Chunk 27

But I didn't answer. I just turned and, gritting my teeth, limped toward the headquarters entrance.

The commandant sat opposite me, behind a large empty desk. A box where the general's things had been packed on the eve of evacuation stood by his feet.

"And if the arsenal is found?" I asked carefully, so as not to give myself away prematurely. "You're searching for it. Maybe for its sake it's worth postponing departure a bit? For a few days and..."

"If only I knew what's there!" the general interrupted. "And nobody knows! And it's not a fact that those weapons are effective against the clawed freaks! Maybe they're depth charges—like the ones they bombed spider burrows with on Proxima. And that's as useful to us as a poultice on a corpse! I don't even imagine what to fight against the fleas that cut our power! There's never been anything like this! Nowhere to charge batteries! The backup grid—can't handle it! I have two transporters operational! Two!!! Half my guys' rifles are on zero, and there are lines for outlets! We deployed all the solar batteries we found, but the weather, as you see, doesn't favor us. These bugs, or whoever they are, can attack any moment, and we're naked here! And in this situation you propose postponing departure. I'd speed it up if I could!"

He waited for my reaction, but I remained silent.

"Do you hear me?"

I was silent. I thought about whether to tell him about the arsenal. If I knew it would help—I'd gladly do it. Actually, that's why I came now. Don't give a damn about the tribunal and everything else—if only they'd find her. But if there really is some useless junk there, I'll just go to jail, and my Elza will lose her last chance...

"And most importantly," the commandant continued. "You refuse to believe in your daughter's and wife's deaths," (I involuntarily flinched at the word "deaths"), "and I wouldn't believe it either in your place. But the fact you don't believe doesn't mean they're alive. Do you understand me?"

"Fuck you," I thought. "You don't understand me."

"After all, there aren't only soldiers here, Gil," he tried to look me in the eyes, but I stared at the floor. "Don't forget how many other children are with us."

"May I ask a question, sir?" I hissed through my teeth, emphatically formally.

"Of course."

"Do you have a heart?"

I put as much insolence and insult into this phrase as I could. He grunted and lowered his eyes. I think I caused him pain.

"If you're curious, son," he said sadly, "fifteen years ago after an injury they replaced my heart with a cardiac prosthesis. But believe an old soldier... I would personally go there with you and risk everything for your family. If I had the right to do so. And if there was the slightest sense in it. But there's no sense—it's plain suicide. I won't go for it, son. Nobody would. Do you understand me?"

A lump in my throat prevented me from answering, and I just nodded. I hated him at that moment. Hated him for telling the truth. I stood up and tried to squeeze out something resembling "permission to leave." He silently nodded to me, and I left. I'd almost lost hope. Almost. And as long as there's even a tiny bit left from that "almost," I won't give up.

9

How's Elza?

I flinched with my whole body and tried to jump up. The handcuffs, painfully cutting into my wrist, quickly put me back in place. Elza disappeared! The memory of this seemed to rob me of my spine, leaving no strength even just to sit.

The woman wasn't looking at me. Her head was thrown back to the ceiling. The lamps flickered again, and it seemed she was waiting for them to explode any moment.

"You lied to me," I said.

"Shut up," she raised her hand, not taking her eyes off the lamps.

Suddenly the light went out completely, plunging us into darkness. In a few seconds people's feet trampled in the corridor. In the distance someone almost hysterically shouted: "March-march-march!"... An inductor rifle roared angrily. Another one. Someone's desperate scream rang out... Then the sounds began to recede. In half a minute silence reigned again. I turned my head, trying to make out at least something, but the darkness was—like in a mole's ass. Suddenly the light panels hummed and lit up, painfully resonating in my eyes. I squinted. Slowly opened my eyes. The panels blinked nauseously.

"Here's what we'll do," the interrogator said anxiously. "These damn chairs are bolted to the floor—if the reapers break through, I won't even have time to get you out. So I'll unfasten the handcuffs from the chair. And you won't do anything stupid. Agreed?"

"Planet Ish-Chel," I said slowly. "That's where we are."

"Bravo," she said, still not taking her eyes off the lamp. "Welcome back to reality."

She walked around me from behind and began fiddling with the handcuffs.

"You lied to me," I repeated.

"About what?" she handcuffed my hands again—this time simply in front of me, and if I wanted, I could stand up.

"About my daughter. You promised to bring her if I agreed to cooperate. But that's not true."

The woman returned to her place, and I greedily fixed my gaze on her, trying to make out something behind the reflections on

the mask. I admit, I hoped I'd simply forgotten the moment when I found my Elza—just as recently I didn't remember the day she disappeared.

I hoped that this woman (her habit of pressing thin lips seems somehow familiar to me) would say don't talk nonsense, because my daughter is already here and waiting for us to finish. But she didn't say that. And worst of all, she didn't confirm anything either. The woman answered in her signature manner, question for question: "Did you remember something?"

"Was my daughter found? Yes or no?"

"So you remembered how she disappeared," and the woman made a note on her tablet. "That's wonderful. Now you remember where you put the arsenal."

"Fuck your arsenal! What about my daughter!"

"I don't know," she spread her hands. "Maybe they never found her. Or they found her and she's simply sitting in the next room now waiting to meet you. Maybe she's even watching you from the other side of the mirror."

I involuntarily turned my head, glancing at my reflection.

"You won't remember this yourself," she continued. "And I won't tell until I find out where the arsenal is."

"What if I don't remember!"

"You remember. Your memory is recovering chronologically. Elza disappeared at dawn, right after the arsenal theft. And you just remembered it. Now just tell me where the weapons are, and we'll put an end to this."

I thought about whether I should tell her. What's more dangerous—revealing my cards or starting a game with her? What if Elza really is in the next room... What if everything I can dream of is just a memory away—the one where we carry the damn boxes marked "SWEAR"... And all I have to do is tell what we did with them, the door will open and my little Elza will throw herself on my neck! The desire to believe this was so strong I almost gave in. But another part of my "I" repeated the phrase my interrogator had thrown out a bit earlier.

"I'll finish by morning. And then with him in any case—that's it."

It was the same inner voice that so insistently urged me not to fly to Ish-Chel. "Then—the end!—it screamed like mad. "Then—the end!"

"So what about the arsenal, Lieutenant?" she insisted.

"Don't remember... Really, I'd be glad to, but..."

"Tell me at least who you hid it with? You wouldn't have dragged it all yourself."

I shook my head again and looked away. What if she reads in my eyes that I'm lying... The woman leaned in, bringing the transparent visor almost right up to my face. It made me uncomfortable. For some time I looked away, then still turned my head. But I saw only my own semi-transparent reflection in the mask.

Suddenly the woman straightened up and raised her hands to her head. Something hissed briefly, and she removed the mask.

"Want some coffee?" the interrogator smiled slightly.

Her pupils were light, the color of faded jeans.

"Is that allowed?" I even straightened up with surprise.

She smiled, approached the door and knocked on it twice with her fist. Locks clicked immediately, and the girl who brought me clothes looked into the room.

"Coffee, quick!" the woman commanded abruptly and immediately addressed me in an almost friendly tone. "Espresso, Americano?"

"Uh-h-h..." I got confused. "Espresso. With milk... No sugar."

The girl turned to go, but my interlocutor for some reason decided to additionally encourage her:

"Are you asleep?! Run! Hop-hop-hop!!!"

The thought flashed again that I know my interrogator. This time—even certainty. But who is she? Can't remember...

The door slammed, locks screeched. The woman returned to her place.

"The 'SWEAR' emergency weapons reserve—these are such expensive deadly toys. So expensive and deadly that nobody uses them without urgent need. But very effective. According to the plan, if the colony faces danger, we simply open it and immediately defeat everyone. So..."

She leaned in, drilling me with her gaze.

"So this time has come, Lieutenant. We're not just facing danger. We're—on the brink of death. And it depends on you whether we hold out or not. Do you understand what I'm talking about?"

"I definitely know her," it spun in my head. "Her last name is something... silly... On the tip of my tongue, but I can't remember."

"Don't take me as an enemy, Gileleu. Rather the opposite. You ended up here for murder. Real deliberate murder. Even two, considering poor Okamura, whom you shot. But Okamura at that moment was hardly human, but the commandant... Formally we should keep you in a cage like a dangerous beast, so your fate after the mission ends is decided by a tribunal. But I'm not a formalist, Gil. And in general—I'm your only friend on this planet. Want to hear why? Because I don't give a damn about the murder. Few could do that."

"Only I didn't kill anyone, Miss I-Don't-Remember-Your-Name."

"Oh, come on," she grimaced. "You think I'm trying to extract a confession from you? I have a wagon of evidence, if you're curious. But it's not like you think: I'm not digging at you. I only need the arsenal."

"Why did I lose my memory? Did you torture me?"

I swear, at that second her eyes said "yes," but not a single muscle moved on her face.

"So that's how it is," I went on the attack while she didn't recover. "You gave me some drug to make me more talkative... But something went wrong, and instead I forgot everything to hell! Am I right?"

The door opened again—the conquistador girl returned with my cup of coffee. The interrogator meaningfully fell silent, as if showing she wouldn't speak in front of outsiders. I carefully took the cardboard cup with handcuffed hands and brought it to my mouth. The girl, of course, mixed everything up and brought just espresso. As I already said, coffee in the colony—if only you didn't brew it at home—was disgusting over-roasted swill, and you could consume it maybe only with milk. But hardly in this situation it was appropriate to turn up my nose.

I took a tiny sip and involuntarily grimaced.

"Wait, one-two!" the interrogator immediately commanded the private who was already leaving.

Her attentive gaze didn't miss the joyless expression on my face.

"Didn't you sleep or what?" the woman spoke quietly and menacingly. "Is this such a difficult task? Coffee. With. Milk. Are you—stupid?"

I wanted to defend the girl, but the interrogator stopped me with a gesture as soon as I drew breath.

"Swallowed your tongue?!" she was starting to get worked up.

"No, ma'am!"

"SHUT YOUR TRAP!!!"

The interrogator barked so loud it made me uncomfortable. Seems like not everything's okay with her head if she goes off over such trifles.

And then the woman carefully took my cup from the table, stood up and with a slow precise movement poured the hot-as-tar coffee down the unfortunate girl's collar. She screamed quietly and clenched her teeth. The interrogator poured the coffee in a thin stream, carefully watching her eyes. A brown coffee stain appeared on the poor girl's pants in the crotch area.

"Private," the woman said peacefully, "please bring Lieutenant Girshevich another coffee. With milk. No sugar."

"Yes, ma'am!" the girl said briefly and left.

The interrogator calmly returned to her place.

"Where were we?" she asked, as if nothing had happened.

"I came up with an association," I said.

She raised her eyebrow in surprise:

"Didn't understand."

"Came up with an association. For that word... Similar to 'plunger,' remember?"

"Vandlik," she corrected and frowned.

"Yes... I came up with it."

"And?" she sensed a trick.

"Bitch."

The woman flinched as if I'd spit in her face.

"What?"

"Cynical unprincipled bitch," I said, carving out each word.

"You remembered," Vandlik nodded and grinned predatorily.

In her eyes, as light as those of husky dogs, hatred burned.

10

Nineteen hours until evacuation.

One in the morning. Empty corridor of the guardhouse. One guard sat on a stool right by the door of the cell I needed. Seeing me, he reluctantly stood up and carelessly saluted.

"Good night, soldier. I need to speak with the arrested control officer Vandlik," at that moment I had no idea what I'd say if anyone asked why. And I just hoped nobody would ask.

The guard blinked in confusion.

"Why?"

"Maybe you'll immediately ask 'about what'?" I tried to feign indignation.

He coughed awkwardly and got out his radio. This was completely unnecessary for me.

"Tell them that biocontrol lieutenant Girshevich is helping arrested officer Vandlik pack her personal belongings at her home as a friend and wants to clarify some things. Should I list what exactly?"

The completely green-looking conquistador was obviously embarrassed by the need to relay such a verbose reason over the radio. I, not giving the poor guy time to recover, handed him my pistol and approached the door.

"Five minutes," I said. "Maybe eight. No more. Open up."

He hesitated for another second, then, obviously thinking that on the eve of evacuation there was nowhere and no point to run, unlocked the door.

Vandlik stood up from the bed in surprise.

"Hi, Nicole. How are you?"

Calling her "you" informally was completely uncomfortable. Almost physically—as if I was saying it with someone else's mouth. And I was afraid Vandlik wouldn't understand what was what. Her eyes really bulged, and I hurried to continue:

"I'm packing your things, and... You've got such a mess there, as always. If you could tell me... Um..."

At this moment I winked at her. I'm afraid the wink came out not at all conspiratorial, but rather ambiguous, because Vandlik acquired an even more stunned look. I turned to the guard, showing him it was awkward for me to talk in front of him. He shyly moved away and sat on his stool, leaving the door wide open.

"Seriously?" I asked. "Are you curious which drawer officer Vandlik keeps her underwear in?"

The guy blushed, but wasn't in a hurry to close the door. He's not as stupid as I thought.

"Let him watch," Vandlik suddenly said.

And then she swiftly approached me, grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me on the lips. From surprise I almost ruined everything, because my first impulse was to pull back. Fortunately, I simply didn't manage to do it—she took me by the back of the head with her hand and pulled me to her. Understanding this was a show for the guard, I responded to the kiss and immediately felt Vandlik's tongue in my mouth. I don't know if it was necessary to play so realistically, but she kissed absolutely for real, and so passionately that I got a bit stunned.

The door behind my back lightly clicked.

"I'll have to lock you in," the guard's voice sounded from the other side.

I wanted to answer, but Vandlik didn't let me, she kept kissing me until the lock clicked in the door. Only after that she slowly stopped, lingering another second on my lips, like after a real kiss.

"You're either a bad actor or you kiss badly," Vandlik said cheerfully, sitting down on the transparent plastic bunk.

"Actor..." I said for some reason. "Bad..."

"I thought so. So tell me, what's up with my panties. Or what happened to you?"

Where to start? What to say at all? I didn't forget how she dug at me in the Okamura case. I think Vandlik still hasn't crossed me off the suspect list. Oh no, not her. Most likely she doesn't just suspect, but knows that we finished off the corporal in the hospital. Who am I to her in that case? A killer? A guy sticking his nose where it doesn't belong? In her eyes right now was written a single feeling—curiosity. And maybe just a tiny bit of surprise. No more. On the other hand, Vandlik knew perfectly well how to play cat and mouse. And I, must be said, not very well. So I decided not to play. At all. I think the only way to get something from her is to reveal my cards.

"Um... I'll tell it like it is," I rubbed my chin, weighing the last "pros" and "cons," and finally said: "It was me who stole the emergency arsenal."

"You?!" her eyes bulged.

"Yes. Did it for the sake of evacuation. Didn't know they'd arrest you. I only thought about how to get my daughter off this planet."

"Interesting... And what's changed now?"

"She disappeared. My Elza."

I briefly retold her everything, including the conversation with the commandant. I didn't mention only two things: Vira's real role in all this and where the reapers came from. I finished by saying I was in despair. That in the worst case I'd simply stay on the planet alone—looking for my daughter (and wife, though I constantly added the latter hastily) and hoping they'd come back for us. However, nobody will come back, and that's clear.

"Well..." Vandlik said slowly when I finished. "I'm glad."

"Why?!"

"You know, a truce with an obvious enemy is always more reliable than friendship with a traitor. Especially since our goals strangely coincide."

"Do they coincide?"

"You're ready to stake everything so evacuation doesn't happen. You won't believe it, I'm also not thrilled to fly with arrested status."

"Officer Vandlik..."

"Nicole," she corrected. "And let's use informal 'you.'"

I uncertainly ruffled my hair, not knowing how to react.

"Stop it, we kissed a minute ago. Forgot? Isn't that a reason?"

Seeing my awkwardness, she chuckled.

"Fine..." I nodded. "Nicole... The thing is, canceling evacuation isn't even an option in principle. The commandant made that quite clear. But if you tell... You tell... Tell me what exactly is in the emergency arsenal... Maybe I'll confess to the commandant. And these weapons will change the situation. At least enough for them to undertake a full search operation."

"No."

"What no?"

"Everything—no. They won't do anything except evacuate. You won't confess anything to anyone, because it won't help. And I won't tell you what's in

the arsenal, because I don't know myself. Nobody knows. That's not what we should think about."

"Then what about?"

"About canceling evacuation, Gileleu! And at the same time—freeing me from arrest."

"And how?!"

"Do I look like a collection of 'Answers to All Questions'?"

Vandlik sat cross-legged, hugging a pillow like a child hugs a teddy bear. I was completely confused, muttering something incomprehensible.

"Look," she said, "the decision to cancel depends on the commandant, and only him. But if for some reason he can't perform his duties, his deputy will become senior. I'm under arrest, so it'll be the second deputy—your Abu Asad. And he'll never in his life take responsibility for evacuation, believe me. And therefore—he'll release me. And believe me again, I'll never in my life let the mission be interrupted because of some bugs. No matter what turns out to be in the arsenal. So figure out how to pull this off, and I'll turn the whole planet upside down to find yours. Won't promise they'll be found alive—that doesn't depend on me. But that the search will begin an hour after I leave this cell—I swear to you."

"What are you hinting at?" I asked carefully and immediately corrected myself. "You."

"Hinting? When?" Vandlik looked at me innocently.

"What can I 'pull off' so the commandant can't perform his duties?"

Vandlik spread her hands.

"I have no idea... Maybe..." she bit her lip, staring somewhere into emptiness, then theatrically frowned. "No, nothing comes to mind. But that's the only way out! So think, Gileleu. Time's short, unless you've forgotten about your family, of course."

And she winked at me. I couldn't believe my ears. Rage boiled in me, foaming my blood with tiny bubbles.

"Bitch," I hissed through my teeth. "Cynical unprincipled bitch."

Vandlik frowned disappointedly:

"Oh, brother! With that approach you won't save your little Elza," and she shook her head with feigned sympathy. "When criticizing, propose! That's the only way, Lieutenant! The only way."

I turned on my heels, approached the door and furiously pounded on it with my fist. The lock clicked, the guard opened the door, looking a bit surprised at me and the prisoner.

"Gil!" Vandlik called to me.

I turned in the doorway. The formidable Vandlik, veteran of the Snowbound Conquistador Infantry and senior control officer, sitting cross-legged on her bunk, hugging a pillow, looked completely childlike.

"Joking aside... I believe we'll make it in time. We'll find your little daughter alive. We'll definitely find her, hear?"

I almost ran from her ingratiating sympathy, and the last phrase caught up with me already in the corridor. "We'll find your little daughter..." No matter how much I emphasized that my wife also disappeared, Vandlik understood that Elza was the main thing here... A deal with the devil—that's what this is. A deal with the devil...

11

Vandlik silently examined me. Then she ran her palms over her face, as if really wiping off spit.

"Plunger..." she grunted. "Well I'll be... Took you long to think of it?"

I didn't answer. She spread into an unpleasant toothy smile again. Then she resolutely stood up and approached the one-way mirror. On the small touch panel she quickly entered some combination, and an opaque plastic blind lowered over the "mirror." A large red crossed-out ear symbol lit up above the panel.

"I turned off the microphones, and as you see, we're no longer being observed. It works like this: we have half an hour tête-à-tête. No recording. One time. Officially I can't use this in any way. In exactly twenty minutes the automation will return everything as it was," I noted how her tone changed: the sense of superiority completely disappeared from it. "I'll tell you everything as it is. And then you decide yourself whether to tell where the arsenal is or not."

She sat opposite again.