training flight was shot down... ' I began the list of his "successes", but Koschey shrugged off the report and, without looking back ordered:
— Get dressed! Back there, your stuff. Your work I've seen. Well. Sorry that you take...
I was struck dumb: the word "bad" from the mouth of captain koshcheeva I had never heard. I generally felt that gradations above "zadohlika" or "imbecile" for him there. And right — stripe "Master pilot" earned prior to the service at the Academy, inspired awe even the cadets of the eighth of the senior class. Still — in the Fleet HQs of these specialists, there were only eighteen people.
And he flew like a God. Kloss, the first of us in a training battle against this fan of all kinds of tricks and dirty tricks never stand more than ten minutes.
To get him in the group dreamed of all, but selected the best of the best, the students, can become an elite of the Fleet HQs. And we, the ten lucky ones already working under his supervision, were jealous of black envy...
So, dressed up and having to perform the final flight of the day, I slightly twitched. As he was unable to imagine the cause, is able to unsettle the eternally unflappable instructor.
— Good luck to you, Vic! Take care of yourself, okay? — Farewell Koshchey made in just a few seconds before the bot stopped in front of staff building of the Academy, I was perceived as a shot in the head.
Can I go now? — reaches forward over the chair, I yelled.
— Go! — grimly muttered the captain... and he held my hand!!!
To guess to shake it, it took me about five seconds: such familiarity from a teacher of the Academy, I did not expect. All this time on the face of the SCRAG shadows flickered barely concealed emotions — sadness, confusion, pity. And something like seated fear.
Swallowed the approaches to his throat, I still had the sense to cling to old covered with calluses claw and turned around in place, jumped out of the "Zebra". Waiting to meet me the trouble...
To knock on the Colonel's office nopflera I could not: the door is the scariest premises of the Academy were wide open, and before her I was waiting for her boss in person!
— Where the hell are you, wolves? We've been waiting for! — grabbing my sleeve and pushing into the office, he growled irritably.
— Carried out training flight according to schedule, sir! — trying to stretch out straight on the move, I reported.
— Shut your mouth and sit somewhere on the sidelines! — barked Knopfler and without waiting for a command, made to vanish me in the direction of luxury leather sofa with it sitting on a stranger major.
Having managed not to lose balance when landing, I rather gently down on an empty seat and quickly surveyed the office — You always have to poke me all sorts of orders! And not try to grow at least one Werewolf to yourself? I suppose the guts?
Latest blast staying in wild irritation nopflera ignored all. Even Rong, decided to ignore this insubordination. And, without waiting
for the next flash of anger the Colonel stood up and followed the Rong and never identified himself as major headed for the exit...
— Good luck, cadet! — a hunted look me in the eye, muttered Knopfler and little thought, added: 'today you're attached to these bastards! If you knew how I wanted it... So forgive me, boy! Someone waiting for you...
I am mechanically saluted and turned around, marched left the office. In my head full of confusion reigned: from the brief skirmishes between Knopfler and his guests, I realized just what my life needs to change. And, apparently, not for the better...
Downstairs and outside, I followed her new boss, not honored me even a word, got into a simple army Transporter with tinted Windows and, in obedience to the gesture of major, sat in the vacant place. And almost immediately rushed out. But instantly dim after a light prick in the back of consciousness made it impossible to properly assess the situation. Therefore, closing the hatch behind me I tried to knock on some reflexes...
To focus the mind, it took me four minutes. Murky haze, through which slowly prodavali the contours of objects around me, causing the Association with the blind on a training flight the glider in the thick clouds. Only there you can always look at the dashboard or at least in the ribs of a lantern, and then I didn't see almost nothing. Attempt missed, too, failed and became insanely heavy eyelids stubbornly refused to move. After a few minutes I realized that my eyes can be wiped with a sleeve. And suddenly I realized that I can't move my hand! The attempt to stretch the muscles of the legs proved equally unsuccessful. However afraid I don't have time: somewhere in my head hissed thinly, and then directly over my face sounded rather melodious female voice:
— Woke up, handsome?
Attempt to respond to anything good has not resulted — I couldn't even breathe normally, not to mention the fact to move my lips.
Don't worry... you're fine... Just disabled motor functions... — judging by the movements of the source of the voice, in conversation with me the girl was moving quite quickly around the room. — TA-a-AK... Now you can say... the rest have to wait a little — until you talk to the chef -- by the Way, mind you — for your own safety you firmly tied to the bed. So how to make any sudden movements until you is contraindicated...
Where am I? — Attempt on the twentieth naughty lips finally able to pronounce a phrase of two words.
— Sorry, kid, this'll tell you he same. I — a little man and do only what I instructed. Let me take your reflexes? My head immediately dropped a piece of some fabric, and I no longer anything to see.
And I have a choice? — to gather strength, I muttered.
— Of course, no! laughed not visible to me by the interviewee and snapped some metal objects.
— So do you feel anything? — she said after a moment, and I felt a tingling sensation somewhere in the vicinity of the right knee.
— The right knee. Stabs.
— Excellent! — something she was delighted. — And so?
— The left...
What joy she felt, I did not understand — each touch caused my body more discomfort, and after some time I felt that I quietly hate her. However, the pain was not acute. My feelings were great blunt — like came to me through a layer of thermal insulation. By the way, I played on the nerves that after waking up I even thought slowly. And ceased to feel the time, your body and its position in space.
— Cheers, sir! The voice of my muchitelnitsa made me to be distracted from their feelings and listen to what is happening: apparently, near me there's someone else. Probably the same Chef.
— Thank you, you're free! Yeah, don't forget to disconnect it from the system!
At this point my face came off the blanket, and I stared at the vaguely familiar face. Which immediately blossomed into a smile and said:
— Hey, hot shot! Glad you survived...
— What were the other options? — more or less coping with the articulation, I asked confused.
— Yeah. Not survive — it is unclear what delighted my companion. — No chance to survive you had to order more...
— Pletnev! Dmitry. Get busy!!!
Hearing the roar of another appeared beside me men, funny man turned serious at once, for some reason, I pulled back the lid, peered under it... and walked away.
— Hello, Victor! — in my field of vision there was the very major, to which I was assigned General Rong. — I congratulate you on the successful completion of the experiment. If you believe the testimony of all this equipment, he shook his head somewhere behind himself, then everything we planned turned out...
— What does the experiment have I? — I suddenly felt that I was starting to get angry.
— The most direct. Do not worry — still can't. Better try to think about what I say... or Rather, first answer me one question. Why are you enrolled in the Academy HQs?
— Because he dreamed of becoming a Werewolf...
Why? Show off which terrify stripes in front of a girl you couldn't: as far as I know, graduates of your Department go on leave in the civilian sector. Or in the form of aircrew HQs. So, the trappings of the elite units of the Armed forces of the Confederation you were interested enough. What then?
— You've read my file! — trying not to fall into a rage, I growled. — When planting Cyclops in Newport killed my whole family. As well as relatives, friends, classmates and neighbors. Everyone I knew and who I didn't know. The population of planetary systems for some three days turned to dust. And the Armed forces of the Confederation of Cyclops did NOT STOP!!!
— Don't worry about him... Major moved his hand and my bed slightly changed form. Lifting his head and turning it slightly to the left. — If I understand correctly, you wanted to become a Werewolf just because the pilots of this unit have the highest chance for revenge? Do I understand correctly?
Instead of answering, I closed my eyes.
Great. Now, please tell me what are the chances of the Werewolf prepared to emerge victorious from combat with fighter Cyclops one-on-one? Silent? Well, I'll answer it for you. Less than two percent. That is, all of you are nothing more than cannon fodder. Have you heard that expression?
— Heard...
— Every one of the battles in which the videoconferencing pilots managed to destroy the enemy's ships, took place with ten or more fold advantage. Isn't it? And each time, the victory appeared Pyrrhic. And it's not the imperfection of earthly technology over eleven years of encounter, we have taken a giant qualitative leap, and almost came close to the performance characteristics that demonstrate the enemy ships. Moreover, in principle we can create a technique more powerful than the Cyclops. But... it no one will fly. As no one, even the most prepared pilot videoconferencing is not able to compete with the same Cyclops in physical characteristics. Think: they can easily withstand peak overloads, for more than thirty percent exceeding limit values for human. They are one and a half times heavier, have better reaction and motor skills. Able to see in a broader spectrum, and far fewer people exposed to radiation. Their tissues regenerate well, working a bunch of brain-iSkin gives higher efficiency. In General, the list can be long — scientists who have studied the few body of the Cyclops, who managed to get over the years, confident that the common man a chance against them.
— Yes, but for eleven years we only lost seven planetary systems! — swallowed the approaches to his throat I. And he felt the weakness of his argument.
— I agree. Only seven. Of the seven that liked Cyclops... And you know what's in their frontier systems is preparing for a full invasion?
— What about before then? — dumbfounded, I asked.
— No more than a test of strength... sighed the major. And immediately continued: — In General, to figure out in what position is the Earth Confederation, is not necessary. And now let me show you. Look at the hologram...
Before me unfolded a layered image of the human body in the style of the curriculum on anatomy for primary grades. Glance at the picture more closely and finding nothi
ng new, I raised an eyebrow and decided to ask her. And at this point, the picture began to change. First "floated" the bone. Some — like the femur and humerus — has not changed the form. Just got a little heavier. Others, such as the ribs, began to resemble the plates of a fan. Or medieval armour. The free end of eleventh rib firmly rooted to the sternum, while becoming noticeably wider. And twelfth, turned into a kind of blade bone, securely covered part of the lower back. The spine is also noticeably thicker. Only here to understand what happened to him the changes I couldn't — distracted by the next picture — a mutation of the nervous and circulatory systems. And internal organs and muscles...
The sight was mesmerizing. Watching how to change virtual human model, I did not realize that you hear comments by the mayor:
...and ligaments become stronger. Muscular system is also affected. Now they are able to contract and relax almost four times faster. Moreover, during the recovery period, lab instrument stimulated the development of any and all muscles, including the smallest. Plus we have worked well with fine motor skills — now the most difficult movement you can do without any problems...
We? — stunned I asked.
"You..." nodded my companion. — The first thread of the project "the Demon"... the Pilots who will be able to fight on equal terms with our common enemy. And not only fight, but to win...
And... I turned into such a monster? trying not to panic, almost syllable by syllable I uttered.
— Why is it a monster? — replied the major. — Apparently you are not much different from ordinary people. Except a little taller. A little bit heavier. Massive. While more flexible, faster, and stronger. For nearly seventy days, we did the impossible — he spent hundreds of simultaneous targeted mutations. — It turns out that the Academy is already finished exams?! So! And ask if I want to become this Demon, you did not occur?
— No... — My interlocutor sighed and with a slight feeling of guilt and looked me in the eye. Project secret. To discuss with anyone, including candidates, we had no right. The only thing I could do is to select those who have clear motivation for choosing such a future. For example, you. Think about it — if I offered you undergo a series of operations in order to obtain the physical ability to fight on equal terms with Cyclops, would you?
Hell's army officers Page 1
