Fire Density. Макс Глебов

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      Two dry clicks of my sniper rifle shots scattered across the hilly plain. The enemies sank down on the ground like weak puppets, but the signal of the attack on the dropship must have gone to the main group of quargs. Of course, I was hoping that my jammer wouldn’t let that signal get through, but the distance from which I fired did not let me be entirely certain, especially considering the fact that my position was not between the dropship and the main enemy forces, but on the side, otherwise I just wouldn’t see the target.

      I ran without saving energy and squeezing maximum speed out of my gear. Every second could have been crucial. I didn’t kill the wounded quarg, just shoved him off the ramp with the pilot’s body and dived into the shadowy insides of the quarg dropship. I almost fell over a body in a space suit. That was a human space suite. Anton Gnezdoff was lying on the side of the ship and showed no sign of life. I saw a ragged hole in the chest plate of his armor, it looked like he was hit by a large shard. But the private was alive although unconscious. I couldn’t afford to look into his condition now and jumped further to the cockpit.

      With the completion of operation at Luyten-5, I had quite a lot of time on my way back to Ganymede. Jeff and I had something to do. Remembering my adventures in a terribly uncomfortable quarg techʼs suit, I decided to throw away everything that had nothing to do with hacking enemy machines out of this suit. We mercilessly dismantled the armor, the weapons, the positioning and sighting system, the scanners and even the exoskeleton itself. So, as a result, it turned out to be a pretty compact device, which, if you wanted to, could be easily installed inside our human, heavy infantry space suit. And, of course, as I gathered up my equipment for this trip, I hadn’t forgotten about this device. The challenge was something else. I’ve never tried to hack a flying quarg machine, and all my knowledge of it was theoretical. But there was no other way, especially in light of the discovery of wounded Anton in the dropship.

      I activated the equipment. Lucky for me, the dropship didn’t hide any surprises compared to combat robots. It was protected far worse than the Mammoths and even the Small Dragons, so, eight minutes later, I had the enemy machine in my hands. Except I’ve never flown one of these before. In a previous life, I did well piloting a small troop transport Cuirassier, in this life I piloted our dropship. But I’ve never had a quarg flying machine in my hands before. It was required to take immediate action, so I plunged without doubt into a mad picture, which the enemy vehicle’s targeting and navigation system projected on my helmetʼs visor. For taking off like this, our pilot instructor would have killed me if I were there, then he’d bring me back to life by means of a mighty kick in the ass and would kill me again. He would repeat the procedure until the necessary pedagogical effect was achieved.

      The dropship was wobbling from side to side. I almost hit the nearest hill but only slightly grazed it and raised a cloud of sand. Nevertheless, I was flying. It was a good thing no one’s tried to shoot me yet. The machine I was flying was an easy target now.

      At first I just flew away. Having realized that I can already, somehow or other, manage horizontal flight and careful maneuvering, I turned my attention to weapons. There were no thermobaric rocket launching containers that are so dear to the heart of any human commando. Instead, quargs suspended under one of the short wings an additional high-speed aircraft gun, and under the other wing – an air-to-air missile launcher with a laser-optical guidance system, which is used to follow the target manually. Looked like that was who shot on our planes and the dropship. Judging by the amount of missiles used up, I’d say it was so. The quargs knew we’d send a rescue team for the scouts. They flew in early, picked up a position, disguised the dropship, turned on the EW station, and quietly waited for guests. It was a perfectly sensible decision. But an evil brigadier general showed up and ruined the party. At least, let’s hope so.

      I was no longer interested in the group of quargs running around the hills. I remembered there was still one missile left in the Small Dragon’s backpack, and at my level of piloting, meeting that missile didn’t seem like a good idea. I bypassed the threatened area along a wide arc, pressing the dropship belly against the hills, and even sometimes diving into the most spacious gorges. By my calculations, I’ve already beat Lieutenant Egorov’s team by ten kilometers. I didn’t risk arriving to them on an enemy dropship. They could just begin shooting before they can figure it out. Having landed the capricious machine in a small hollow, I went to the landing bay and squatted down in front of Anton. The quargs didn’t deactivate his suit. That’s all that kept the Private alive. The embedded first aid kit was doing what it could, but its prognosis was getting more and more threatening. If Gnezdoff isn’t in the hospital within the next five hours, there’s no way to save him. Which means we probably won’t have time to land in our control zone and call for help. I’m gonna have to brazenly fly the enemy machine right onto the runway of the special forcesʼ base. I donʼt think Iʼd be welcome…

      I caught the beacon signal two hours later. I couldn’t waste time any more, so I took the dropship in the air.

      A group that had already lost two people was moving east pretty vigorously. But it was OK just for now. There was still power left in the accumulators for another five hours. Lieutenant Egorov’s mood was getting worse by the minute. He didn’t see a real way out and led the group forward out of sheer stubbornness. Kay Shefferson raised his hand, urging the group to stop.

      “Commander, I’ve picked up a drone, a human one. But this is not my dragonfly, it’s something else.”

      Soon they saw the device. It slowly approached, circled the group with a slight buzzing and withdrew behind the ridge of the nearest hill.

      “John, look what it is,” ordered Alexey.

      The sniper went up the hill, raised an optical scanner over its ridge, and then he went straight down to the squad.

      “There’s a quarg dropship, Commander. It’s on the ground, the ramp is open, and near it stands our Cadet in his ‘barn’ with guns. He waved at me.”

      “Are you not overheated, John? Send me the file.”

      When the Lieutenant started playing it, he looked for a few seconds into the image projected onto the helmet visor, then silently slapped the sniper on the shoulder, made a sign to the subordinates to follow and climbed the hill.

      Major Weber was pulled from the table by the howl of an air-raid warning.

      “Duty Officer, report!” ordered the Major via communicator.

      “An enemy dropship has entered the control zone.”

      “Alone? No cover?”

      “That’s right. Altitude is one kilometer. It flies slowly. Doesn’t maneuver. It makes an ideal target.”

      “Wait, Lieutenant. Something’s wrong here. I’ve never noticed quarg suicidal tendencies before.”

      “It could be a diversion, or it could be a simulator.”

      “Put the battalion on combat alert. Make air defence equipment fully operational. The dropship can launch missiles from ten kilometers. How far is it now?”

      “105. If it doesn’t change speed, it’ll enter the firing range in fifteen minutes.”

      “Call the interceptors.”

      “Yes, Sir!… Major, Sir! There’s a signal from the dropship! It’s unstable yet. I can’t make it out. But the coding is ours.”

      “What the hell?.. Turn it on me.”

      The Major’s office was filled with cracking noise through which sometimes incoherent pieces СКАЧАТЬ