Chapter 36

No matter how dramatic the story told by Mikhailov was, and no matter how Matvey Vlasovich sympathized with him and his friends, his thoughts were not about those events. He wanted to know something completely different now:

- In other words, your expedition to an uninhabited planet was not only scientific research. The ship was well armed. Does this mean that you yourself were preparing for the conquest?

Mikhailov woke up from his memories, listened to the words of an elderly man sitting opposite. For some time, traces of internal struggle were reflected on Georgy’s face, but in the end he did not hide the truth:

- Not only the organizers of the expedition had no consensus on whether the ship should have weapons. On board the starship were also supporters of aggression. They sincerely considered it a waste of resources, time and effort to search for uninhabited territories. It was considered more reasonable to conquer them. Of course, for this, even a research vessel had to have weapons. The rest didn't mind. After all, before our expedition, it had never been used. There was simply no reason.

Here Mikhailov paused and concluded with satisfaction:

- Fortunately, this ardor cooled the incident in the Tunguska taiga. It is one thing to plan a war, and the second thing to participate in it. In short, the desire to solve problems by force has diminished. Yes, and there was nothing. We have used up our weapons, and it takes time and resources to restore stocks. At first it was not before. It was necessary to equip life in a new "place", and then it turned out that there was no need. As I said, nothing prevents us here and does not threaten us.

“And now, now, are there weapons on board?” continued Matvey Vlasovich.

Mikhailov was imperturbable:

- Now? No. But at any moment, if there is a need, we can have it. Even more modern. Compact yet efficient. There were technologies, laboratories, workshops. You yourself have seen. The entire first floor of our module is laboratories. And below it there are production shops.

Here Mikhailov caught himself and added:

“Not exactly the same as yours, of course. We basically "grow" everything we need. I don't know how to explain to you...

Matvey Vlasovich interrupted him:

“I think I can figure out what you mean. We are also working on this method. additive manufacturing. 3D printing...

— Yes, I read it. About your attempts to create something that we have long gone.

You're just getting started, we've come a long way on this.

Butakov whistled a little through clenched teeth and said almost to himself:

“Yes, really… it’s even scary to imagine… how advanced you are.

The room became quiet again. Mikhailov recalled what he had experienced, and Matvey Vlasovich and Yuri tried to comprehend what they had heard. Matvey Vlasovich was the first to come to his senses:

“But, if you have such advanced technologies, you can move around the Earth in our “niche” without problems, then why can’t you go back to yours on your own? You yearn for your homeland, for families, for your usual life. Maybe it will be possible to change the course of history in its own "niche". After all, for a long time with us, you never became your own here. You ... live in a tin can.

We don't have enough energy to go back. We used it to destroy a warship, to restore the lost production base, to build a residential module. And maintaining all this, like moving, also requires resources. Energy. Very significant. Everything that we had accumulated for the flight disappeared during the explosion along with the ship's control module.

Tretyakov confidently suggested:

- So that's where such a power came from the explosion! That's why the barrier between the worlds was damaged, and you were "pushed" to us...

- Yes, right.

“And it will take you about the same amount of energy to get back?”

- We're trying to figure it out. Our scientists think it would be too easy. In order to destroy the "barrier" between us, some other factors are needed. But what exactly is still unknown. But we have time to find out. A few of our "smart heads" are doing just that. But in any case, we first need to accumulate a large supply of energy.

Matvey Vlasovich continued his thought:

- And for today - this is your main goal?

- One of them. And quite complex. Each battery has to be made from scratch. In addition, it is necessary to recreate the ship.

You can say you're lucky. You are safe here with us. You can safely work on your plans.

- We were lucky?

Butakov's harmless remark echoed with a sharp pain in Mikhailov's heart. Images of that day flashed before my eyes...

***

The flight has just begun. But the usual working rhythm has already been established on the ship. On one of the usual days, the shift of the first shift of engineers-astronauts came to an end. Georgy Mikhailov, who then did not suspect the existence of either such a name, or the Gobi desert, or Siberia or the canyons of America, was already mentally in his favorite compartment of the ship. All crew members spent their free time there.

Gir, later George, equipped a small greenhouse here. In it, he grew plants from his home garden. It was difficult to get permission to do so. The propagation of trees in the last era was forbidden in his homeland. Only in ancient records could one find a mention that they once covered most of the land, and algae could be found in the sea. The houses were full of flowers. But the time came when the Supreme Council was forced to take action. Only after long discussions did the citizens agree to them. Abandoned the usual green cities. They didn't have much of a choice. I was reassured by the hope for the exploration of outer space, where there is a place for everything. In the meantime, each garden owner was allowed to have only two trees no higher than two meters in height. With the Council's permission, Gere was able to take a sprig of his favorite cherry with him on the flight. Two centimeters in size. During the flight, he can grow it into a small tree.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud sound, reminiscent of the clanging of two metal objects colliding. Unpleasant to hear, but very useful. Otherwise, the comfort of the control compartment dulled the vigilance of the personnel on duty. Of course, the Program, created by the best minds, was responsible for all the parameters of the spaceship's motion, and for everything that happened on board. Its reliability was guaranteed. But... Space.

He, as in the distant previous eras, could deliver an unexpected blow. And only a living brain was able to adequately respond to the situation. Therefore, it was forbidden to relax on the watch. And the signal at certain intervals reminded of this. Today it rang out for Gere and his colleagues for the last time. Through the transparent partitions of the hall, the figures of the members of the new team were already visible. In a minute they will enter the hall.

Gere got up from his chair, pressed a button on the remote control. She reacted with a green flicker. This meant that he had permission to transfer the shift. Alas. He did not have time to say a single word to his colleague. The program gave a new signal. Most of the green lights on the console slowly turned orange and then red. Two minutes later, an alarm sounded. He was already heard not only in the control compartment, but in all areas of the ship.

Everything about him was in motion. Somewhere huge doors opened, while in others, on the contrary, protective partitions fell. The crew members, already in full emergency gear, were moving to the other half of the starship. Behind them were special backpacks. They have something that could allow each of them to exist autonomously in any situation. In a few minutes, the engineers of two shifts put on spacesuits. The chief pilot appeared on the monitor of the flight control panel. Next to him, a communications room with the Office of Space Research was visible.

Gere has seen this picture many times. While preparing for the flight. At the training center. But it wasn't training. Reality. Apparently they were in serious danger. After evaluating it, Gere and his colleagues agreed with the decision of the Program. We need immediate evacuation of the crew to the survival compartment.

That's just not immediately Gere, like the whole team, fully realized the cause of the alarm. Even when images of a combat aircraft chasing them appeared on the monitors, they could not believe it. But I had to. Through horror, through the denial of the very possibility of death from their own compatriots.

Before their eyes, the outlines of the hull of the warship changed. The doors of the front part parted, from there the manipulators slowly advanced. They covered the muzzles of cannons. The intentions of those who flew the fighter were clearer than clear. With the help of manipulators, it was possible to push their ship out of orbit. This would lead to an accident and his death, along with the entire crew, without any trace of interference.

A monstrous tragedy - that could explain what happened. But, if by some miracle the ship managed to survive at the same time, the guns remained ready. A couple of shots would have finished the job.

The program has slowed down. She saw the threat, but did not define "alien". Fortunately, the Commander remained at his post. He took control.

What happened next happened like a dream. In an instant, the Program switched to protecting the ship from attack, evacuating, rescuing the crew...

This story could take hours. And in fact, everything happened within a few minutes.

“How can I explain to a person what I and my comrades experienced while standing in a fireproof capsule and watching what was happening? Our ship was not designed for such a speed to get away from the pursuers. Couldn't maneuver. His defensive field was vulnerable.

Only a preemptive strike could save him. But the Program was waiting for confirmation to destroy the warship. From those who aimed his guns at us...

At the last moment, the Commander gave the order. A minute later, the pursuer turned into a torch. But a minute before that, one of the manipulators grabbed our side. This was enough for our ships to fall into the ring of fire. The explosion deafened everyone, most of us lost consciousness, recovering only on the ground.

Was it at that moment that I or my comrades were thinking about themselves? About your unenviable fate? Before our eyes, the hope for a new life for all our fellow citizens collapsed. But then we did not yet know that a warship stuffed with weapons had destroyed our energy storage devices. The monstrous energy of the explosion swept away everything in its path. She threw us out of the familiar world. No one could have foreseen the possibility of such a catastrophe.”

- Lucky, you say? "We were lucky?" Georgy Butakov finally asked bitterly. - It is not clear where, without a ship. With the thought that not soon, and maybe never see relatives.

We did not even immediately understand where we were. Only later did they realize that the gravity of the Earth had brought us back almost to where we had taken off from. That's just in a parallel world. In no less alien than on a distant planet. in the Tunguska taiga. Among the fallen forest for many kilometers. Do you think that we experienced different feelings than the people who witnessed the disaster?

No, I wouldn't call it luck.

— Sorry, but while we are alive, we are thinking about salvation. So, at least, all living beings are arranged.

The dialogue was interrupted by Yuri's remark:

- I think that in such a situation, awareness of one's own position comes a little later. I know this firsthand. I had to suffer defeat from the enemy during the hostilities. First comes the bitterness of failure, and only then do you realize that in this case you survived.

Matvey Vlasovich did not argue, he only remarked:

- But now you evaluate your stay with us in the taiga as good luck.

Mikhailov thought a little and agreed:

— Now, perhaps, yes. We have a perspective. And this, I think, is the main thing for joy in life.

Butakov looked attentively at Mikhailov, thought and suggested:

“Does that mean you finally found a way to go back?”

Mikhailov shook his head.

— No, in the coming era we cannot count on it. So far, our scientists have not found the right way to overcome the barrier between the earthly worlds. We will be able to accumulate enough energy over time, but will this be enough? So far, there is no answer to this question. Yes and...

Mikhailov stuttered and frowned. He obviously didn't want to say out loud what he was thinking at that moment. Butakov himself guessed:

- And you are not sure of your victory over opponents in power in your homeland?

- Of course. Their possibilities are almost limitless. They were able to convince the Supreme Assembly of the need for wars to reduce the number of people living on the planet, inspired the society that not all of their citizens deserve to live. This good must be won. Alas...many believed it. How can we, a small handful of their opponents, be able to defeat them? We uncovered their plot, acted proactively by destroying their ship, but that's basically all we can do. We have no idea how events developed after our "death". And I don't think anyone had any doubts about that. The instruments in our flight control were supposed to record the power of the explosion. But the fact that he saved us by pushing us into a parallel world, this, almost certainly, remained a mystery.

In other words, you decided to admit defeat?

- What would you do in such a situation? Isn't that how it is in your world? The weak do not obey strength?

- It's different for us. Some easily accept such conditions, others struggle. Sometimes they win the battle, by the way, although they are weaker. For example, India. She won the struggle for independence by passive resistance. She didn't have the strength for more. Nothing but the desire to win. The will to win also plays a role in the struggle. Don't you have it?

Mikhailov did not have time to answer. Something flashed in his pocket, and there was a soft sound, more like a soft clapping of hands. George abruptly stood up, went to the door on the move, throwing a short apology.

Tretyakov briefly explained to Butakov:

I think they are his friends.

Butakov said:

— His tribesmen? Or friends from the village?

- I would not call his fellow citizens tribesmen. Still, almost twenty billion is a bit too much for the "tribe". But yes, they are. You can't call here from the village. Not everyone has a satellite phone.

- And what is the connection between our "guests"?

- Something similar to our mobile, but much more powerful and hidden from all outsiders.

- But...

Tretyakov raised his hand in warning:

Don't ask me about them. I myself am not very dedicated to the details, but what I know, I gave my word not to distribute. I already took the risk without permission to show you their settlement. I did this because there was no other way to convince you of the reality of their existence.

-Hmm... so you also have to "get permission from them" in order to walk in the taiga?

Tretyakov frowned.

- Vlasovich, don't ... you understand what I'm talking about. By the way, I am "familiar", so to speak, with only one of them. with Mikhailov. And I have a special relationship with him. How can you understand. He saved my life. I owe him. Dot.

Butakov could not find an answer to these words. Stopped talking.

Meanwhile, Mikhailov continued talking on the street. There was a cold breeze from the half-open door, and his voice could barely be heard. His speech was more like one continuous monotonous rather low sound.

Why didn't he wear a jacket? Frost indeed. Get cold. There is nothing to treat him.

The question sounded casual. It was as if there had never been a conversation about fantastic things that were hard to believe in before.

- No, it won't. They dress only to be different from us. But in fact, they easily adapt to any temperature.

“Yeah, it means they are only afraid of earthly viruses,” Butakov said thoughtfully, remembering the doctor’s story about Mikhailov’s serious illness, who contracted it from a flu-like neighbor in the hotel.

Mikhailov returned to the room and continued:

- Where did we leave off?

- To your capacity. On technologies and their developers. For example, how do you keep in touch? After all, our network does not work here.

We are not dependent on any networks. This is a long outdated technology. It is enough for us to have a device in our pocket and we can easily contact any member of the crew. Yes, and reach any subscriber of your networks.

Butakov asked incredulously:

- Anyone?

- Yes, anyone. I understand what you mean about secure channels. Military, government. For us they are open. But we rarely have an interest in them. Our only concern is our safety.

Butakov, narrowing his eyes, studied Mikhailov's face, trying to read at least some doubt on it. But he wasn't. He was completely confident in himself. This is what an adult looks like in a conversation with a child. Feeling Matvey Vlasovich's distrust, Mikhailov took a small object out of his pocket. It looked more like a reel-to-roll film case. But, obeying the slight movement of the index finger, he instantly turned into a thin plastic sheet. Some marks were clearly visible on its inner side.

“Wow, impressive,” Butakov exclaimed, “I read that only our Japanese have learned how to create such mobile phones.

Mikhailov smiled.

“This is a very outdated model. We have been able to make invisible devices for a long time. But their use attracts too much attention. To divert eyes, you must have something in your hands. After all, you still have a headset - then not everyone has a mobile phone. And yes, I'm used to it.

Tretyakov glanced at his watch.

“It's already quite late. I propose to continue our conversation tomorrow. I leave with Pavel early in the morning. I'll be back home at eleven o'clock. Then we'll continue.

Butakov was in deep thought. Struck by the story of alien technology, he did not attach much importance to them.

“In the end, you can be happy and enjoy life without them. And what did these “advanced” earthlings bring with them to us? To what extent are they “our own” or completely “strangers” for us? If they were ready to reclaim a distant planet, then why not do the same here? With us? And what will happen to Matthew? What do they want from him?

His head was buzzing with painful thoughts, fatigue was piling up. Matvey Vlasovich got up from the table and, stepping heavily, went to the exit from the room. But after taking a few steps, he stopped and turned to Mikhailov:

- So, you say, Siberia was chosen by you by chance? Just because you're safe here? And your technology does not depend on where you are? Oh well...

Tretyakov and Mikhailov looked for a long time in silence at the door closed behind them. Finally, Mikhailov broke the silence:

“Somehow strange,” I thought that he had traveled such a path for the sake of his grandson, he was so worried because of him ... But he did not even think about him once during the evening.

Tretyakov looked at him for a long, searching look. Then, quietly but firmly, he said:

No, my friend, you just don't understand. Butakov spoke specifically about his grandson. True, not only about him, but about all of us.