Retaliatory Bombing.
26.feb.2120.
KANAR Capital.
The first thing Dragovich heard when he woke up was the howl of sirens, breaking through the double-glazed windows. The phone was also emitting an alarm signal. Dragovich almost rolled out of bed, then stood up and jumped to the table where the phone was lying. Judging by the inscription on the display, it was a general air raid alarm. Not a missile alarm, but an air raid alarm.
The clock said half past seven. Surprisingly, he didn't feel like sleeping anymore. The sun, which had risen long ago, was shining with a dull light, breaking through gray, obviously snow clouds - in comparison with yesterday's bright day, the weather had noticeably worsened. Although in winter, this was not considered bad weather here.
A helicopter "fart" was heard. The windows began to shake. Dragovich rushed to the window and saw a fat-bellied four-engine Mi-86, obviously Blok's, dragging itself over the area - only they, "Blok's", could fly in the no-fly zone.
If Dragovich, like everyone else on the ground, should not have done anything, then the giant, terrifying with its roar and dark silhouette, having been caught by the alarm in the air, turned off its route and was now looking for the nearest area to land and not show its carcass on friendly air defense radars. The dark silhouette went towards the strip of poplars outside the area, seemed to slow down, and then began to descend, hiding behind the terrain, trees and roofs of private houses.
Ten minutes later, Dragovich, having tidied himself up, was already sitting in the kitchen and sipping hot coffee, which was still not getting cold. There were three hard-boiled eggs on the table. - Turn on the TV, channel "local time" - Dragovich commanded.
The TV built into the refrigerator door came to life and a map of the African Front appeared on the screen.
- I estimate that the potential of our coalition group on the Ilebo-Mweka front is now one hundred and ten percent, - a voice belonging to the bald Russian colonel who appeared on the screen, acting as an invited expert. - This is not a figure of speech, - the colonel continued, - ten percent is the reserve that determines not the fact of victory itself, but the intensity of the advance. Ten percent is an insignificant advantage. One hundred and thirty percent, that is, an advantage of thirty percent, is a confident advance. One hundred and fifty percent is a rapid rout of the enemy. I do not mean numbers, I mean the so-called calculated potential.
The bald man launched into an explanation of what percentages are calculated from, Dragovich took a sip of coffee, banged an egg on the table and looked out the window. The nearest signal light was blinking red.
- Channel "Narodnoe Splochenie"//People's Unity//, - said Dragovich and the TV carried out the command.
Lined up in two rows, thugs in the uniform of the KANAR militia sang in chorus. They stood against the backdrop of several tanks in a well-whitewashed box, illuminated by a subdued yellowish light unnatural for such premises.
- Channel back, - commanded Dragovich.
On "local time" was the same bald colonel, who soon finished his explanations.
- And now to events closer to us - announced the host, dressed in a jacket and tie so unwelcome by ordinary locals. However, for him, a TV host, this was forgivable.
- Yesterday, we all shuddered in a good sense from the bombers that flew by all day - he began the introductory part. The screen showed footage of four-engine aircraft taxiing for takeoff and blowing hot air over everything behind them. Judging by the palm trees in the background, the footage was old and had nothing to do with yesterday's raid. Meanwhile, a map of the southern part of the Eurasian continent appeared on the screen, which began to approach and slide down, gradually revealing the north. Lines appeared, apparently the routes of the bombers. Then a mark appeared for the capital city of the Superfederant, marked with a red star. As expected, the route lines passed over the city. Now information about the routes was obviously no secret, and it is always possible to distort the lines on the map. Then the field of view began to slide again to the south, where one after another the marks of targets appeared, located, judging by the inscriptions and comments, at a distance of one and a half to two and a half thousand kilometers from the city itself. The planes took off from somewhere in the north - there was no takeoff location on the map, the lines curved at the bases simply came from somewhere in a circle with a diameter of many hundreds of kilometers. - During the successful raids, a number of targets were destroyed. - the voiceover began. - Among them was an ammunition depot near the city of Erbin-Tyube in occupied Tajikistan. The dam of a hydroelectric power station near the Pakistani city of Bhakhardabbad was seriously damaged. A large construction equipment and structures plant, which was working to meet the needs of the enemy's fortifications, was also destroyed.
The list of hit targets was accompanied by quite convincing and detailed satellite photographs - apparently, the capacity and resources of the satellite group in its current state were enough for this.
- Nevertheless, the enemy took countermeasures. - the voice continued. - Over the past hour, a mass launch of subsonic cruise missiles and similar devices was recorded.
- Should we worry? - a female voice rang out, and in the right part of the screen a half-screen appeared with the presenter, who was on the street somewhere outside the city; judging by the flying snow, this was a live broadcast.
- If you ask the question, is there a threat, - answered his own, KANAR major, who appeared already in the third part of the screen, - if you ask the question like this, then I would say: rather no than yes. And emotions, here I am already talking about myself - are not our line. And I would once again recommend that all citizens adhere to exactly the same line of behavior, that is, composure, - the Major said. - Technically, subsonic cruise missiles are a fairly ordinary target for the air defense system deployed in the positional area by the Bloc's coalition forces.
Dragovich rose from the table and tried to make out the place where the helicopter had landed, but was only convinced that there was nothing to see there.
- Radars and air-based air defense carriers detect low-flying cruise missiles incomparably more effectively than ground-based radars, - the major continued. - Such air defense, thanks to our allies, only exists in the vicinity of ocean air routes. So be patient, there will soon be reports of enemy targets shot down on the southern approaches. In addition, our own system, although it is primarily designed to contain provocations from the right bank, can also make its contribution to this, so to speak, major defense.
Dragovich finished his third egg and reluctantly rose from his chair. The kitchen TV was quite visible from the sofa. The same one where the things were lying. The pile could be carefully moved and sat down next to. Suddenly the phone rang. It turned out it was "The Mexican".
- What, how are you?" a slightly crumpled voice asked.
- How could it be? Everything is fine. I'll be there by ten, well, a little earlier.
- No, don't rush.
- What do you mean "don't rush"?
- Everything is fine, the guys and I went out of town a little bit. Yesterday, - he named some place, as far as Dragovich understood, it was the name of some kind of pub, or "brothel" - where there is a bathhouse, a pub and women. They, these establishments, called themselves here dryly and somehow in Soviet style "country recreation complexes". Over the years, starting with 2114, the drinking establishments located within the city limits had survived everything imaginable - they had been trampled by armed units, looters, moralistic anti-alcohol events of "Doc", and returning soldiers, who were not so numerous in these parts.
The fate of the country establishments was somewhat more favorable. Although all of the above had affected them too, it had affected them to a lesser extent, and in recent years they had begun to flourish - the region had become home to rich draft dodgers who needed some kind of leisure.
The "Bordelier", where the "Mexican" was now, judging by the navigator, was a couple of dozen kilometers from the exit from the city, from its western district.
- Come over now, let's talk, - the "Mexican" insistently suggested. - It will be safer this way.
There was nothing left to do but move to the country tavern.
It was cold and nasty outside. Not because of the frost - there was none. There was no spring slush either. It was nasty because a piercing wind blew into your face, carrying fluffy snowflakes that flew into your eyes.
Well, at least it wasn't fine, prickly snow - Dragovich had already experienced that during the winter in Superfederant. There was almost no one on the streets, just like on the morning of the previous day. Only, unlike yesterday, now everything was gray and all the signal lights were blinking red. And the siren was wailing every now and then.