Hell's army officers

by Andrew Komarowski

  — War is war, and lunch schedule? — broke from Kharitonov.

  — Exactly! — filed the voice of the senior Lieutenant Hasek. We were also going to eat, but decided to first look at these Zombies...

  — If you were, you blow now... — sighed the General. — They are transported in stasis. And take out just before the procedure, imprinting...

  — What are you waiting for? — sarcastically asked Helen. — Will you have dinner with us, sir?

  — Thanks for the offer. But I need to speak to General Belotserkovsky.

  Kharitonov, shaking the outstretched hand, nodded.

  — Crazy project! I'm still in shock. Look like recording their fights, so you wonder: well, people can not so fly. — laughed the curator of the project "the Zombies". — However, they are not quite human, right? Okay, no offense — my left Nomo erase even further... by the Way, where are they going?

  He let her go to dinner. This link is only of patrol...

  — Sorry. I was planning to start imprinting in ten minutes... — he frowned Belotserkovsky.

  — Well, start — Demons, free from duty, I'll be right...

  The procedure of imprinting was quite long and gave Kharitonov a feeling of insincerity. Major Rodriguez, rushed to the "Elbe" to the beginning, was of the same opinion: at least half of actions of the personnel of the laboratory complex looked unnecessary and, most likely, was an attempt to disguise some of the technology. However, anything surprising in it was not: the project "the Demon", pending the start of the joint flight, received approximately the same instruction. Not going to demonstrate to future partners design features and technologies used in their Project.

  However, despite the fact that everything that happens in the laboratory were filmed BK-askami Demons equipment major Tishkina and camera rodríguez, Vladimir Semenovich was carefully watching what is happening. Since pursued a quite definite aim: to squeeze the maximum information from what is happening. And out of the man, positioning himself the Creator of the project "the Zombies".

  The reasons for this doubt were. Judging by data collected by staff members of the Quartet, the last two years the General Belotserkovsky was engaged in routine work. And for several reasons could not be the man betrayed himself in front of MacGregor. Could not, and that's all. So, the real Creator, for whatever reason, chose to remain in the shadows. And this caused Kharitonov professional interest...

  ...All nine Zombies, brought out of stasis, looked men. Of medium height, rather slender physique, they are almost no different from the hustle-bustle around them scientists. Skinny neck, and shoulders without obvious deltoids and the almost complete absence modificaton of the trapezoid created a feeling of weakness. Moving androids too without special plastics like ordinary people, far from service HQs and never engaged in sports. If not for the paintings they pass through the landfill, recurring to his memory, Kharitonov would never have believed that these sad, confused and somewhat frustrated guys can turn into a real death machine...

  Looking at the face of captain Volkov, the first of the last procedure now addressing loitering on the premises of a new "subordinate," the General tried to imagine his feelings. And could not: a completely inscrutable face of the unit commander "Demon" did not give any food for thought.

  But in the face of major Rodriguez could write a book: with a genuine interest in looking at the laboratory equipment and each of the androids Belotserkovsky, Ramon incessantly moving his lips and poked your fingers into a virtual keyboard to your komma. Apparently, recording in his memory raised in his questions...

  Waiting until Belotserkovsky hand out a bunch of ZU[45] listen carefully to his subordinate, the General came closer to him and asked:

  — Like my children compared to yours?

  Yours look much more representative... — sighed the curator of the project "the Zombies", looking at the figure in the chair usaživaûŝiesâ Semenov. — Supposed to look like a real soldier. And my seem lanky. That's only if they pick up an assault rifle and to aim, as they are instantly transformed. In General, the eggheads are a strange breed: here's how you think about what they think your thinking of the image of the Demon?

  — Who the hell knows... shrugs Kharitonov, trying to look a little tired and not very attentive: according to the psychological portrait of the General, a big fan of worn out and sharpen lyasy, in order to provoke him to candor, this is what was required.

  I do not know. But if I brought a graphics file with the prototype of the future appearance of a Zombie, I would, of course, chose the option PageScope. Although... bila Tserkva suddenly shivered and quickly finished the sentence: — Although you'll be fine...

  Look at the person passing by scientist Vladimir Semenovich did not. However, he noted his red mark on the virtual screen of major Tishkina, an emergency unfolded before their eyes.

  Confirmation of the highest priority control came almost immediately. In addition, one of the auxiliary Windows screen appeared and enlarged expression of interest the General man. Looking like a squandered column program identifier, Kharitonov tried not to be distracted from the conversation with olemassa short suggestion interlocutor.

  And my choice was... pretending to not have noticed a short hesitation, "dreamy" muttered Kharitonov. — Remember, we especially discussed the appearance of the female Demons. I was a supporter of the right proportions... well, such that chest, nice thighs. And, as it turned out, for good reason: they turned out very delicious...

  — Yeah. — It would be interesting to see them... well, let's say, in the civilian world...

  — They look quite decent. I've seen a lot... by the Way, why all your Zombies are silent? For example, here are two. Like stand side by side, and for the last ten minutes did not say a word...

  — Well... — shrugged Belotserkovsky. — They have emotions, not really. And with feelings too. What your not?

  My Demons for each other to anyone's throat claw. And chat much... then Kharitonov. And, having moved his right hand behind the lapel of his jacket, confirmed receipt of the answer to your query: negotiations on any of the frequencies between the androids failed to detect.

  Yes. My children, perhaps not enough... — sighed again Belotserkovsky. — However, they are first and foremost performers. Why do they need the ability to feel? Said stand — stand. Said shoot — shoot. Not the soldiers and the dream of the General... Oh, what a beautiful woman... and you know when appeared in the doorway Williams, whistled General.

  — Free advice? — pulling at his sleeve of his jacket, softly said Kharitonov. — Never rolls to one or the second. Nothing good is not over...

  Why? — surprised Belotserkovsky.

  — Both have partners. Feelings mixed pairs were studied for a long time and now your worse than imprinting. So if you're not suicidal and do not wish to have personal enemies all division of Demons, then better look for an object for compliments somewhere on the side...

  — Yes? But sorry...

  "Object identified! — Red lettering, flashed near the holography on the small screen, forced Kharitonov slightly to dispel the attention. Ben Groner. A native of the city of London, Old Earth. Sixty-three standard years old..." — having looked through the file with installation information, detailed program, the General realized that he was not mistaken: a man with one glance of siege of the chief of the Sixth division HQs, small fry was not, And was thus required representative of the actual owner of the project "the Zombies" — the person whose name guys major Tishkina yet to identify a failed...

  "Here's your first thread... closing the file and trying not to look in the direction of the first defendant in further investigation, thought Kharitonov. Remains for her to pull..."

  How's your new partner? The voice of Victor, sounded from the front door, forced the Ira to flinch and wince: memories of a cold glance the Twenty-sixth got on my nerves even now, forty-plus minutes after returning from the landfill. And remember it is not wanted. Absolutely. — Hello, Irina! What ar
e you, asleep?

  — I do not sleep. Think to say in response... — hearing that the wolves went to the bathroom, muttered Orlov. — In General, if briefly, that I did not like it. It is not like...

  — And if it's not too short? — Vic sat on the edge of the tub and gently patted the girl's hair. — I am very interested in your opinion, sweetheart.

  — If objectively, he's the perfect partner... remembering the results of control tests and trying not to be distracted by a native "sun", said Irina. — Crazy reaction speed, the ability to adapt to any changes in the operational environment, higher efficiency and the use of standard weapons, and when working with additional equipment. In all that relates to behavior in battle, he deserves the highest score...

  — Not in battle? — frowned wolves.

  I can't trust him... — suddenly blurted Orlov. And noting the surprise in the eyes of the man she loved, sighed: — do you Remember the day we met? At that time I was terribly worried about his new body and eyes each of you looked for a confirmation of their "flaws." However, oddly enough, is not found. None. In the views of strangers, in General, children were a lot. Interest, waiting for something new, self-doubt, even some feelings, but no negativity towards me WAS NOT. Time passed, and I can say that my feelings had not deceived me — each of you was a man worthy of respect. And you... so do miracles... With Zombies it's different. I do not know your partner, and my Twenty-sixth looks at me as if I am the target in the sight of his assault of the complex. Yes, I know what imprinting. And that he at all desire can't do anything bad to me. But each time, turning her back to him, I'm afraid. You know, he seemed alive and not alive at the same time! Well, how do you explain that you understand? — biting her lip, exclaimed Orlov. — Now in your eyes the whole complex of feelings. Love for me. Pent-up desire. The doubt that I have correctly evaluated the androids of General Belotserkovsky. Concern for my morale. The desire to protect and something else. So?

  — Well, in principle you have listed almost all... — smiled wolf.

  — Now, each of them essentially positive: even if you know that I'm wrong, it will not cause you nor hate, nor anger, nor doubt of my mental abilities. And anxiety your good: you just try to empathize with me and try to feel the same as me. But when I look into the eyes of his companion, Zombies, positive feelings do not feel! In General, you know? Yes, I may be a hypochondriac and drew a picture in which there is no real stroke. In order to understand what is trying to present looking after me man, I don't even need to think. Now, this doesn't see me in his bed. Does not want to look under my jumpsuit and not trying to "accidentally" touch me, at least the back of your hand... Wait, hear me out! — noticing that Victor is trying to say something, jerked Orlov. No, his opinion can not be called sexy! I understand that he may not like my height, weight, excess muscle mass, shape of feet, chest, or anything else. But he still needs to respond to me as a woman. And in his eyes — hatred! You know, I have a strange feeling that he is a maniac, and I'm his future victim. And though mind I understand that this is nonsense fevered imagination, but even now, leaving him in the vehicle Belotserkovsky, can't get rid of this feeling. You know, when I came to the barracks, the first thing I did is tried to wash away his gaze...

  — Hmmm... — muttered stunned wolves. And I thought paranoia came only me...

  — Birds of a feather... — crooked smile Irina. And tried to joke: — But maybe you're just jealous because my "Merlin" will appear someone else?

  — That I did not say... — sigh of wolves. — If you only knew how I don't like it. On the other hand, maybe they really need? Well, to deal with Cyclops? And all our fears from ordinary ignorance?

  — May, of course, and so. But its rear to verify they did not want to... ' said Orlov.

  — I agree... — pulling himself from the top of the jumpsuit, grinned Vic. And, getting up from the edge of the Jacuzzi, he added: — But will have to put up with it. God grant that not for very long. By the way, you know, I personally especially do not want to trust them... your cute rear. By the way, could move it to the side and invite me to his...

  — Persuaded, he... — sliding thoughts of Zombies away, Irina playfully bent at the waist, causing her Breasts emerged from the water. And then hid it back in front of her men appeared the same expression, the thought of which she always started to feel dizzy...

  Spacesuit Zombie looked serious — in comparison with our "Guardians" or even more impressive combined arms "Warriors" he seemed ancient hourglass next to modern commit. No bulges on the location of the attachments of the muscles of the exoskeleton, or the volume, pointing out the presence of compensating layer or additional reinforcing ribs on the elements of the life support system. A thin layer of armor, blocks the attachment of weapons and... everything! However, the standard docking stations that allow the use of chair "the Merlin", was on it. In the same way as the shunt. Therefore, waiting for the moment when my tactical screen will appear a signal confirming locking of the suit of partner is a Zombie under the number nineteen, I tore the machine from plastobeton and threw it into the sky. The corner of my eye looking at chart peak overloads and telemetry status sitting next to Android.

  Takeoff in peak Demon mode was not impressed Nineteenth — rim, showing the critical values of the accelerations, barely squeaked by in the yellow zone and paderewskis there a few moments, slowly returned to green. That kind of upset me: it turned out that the tensile strength of our new partners was considerably further our. Therefore, throwing off the traction slightly lower than usual, I began to watch the take-off of the remaining ships...

  The demon five! I — Tower. Good luck, guys! The voice of General Kharitonov, sounded in the air, made me briefly distracted from thinking about the possibilities of a Zombie.

  — Tower! I am the Demon five! Thank you... — he waited until "Merlin" to attach to my fighter, I started overclocking...

  Four hours and twelve minutes Nineteenth hyperspace made no sound. And don't even undocked from the chair. And all my attempts to communicate fell on deaf ears. Knowing that my questions are not orders. After the fourth attempt to bring him at least some bridges I got a little mad and decided that his moral condition is headache General Beloyarskogo, and the second Breakfast will do me good, went to cyber — chef. A glass of orange juice and slices of smoked meat...

  "But Irina, and Kharitonov on to something...", I thought to call the normal look of the Zombies is aimed at transparent disposable container in my hands, could not be the complete optimist. Feeling crazy hunger burning in it almost made me throw food in the garbage.

  "What the hell? — just flashed in my head. — And if the bounce will last a day or two, or a week? Am I obliged to starve? Or ask you to immerse your partner in stasis? No! Let him get used". And back in his chair, began to eat...

  Ten minutes before surfacing in the system atley Zombies for the first time moved. And even his voice:

  Nine minutes forty-six seconds to exit from hyperrectangle. Recommend to take their place and prepare to jump.

  Thanks, I know... I turned the virtual screen komma, which was modeled versions of the attack on the space fortress Cyclops activated the locks connecting nodes of the suit and barely held back a crooked smile during my "absence" in the my new partner tried to hack her. And even achieved in this difficult work with some success. Notes on accessing files too. The number of transferred server data flows was equal to the flow of communication with the equipment being in standby mode. And in General, there is a feeling that all the flight time he did not pass and did not take anything except the identifiers: a complex multi-layered defenses, which served as a means to evaluate the skills of future hackers, it seemed untouched. And a little number "1", "" burning in the corner of the screen the status of the server to connect to which was only possible using the BC-Ashkali testified that the hacking took place. And about that. the whole array of "secret data", which includes the performance characteristics of "Krechetov" and "Custody", a program pairing t
hem, and even the tactical schemes of attack on the ships of the Cyclops was duplicated. That was a magnificent confirmation of the theory Pasha Zabrodina, foaming at the mouth, demanding maximum reassurance when working together. And phrases of General Kharitonov, said before we left:

  — I highly doubt that imprinting Zombies are not layered. So if possible, try to avoid conflicts. Especially in the presence of Belotserkovsky and his subordinates.

  "They were right!" I thought, and by looking at the timer, and prepared to get out of Hyper...

  ...Since our last appearance in the system drove two cruisers, four destroyers and a dozen fighters. Apparently, our regular courtesy visits (as they were called Helmut) Cyclops rather tired. In addition, its residents has significantly improved and the control of space: six seconds after my ascent the nearest patrol group, consisting of twelve(!) ships, lay on a new course.

  After ascertaining that they follow to me, I turned his "Merlin" in the direction of the orbit atley twelve and gave the thrust to the main engines. Through the efforts of engineers depicting the operation of the motors of the winder. As planned Zabrodin, Cyclops is not seduced: the constant game of "who-who-cheat" great impact on their self-esteem, so in pursuit of "the scout" started not three or four ships, as before, and the whole patrol. And in his area of responsibility came to the fore another. Backup.

  Two minutes before the point of separation I pointed to the sensor control unit fuel injection in engines, causing a small "failure". Why thrust of the booster engines fell to twenty percent of their nominal value, and to ignore it was impossible: the acceleration of my "Merlin" was noticeably lower, and my pursuers appeared very good chance. Therefore, their cars, and so going to afterburner, reaching the point of separation, did not turn back to the planet, and continued the pursuit, gradually approaching my stern. Looking at the control timers the surgery, I allowed myself to smile: the distance from the pursuing cars until backup patrol was already seventeen minutes of traffic on the afterburners and continued to increase.