Fire Density. Макс Глебов
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“Well, that’s enough, at least, to comply with the law. I can take your case, but to obtain a license for such an activity I need from you a number of documents, which confirm that you have experience in the development of new weapons, as well as the results of tests of your products and recommendations from high-ranking military officers. Are you able to provide them?” in the eyes of the lawyer there was doubt.
“I think so. But it’s gonna take some time.”
“Then we can do this: I’ll register a company for you. This will be the first stage of our cooperation, a rather inexpensive one. Next, as you provide the necessary documents, we will proceed to obtain a license. Here, prepare the money, Igor. It will not cost you less than half a million rubles.”
The rewarding ceremony was very solemn. 35 persons to be awarded were assembled in the main column hall. The award was broadcast online throughout the Federation. In addition to the President, there were many high-ranking officials and military officers. I was licking my lips in anticipation while looking at this flower garden of potentialities, but my insignificant rank has isolated me from them as well as thick tank armor. Earth Federation President, Marshal Ivan Tobolsky, 60-year-old impressionable man with a thick mane of gray hair, a nose with a light hump, a strong chin and piercing brown eyes, delivered a speech that was traditional for such cases, but was slightly adapted to the current situation on the fronts, which was by no means the best. Therefore, we’ve heard repeatedly: «in this difficult time», «it is time for hard tests» and «verification of our will to win». And then he went straight to the award. A tall and smooth general who summoned my association with the word ‘parquet’ gave the name of the next recipient, and the guy in question approached the President with a report while marching in a ceremonial pace. Most of the time Tobolsky smiled habitually, took the award from a tray his extremely solemn assistant was holding, handed it to the hero and shook his hand with congratulations. The decorated man responded with a statutory phrase and returned to the line. Sometimes the President spoke to the officer or soldier a few words in a quiet voice and even listened to the answer. It was impossible to understand exactly what they were saying.
I turned out to be one of the last.
“Commander in Chief, Sir, Cadet of the Planetary Commando Academy Igor Lavroff has arrived for the state award!” I reported clearly to the President.
“Luyten-5? Commanding the Heavy Commando Brigade and striking to meet our landing party?” suddenly asked Tobolsky. There was a glimpse of surprise on the face of the foppish general who heard the question.
“That’s right, Commander in Chief, Sir.”
“Congratulations on the Order of the Gold Star, Second Lieutenant. And on joining the General Staff Academy. Now more than ever, we need such commanders.”
“Serving the Earth Federation,” I answered according the regulations, standing at attention.
“Unique Specialist?” The President quietly asked, nodding at the badge on my tunic and having thrown the ceremonial General into final shock by deviating from protocol. “Do you have any requests or suggestions?”
I, too, was barely keeping my face cool, but I wasn’t going to miss an opportunity like this.
“That’s right, Commander in Chief, Sir. I do.”
“After the ceremony wait for my assistant. And now you’re free to go, Second Lieutenant.”
There was no miracle, no personal meeting with the President, but his assistant did find me after the awards ceremony, and diligently concealing his disdain for a person as insignificant as a second lieutenant, invited me to submit my requests and views in writing and send it to him for processing and transmission to the Commander in Chief.
The door to the President’s office opened silently and the well trained assistant brought the Head of State coffee and ginger cookies. Tobolsky silently nodded.
“Mr. President, you asked me to remind you of Second Lieutenant Lavroff. ”
“Ah, Lavroff. Yes, thank you,” – Tobolsky wearily moved his hand along his face. “What’s there? Just briefly.”
“He claims that in the operations on Luyten-5 and Kapteyn, he used weapon systems of his own design, based on our and trophy circuitry and built on the Academy tech base and in the field conditions. According to him, they were far more effective in combat than our standard models.”
“Did you check that?”
“Yes, Mr. President, I’ve sent inquiries to his commanding officers. The answers have been strictly positive. In the case of Luyten-5, there is even a specific combat efficiency calculation: 130 percent.”
“Hmm. Let’s say it’s OK. What does he want? Money for development or transfer to a defense industrial complex?”
“Oddly enough, no. He doesn’t ask for money and only sees himself in combat units. He requests a licence to develop arms and military equipment for a company he has just registered as well as unhindered access to the Ministry of Defence competitions.”
“What’s the problem with the license?”
“It has been the practice of the Ministry of Defence to issue such licences only to large enterprises within the defence industry complex and to their subsidiaries. There’s no way for a small firm just set up to get a license like this. They just won’t let you, even after fulfilling the formal requirements. I mean, there’s so many of them, you can always pick on something.”
“Let’s not get in his way. This guy might be useful to us. Someone in the Military Industrial Complex has overdone things, and this guy, if he doesn’t turn out to be nothing, which I don’t think he will be, could be a good pain in the ass… What is required of me? ”
“Recommending a license with your signature will solve all the problems.”
“Is draft paper ready?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Send it to me, I’ll sign it. And let me know if he makes any sense.”
Leo Rabinovich froze up, staring at the screen of his tablet. I understood him well. I sat like that yesterday, stupidly reading and rereading the recommendation to issue the Lavroff Weapons Company a license to develop arms and military equipment, signed personally by President Tobolsky.
Finally, the lawyer stopped scrutinizing the document and gave me a still slightly stunned look.
“I think, Igor, in a week you’ll be licensed. With such a recommendation, it is unlikely that anyone would pay attention to formalities, because, in fact, Mr President himself has assumed full responsibility. You’ve earned a lot of trust, though.”
I just hemmed vaguely. I didn’t expect it myself. And some little worm of doubt was scratching somewhere in my brain, banging hammers into the top of my head: there’s no free cheese in rat labyrinths.
“I’m more than happy with the week,” I told Rabinovich, “But I have to get started somewhere. Can your company find me an office space and an experimental workshops site?”
“I think so. It won’t be a problem. It’s not hard to СКАЧАТЬ