Somewhere here, in near-Earth space, ordinary V-shuttles were flying, hunting for satellites, but this was a very slow war, a very measured precision process. Even on the first orbit, Zavirdyaev noticed a weak flash that flared up somewhere in the depths of the black sky - these were the battles of that "high war" - some satellite was vaporized by a device with a power of less than a kiloton.
It was time to sleep, and Zavirdyaev had never done this in zero gravity. However, according to the assurances of the specialists who trained him, who trained him back then, before the erasure of his memory, there was nothing special about this. In any case, I didn't feel like sleeping yet and it was early, and the free time had to be spent wisely. Watching the TV news, although it was quite an exciting thing, but now, hot on the heels, the TV news gave nothing but an emotional charge - in such cases, time, even if expressed in a day or two, noticeably puts all the interpretations in their place and the media no longer carries so much self-contradictory fairy-tale nonsense.
Zavirdyaev directed his gaze to one of the side windows, in which, like in the others, there was nothing but blackness with stars scattered across it, on the one hand so monotonous, but on the other, among them there were no two identical, at least in brightness. Zavirdyaev began to examine the pattern scattered across the blackness and felt some kind of peace.
- Right, right, it is useful to look at the stars. If people didn't neglect this, they would probably do less stupid things, - a familiar voice was heard.
- Zavirdyaev automatically reached for his head, wanting to feel the helmet's audio system, but before his hand had time to touch his head, he realized that the voice was coming from somewhere else.
Of course, it would have been easy for the developers to install another loudspeaker audio system in the cabin itself, in addition to the one through which the AI was broadcasting from the dashboard, but why such surprises? Although these damn smart guys, educated at their Massachusetts Institutes, love such things and jokes. Zavirdyaev turned his head to the right, wanting to see where they had installed the speaker, and shuddered in surprise. In the cabin, near the second seat, apparently having just stuck her head out of the hatch, Haldoris Landskricht was hovering, it was unclear how she had ended up here. Zavirdyaev inhaled, exhaled, then blinked slowly. It was too realistic for a hallucination - they can be too fickle, although who realizes it at such moments?
The second option that flashed through his head next was that Landskricht, who had been "in direct line of sight" with him, Zavirdyaev, all these years, was the same agent, or not quite the same, but an agent. There was logic in this - here was the person who had been watching him all this time. Although the scheme was too cumbersome.
Then it turned out that all this time she knew about the flight. But then how was she so superior to him, Zavirdyaev, that no one had done anything with her memory? How did she survive the takeoff and the overloads, if he, Zavirdyaev, lying in a special chair, almost shit himself? Where was she, or rather, hiding all this time? Thoughts flashed through her head quickly, during which Landskricht only managed to pull herself up to her seat.
And why was she needed here anyway? In general, it was planned that the entire flight with all its politics would be carried out by one person, him, Zavirdyaev, and then…
- Where are you from? - he croaked unexpectedly angrily, unexpectedly for himself.
- Are you already on a first-name basis? - Landskricht answered in Russian in an inappropriately casual manner.
- We are on board the shuttle, I have completed two orbits and was attacked by MDS, there were many other interesting things, so let's leave good manners... How have you been all this time... I am very tense in my seat, and where have you been? And in general, you should tell me in a coherent manner how it happened that you are here.
- I will, and, as you say, in a coherent manner, - Landskricht said, fiddling with the belts.
She was not wearing any spacesuit, as if she had just been there, on Earth, in the Superfederant, generally at home, although every time the tongue or thought was about to call that misunderstanding home, Zavirdyaev invariably pulled himself up.
- I ended up here on board in a rather unusual way, not like you, - Landskricht began, taking a portable computer out of her bag, which, as Zavirdyaev had just now noticed, was with her.
It seemed that this computer was a small-sized military laptop, one of those that are installed in a combat vehicle, for example, as a carrier of an interlink account. Such are nondescript and rarely use their own simple display to work with a person.
- And right away, just in case, I will say that I am not your hallucination, - she reached out to Zavirdyaev and unceremoniously tugged at his sleeve. - You, like any normal person, probably watched a bunch of films where a space monster penetrates a spaceship... Well, all this...
- Well, I watched too much, although it is not my genre, - Zavirdyaev answered.
- Well, I am such a monster too, - she raised both hands to head level and wiggled her fingers. - I am this monster. Great, huh?
- Madam, calm down, when it dawned on me, when the hidden memory was unlocked, the first few minutes I was not myself either. It will be easier for you, I am with you. What were they thinking, they could have informed me normally. - Zavirdyaev quite clearly portrayed some irritation towards the organizers. - In general, it's funny, we are sitting here in this tin can and convincing each other that the head is still in place, you are telling me that you are not a hallucination, I am sharing with you my experience of how to come to my senses after unlocking the memory.