Date 02/29/2120.
The night steppe rushed past. The optics, painting the picture in shades of blue and black with white, made the brown grass of last year gray, as if it had turned gray, and the sky became a dark purple, like a watercolor. The stars were still clearly visible - the sky was clear.
The call sign "Dichlorvos" drove the car as fast as it could - the camouflage tent, which covered the upper part of the flat-bottomed boat, introduced aerodynamic losses and noticeably slowed down the movement, taking away thirty percent from the maximum speed. In theory, this thing fluttering in the wind should have somehow hidden the car from detection by drones, which had a habit of appearing at the most inopportune moments.
All four fans had honeycomb-like grilles slapped on top. Unlike a honeycomb, the cells of these gratings were rectangular, but the thickness of the gratings was about fifteen centimeters. In other words, they were not made of rods, but of thin plastic ribs, so they were more like honeycombs than gratings. This aerodynamic nightmare was supposed to minimize the noise trace from the moving blades - acoustic reconnaissance posts, which were portable systems deployed on the ground with highly sensitive microphones, were not uncommon. Similar but smaller honeycombs were sometimes installed on sniper optics, but there they struggled with glare. The gratings ate up another fifteen percent of the speed remaining after losses from the tent. At the rear, a huge cylindrical container was fixed across the hull, giving the machine a cartoonish resemblance to old Soviet tanks - that's what their additional fuel tanks looked like. Here, however, it was completely different - the flat-bottomed boat carried a launcher with nothing less than a nuclear missile.
The missile, however, was comparable in size to a heavy anti-tank missile, and the warhead had a power of only five hundredths of a kiloton. It seems ridiculously small, but fifty tons of TNT is not so small.
Initially, such systems, right in these containers, were supposed to be installed on front-line helicopters, but they, these systems, to use common slang, "did not fire", that is, did not justify themselves.
When the situation at the front begged for this miniature nuclear strike, then in most cases the helicopters had nothing to do there - they would inevitably be shot down. Usually then they sent at least an attack aircraft or even an air combat aircraft and they delivered units of kilotons.
Of course, the miniature charges also managed to explode, but in the overall picture of the military process at the fronts, this was lost.
The flat-bottomed boats were not intended for the use of this system, but craftsmen did even more. Having attached the container to the back of the flat-bottomed vehicle, they installed an additional computer in front of the back seat, which was supposed to send the necessary pre-launch data to the missile so that it would explode approximately near the target - its ignorance was inertial.
The missile was handled by the second fighter - "Basketball", a junior officer, lieutenant of the special operations detachment, SOpS NaAmF RFR, like "Dichlorvos". The agile and nimble "Basketball" received his call sign in contrast to his build and height in particular.
In addition to this main task, this second member of the team, who had quietly sat in the back seat, monitored what was happening around - having penetrated into the rear of @enemy, one could easily run into some trivial drone, which would ruin everything.
On both sides of the vehicle, there were containers with traditional multifunctional missiles. Launch boxes with anti-drones were also attached. The container lids stuck out from under the tattered shelter, pulled around the blocks with ropes and wires.
Suddenly the steppe around began to shine. "Dichlorvos" moved the optics from his right eye - that's how it was.
Day reigned on the earth, but it was still night in the sky. "Basketball" cursed. In general, the light that illuminated the surroundings was much dimmer than daylight - it seemed comparable to daylight only in contrast to the dark sky.
After a few seconds, the glow faded.
- What does this mean? - said "Basketball".
- About a ballistic attack, what else - muttered "Dichlorvos".
- This is a selective undermining of the "@enemy" defense, not ours. We have lasers now. This means ours are escalating.
- What are you drawing such conclusions from? - objected "Dichlorvos". - Okay, don't chatter, don't distract us with every little thing! - he interrupted the further conversation.
Something hummed in the sky. Judging by the interlink, it was a pair of "@enemy" air combat aircraft. They were heading somewhere to the northwest and most likely did not pose a danger to the machine - too indistinct a target for their optics, if they were currently scanning the surface of the earth.
A pile of garbage, which is what the machine, wrapped in camouflage, resembled, continued moving to the south. The broken route, taking into account the slightest folds of the flat terrain, led to a point located more than forty kilometers from the current position.
There, in the middle of the deserted steppe, there was a huge area filled with launchers and other vehicles, light shield warehouses, tents and dugouts. This was the position of the SA-260 "Gorilla" battery - an air defense system that included missiles of as many as three echelons.
The long-range missiles were superior to the "Perseval" on paper, and in reality they were dangerous. The short-range missiles were launched vertically and had a minimum range of about one hundred and fifty meters. With all this, the entire system did not deserve any exceptionally high rating - its tactical flexibility was low.
Based on the same Western "Perseval", it was possible to assemble a wide variety of battery options, including a wide variety of systems, including short-range ones, in this tactical unit. If "@enemy" needed to provide its Frankenstein with only certain ammunition and equip the battery with strictly specific launch vehicles, then the coalition forces, having a battery of "Perseval" in its original version, could steal any systems of lower range, arrange communication channels, it would be better to extend optical cables, and get exactly the same all-echelon battery. The same, only a little better.
Another small thing was to load the software for controlling the missiles of those junior systems into the control computer of the "Perseval" - there was complete compatibility for that, provided by the developers initially, perhaps that software was there initially - the SOpS fighters did not know such details.
Also, nothing prevented the junior systems from using their own radars. Nothing except some features of a particular combat situation, such as requirements for limiting radar radiation. One way or another, the developers provided maximum latitude in choosing the configuration of such a combined battery. None of this applied to the @enemy battery or the SA-260. The @enemy assumed that the soldiers handling logistics and deploying the battery would compensate for what the designers had not done and would provide everything related to delivery and assembly in a timely manner. There was probably some logic to this - they had plenty of unpretentious workers in all ages. When there were just over ten kilometers left to the target, the interlink highlighted a surveillance drone hanging to the east of the target at the same distance. The bastard was quite large, judging by the identified type with a wingspan of about twelve meters. These slowly crawled at altitudes of up to fifteen kilometers and conducted optical surveillance. They also performed radio reconnaissance functions and any activation of a trifling pocket radio could provoke the bastard to deploy its optics to comb the area from which the signal came. Given this, the interlink of the flat-bottomed aircraft went through a narrow-beam phased antenna that knew where the necessary satellite was.
The drone had just been detected by its AWACS, and this, of course, was better than if they had not spotted it. Now it remained to hope that it would not decide to visit this fucking "gorilla". Well, at least before the attack. Now it was heading east and going in a straight line. This was encouraging. I also wanted to hope that its own would somehow deal with it.
Finally, it became noticeable how, as it moved, the horizon line ahead bulged upward - this was the very same hill behind which there was a platform with a battery.
"Dichlorvos" slowed down to forty kilometers per hour and began to approach "Lima-two", the intended route point from which visual contact was to be established.
By that time, the high-altitude drone had flown further east and was now thirty-five kilometers away.
Even before "Lima-2", a picture of this market square appeared on the display allocated for the optical station - there was no other way to call it.
What was seen gave another reason to agree with the rather chauvinistic statement that the logic of the still "communist" Asian man differs from the logic of the Western man even in its basic principles.
In general, "@enemy" camouflaged their anti-aircraft batteries quite well. They also made fake objects, placing models of equipment on sites equipped exactly like fortifications of real positions.
In general, in this they were no different from the opposite side, that is, the forces of the Western Bloc. However, often something broke in their heads and at some point they completely rejected all the principles of sane tactics.
Everything was explained by the peculiarities of their command and control style. At least, that's how their Western "interpreters" explained it.
According to this explanation, at some point high-ranking officers stopped caring about the outcome of a maneuver or the future fate of a unit, position, or unit. Such indifference occurred when the higher command was engaged in a kind of division of functions and required these officers to simply deploy a system or provide everything necessary for a march.
The mechanisms that prevented this higher command from taking into account such peculiarities of their subordinates most likely looked the same as those that relaxed the officers. In other words, the superiors were no better than their subordinates.
The equipment was turned into scrap metal. "@enemy-AEX" and "@enemy-GBA", or whatever they had, readily made up for the lost. Most likely, in reports to even higher command, those annoying misunderstandings were somehow lost, shaded.
The human resource was also replenished naturally - not only was "@enemy-land" not deprived of this part, but they also had younger countries and peoples. It was creepy to think about putting yourself in the place of those Filipinos, Laotians, Koreans and other representatives of the once quite friendly and open to peaceful global integration nations.
Also surprising was the behavior of the lower personnel, who were under the command of these officers who relaxed from time to time. To describe it simply, they, the lower personnel, seeing that their boss-commander from despotic and picky for some time turned into contented and relaxed, they, in turn, instead of adhering to the previous "tone of self-preservation", immediately, figuratively speaking, pulled down their pants and began to walk around flashing their yellow butts in an attempt to call down some blow on their head and butt. As a rule, these attempts were successful. It was some special psychological mechanism - to follow the behavior style of their "leader", that is, the command.
This infectiously imitative behavior itself was not a fiction - its appearance was compiled from numerous surveys of prisoners, captured or rescued in different years of the War - from the first months, when countless armored vehicles were packed, moving almost in ceremonial columns, to the later, "modern" years of the established military process. It was all the same.
And now the site was equipped with lamps on the masts, as if it were some kind of rear base for the distribution of provisions or building materials. The battery, of course, was also in the rear, but firstly, not so deep, and secondly, the battery had to be camouflaged even at a distance of five hundred kilometers from the front line.
There were three main Radars, and two of them, one search and one guidance radar, were located fifty meters from each other. There was also an independent all-round radar, but it could be ignored when choosing the detonation site - after a strike on the position of this rather fragile structure with its huge panels, it would undoubtedly come to an end. The second guidance radar was located a little further away, forming a pointed triangle stretching for about one hundred and fifty meters. The detonation point was chosen closer to two relatively nearby radars, to the smaller side of the triangle. The more distant radar would undoubtedly be damaged even if there was nothing on the site except three vehicles, but there was enough there that would inevitably arrange a firework of secondary detonations, so there was no need to worry - it should not be damaged, but riddled and swept away.
The dugouts and shield houses, covered with camouflage netting, scattered around the area were of no interest to the strike planners. But they were undoubtedly destined for a thorough thinning out.
Meanwhile, the machine pulled up to "Lima-2". The optical station, placed in a rectangular container, fixed on a two-meter pole sticking out above the "garbage heap" of camouflage, now provided a picture that presented the "market square" in all its glory.
Several launch vehicles were lined up at a distance, in the far corner of the territory. Their paired containers, resembling elongated barrels, stood vertically. The installations looked very different from the Western ones. A smaller one was attached to each large container. All this was held on a frame-skeleton, to which some blocks and pipelines were attached, apparently with cables. Among the various machines, two radars for the defense of the middle and small echelons were also clearly visible - these rotated their not very large panels continuously. When planning the strike, they were not taken into account as any important targets.
You could also see several people quite casually walking around the site in groups, as if talking. They were probably yelling, as was their custom.
- This is what dead people look like who for some reason haven't died yet, - "Dichlorvos" said without visible emotion.
- Now we'll fix it, - "Basketball" answered in the same way.
Smoke was coming out of several container houses - often at the "@enemy" positions they heated with stinking coal, which was brought in by dump trucks. All this despite the fact that in the pre-war years, or rather even before the Pre-War, they were almost the leaders in all kinds of batteries - both hydrogen and ion. Also striking were trucks of a distinctly civilian appearance - these were parked in a kind of parking lot, next to which a huge canopy had been set up, covering some boxes.
Having slowed down to almost zero, "Dichlorvos" froze for a dozen or two seconds, as if thinking, then turned around and moved towards the "November" point. It was necessary to go a straight track of just under five hundred meters, turn around and go back. In this way, the onboard optical station would receive a picture from different points and the onboard computer would make a final update on the target configuration, confirming the correctness of the choice of the detonation site - after all, such important machines as radars are usually constantly moved.
On the way back, it was supposed to launch a missile. Right from the move.
"Dichlorvos" moved towards "November", maintaining an altitude of no more than three meters. There was a slight chance that somewhere in the grass there was a mine with an electronic detonation, intended just for such visitors, but such cases were extremely rare - you can't sow the entire area with them. The probability of running into a drone was much higher. One way or another, the choice of whether to carry out additional reconnaissance or not was left to the performers, that is, the crew of the flat-bottomed boat.
And so it happened - the machine did not have time to go even a hundred meters, as "Dichlorvos" announced that in his opinion it was not necessary to drive, that is, fly further. "Basketball" agreed.
- Let's launch at zero speed, - suggested "Dichlorvos", once again adjusting the original plan.
The machine slowed down and began to turn on the spot. "Basketball" reported the optimal course, which "Dichlorvos" had already determined with a discrepancy of only five degrees. "Dichlorvos" slightly shook its body, as if making sure the hovering device was stable and reported readiness.
- Oh, it's coming soon! - "Basketball" chuckled softly into the intercom and reported ten-second readiness.
The wait could well be called exciting - after all, the rocket was quite heavy for a transport. Anything could happen and this anything was foreseen, but you never know...
Theoretically, the exhaust stream could tear off the plastic muffler grille, but the propellers were protected by a thin metal mesh. The exhaust stream of the ejecting gas generator could blow hard into the protective camouflage tent and destabilize the machine. In the end, reducing the load by sixty kilograms, and that's how much the rocket weighed, was also not a friend to stability. Yes, test firings were carried out, or rather one firing, but you never know how it could turn out.
Finally, "Basketball" quietly hissed "Launch".
At first, nothing happened, but after a second or two, there was a quiet bang - the lid of the container with a snide, crooked-toothed smiley face drawn on it flew away. Someone decided that if "@enemy" found it at the launch site, it would increase their butthurt.
Another half-second later, a fountain of white rags hit the left side - this is what the plastic counter-mass looked like.
Assuming that sooner or later someone might need to install the system not on a helicopter, but on whatever they had to, they used the scheme adopted in the designs of hand-held portable missile weapons.
The missile itself flew away from the starboard side, leaving behind a faint exhaust track. Having moved away from the car by ten meters, the projectile raised its nose and seemed to intend to helplessly plop down on the ground. As if having initially scared the fighters that the launch would be a failure, the missile finally shot four fiery jets from the middle of its body. The booster engines pulled the missile up and away. "Dichlorvos" pushed the handle away from himself and the machine went forward. Somewhere a hundred meters away, the missile opened its swept tail and began to look like a winged one, which it essentially turned into. Only the maximum range was only a little over five kilometers along a flat trajectory and fifteen along an optimal one, with lift and gliding. The target was no more than three kilometers away.
After the launch, the missile dropped to ten meters above the ground and glided toward the target. Neither "Dichlorvos" nor "Basketball" could see all this anymore - the machine was rushing away from the launch point. Dichlorvos was now busy with only one thing - maintaining a minimum altitude at the maximum possible speed with all this camouflage. After the strike, they would no longer be shy and would rise, but now they could be detected at the battery and have time to transmit data to their interlink. There was also a possibility that the near-echelon systems would detect the missile and shoot it down, but this was only a purely "paper" option, based on the basic tactical and technical characteristics of the enemy defense. In fact, the strike was planned based on more realistic models.
Having reached the "Lima-two" point, "Dichlorvos" drove the vehicle to the north, adhering to the same trajectory along which they were going to the target. They were going back along their proven tracks.
Suddenly, the surroundings lit up. In its transience, the flash resembled a flash of lightning. The illumination was much weaker than that caused by the selector, but it was hard not to notice it. The area of the Terrain over which the vehicle was moving was in the shadow of a hill, but the ground in the distance was clearly illuminated. In addition to the flash, there was a residual glow, presumably from a column of hot air rising upward. The glow began to fade smoothly, but then something sparkled. It was clear what it was - the flashes were caused by secondary detonations.
Having turned the panoramic mirror attached to the side like a motorcycle, "Dichlorvos" finally saw what was happening. The fiery column looked like a translucent strip of hot air, smoothly and leisurely stretching upward. Sprawling bunches of smoke threads spread out on the sides - this is how the missiles exploded, scattering their striking elements and pieces of solid fuel burning in flight, leaving such traces.
Then a noticeable blow was felt - having traveled more than one kilometer and being muffled by the hill, the shock wave was still able to declare itself at least by creating stress for the eardrums. Then came the booming blows, which gave the impression that somewhere nearby someone was throwing huge boulders at the metal body of a dump truck - these were the sounds of the battery's ammunition exploding. The strike had taken place. How effective it was could only be determined by studying the satellite data, but it had taken place and the missile had not been shot down. Now they had to get away along the same tried and tested route. If only some drones didn't show up along the way. There was more than enough of this shit on the front line, but now the SOpS fighters were behind enemy lines. The rear had been, to use professional slang, loose, and now it had become even looser.