pulled back into the rational and cold world of the virtual reality.
That would be later. Now there was a terrible fatigue and heavy stupor within him.
Andrei made himself open his eyes and call the Russia 's chart room.
Much to his astonishment, the intercom system was functioning. The face of the second captain of the watch appeared on the communication monitor.
"Ordnance complex five, Lieutenant Andrei Vorontsov," he reported tiredly, "the space sector around the jets is free from enemy assault ships."
The captain kept silent as if he saw a madman or a ghost.
Dammit, what's going on in the chart cabin if a commander is looking in such a way at an officer having carried out an order? What are they doing there? Thoughts were gathering within his mind, mixed with pain and combat post effects; at the same time, resentment was arising within him too. "Respond, captain!" he demanded furiously.
The officer remained silent. Andrei felt himself losing self-control. The vision of the corpses of Kurt and Sergei was swimming before his eyes. They gave their lives to allow him to cut his way, and this...
The face of the captain of the watch was distorted with anger and fear. An animal fear of something inevitable.
"Too late," he forced himself to say. His voice sent shivers down Andrei's spine. "Prepare to die, son."
The communication monitor became dim. What the hell? He didn’t know what to think.
Then came the light .
It's impossible to describe it any other way. Only one word fit: light . It poured down from everywhere all at once, so that one had the impression the spaceships cast sharp black shadows on one another. As though a gigantic flashlight illumined for a moment the combat in darkness.
Instinctively, he tried to reach the control panel. The screen blazed up in white fire; there was a crackling, the recognizable smell of burning insulation. Quite unexpectedly, all around him collapsed with a great crash into an abyss to the accompaniment of sounds produced by torn metal.
The sudden overload momentarily knocked him out but the salutary swoon lasted only a few seconds. The automatics of a combat spacesuit wouldn't allow a soldier to remain unconscious in the thick of a battle, so a reanimation injection quickly brought him round. The ensued weightlessness nauseated him. But much worse was an unerring sensation that something terrible and irreparable had happened.
Andrei realized that the turret was torn away from the cruiser.
In situations like these the main thing is not to lose one's head. One by one, he turned on the telescopic survey, signal beacon and emergency transmitter.
Silence.
Desperate, he stubbornly tried to restore the intercommunication until he finally saw the futility of his attempts.
His compartment was drifting through space, rotating irregularly. The radar screen was dim and empty. No rustle in the communicator, no commands, no call for help.
He could only read on the instrument board the red alarm lines:
"Thermonuclear explosion in space. General power: 3,000,000,000 kilotons. Distance: 4,000,000 miles. Time: minus seventy seconds."
"Secondary radiation"
"Tertiary radiation"
"Skin overheated by 800 degrees"
"Protective field functions irrestorable"
"Laser gun, serial number 5, destroyed"
"Emergency life-support system activated"
"Your compartment transformed into autonomous module"
"Recommendation: maintain maximum level of personal protection during fifty hours"
"THREAT TO LIFE!"
The last line was blinking importunately.
* * *
... Each of us, before dying, should have gone mad. But we — I mean, a whole generation — millions of young guys on forty-seven colonized planets — grew up without experiencing pain or fear. Later we were called 'saplings of war'."
One could affirm that everyone who has been on the Path of Galactic War even for a short period is practically unable to believe that the world had been quite different. But I remember. I do
That would be later. Now there was a terrible fatigue and heavy stupor within him.
Andrei made himself open his eyes and call the Russia 's chart room.
Much to his astonishment, the intercom system was functioning. The face of the second captain of the watch appeared on the communication monitor.
"Ordnance complex five, Lieutenant Andrei Vorontsov," he reported tiredly, "the space sector around the jets is free from enemy assault ships."
The captain kept silent as if he saw a madman or a ghost.
Dammit, what's going on in the chart cabin if a commander is looking in such a way at an officer having carried out an order? What are they doing there? Thoughts were gathering within his mind, mixed with pain and combat post effects; at the same time, resentment was arising within him too. "Respond, captain!" he demanded furiously.
The officer remained silent. Andrei felt himself losing self-control. The vision of the corpses of Kurt and Sergei was swimming before his eyes. They gave their lives to allow him to cut his way, and this...
The face of the captain of the watch was distorted with anger and fear. An animal fear of something inevitable.
"Too late," he forced himself to say. His voice sent shivers down Andrei's spine. "Prepare to die, son."
The communication monitor became dim. What the hell? He didn’t know what to think.
Then came the light .
It's impossible to describe it any other way. Only one word fit: light . It poured down from everywhere all at once, so that one had the impression the spaceships cast sharp black shadows on one another. As though a gigantic flashlight illumined for a moment the combat in darkness.
Instinctively, he tried to reach the control panel. The screen blazed up in white fire; there was a crackling, the recognizable smell of burning insulation. Quite unexpectedly, all around him collapsed with a great crash into an abyss to the accompaniment of sounds produced by torn metal.
The sudden overload momentarily knocked him out but the salutary swoon lasted only a few seconds. The automatics of a combat spacesuit wouldn't allow a soldier to remain unconscious in the thick of a battle, so a reanimation injection quickly brought him round. The ensued weightlessness nauseated him. But much worse was an unerring sensation that something terrible and irreparable had happened.
Andrei realized that the turret was torn away from the cruiser.
In situations like these the main thing is not to lose one's head. One by one, he turned on the telescopic survey, signal beacon and emergency transmitter.
Silence.
Desperate, he stubbornly tried to restore the intercommunication until he finally saw the futility of his attempts.
His compartment was drifting through space, rotating irregularly. The radar screen was dim and empty. No rustle in the communicator, no commands, no call for help.
He could only read on the instrument board the red alarm lines:
"Thermonuclear explosion in space. General power: 3,000,000,000 kilotons. Distance: 4,000,000 miles. Time: minus seventy seconds."
"Secondary radiation"
"Tertiary radiation"
"Skin overheated by 800 degrees"
"Protective field functions irrestorable"
"Laser gun, serial number 5, destroyed"
"Emergency life-support system activated"
"Your compartment transformed into autonomous module"
"Recommendation: maintain maximum level of personal protection during fifty hours"
"THREAT TO LIFE!"
The last line was blinking importunately.
* * *
... Each of us, before dying, should have gone mad. But we — I mean, a whole generation — millions of young guys on forty-seven colonized planets — grew up without experiencing pain or fear. Later we were called 'saplings of war'."
One could affirm that everyone who has been on the Path of Galactic War even for a short period is practically unable to believe that the world had been quite different. But I remember. I do
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