Loe raamatut: «Foothold For A Loner», lehekülg 2

It was worse with the tanks. They had strong armor, as well as force shields. An assault robot is not supposed to fight tanks head-on along flat land. They’re more suitable for battle in difficult terrain, in tight conditions when it’s possible to sneak up on the enemy and go for the jugular. Nevertheless, my tiny ‘roaches’ managed to incinerate two tanks. But they paid a great price to achieve that.

No matter what, however, tank cannon is a really a wicked thing. A robot can’t survive a direct hit, and it just obliterates. Only seven of my ten robots were left, and two needed repairs. They stumbled: their scanning and navigating systems were damaged. Again I said a mental ‘Thank you’ to the development engineers for their great work. As soon as my robots were united in one battle network the damaged ones were given targets by their serviceable neighbors.

Soon, we realized that these adventures were just a prelude, a kind of delicacy to whet the appetite before the main course that the toads were going to serve without any delay. The toads waited until the main bulk of their troops had landed and then launched the operation. They hit us from where we didn’t expect it.

Terrestrial batteries with anti-orbital cannons were always considered to be desperate weaponry, a kind of last trump card to stop attacks on troops and infrastructure from enemy ships hovering over a planet. But this time the toads demonstrated that quantity can morph into quality.

From under the surface bluster cannons appeared, mushrooming like after the rain. Well camouflaged, they previously went undetected. Hundreds of lightning strikes darted into the sky, annihilating ten troop carriers that were starting their final approach using corridors considered to be secure. Our orbital group was completely shocked, and orbital support suffered a major setback. Atmospheric planes had to stop their flights. When our battleships, with their long-range cannons, moved closer in order to neutralize the terrestrial batteries the toads counterattacked. Everyone was really shocked and depressed.

But I had asked to be here for this very moment, and it was time to do my job. I indicated the motion vector to my tiny roaches and we briskly ran to the nearest enemy battery that had just appeared out of the ground.

Quickly it became clear that I had overplayed my hand. The toads today were throwing out unpleasant surprises, one after another. As soon as the anti-orbital cannons arrived they sent out a swarm of atmospheric destroyers and attack planes. Until that moment the toads spared these swift but vulnerable machines, trying hard to shield them from orbital attack, but now it was time to use them.

The battle quickly fell into separate sectors where isolated ground units tried to fight off the air forces pressing down hard. In some places it worked pretty well, but there were too many in the sky. My assault robots started to run low on ammo. Plasma guns – that’s good, but to obliterate an enemy by a guided missile is much more pleasant: the distance is greater and target accuracy is better. Only a few missiles were left, however. Two previously damaged robots were finished off rather quickly, and only five remained.

As it turned out, my small problems were nothing in comparison with what was happening in space. Almost simultaneously with the toads’ attack on the planet, their ships started to appear out of hyper-jump. First, there were just a few, the fastest ones, but before long their number was equal to that of the Empire’s ships. By and large, those higher up in headquarters quickly became aware of the kind of cesspool our invasion fleet had fallen into.

A counteroffensive could well result in a catastrophe. The Admiralty didn’t want to push the situation to the point where it would be an irreversible clusterfuck, and so the order was given for an urgent evacuation and to leave the system.

Despite all this, I wasn’t going to evacuate. For me, this was almost a perfect situation. I’d be most useful by covering the evacuating troops; that’s what I was going to do. I altered the task for my robots and started to move them to the landing point while shooting our way out and taking cover behind the smoldering remains of equipment.

The orbital force continued to hold. In just the last hour our ships in orbit considerably reduced the number of enemy terrestrial batteries that had harassed them so much, and now cannon fire from the cruisers and battleships pounded the wave of armored vehicles rolling toward the ring closing around the commandos. A continuous stream of carriers landed on the cleared ground behind the troops. People quickly embarked and loaded the most valuable equipment and headed back to orbit where they started to accelerate for a hyper-jump out of the Delta Kirsani system.

New robots were added to my platoon. When a considerably battered assault company was evacuated, only the pilots and their command modules were taken into the carrier. Their robots were handed over to me. There were only seven, but now I had more robots than before. I wouldn’t say that these new ones were equal to those I’d lost. The previous generation of robots was far inferior to the latest developments, but I had no reason to complain. I had gotten a generous refill of ammo because they didn’t need to take it with them to orbit.

Still, the toads didn’t let our commandos quit the system quietly. They regrouped their ships within the system and tried to intercept the carriers accelerating for hyper-jump. Our ships naturally rushed to defend them. A battle ensued, and soon all the big ships in the system were involved. Therefore, the remaining troops on the surface couldn’t rely anymore on support from orbit.

We felt the impact immediately. The insolent atmospheric planes pushed forward raining missiles down on us, as plasma poured from cannons. Enemy tanks started a new attack, pushing aside the debris of equipment knocked out of action. Few of us remained since the main body of troops had been evacuated. As the senior officer among those on the surface, I ordered to abandon the equipment and make a run to orbit in my Cuirassier that stood on the edge of the landing site.

They tried to make me fly with them, but I repeated with a certain pleasure some colorful figures of speech used by a sergeant at the military school where I was a cadet. All the subordinates evidently had a similar experience, so they obeyed, jumping into the Cuirassier, and with an enviable swiftness rushed into the sky.

The equipment was not just left behind but was hooked up to my command module. Thanks again to the engineers, my module was able to control this motley crew, although at first I doubted it. I now commanded almost a battalion comprised of 50 assault robots, a couple of heavy assault tanks, two launchers of short range missiles and even three armed unmanned atmospheric planes.

The toads immediately took an interest in the Cuirassier’s take-off and were about to shoot, but I didn’t let them. My motley crew made a frontal attack, imitating a breakthrough of the defensive ring. I told half of my robots to shoot down the missiles launched at the Cuirassier, and the rest they destroyed at point of launch.

My attack fizzled out almost at once, however, as was expected. After all, we were greatly outnumbered. In just 90 seconds both of my assault tanks were burning with smoky fire, only one-third of the assault robots remained. The launching racks were now a useless heap of junk since no one was left to reload and the ammo was gone. Atmospheric planes were shot down while covering the transport ships. Still, I bought the Cuirassier 90 seconds; they had a chance.

Generally speaking, I should have been dead by now. I was still alive, but I had no idea what to do next. I completed my mission but I couldn’t be evacuated. I could go on fighting, of course, but there was no point.

I continued to direct my robots while trying to find a solution. My thoughts were interrupted by a call. We had agreed with General Clay that there would be no farewells and no ritual verbiage, hence I was caught off guard by this call. Since it was the top brass, I had to respond.

“This is Brigadier General Dean, you have my full attention,” reverberated the words in an official tone in my helmet telecom system.

“Stop this fucking circus, Dean. Why the hell didn’t you answer my call? Get out of there. Now!” General Clay used approximately the same words that I’d used some ten minutes prior to convince my subordinates to board the Cuirassier.

“Well, Clay,” I responded tiredly, ignoring protocol. “We agreed upon everything.”

“Brigadier General, when was the last time you were in solitary?! Have you forgotten how to address a senior officer?” screamed Clay, which was unusual for him, changing the subject right away. “There’s a message from headquarters. Doctors demand you return, we need you intact. They’ve found a solution, and not only for you, but for all of us, for the whole Empire. And it’s all to do with you. Exclusively! You understand? What’s with your theater show?! Turn the beacon on immediately and stop trying to be a hero!”

“I have no way out. I’m completely encircled, and the toads are finishing off my robots. There’s only 10 left. Fuck…” my module’s force field was hit from above and was thrown about, but wasn’t severely damaged.

“What happened?”

“Nothing serious, yet. Some operational issues. I turned the beacon on.”

“I see. Wait. And don’t you dare die. You’ve got it, General?”

“Yes, Sir. My mission is not to die. Do I have permission to carry it out?”

“Once you reach my ship, I’ll show you!”

I didn’t listen. Behind the thin chain of my robots was a small relatively vacant patch of space in front of a heap of burnt iron debris. That’s to where we were slowly moving back, snapping shots at the toads’ most impudent flyers and terrestrial drones. Good thing they had run out of heavy tanks, otherwise I’d quickly been screwed. There was no good news in my situation.

The medium-range scanner buzzed, and 19 small high-speed air targets appeared on the screen. That was a missile salvo. How fortunate that there was almost nothing left to deal with them. Just guns. I had run out of guided missiles seven minutes ago, and I directed my module to the enormous pile of burnt heavy machinery.

On top of this heap of wreckage our heavy tank stood with its hull side split open and the turret smashed. Hiding behind it, I sent my robots to the opposite side where they began to shoot at the approaching missiles. The toads became quiet, and didn’t want to get hit by their own missiles. My robots performed very well and managed to shoot down nine missiles… Then an explosion!

The tank behind me, where I was hiding, was knocked over by a shock wave, but I managed to get out of the way. As I’d hoped the incoming missiles were aimed at targets that were actively fighting back.

“General, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Dean, I hear you well.”

“I’m alone now, the robots have been blown to bits.”

Before Clay could answer, a toad drone appeared, jumping on the tank that was on its side. We fired almost simultaneously at each other, the enemy was blown away from the tank and disappeared behind a heap of debris. My module’s force shield repelled the intense plasma strike, but the generator burnt out from overload and only my armor could protect my vulnerable module.

“Lie down!” I heard the general shouting in my helmet’s headphones.

I fulfilled the order without thinking, and I did so right in time. The area around me became a fiery inferno. The main battleship’s cannons ain't no aircraft gun. I’ve already seen something like that… The air above me was filled with howling pieces of armor flying in all directions, as well as pieces of concrete and various debris. You don’t want to get caught in the way of these projectiles. Heavy blows banged the module’s armor, but lucky for me the shards couldn’t pierce it.

When the dust settled I saw an approaching corvette. Usually, space warships don’t enter the atmosphere, but this was clearly a very special case. The battleship above continued shooting while taking on fire from 800 meters away. Clearly there were no worthy targets left in my vicinity. I didn’t wait for an invitation and rushed to the corvette as fast as I could. My module tumbled into the ship’s hold while general Clay urged me on, hollering with such great skill that even the legendary sergeant from military school would have been envious.

Chapter 2

“General, Sir…”

“You can put ranks aside, Dr. Silk.”

“Ehh… yes, of course. So, Dean, have you heard anything about mental fields?” The medical colonel glanced at me questioningly.

Our conversation was informal. General Clay brought me to the Admiralty’s central clinic and handed me over to the local vanguard of medical science who were going to explain everything. Clay also wanted to attend and brought along two generals whom I had caught a glimpse of before at headquarters.

“I only know that your department is working on this matter; nothing more.”

“Well, I see no reason to go into detail, but there are a couple of points that I really want to make clear. Until recently the physical nature of this substance wasn’t certain. Plenty of empirical data attested to the existence of mental fields and to the fact that such fields allowed for the instantaneous transfer of information from the brain activity of intelligent beings across a very large distance. At the same time, the principles of controlling these fields were, and still are, beyond our comprehension. Strangely enough, the enemy attack that you were a victim of, along with 1,500 members of our military, has led to a breakthrough. Whatever was used by the … ehh, toads, which so it seems, that’s how you call them – functioned on the basis of mental fields, but it definitely used their vibrations as one of the harmful effects. In general, the details aren’t important, but we’ve found the key to a partial understanding of this phenomenon while studying the changes in victims’ brains. Bear with me a little longer, I'm coming to the main point. We’ve modernized one of our experimental units and now we have a kind of scanner allowing to study the extent of mental fields at great distances from us. I’m talking about millions of light years. At lesser distances signals merge, unfortunately, and are distorted by interference, but that’s secondary. The important thing is we’ve discovered a human civilization. It’s very far from us, and we can’t even indicate the precise direction. We’ve been lucky with this coincidence of circumstances, and we’ve managed to gain access to the mental field of a comatose man. He’s sick. At their medical level he’s terminally ill, but we know this disease and are able to cure it. Their civilization is significantly less advanced than ours – some 200 years behind, at least. They recently discovered hyper-jump and started launching interstellar flights, and almost instantly they bumped into a hostile race, a humanoid, but not a human one. There’s a war on there, just like here. I wouldn’t say they’re loosing, but this war is all-consuming with apparently no end is in sight.”

“And how could they help us?” this question from my mouth was clearly written on the faces of all those present who still weren’t in the know.

“Generals, Sirs, tell me honestly, will we be able to win this war?”

There was a long silence in the doctor’s office. Eventually, it was broken by Clay.

“This is a very difficult question, Dr. Silk. Let's say, if there won’t be any great innovation in the field of armaments, we'll lose.”

“And how long can we keep going? After all, we're not the only ones with possible breakthroughs in new weapons; our enemy might as well.”

“The war has been going for almost 100 years. For now, we still have somewhere to retreat, but this can’t last forever. We have 20 years, probably 30 if we’re lucky.”

“And what happens next?”

“It gets pretty grim after that, doctor. We’ll be chased out of the developed worlds system interconnected by a network of stationary hyper-portals, and we’ll have nowhere to go except intergalactic space. But I don’t think they’ll let us go. They’ll catch up and destroy us. The toads can manage hyper-jumps as well as we do.”

“Here’s an answer to your question. We need a place to run to in case things turn out bad. You have this place. We found it for you.”

“But how do you expect to get there? You can’t even point in the right direction. Even if you knew it, what’s the point? A linear motion that far in hyperspace will take thousands of years. What we need is a stationary portal, a couple of gates at our side and theirs. Besides, we must know the exit’s subspace coordinates.”

“That's why you plucked our heroic Brigadier General out of that mess in Delta Kirsani. The thing is that the General’s brain was exposed to radiation from the toads’ artifact and has been altered. Now it can harmoniously resonate with the brain of a young man lying in a coma millions of light-years away, and that means we can transfer General Dean’s mind into that man’s brain. Moreover, we can download much knowledge into it, and that can be of immense service to the general when he’s there.”

“Excuse me, doctor,” I was amazed. “But I wasn’t the only man exposed to radiation. You’ve got at least a thousand patients like me at your hospitals.”

“We’ve examined all of them. Unfortunately, they’re not suitable because of the individual peculiarities of their brains. We’re lucky to have you. Your experience will be extremely helpful there.”

“But that man is incurably sick and in a coma…”

“This alone has enabled us to connect to his brain. Coma and his disease – these are undoubtedly problems, but there is a solution. While transferring your senses we’ll download an enormous amount of information into your brain, including the means of treating this disease. Your brain won’t make it, however. If it had been possible to instruct everyone in this manner then we’d have defeated the toads long ago. Alas, a human brain can’t bear a direct data download. Your case, however, is very special. Your brain will die, but it won’t matter. Your senses, including the downloaded information, will be transferred into a new body.”

“And what if I die while still in a coma?”

“It’s highly unlikely. Transfer of senses stimulates brain activity and the immune system of the recipient. You will almost certainly have two or three weeks of remission. Within this period of time you’ll have to solve the problem.”

“After that you’ve got a military career ahead of you, general,” said General Filt, the highest-ranking officer among those present. “You’re used to it. You’ll have to strive to a high position in the power structures of our potential allies and provide for the construction of the second gate of a stationary hyper-portal. Your brain will hold all the necessary knowledge and hyper-coordinates. And we’ll construct our gate here. We’ve already found a god-forsaken place on the periphery of the galaxy for the gate, and if things turn bad we’ll still have a chance to survive as a species and to start all over again.”

“And what about that civilization? They may be reluctant to accept us.”

“That’ll depend on you in many ways, General. Actually, there’s much common ground between us. Both of us are humans, hence, we’ll be able to come to an understanding. We’ll provide technological advances and help them to win the war. They’ll help us develop new territories for our settlements or invite us to their planets if they wish. Anyway, we won’t impose ourselves. In case they don’t want to collaborate we’ll go into unexplored space and start all over again.

“Dr. Silk, are you ready to do it, from the technical point of view?” I was highly excited and couldn’t control my feelings.

“Practically, yes. We have to do a little fine-tuning of the equipment, and that’s not possible without your participation. What we need is your consent.”

“My consent?” I made a half-smile. “You have it.”

* * *

Behind the open window of the nurses’ room a light wind blew the poplar’s twigs. It was early June and the smells of summer covered the specific hospital odor of the furniture and the walls. Olga sat in the armchair having crossed her legs, and looked through the news of the day on her tablet. Upon hearing the equipment beep she jumped up and rushed to look at the patient’s monitor. Her hand automatically pushed the call button.

„What happened, Olga?” asked the doctor on duty via the communicator.

“Ilja Sergeyevich, the patient in the sixth emergency room has regained consciousness.”

* * *

I awoke with a terrible headache; my head was hurting so much that I wanted to be unconscious again. I didn’t even try to open my eyes because I knew that the light would just make things worse.

A door opened with a slight click, and someone entered the room, or maybe the ward. I made an effort and slightly opened my eyes. Despite my worst expectations the pain didn’t intensify. Quite the opposite: I was lying on a narrow bed around which were cumbersome medical devices standing on tripods and supports, flashing with dozens of lights of many colors. My body was connected to these contraptions via transparent tubes and cables. Also, I was covered from head to toe with sensors, injectors and other devices that electrically stimulated the muscles, judging by the occasional light pricking that I felt.

Two people entered the ward: a middle aged man with a flat device in his arms and a young attractive woman behind him. They came towards me.

“How do you feel?” asked the man looking at me attentively.

The language he spoke seemed perfectly strange to me and sounded very unusual. Nevertheless, I understood everything he said. Dr. Silk had warned me before the transfer that both my new body’s memory and skills would remain. But fluent knowledge of a foreign language leaves one with a strange feeling.

“I have a bad headache,” I tried I to answer, and judging by his nod, I succeeded.

“That’s not surprising, Igor. You’ve awaken. This is amazing. We expected it no earlier than three days after the radial therapy, and it’s been only one day.”

“I see, Ilya Sergeyevich,” I managed to recall the doctor’s name and was glad. “Can you do something for my headache so that I can think clearly.”

“Yes, Igor, but it’s best to sleep now. Olga, give the patient some dekateral.”

“Ilya Sergeyevich,” I tried to make my voice sound firm. “You know I have little time left. I prefer to spend it conscious. I’ve plenty of unfinished business and I want to see it all through to completion before… you know what.”

The doctor knew. Asteroid fever’s terminal stage leaves a man with no chance to act consciously: the pain is so strong that even powerful drugs can’t help.

Ilya Sergeyevich wanted to object but he changed his mind.

“Olga, forget the dekateral. Use maltrin. Can I do something else for you, Igor?

„Yes, please. Could I ask for a tablet and network access?”

“Of course. Olga will bring everything you need.”

“And…” listening to my cravings, “can I have something to eat?”

“You have an appetite? That’s quite unusual. You've been fed intravenously for some time, hence your stomach isn’t used to normal food. You can start with a mug of vegetable broth, no more than that. Anything else?”

“Thank you, Ilya Sergeyevich, nothing else.”

After the shot of maltrin my headache receded. Nurse Olga got me a tablet and a mug of hot vegetable broth, and I tried to recall from my renewed memory all the information for the treatment of asteroid fever that Dr. Silk’s brilliant guys had put in my head. We called this disease by another name. Here, miners working in the asteroid belt were the first to get this ‘bug’, and so the name stuck. These humans were lucky that asteroid fever posed a risk to just three percent of the population.

Due to its particular qualities the pathogenic agent couldn’t survive in the bodies of the vast majority of people. If this fungus, however, found a way to survive in the hostile environment of the human body, then it began to modify cells into a favorable form. This process in the early stages was very slow since the immune system killed most of the malignant cells, but gradually the modified cells increased and their number grew steadily. They continued to divide, generating new cells that replaced the normal ones. The lesions grew in size: first a man felt a certain discomfort, then pain, and then organ failure. Eventually, it was like an avalanche and a person died in terrible agony.

Doctors tried to stop this disease, and drug treatments and radiation therapy slowed and even partially reversed the spread of the affected cells. But this treatment greatly damaged the body because the medicine was highly toxic, as was the radiation. The modified cells died, but healthy cells also were killed. As a result, in just a few months death occurred no matter what.

In my world they found a treatment for this disease 150 years ago, and it came unexpectedly at the intersection of two very different sciences: biochemistry and nuclear physics. Now my task was to convey the essence of the idea to people capable of making the necessary equipment.

All right, let’s try to analyze our assets and liabilities – me and my new body. I, Igor Yakovlevich Lavroff, just 15 years of age, five feet eleven inches tall, am thin and now look like a skeleton. I’m neither handsome, nor ugly. I’m Russian, a citizen of the Earth Federation. I am a resident of Saturn’s moon, Titan, in the Solar system terraformed by Russians long before all the states on Earth merged to form a single political entity. I am on Titan at the moment. I study, or rather, studied at high school, specializing in xenology. Hence, I study mankind’s malicious enemies.

My father perished five years ago in the asteroid belt near the Van Maanen star system. Why the quargs were so interested in this dim white dwarf in the Pisces constellation remains unknown. However, we fought desperately for it. The fight ended in a draw, but my father never returned home. No details were given about his fate. We were just told that the merchant ship where he was head doctor had been hit by a powerful torpedo from a quarg destroyer. No one survived.

My mother taught at a local elementary school. We lived off her salary, which was decent, as well as the state compensation for my father’s death. But after I fell ill our savings soon ran out. Insurance wouldn't cover all the medical bills.

Now, I have two weeks left, probably three, although I shouldn’t rely on this.

Actually, that’s all that was significant. I didn’t really know much. I’m physically underdeveloped, not to mention this damned disease… On the other hand, all this refers to Igor Lavroff, and there is another me, Brigadier General Dean of whom nobody here knows anything. And Brigadier General Dean has an incomparable trump card in his pocket: the knowledge put in his brain. That was the card that could be and should be put on the table right now.

I sipped some hot and tasty vegetable broth from my mug, thinking about how to start. I could ask for the doctor and explain the treatment for asteroid fever, but he’ll probably think I was panicking due to my fear of an imminent death. As a mere teenager, and certainly not a genius, there was no logical way I could know such things, especially since Ilya Sergeyevich knew my father. They weren’t friends, but were on good terms. The doctor knew enough about me and wouldn’t believe in my sudden enlightenment without solid proof.

So, I shouldn’t start with him, but with independent people who are competent in the areas important for me. I need to attract their attention, must be interesting to them, and must convince them to listen carefully to me. And where should we look for them, Mr. 15-year-old Brigadier General? Well, what do we lack to be taken seriously? Education – an official confirmation of my qualifications. Hence, it was clear that I should look for such people in institutions of higher learning.

I began to surf the web. What am I interested in? Medicine in general, and biochemistry in particular. On the other hand, I need physics; can’t get by without it. What do we have here on Titan? Ok, The Colonial Technological Institute. That’s what I need. Well, that’s for physics and probably for biochemistry. What about medicine? Oh! A branch of the Military Medical Academy. That will do! Where do we start? Physics is closest to me since my days as a general.

I found the distance learning section on the Colonial Technological Institute’s website. Distance learning is encouraged and supported by the Earth Federation. It’s free of charge and to start I only have to pass the admission exam. Then, at the end of each stage is another test. Well, how interesting this is: I’ll be able to do all the training without meeting professors, even online. If something isn’t clear, I’ll be able to consult a professor online, but it’s not obligatory. Besides, there are no limits regarding the time frame for completion of the curriculum. I can take exams even 10 times a day. Great! As for the mandatory course exam, it includes the grading of tests by a professor in person or a commission. In case they have questions, I must answer in person. Well, I’ll make sure they have questions. Personal contact – that’s what I really need.

I enrolled in the distance learning section by placing my finger on a sensor, and signed the contract using a personal digital signature. As expected, I had no problems with the admission test and I became a student.

There were concerns that the knowledge placed in my brain would in practice appear to be something like an encyclopedia, that is to say a repertoire of knowledge, no more than that. From the experience of my former life I remembered that theoretical knowledge wouldn’t necessarily provide a student with the skills to solve problems or to perform practical study. To do that one needs special training and additional skills.