My head was already noticeably swollen from the incoming information. Reports were pouring in one after another, and I had to delve into each one before forwarding it to the relevant departments. Their volume only grew, despite the fact that the shooting and fires at the Enterprise had stopped. Reports from liquidation teams, along with assessments from the engineering service, began to come in.
The Enterprise had suffered colossal damage. Although, thanks to the early alarm, measures were taken immediately, often even preemptively in some areas, the destruction was immense. Not only was unique equipment destroyed, but those who created it also perished. The machinery could be recreated, albeit with certain costs, but the people could not be brought back.
Out of eight thousand personnel, five hundred died, and about a thousand more were injured to varying degrees. The situation, from merely difficult, would have become critical if the security units hadn't managed to hold "Pavlov." Most of the wounded would have been dead by now.
The situation was worse in the settlements where the employees' families lived on the territory. The counts had only just begun, but already there were over a thousand dead, and according to preliminary estimates, this number would double. Aerial reconnaissance recorded unpleasant scenes...
The activation of martial law at facility "3826" was not just sabotage, but a planned operation. Many protocols loaded into the robots differed from the reference ones in the "Atomic Heart" project. All restrictive conditions were removed, resulting in what I won't shy away from calling a massacre.
Problems weren't limited to the facility; the news of the incident reached Moscow, and Comrade Molotov, who was very eager to travel to us, demanded to speak with me. Only through joint efforts with Comrade Shtokhauzen were we able to cancel the hastily assembled government commission, buying us about a day to finalize the cleanup, twelve hours of which had already passed.
The entire scientific council of the Enterprise was under pressure. "Collective 2.0" was to be launched at noon on the thirteenth, and not a minute later, otherwise the reputational losses for the Union would be difficult to predict...
Tearing myself away from the computer, I stretched my stiff neck, my gaze sweeping across the panorama of the Enterprise, where the glow of fires had almost disappeared. The panoramic window of my office offered a stunning view, allowing me to unload my mind by enjoying the sight of the buildings surrounded by forest, which was unexpected for such a significant industrial facility.
Now nature was dotted with dark spots, visible even from the "Chelomey." They would heal quickly, but the memory of what happened would poison me for a long time.
Right placed a cup of army energy drink in front of me, warning:
"This is the last one. Four more hours of active work, and I'll have to insist on your rest. Let your body receive all the necessary energy, but fatigue can affect your cognitive functions..."
"And you should also eat something, chief," added Bugai, tearing himself away from the preliminary sorting of reports for the military department, interrupting Right. "And not a sandwich, but something more substantial and fatty, after consuming so many energy drinks."
"Agreed," the female robot replied, glancing at Bugai, after a moment's thought. "You should have a full meal. I'll order your favorite soup from the canteen for when you wake up."
"Yeah. You could use some borscht too..." Bugai commented, receiving a light, purely symbolic, tap on the back of the head from Leftya. "Ouch! What was that for?"
"Your comments are useful, but focus on the task at hand. You have a call from agent Plutonium waiting for ten whole seconds," Leftya replied sharply.
"Let that scoundrel wait. With his resourcefulness, he'll get himself into trouble and get himself out. I know from experience," the bodyguard couldn't help but reply to his colleague, but he accepted the call. "Sechenov's office is on the line."
"Plutonium on the line," came Sergei's slightly tired and agitated voice from the communicator. "Glad to hear you, Bugai, but where's someone more substantial?"
"Comrade Shtokhauzen has gone to assess the damage to the facilities, while Academician Sechenov is busy with incoming reports," the robot replied formally.
I wanted to switch the call to myself, but Right's steel hand rested on the communicator's handset, while Leftya was once again handling the call from Comrade Molotov, who had taken my personal number by storm, bothering and distracting more than saying anything useful. If he hears that I'm not busy...
"Then I'll report to you, just don't get cocky... Petrov escaped from 'Vavilov.' That runt faked his death with the help of citizen Filatova, killing one of the engineers instead of himself, even breaking the poor guy's leg in three places for authenticity," the godson said irritably, making me wince at the details, but that was all. "But there's good news. We managed to destroy his engineering tablet. He needs a replacement or repair because, by raising the alarm, we scared off that runt, preventing him from completing his plan in full. We couldn't track his approximate path on our own, even with the help of Eleonora, who switched to our side, and consultations with KhRAZ. They simply don't have the full picture of the operational situation."
"One minute," Bugai replied, starting to type something on his terminal. "An engineering tablet, without a memory module, is in the VDNKh museum, but considering its condition and the activity of the liquidation groups, that character won't go there. The only option available to him is a platform that landed nearby "Vavilov" with a universal assembly line. One of its engines was damaged during the start of the incident. Currently, robots are trying to use it for their repair..."
"And there are a lot of them there," Sergei finished for the sentient machine. "Understood. Then I request reinforcements."
"I'm assigning free security units and freed operatives from your squad to your command. Take him down and break him completely," Bugai finished in his usual style.
"End of communication..." Sergei broke the channel. Finally, I heard a distinct slap and Katya's whisper: "The first thirty years of a boy's childhood..."
It felt a little easier for a moment. I glanced again at the Enterprise's territory, sinking into doubt. Aren't we making a mistake? We could just clean up the apparatus, not act rashly... Let them tear each other apart, but they've done so much useful for people...
No, we can't! If we leave things as they are, people like Petrov will be born. Simply because they weren't understood. There will be those who step over others. For whom it will be easier to arrange a senseless massacre than to solve a problem peacefully...
The husband broke the connection. His crooked smile turned into a completely serious expression. He only gets like that when he makes a difficult decision. Nodding to himself, he turned to me.
"We're getting out of the complex," he said dryly, but seeing my gaze, he continued. "Petrov has to be finished. That bastard is too dangerous to leave alive."
Without delay, we headed towards the nearest elevator from the warehouse, not daring to use the one Petrov had used. A trap was practically begging to be set there.
"The codes are in his head," I reminded him, subconsciously knowing the answer.
"Exactly... in his head. Remember that laboratory, Professor Doule?" he replied with a question, setting a rally marker for the squad's operatives not far from our supposed ascent, without slowing down.
"That French scientist? Who was killed by his assistant?" I shivered, as if from the cold. In fact, I already knew what he was hinting at. "It's hard to forget. The only fun was when we stormed the psychiatric hospital, saving that singer who performs in our theater. All those heads, decapitated corpses... Even Argon seemed affected then, when the professor himself greeted him."
"We didn't smuggle out all the documentation for nothing, did we?" Sergei asked me. "Mercury and Radium should bring a container with nutrient fluid from "Pavlov"."
"It would have been simpler to just shoot the scoundrel," I stated.
"He doesn't deserve that for all his misdeeds... But it's one thing to just shoot him, and another to cut off his head. I've never had to kill like that before."
"You yourself said he's too dangerous. What are we going to do with his girlfriend?" I said, checking my assault rifle, while we waited for the elevator, but also knowing the answer perfectly well.
After a second's pause, my husband sighed and said:
"Shoot her. You know what they'll do to her during interrogations... It will be more merciful that way."
"You have strange notions of mercy," KhRAZ remarked.
"We've just seen too much," Sergei replied grimly, sweeping the elevator shaft with the barrel of his assault rifle before entering it.
"I admit that your thinking is quite original. I wouldn't have suspected a body double," KhRAZ admitted.
"That's why I say we've seen too much," Sergei had the last word.
I completely agree with my husband. We've seen too much. Even if Filatova is no less guilty than Petrov, one can always say she was used unknowingly or she's just a fool. For her past merits, she deserves a merciful bullet. And we, as grateful patients, will give her an easy death.
The elevator took us up to some kind of shed. It smelled of dampness and moldy straw. Excellent camouflage. Raising our hands with assault rifles, so as not to alarm the soldiers, we emerged from the dilapidated structure.
We were closely monitored by the turret machine guns of two APCs, which were stationary at a distance from the seemingly abandoned area.
"Commander!" Mercury waved cheerfully, lowering the RPG launcher from her shoulder. "Glad to see you!"
"And how glad I am," my husband replied with an unreadable expression, ready to deploy a barrier or dodge at any moment. As soon as the grenadier moved the launcher from the "ready to fire" position, we exhaled with relief when the machine guns friendly turned towards the sky. Over the past day, allied robots have almost torn us to shreds too many times.
Sergei sighed, mentally winding himself up, releasing the tension.
"So glad that I'm rewarding you... Three extra duty shifts. Afterwards," he declared, glaring sternly at Mercury.
"E-e-e-e!" the second girl in the squad waved her hands indignantly. "I was just joking!"
"B-b-b!" my husband cut her off. "But you should have maintained vigilance."
"Yes, Comrade Commander! Three extra duty shifts it is!" reported the dejected girl, a former sniper in a motorized rifle regiment.
A joker. We had enough "lawnmowers" to deal with. She'll joke herself into trouble someday. I don't believe I'm saying this, but Sergei, with his stupid jokes, was still restrained.
Now, in silence, we jump onto the armor, exchanging nods with Radium and Lakmus.
The box started moving, rumbling loudly with its diesel engine and reeking of diesel fuel all around, like a tractor.
Bouncing along the road, shattered by explosions, driving around the husks of burnt-out cars that were just beginning to be cleared, we had to repel an air attack twice. In fact, that's why we were riding on, not under, the armor. A stray "Drofa" could give a "Kodiak" a run for its money, let alone a "Shmel." It would simply lift it higher and drop it lower. The turret machine gun wouldn't have had time to turn and hit the nimble aircraft.
On the way, we met another liquidation squad, which was escorting survivors to an evacuation point, who were staring wide-eyed at the surrounding devastation. Lucky them. All the main noise passed them by. My heart was especially gladdened by the many children. So the robots didn't reach them.
The "armor" drove off the road, bypassing a destroyed bridge. A "Shmel" with a container of robots had fallen on it very unfortunately, collapsing the span. Immediately, the pleasure of the ride became more refined and elevated, making me want to clap for the driver's skill, who managed to drive the APC relatively smoothly, without any sarcasm.
However, this didn't help much when the vehicle drove into the river. I had to grip the handrails tighter to avoid being swept away.
Climbing up the embankment, we saw three more armored vehicles emerge from behind the cover of dense tree crowns from around the bend. There were scorch marks on their hulls, but the path for the vehicles had been generally good.
Our box picked up speed, roaring its engine, breaking away from the column and taking the lead.
Drones flashed overhead, waving their wings in greeting. The reconnaissance had arrived.
As soon as we drove out into relatively open terrain, aerial robots, which hadn't been fully suppressed yet, attacked us again.
We had to dismount. Taking cover behind the infantry fighting vehicles, Lakmus and I shot down the most brazen robots with sniper rifles. My husband and Radium supported the armor with machine-gun fire, while Mercury switched her RPG for a more effective "Krepysh" with four homing missiles at the moment. Although she was a sniper, she could only hit at close range with something light, compensating for it with good tracking and sabotage skills.
She was hit by a laser, leaving a light but painful burn on her stomach. Mercury was caught during the reload of the miracle weapon with a clip of guided missiles, which occupied her hands, and she couldn't deploy a defensive sphere. Fortunately, her uniform softened the blow, and the laser beam only scorched her skin.
Our APCs dealt with the crowd of machines rushing at us from the edge of the forest, not letting the mechanical army reach us and fire properly. A couple of circular discs got stuck in the armor plates, hopelessly stuck, and added scorch marks to the paint.
The platform was already visible. The column had entered the clearing left by its landing when Sergei commanded:
"Air!" falling from the APC.
We scattered to the sides. A light high-explosive missile landed very successfully on the engine compartment, penetrating the armor. The box stopped dead, cheerfully smoking.
Along with the opening of the troop compartment hatch, a second explosion sounded, and a stream of flame erupted from it, followed by three figures engulfed in fire falling out.
"Dismount! Armor maneuver and retreat, providing covering fire!" my husband commanded, but it was too late.
Another APC was literally rammed by a robot that had emerged from behind the trees in an instant, knocking it onto its side. Bracing itself on two steel legs, the machine jumped onto the armor, crushing it with its weight. The troop compartment hatch was twisted and jammed. But the robot didn't stop there. Extending two more legs, it somersaulted, throwing the multi-ton transport into a ditch, causing it to roll, spinning on its axis, jumping high over the bumps. The protoform landed on a hill with very gentle slopes.
The troop door remained in place, but it didn't help much when the APC crashed into the rock at full speed. Surely, only mush remained of the landing party.
The robot didn't contemplate its handiwork but jumped right at us, though it did so with a slight hesitation, getting stuck in the air in a polymer mass and the grip of telekinesis.
The mechanism didn't falter but spun its entire body, shedding the polymer and telekinetic hands.
Still in the air, the robot fired a series of missiles at us, but Sergei, gathering the remaining polymer, caught them and sent them back to the sender.
An explosion shook the clearing, throwing the undamaged robot back and showering us with shrapnel, which bounced off the polymer sphere I had deployed.
"According to the sensor readings, it's an EZHX-7, a geodesic robot," Eleonora said, increasing the power of her speakers, managing to be heard over the ringing.
"It's a geodesic robot?!" Sergei shouted indignantly, dodging with a roll from the blow of a pound-weight paw when he decided to approach the machine more closely. "KhRAZ, does it have weak spots?!"
"It's quite sturdy. They are dropped from "Shmels" into unexplored mountains and were planned to be sent to Mars. The only weak spot: the reactor. When actively working, it needs frequent cooling."
As if in confirmation, the remaining boxes opened fire, backing away, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off the robot...