This is a fan translation of Counterstrike (Ответный удар) by Mikhail Akhmanov, currently only available in Russian and, because of the author's passing in 2019, unlikely to ever be published in English. This is the second book in a six-book series called Arrivals from the Dark (Пришедшие из мрака), which also has a six-book spin-off series called Trevelyan's Mission (Миссия Тревельяна).
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 2
Paul Richard Corcoran
Two months after the Invasion plus the entire life. Lunar Base hospital, August, 2088.
"Ahhh! Ahhhh!"
"Push, dear, push… there you go… I can see the head…"
"Ahhhhh!"
"I think we can avoid the C-section, Dr. Straub."
"Yes, Dr. Gromov. She's lean but powerfully built. She is a Space Fleet marine officer, after all… Nurse, more tissues! Here and here! I said here!"
"Ahhhh!"
"Nurse, why are your hands shaking? Haven't you seen a woman give birth before?"
"Not like this, Dr. Straub! Without water, without the KR system, without stalumine, without an epidural, without—"
"Nurse, shut up!"
"Come on, Straub… Monica's right, women haven't been giving birth like that for over seventy years. Except, maybe, in China or India…"
"Gromov, you too shut up! Do you know how stalumine or epidural would affect the baby? This particular baby? Haven't you been cleared for information? Have you forgotten whose boy this is?"
"A normal kid, by all the indicators of the prenatal examination."
"We'll see in twenty years if he's normal or not. Push, dear… we're almost there…"
"Aahhh! Ahhhhh!"
"Like that… a little more… Excellent! Popped out like a champagne cork!"
"Aah-oh…"
"Nurse… Monica, I'm talking to you!.. Cut the umbilical cord, then send it for tests! Gromov, give her a sedative, let her sleep. Jeanne, wrap the child and put him on the scale!"
"N-no, Doctor… d-don't want to sleep… son… give m-me my son… ohhh…"
"You'll have plenty of time to play with him, my dear. Sleep! Like that… Jeanne, weight!"
"Four-point-two kilograms, Dr. Straub. Such a wonderful baby! Look, he's smiling!"
"Come on, let's drop the sentimentality! Let me take a look at him… Looks like a completely normal kid… What do you think, Dr. Gromov?"
"Two arms, two legs, ten fingers, ten toes, one head, and… well… everything else a boy ought to have… Obviously not a freak. I would even say cute. Gray eyes, his mother's. Doesn't look like he got anything from the Faata."
"Have you even seen those Faata?"
"I have, Dr. Straub. The bodies in pictures, and the living on the transmission from Timokhin's ships. Their eyes are completely different, the iris is silvery and fills the eyeball, dark hair and…"
"Well, it's too early to talk about hair. Externally, everything appears to be in order, but I'd like to look at the internal organs."
"Want to do a scan?"
"Yes, that would be good. Jeanne, take him to the device. A moment, colleagues… the nurses and you, Dr. Gromov… I'd like to remind you all of the papers all four of us signed and that we are not simply medics but USF servicemen and women. Today, we assisted Lieutenant Abigail McNeil in giving birth. The father of the child is Lieutenant Richard Corcoran, now deceased. That is all that we need to know."
Lunar Base hospital, August, 2088, several days later
"My little sunshine, my darling…" Kiss, kiss kiss. "Hungry…"
"Hold his head, Abby. Your milk is good, high-fat. He fills himself fast."
"Yes, Nurse Jeanne. He's lovely, right?"
"Of course, girl, of course. A wonderful baby! I know what I'm talking about. I have three… three sons and two granddaughters from the eldest one."
"And where are they?"
"The middle one serves on the Barracuda, the youngest is on the Orion, and the eldest did not join the Space Fleet. He's an artist. Was an artist…"
"Why was, Nurse Jeanne?"
"He died, Abby. Just recently… Him, his wife, and my little granddaughters… Lord, receive their innocent souls… All of them were killed, Abby, when a Faata ship exploded over Liège…"
"Don't cry, Nurse Jeanne, please, don't cry… Look, he's smiling at you… My son…"
Smolensk, 2089, homestead in the Holmy neighborhood
"Pavel, he's coming to you… look how well he's walking… and not to Yo… You recognize Uncle Pavel and Aunt Yo, don't you? Yes, you do!"
"Yay. Uncle Pasha, Aunt O. Pick up! Aunt O!"
"Does he want me to pick him up?"
"Yes, Yo. He likes you. You're very beautiful!"
"He is warm… the skin is so smooth… and the smell… he smell like, what is drunk… don't tell me, Pavel, I will remember… yes, milk… He smells like milk. Remarkable!"
"You're surprised, Yo? Why? You've seen kids before, right?"
"I have, but I have never held them before. And then, they were… how do you say?.. yes, other people's children. I couldn't touch them. I know that people are allowed to touch only their children or those they know well. That is the custom on Earth."
"What about your people?"
"I have not seen children on the New Worlds."
"Even when you were little?"
There was a pause, then, "Abby, let Yo play with the boy. Here, in the sandbox… I'd like to take a walk. Show me your garden. Cherries… they're cherries, right! Look how they bloom!"
"They're plums, Pavel, not cherries. The cherries are behind the house."
"Let's go there."
"Why are you leading me away?"
"I want to tell you something. Don't ask Yo about children. The Bino Faata have no children, only offspring. The next generation of t'ho, workers, warriors, or pilots."
"But aren't offspring children?"
"Not entirely. I told you not to be deceived by the external similarities between them and us. The physiological similarities are great, down to the cellular level, but their world is organized differently, and there is no place in it for children. They believe that childhood is unproductive, that children provide nothing, only consume, taking a lot of resources away from society. Besides, children are vulnerable. The most vulnerable link in the biology of any race, the first to die in case of wars, diseases, natural disasters, and this vulnerability is proportional to the time of childhood. The first to die during the Eclipses were children, and the gene pool died with them… With that, the longer the time to reach maturity, the more cost is required do protect the new generation. It's irrational, do you understand?"
"But can it be any different? For us, for people? The Faata are people, after all!"
"It can be. They practice artificial insemination, and the ksa females, a special caste, carry the fetus to term in five to six weeks. Very quickly, thanks to wave emissions, like what happened to you on their ship. Then the baby is placed in an incubator… not really an incubator, more like a device for accelerated physiological development. Yo could not describe this machinery. She only knew that she came out of it an adult person about a year after being born. Mature, capable of speaking the language, and even possessing some professional skills… That is the entirety of her childhood. For her, a child is a miracle of miracles."
"And her… I mean you both… you and her…"
"No, Abby, no, we're not going to have any children. Her t'ho caste is infertile."
"But infertility can be cured."
"It's not a disease, not the infertility of a woman from Earth, Abigail, her body simply doesn't produce the necessary gametes. There's nothing that can be done about this, dear. On the Lunar Base and here, on Earth, she'd been examined by the best specialists… very thoroughly, believe me! And that's not even the point."
"It's not? You're scaring me, Pavel! What is it?"
"The point is that the Faata world is rational to the end. Old age is just as unproductive as youth, and so the t'ho don't live long." He made a long, long pause. Then, "I don't know how long she has left."
Smolensk, 2093, homestead in the Holmy neighborhood
"Paul, say, t'taia orr n'uk'uma sirend'agi patta."
"Tetaia orrr nukuma sirentahi pata… Is that right, Aunt Yo?"
"No, child, no. It is t'taia not tetaia, n'uk'uma not nukuma… You have such a wonderful flexible tongue, click it in the right place. Listen once again, t'taia orr n'uk'uma sirend'agi patta… Now repeat."
"T'taia orrr n'uk'uma sirent'agi patta!"
"Much better. Orr, orr, orr… No need to roll the sound too much. And the ending of the word sirend is sonorous: sirend, sirend, sirend'agi. It is better if you sing instead of speaking. Let's sing together!"
"Yeah, Aunt Yo. T'taia orr n'uk'uma sirend'agi patta!"
"Wonderful, my good boy! Do you understand what it means?"
"A sirend came out to the sun and is basking in the warmth of the stones. A sirend is a lizard with a shiny blue skin… it's found on the New Worlds, the ones you told me about…"
"On one of the New Worlds, child. On T'har… It's a world where I used to live."
"Is it farther than Mars?"
"Farther, Paul."
"Farther than Jupiter?"
"Much farther. It's near the Void, at the edge of the galactic arm, and light travels to it for almost two centuries."
"Do you miss it?"
"No. I don't think so… I didn't have anyone close there, and here I have you, and your mom, and Pavel… And Earth is much more beautiful than T'har."
"But I still want to see T'har. When I grow up and become an astronaut, we'll all fly there together: you, me, Uncle Pavel, and Mom."
"I don't think they would be happy to see us, Paul."
"Why?"
"I will explain this to you, but not now, a little later. Right now, we need to speak Faata'liu, so that you understand everything correctly. Do you remember what Faata'liu is?"
"Of course I do. It's the Bino Faata language."
Smolensk, September, 2094, homestead in the Holmy neighborhood
"Mom, why is Uncle Pavel crying?"
"He's not crying, son. There are no tears in his eyes."
"He's crying. I can feel it. Here." A small hand touching his forehead. "You're crying too. Why, Mom?"
A long pause.
"You're probably right, my boy. We're both crying, Uncle Pavel and I. People grieve when those close to them leave, leave forever. I didn't want to tell you… Yo has died. Do you understand what this means?"
"Kass'iro tan… I mean, I understand and I don't. Old people die, but Aunt Yo was young and so beautiful… How could she have died?"
"You know, Paul, that she was not human… We live for seventy, or eighty, or even a hundred years, but Yo couldn't live that long. She was a Faata."
"But she told me that the Faata live for a very long time and never get old. Is that not true?"
"There are different Faata, dear, just like there are different people on Earth. The Faata like Yo don't have long lives."
Silence.
"So she will never come to us? Never-ever? She won't teach me, speak Faata'liu with me, tell me about T'har, the New Worlds, and the big ship that brought her to Earth? I don't want that! I want her to live! Is that so hard, to just live?"
"There are things beyond our control, Paul. We need to accept them and bear the sorrow with patience and bravery. Look at Uncle Pavel… look, he's sitting on a bench in our garden, his eyes are sad, but you won't see tears in them. He's a strong man, our Uncle Pavel…"
"But there is darkness inside him. I feel it, I know… No tears, but he's crying…" A pause. "Can I go to him, Mom?"
"Go, son."
Smolensk, October, 2094, homestead in the Holmy neighborhood
"Paul, this is Mr. Klaus Siebel from the USF. He will—"
"Forgive me, ma'am, it's just Klaus. And you are Paul… Paul Richard Corcoran… You know, you look very much like your mom. You have such an interesting room… so many pictures, and all of them holographic… I see Captain Litvin on them… here he is on Mercury, and here in the Asteroid Belt… Where is that?"
"On Ajax. There are two suns there, Mr. Klaus, a green and a red one."
"Call me Klaus, Paul. I am, of course, older than you, but not by much, only about twenty years. Nothing to speak of, wouldn't you agree? Your room is nice… and the windows facing the garden… and there are asters blooming in the garden… Tell me, why are these two pictures turned off, this one and that one?"
"Mom says it's the custom, to keep them turned off for forty days. Aunt Yolanda is on them. She died, Klaus."
"You wanted to say Yo, right?"
"I wanted to say Yolanda, since that is what everyone called here, except for Mom and me and Uncle Pavel. But you're from the USF, so you know that she was Yo."
"I do. Turn on the pictures, please. Do it for me, for five minutes."
Pause.
"Beautiful… It's too bad she didn't live longer with you…"
"She didn't live here. She and Uncle Pavel have their own home."
"I misspoke, Paul. I wanted to say, here on Earth. Was she your friend?"
"She was, Klaus."
"Do you have other friends? Who are they?"
"Kolya. He lives in that house over there, with the tower. Do you see it, Klaus? Riiight there, over the trees… There are also Seryoga and Petka. They're brothers, but Petka is little, and Seryoga and I will go to school together, that's what Mom said. Not soon, though… in another year… almost…"
"But you won't forget what you've learned from Yo? Faata'liu, for example?"
"I will try not to forget, but no one besides Aunt Yo knows Faata'liu, not even Uncle Pavel. Seryoga… I wanted to teach Seryoga, but he says everything wrong and can't click his tongue. And now, when Aunt Yo is gone…"
"… Now I'm here. I know a little Faata'liu and can click. Ts, ts, ts… Do you hear? Do you know why I came?"
"Why, Klaus?"
"I came to talk to you in the language of the Bino Faata. We need to speak it, you and I, or we will forget it, and that would simply not do. One needs to know the language of one's enemy… enemies or allies, depending on how fate decides. Do you understand?.. I can see that you don't, but you will in time. You and I will speak, Paul. Of course, I can't replace Yo, I'm not attractive in the least, and I don't look like a Faata, but I know much about them. I will tell you all I know. And we… maybe we can become friends."
Silence. Almost unconsciously, a telepathic probe touched the other person's mind, clung for a moment, and recoiled.
This Klaus Siebel was a strange one… Strange, but he didn't appear to bear him ill will… He wanted to talk… he really did…
"Eit t'tesi," the boy said in the Faata language. "I am glad."
Mallorca, summer of 2099, children's sports camp Green Scouts near Alcúdia Bay
"Paul? Your name is Paul Corcoran? So, that's Paolo then. I'm Jose Gutiérrez from Barcelona."
"Spanish?"
"Hah, Spanish! I'm Catalan, Paolo! My grandfather says that we're the real Iberians, not like those…" Making a contemptuous gesture. "Where are you from? Sweden?"
"Why do you think so?"
"All Swedes have red hair, and you're red."
"I'm from Russia, Jose."
"Hah, liar! Russians don't have names like that! You're definitely Swedish! Why, is it bad being a Swede?"
"Probably not, but I'm not Swedish. My mother is Irish, father was Austrian, and I live in Russia, in Smolensk."
"Why? And why did you say that your father was Austrian?"
"Because he died, and Mom decided that we'd be better off in Smolensk. Uncle Pavel is there."
"Your new father?"
"No, my father's friend, Captain Paul Litvin. He's now in command of the Dresden."
"Wow! A Space Fleet captain, yes? I've read about the Invasion… Is he the Litvin? Crown of Glory, Purple Heart, Order of the Comet and… and…"
"He's that Litvin, Jose. He was a marine… and Mom, and my father… They flew on the Lark."
"Marines, wow! I saw this morning how you were jumping in that… what do you call it… yeah, the weightless unit! Cool! You got that from your parents, right? The marines? As for mine… my folks have always dealt in wine. Grandfather had, and my great-grandfather, and my dad is doing it now… I don't want to. When I grow up," his eyes grew wide, "I'll go to Pluto. Those… what do you call them… Lo'ona Aeo, right, came there! They need mercenaries, fighters! And I—"
"Jose, why become a mercenary? Is it that bad on Earth?"
"It's good. Good but boring! And grandfather says, we Catalans are a restless lot…"
Smolensk, winter of 2102, Captain Litvin's office in his home
"Why have we met here, Klaus?"
"Because I need to tell you something important, Paul, and this is the most appropriate place. Your mother and Uncle Pavel also think so. Miss Abby, your mom, is very afraid, she doesn't know how you will react… Maybe you'll decide you need to be alone. There are things that a man must deal with on his own, and you are already a man, Paul, you're fourteen. If you want to stay here, here is the password and the key. Commodore Litvin left them for you."
"Klaus… don't be upset, Klaus… if I should learn something important, then why you?.. Why not Mom?.. Why not Uncle Pavel?.."
"Why do you think?"
Silence, only the crackling of the logs in the fireplace is heard.
"I think that you're a specialist, Klaus. A psychologist. You serve in the USF and study the Faata. You probably know more about them than anyone…" There was a pause. "Is our conversation about the Bino Faata?"
"Right conclusion, my boy. The Bino Faata, Abby McNeil, your mother, Pavel Litvin, Richard Corcoran, and the days they spent as prisoners on the alien ship. And those curious moments and amusing personalities like Gunther Voss, the savior of Earth… Here, on this disk, is a complete report about what happened, and you will look it over after I leave. But first we will talk… Tell me, have you noticed anything strange about yourself?"
"Strange? No, Klaus… I don't think so."
"No? I'll give you a hint, Paul. Does it surprise you that you speak Faata'liu?"
"So do you."
"I had surgery, complex surgery on my larynx. You see, Paul, Bino Faata vocal cords, palate, and tongue are a little different, and the people of Earth are simply incapable of mastering the necessary pronunciation. Only you and I, if we discount the special translation vocoders… But that's not the most important thing… not for you. The important thing is this. I've noticed that you catch the meaning of an unfinished phrase, sometimes even an unspoken thought. In the past several years, when you hit puberty, it started happening more and more frequently… Have you ever thought how you can do that? Don't shudder, there's nothing wrong about it. Such is your gift, my boy."
"Klaus, now I understand what you're talking about." A pause. "Klaus… I'm scared, Klaus…"
"There is no need to fear. You're not a freak, Paul, this is sort of like a hereditary gift. Come on, focus, look into my mind, straight into my brain… How many neurons does old Klaus have? Can you find even five?.. There you go, now you're smiling…"
"Because I'm scared even more, Klaus. A hereditary gift? Why hereditary?"
"Because Richard Corcoran was not your father. I will explain… I will explain now… you just pay attention…"
Smolensk, winter of 2102, homestead in the Holmy neighborhood
"Mom, Klaus told me…"
"I know what Klaus told you, and I don't want to talk about it. You're my son, Paul, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood… That is enough."
"Of course, Mom. But I will still ask… no, not about what they did to you on the ship, something else. Klaus gave me a report, and it talked about a Metamorph, that Gunther Voss… Is that true? Have you seen him yourself?"
A sigh of relief.
"I have. With my own eyes."
"Tell me!"
"Uncle Pavel knows more. When he returns—"
"When he returns, I'll ask him, but you must tell me too! Where did he come from, this Voss guy, and what did he look like? What did he do? Why did he…"
Smolensk, March, 2105, 1st Smolensk School, 12th grade
"… If we turn to Russian literature of that period, we will easily notice the tendencies of disappointment and nihilism, which are explained by the general situation in the country at the end of the 20th and the start of the 21st centuries. The collapse of a great nation, a sharp decline of the economy and the impoverishment of the population on the one hand, and on the other, illiterate nouveaux riches, lazy officials, and greedy oligarchs, who threw a feast in the middle of a plague; that is how we see Russia of those years, which is, of course, reflected in the literary process. If we turn to the works of such writers as…"
"Pasha, hey, Pasha…"
"What, Seryoga?"
"Have you seen the new girl? The one who came to 9th grade?"
"Which girl?"
"Vera Kovaleva. I hit her with a scanner… a few times… quietly… Here, I'll send the pics to your pocketpute… [Pocketpute is a pocket computer, combining the functionality of a phone and a medical diagnostician.]
"They're gonna catch and throw us out. Did you forget about the conter [Conter (AKA the Ear, or Elephant Ear) is a device tracking the ambient noises in the background of the primary sound signals. The name comes from the French word 'ecouter' (to listen); the device is used in educational institutions, and its various modifications are employed in espionage, show business, transportation, and industry.]?
"…The period of decline that we will examine today, continued until the second or third decade of the 21st century and gave birth, in particular, to a special genre of horror literature. If we turn, but example, to the novel No…"
"Forget about the conter, I recalibrated it a bit. Take a look at the girl, Pasha! Look at the second pic! I took that from the bottom, when she was coming up the stairs… Look at those legs!"
"She's still young! Barely fifteen years!"
"So, we're not old men yet. I'm not, at least. Which is why—"
"What did you do with the conter, Seryoga? They already got us! How did you mess with it, you moron?"
There was an Interruption in the lecture transmission.
"Unit seven! Semyonov and Corcoran! Out of the auditorium!"
"Olga Vasilyevna, we—"
"Semyonov, I said out, that means out! I can see what you have on your screens! And if you once again dare…"
Smolensk, May, 2105, homestead in the Holmy neighborhood
"Mom, this is Vera."
"Hello, dear. I'm Abby. Are you studying with Paul?
"No, Aunt Abby, I'm only in 9th grade. Biology major."
"Yes, of course. You still…" a pause, "still so young."
"Mom, you wanted to say, still a child."
"Paul, it's not what I wanted to say, but what I said. Vera is not a child. A young woman, that is more precise. And a very pretty one. I'm surprised she noticed such a red-haired fool."
"Thank you, Aunt Abby, I'm fifteen, but I will try to grow up faster."
"No need to hurry, girl. We all grow up, then we get old, and there's nothing to be done about that… Do you like our place?"
"Very much! Such a wonderful garden! And the lilac… I love the smell of lilac."
"Paul, you could have cut a bouquet for Vera. You must have heard that girls like it when you give them flowers?.. Come into the house, dear. Would you like some tea?"
Smolensk, July, 2105, evening, birch grove in the Holmy neighborhood
"When are you leaving, Pavel?"
"The day after tomorrow, my dove."
"To Baikonur?"
"To Baikonur."
A heavy sigh.
"So far away… You'll forget me…"
"It's more likely that I'll forget that the sun rises in the morning…"
The sound of a kiss.
USF Space Academy at Baikonur, August, 2105
"Cadeeets, atteeeeen-hut! You, ginger, shut your trap and no smiling! Repeat again who I am!"
"Sergeant Cox, sir!"
"I can't hear you, maggots!"
"Serrrgeant Cox, sirrrr!"
"That's better… Yes, I'm Sergeant Brian Cox, the devil himself, and for the next six years, I will be a pain in your ass. I will make real men out of you! Marines and warriors! I… Ginger, I told you to shut your trap and no smiling!"
"Permission to speak, sir! A question, sir!"
"What do you want?"
"We have three girls in our squad, sir. Are you going to make real men out of them too?"
A menacing tense silence. Then, "Riiight… I see we have a smart-ass here… On the one hand, not bad; you're being trained for the space marines, not the army. On the other, only fifth-years are allowed to be smart. Fifth, and not a day earlier! You, ginger bastard! What's your name?.."
"Paul Richard Corcoran, sir!"
"Uh-huh, so, Paul Richard… What do you see, Paul Richard, right there, on the ground?"
"A cigarette butt, sir!"
"Exactly, a cigarette butt. It needs to be buried. Tonight, at 0300, you will take a shovel and dig a hole by 0600: one square meter in diameter and three deep. Put the cigarette butt in the center, sit on it in the lotus position and wait for me. And God help you if the hole turns out to be too shallow! Got it?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
USF Space Academy at Baikonur, September, 2105
"This, boys and girls, is a symbiotic combat suit. You need to be able to put it on in under a minute. And this is a PT-43M, modified plasma thrower, pattern 43, the most powerful handheld weapon we got. Heavy, Pavlova? That's okay, you'll get used to it! And now, you…"
USF Space Academy at Baikonur, February, 2106
"You, you, and you! And also you, Bayramov! Did you assholes just puke? You fail your zero-g test. Get your things!"
USF Space Academy at Baikonur, March, 2106
"I am Captain Dzandaria, your astronavigation instructor. Of course, making navigators out of you will be like making a kebab out of shit, but you need to know the basics. Yes, you do, gentlemen! And so, let's start with the coordinate system…"
USF Space Academy at Baikonur, May, 2106
"Weeell, dear cadets… Is everyone who hasn't yet been kicked out here? Everyone, I see… Well, then let's get to the duties. Dickinson, Astakhova, Barré, Tuang, to the galley. Kleimenov, Dembski, Pavlova, Reed, you'll take care of the lawn by the barracks, and I want to see all the blades of grass line up! May grass is so tender… Breaux and Larsen, you're at Lieutenant Romanetskiy's disposal, he needs loaders. You, Sazhin, go to the medical unit and scrub the floors… Weeell, what's left? Ah, two latrines, for men and women! Well, that, as usual, is for the smartest among us. Paul Richard Corcoran!"
"Here, Sergeant Cox, sir!"
"I want those tiles to shine like a cruiser's armor!"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
USF Space Academy at Baikonur, May, 2106
"Dear Mom and Vera!
You remember, of course, that we are not allowed any communications with our loved ones during the first year, but Klaus came to visit me today, and I begged him to give you this disk. Don't worry, I'm all right, I'm cheerful, healthy, and haven't been transferred to the ground-pounders. We're living well, and they couldn't care for us any better. Everyone here is really nice, especially Sergeant Cox; he's over fifty, and you, Mom, probably remember him and can tell Vera how kind and attentive instructor he is. I would really like to see you, but we're not allowed any liberty this summer. Please give my regards to Uncle Pavel, when he returns from Astarte, and tell him that I…"
USF Space Academy at Baikonur, 2107
"Cadet Corcoran! You have dealt with the glyph perception test much too quickly. Did you bypass the computer's security to get the answer?
"No, sir! That would be wrong!"
"Well-well… Sometimes, I think that you take the results right out of my head."
"That's closer to the truth, sir."
"You can make jokes later, cadet. Start on the next problem."
USF Space Academy at Baikonur, 2108
"Let's get to know one another, cadets: I'm your piloting instructor. We're going to start by flying a Kite. It's an old but reliable machine, you can land with it on Mars and on Venus. I'm assuming you're familiar with the piloting theory…"
Venus, airspace above Dead Man's Plateau, 2109
"Reverse thrust, cadet! Fly towards 3 o'clock! And don't get too close to that cloud! Right, that's good… fly smoothly now, don't rush… Don't jerk your arms or legs, there are no buttons or switches here, you've got a cocoon and a contact helmet. Now faster! Faster! Not afraid? I can see that you're not afraid, just cautious. That's good. You've flown on Earth, Mars, and Mercury… I remember, you flew well… But this is Venus, damn it! Anyone's brains will melt and hands will shake here… Now go up! Steeper! No need to get blasted by lightning! Get away from this stinking plateau! Up, up, up! Go! I'm not intervening, I'm not an instructor, just your passenger, or a gunner with a hole in my gut. I'm bleeding out, understand? If you save me, get to the orbital base, you'll be a pilot and not a cadet. Come on, Paul, come on! I'm not intervening, kid…"
USF Space Academy at Baikonur, head of the Academy's reception hall, 2110
"Squad, atten-hut! Commodore, fifth-year squad B is ready for instruction! The ranks have twelve soldiers and Sergeant Cox!"
"I see, Lieutenant. Cadets, at ease! Today, at 0525, Raj Ali separatists have attacked the Red Cross mission and the refugee camp in Lucknow [Lucknow is a city in North-East India, in the state of Uttar Pradesh.]. The marines of the cruiser Jeanne d'Arc have repelled the attack, scattered the bandits and are in pursuit. They are leaving into the jungle, to the Nepalese border, the size of their forces is up to two hundred rifles. You will be dropped here and here, in two groups under the command of Lieutenant Romanetskiy and Sergeant Cox. Your mission is to flank the gang, cut them off from the foothills, and destroy, working in conjunction with the marines from the Jeanne. Lieutenant!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Here, take the pute, it has the charts and the data you need. Communicate with me and the cruiser when you arrive to the site, then at every half-hour. Oh, one more thing… Cadets! Eight members of the mission were killed, and there are casualties among the refugees, at least two dozen. I am reminding you that this is not a drill, it's a combat operation."
Jungles in the state of Uttar Pradesh, upper reaches of the Rapti River, 2110, 42 hours after the start of the operation
"Where am I? Hrr… Where am I? Where am I, damn it?"
"On my back, Sergeant. Glad you woke up."
"You, Corcoran? Where are the rest?"
"Four are behind me. Sazhin's dead, Tuang's wounded but can move. You… you, sir, had your foot cut off by a laser. And a concussion probably too… They hit you and Vanya Sazhin with an RPG. Vanya died instantly… Barré and Larsen are carrying the body. Astakhova is covering them."
"Hrr… Why are you without a suit?"
"It died. They've got throwers. Melted the knee joint, no time to fix it."
"Leave me, Corcoran!"
"Can't, Sergeant. We're in a swamp. Take a wrong step and you'll drown. Does your leg hurt? It shouldn't, we treated it with vitaspray and injected an analgesic."
"Leave me, I'm ordering you! Leave me and the body! Get out of here! Hrr… Get out! I'm orde…"
"Corcoran!"
"Yeah, Tuang."
"He lost consciousness." A pause. "What are we going to do, Corcoran?"
"We'll cross the swamp, hide in the greenery on the other side and shoot all the bastards. They're following us, but they can't hide in the swamp. It's flat here."
"They've got throwers, Paul."
"So do we. They won't cross here!" A pause. "Whoa, our sergeant is heavy… At least he's alive… Who else is going to be kicking our butts for another six months?"
Smolensk, summer of 2111, birch grove in the Holmy neighborhood
"Pavel, Pavel, honey! Ooh! Pavel, my love!"
Smolensk, summer of 2111, homestead in the Holmy neighborhood
"Is it serious between you, Paul?"
"As serious as we can get, Klaus!"
"Does your mother approve?"
"Both Mother and Uncle Pavel."
"They approve then… Hmm…"
"You think a monster like me shouldn't start a family?"
"You're not a monster, Paul, you're a person with a special gift, and that complicates the situation. What can you hide from a woman you're sharing your bed with? Nothing, almost nothing, I assure you. Her love and devotion are the guardians of your secrets. Are you certain they will never dry up?.. No, don't hurry with the answer, only time provides the right answers. Are they sending you to the Taiga? Serve there for a few years, then decide. Decide together. Let her realize that an astronaut's wife does not lead a happy life; you'll be with her one month out of six."
"You're right, Klaus, right as usual. But let's talk about something else, okay?" A pause. "I heard the Lo'ona Aeo want to build a city on Pluto or a space station… Maybe, they are those same Metamorphs or Proteids? Gunther Voss… you remember Emissary Voss?.. could he be one of them?"
A dry laugh.
"Not one of them. Definitely not one of them!"
USF Lunar Base, the cruiser Taiga, captain's reception, 2111
"Sir, Junior Lieutenant Paul Richard Corcoran. Reporting due to being assigned to the cruiser's marine pilot complement."
"At east, Lieutenant. I see you have the Cross of Valor… What did you get it for?"
"Carried my wounded commander out of combat, sir."
"Well, that's impressive. One moment, I will read over your paperwork… All right, everything is in order. Head to deck F and report to Commander Gulyga. He is our lead marine pilot. Serve well, Junior Lieutenant!"
"Thank you, sir!"
Near-Earth space, aboard the cruiser Taiga, communication session with Earth, 2113
"Mom, can you hear me, Mom?"
"I hear and see you, Paul. My dear, you look like you've lost weight."
"It's okay, you'll fatten me up again. I'm coming home, Mom, I'm coming! They're sending me to the Navigator School in Málaga… I'll be on Earth for almost two years!"
"I already know, son. Klaus sent us a message… Verochka and me."
"Has she told you anything?"
"She is such a secretive girl, Paul. Doesn't say much, just smiles and blushes."
"We've decided to get married, Mom. We—"
"Enough, Lieutenant, connection broken! Your time is up, and I've got a line of people in the hallway. I hope you've had time to say the important thing."
"No, Thyssen. I haven't said I loved them both."
Telemachus System, 22 parsecs from Sol.
Aboard the cruiser Genghis Khan, officer wardroom, 2117.
"Captain on deck! Atten-hut!"
"You can sit, ladies and gentlemen. Second Navigator Corcoran! Message for you, so let me be the first to congratulate you with Lyubov, Paul! Your wife has given birth to a daughter. A second one, I believe?"
"Yes, Kirill Petrovich. Thank you! Thanks, guys! Oh, Nina, don't hug me so tightly, I'm a married man after all… Thanks, Peter, thanks, Marat… Kirill Petrovich, request permission for the occasion?.."
"Granted. Powell, champagne! Paul, can I borrow you for a few words… I have one more piece of news for you: you're on your way to a promotion. First, courses on the Lunar Base, then you'll be the third officer aboard the Europe. The captain has such a funny name… Verba… no, Vrba, Karel Vrba. Have you heard about him?"
There was a pause.
"No, Kirill Petrovich. And I will be said to leave the Genghis Khan."
"Don't be. First of all, service is service, and second, you know the saying, 'more ships means more friends'? Besides, Vrba is a serious man, and the Europe is the lead ship of a new class. She's not so much a cruiser as an entire planet! There will be other ships like her, so we'll get a whole specialized squadron. Maybe they're prepping it to protect a Lo'ona Aeo sector, but I've heard… hmm… Well, I'll let Vrba tell you about that."
Near-Earth space, shipyard DX-51, aboard the cruiser Europe, captain's quarters, 2118.
"You're only thirty, Corcoran, and you're already the third officer on my ship. You're too young for such a critical assignment. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you have any thoughts on this?"
"None, sir."
"Perhaps you think that you're under the patronage of Commodore Litvin? I know he cares for your family and treats you like a son…"
"The latter is correct, but the former is not. Commodore Litvin does not mix service and his personal life. He's not that sort of man, sir."
"He's not, I agree." Rustling of papers. "I have familiarized myself with the description of one operation… Eight years ago, during the disturbance in the Lucknow region, a squad of cadets was deployed there to support the marines. A part of the squad, seven soldiers, encountered the enemy's superior forces, one man was killed, the commander was wounded. You carried him out. Not only that, but you laid an ambush and took out the attacking bandits. It seemed like you knew how many of them there were and where they would go. This is not an isolated case. I have read the reports about your other exploits… A special tactical gift? What do you think, Corcoran?"
"I believe it's a coincidence, sir. Sometimes, I get really lucky."
"Just lucky, right? Well, let's assume that…" More rustling of paper, then some text appeared on the film screen. "I don't have the precise information, Corcoran, but I believe you're familiar with the Faata language."
"Sir, it's a very difficult language, with phonetics virtually impossible for us. I don't believe I can consider myself an expert in this area. I've studied navigation, piloting, system analysis, medicine, human resources, and—"
"Enough, enough, Lieutenant Commander! All right, your attempt at pulling the wool over my eyes, as they used to say in the previous century, was worthy enough. I have familiarized myself with your file, its official version. Here is the copy." More paper rustling. "And here," a nod at the screen, "is another document, received from the USF Secret Service, which has your entire secret genealogy. You owe it and Curator Siebel your rapid promotion." A pause. "They have high expectations for you, Corcoran. When we head to the star systems where the Faata colonies are located…"
A pause, then, "A counterstrike, Captain? Is that what you mean?"
"Yes."
"And what will I have to do?"
"Whatever the situation demands, Corcoran. You and Siebel are our experts, you know the Faata language, worldview, customs. You will be our translators, consultants, intermediaries, and, if necessary, spies in the enemy camp. You will probably be given a ship, a small craft with a contour drive, a frigate or a corvette. When we get close to the Faata New Worlds, you will conduct the initial reconnaissance. In a sense, you will have to lead and direct the forces we send there."
"Besides Siebel and me, there is one more expert, sir. My mother knows little, but Commodore Litvin… He does not know the language, but he had been on the Ship, fought the Faata, even established contact with the quasi-mind and that strange Metamorph creature, Gunther Voss. He–"
"He will be our commander, Corcoran. If he lives long enough and has the strength for the expedition."
"If he lives long enough?"
"You don't think that we'll go there tomorrow, on the Europe alone, do you? Five more ships have been laid down, and their construction, including the shakedown, will take seven to eight years. Commodore Litvin is not a young man anymore, and his health… Well, you know that better than I do."
"I still hope he will be with us. I feel safer with him, Captain."
"I agree with you there. So do I."