Volume 3, Chapter 7 – The Silent Silence. The New Capital
Flying four hours in a Hercules is... hell. We had to do it because the cats had taken over the presidential jet. For a quarter of the trip, we flew in a shaking cargo plane with four engines. During that time, I bruised everything possible, and my teeth kept chattering for half a day like a full-body tremor. But thankfully, after four hours, the Boeing arrived in the Democracy of Silence, refueled, and Lelik snapped his fingers, swapping the awful Hercules for a comfortable E-4B. I spent the remaining ten hours in complete comfort — with PTSD from the cargo plane.
We spent another ten hours circling in the air, waiting for dawn — until all the airborne monsters had retreated into their caves, since the flies completely blocked the airspace. But during that time, I managed to sleep well and recover from the terrible Hercules. I also continued studying the language, realizing my level was zero — I could accidentally marry someone just by mispronouncing a word.
And here it was. Home sweet home... The dried-up endless desert, a trypophobe's nightmare. Temperature: plus fifty degrees. Thirty developed quarries, each already the size of a football field, where hundreds of thousands of Yellows labored daily. Everything around the Capital continued to be filled with cement mixed with Argo-2, reinforcing the territory step by step. A web of roads stretching beyond the horizon connected all the quarries and the smoking C-1-FF (Complex-1 Factory Factory) — along which all of Pex's cargo transport (35 FMTVs and 4 Chinooks) traveled, clogging all the roads and still not keeping up with all the deliveries. In some places, endless lines of Yellows were stationed on the roads, passing resources from hand to hand like a conveyor belt.
They'd even built a runway for the Boeing and hangars for several squadrons.
As soon as I stepped off the E-4B, heat and sand hit my face, and the sun blinded me.
"Home... Sweet home!" I began descending the ramp onto the hot Argo-2 asphalt.
I stretched hard, pressing my hands into my lower back.
(It's good to be a guest, but home is better.) As I looked at everything that had been built in my absence, I headed toward my little underground house.
Some kind of fences had been built around the perimeter of the Capital — from rapiers. Just two rapiers driven into the ground, with a third threaded through their eyelets, all the way around.
The HESCO walls had also been expanded, creating more space inside the Capital, and reinforced with Argo-2.
After a seven-minute walk from the runway to my house, I was completely sweaty and my vision was blurry. But the main thing — I'd made it home, to the Democracy of Silence. I quickly washed up and bathed using village methods — with a pot.
The pipeline wasn't ready yet. Running a thousand kilometers from the ocean was quite difficult, but from what I knew, the process was underway, and soon seawater desalination and salt production would be established here. Then we'd really be living large — we could constantly flood this whole land with water and test how the creatures reacted to both sea and fresh water — since right now our supply was limited, needed for drinking and for ARV's repairs.
Brr! How good it felt to rinse with cold water — to take a full pot and just dump it over yourself. Blisss...
Hoo-oh. How glad I was to be home.
I looked around my little room. A single bed in the corner, a mirror, a wardrobe, a table. Everything in such a warm, dim atmosphere. In the other corner hung my old clothes.
A clean black shirt, pants, shoes, and a white tie... The only things I could touch from my past life... Even my body looked like a twenty-three-year-old's — though toned now, with rapier scars all over.
(My past... But now it's the future — a new life.) I let go of the tie and headed for the exit.
—
—
I entered headquarters.
"GOOD DAY, COMMANDER!" everyone shouted in unison.
MEOW! — Apache answered, climbing on a cabinet.
"GOOD DAY!" I shouted back and headed to the -1 floor.
Arleigh and the Strategist were there, along with the cats. An unusual group. (What have they come up with? I'm curious.)
I sat down in my usual chair and watched them arguing about something. Mary-Sue jumped onto my lap.
"Hey there, Mary-Sue!" I petted her as she circled on my knees with her tail up. "They feed you here, huh? Purr Good."
I looked up at the Strategist and Arleigh.
"What's the argument about?" I interrupted, adjusting my position and petting Mary-Sue.
Arleigh looked at me, her cheeks flushing.
"Seraphim! Seraphim!" she ran over to me indignantly — the cat jumped off in fright. "I propose we build a canal from the ocean straight to the Capital so all the ships can come in and get repaired!" she spat her curls out of her mouth. "First of all, Aviana really needs to repair the outer hull and the catapults!"
(Repairing the carrier? So not everything was smooth after that summoning, like Aviana said...)
"I'd like to point out that Pex's entire engineering team is working on the carrier 30/7," the Strategist countered. "And building a thousand-kilometer canal through the desert, plus cutting through a mountain to fit the carrier — that's extreme wastefulness on our part. And the water flowing through the canals could break out and literally flood the entire underground cave system, where billions of cubic meters of Argo and millions of creatures producing it are located."
(I see...)
"And what's the damage percentage?"
"Peak was fifteen percent — already restored to seven percent," the Strategist clarified, pulling the persistent Arleigh away from me. "Two catapults were disabled, and the outer hull was damaged," — the Strategist, holding Arleigh by the hand, turned on the kettle. — "The carrier is no longer in danger — it's on constant patrol without contact with the states of this world."
Arleigh broke free and ran to me, dropping to her knees.
"Please! Please!" she made huge eyes and finally tamed her curls. "Why do planes and helicopters have runways here, but ships don't have a dry dock?!" she clasped her hands and began to beg. "Please! Please! So it's fair for everyone!"
(How hard is this... How could I refuse such a cutie?! But the Strategist is clearly right — there are tons of caves here, and gravity would pull everything down. And if the regenerating properties of the Argo lake stopped working because of water? Then all the Yellows would die or start flying again, but without even the ability to become Yellows anymore... What to do...)
Her eyes looked at me. The Strategist made tea and watched, waiting for my decision.
"What if... we blast through the mountain and stop inside it, creating a dry dock?" I proposed a compromise.
"But... But... There would only be little ships there... And I wanted... to be in the Capital with everyone and with you..." Arleigh began to pout and lowered her head.
I sighed. (She's just jealous. But she's very convincing.) I looked around for an answer and carefully stood up to look at the map covering the whole table. Black Hawk and Chinook were lying on it, clearly enjoying themselves as I thought and petted their bellies.
The Democracy of Silence... To the left, it's closed off in a crescent by the Wall, and the rest is a mountain range separating it from the Ocean Sea — with our Capital in the center.
(What to do... The weight of the ships would just collapse them to the bottom. When I summoned the carrier, it was beyond the Wall, where there are no caves and the ground is more or less solid. But here, we'd have to pump tons of cement and Argo-2 mix into the ground so our base and C-1-FF wouldn't collapse...)
Everyone stood and waited for my decision... What if...
"What if we build a tunnel and lower the ships down, like in a canal? Just run it underground at the Argo level," I proposed a compromise of incredible scale.
"Exactly!" Arleigh shouted.
"No. The pressure of the liquid would collapse the walls of such a massive tunnel."
And now Arleigh and I both hung our heads.
"But wait..." I lifted my head, a lightbulb going off above it. "Have Lelik prepare the Black Hawk," I ordered, and the Strategist walked to the table, grabbing a headset.
Meow! — the cat Black Hawk answered, and I smiled.
"You're already ready!" I petted him and turned back to Arleigh.
"You need it to be close to the Capital, right?" I wanted to confirm.
Arleigh nodded.
And I knew the only place where there was material capable of holding an aircraft carrier without buckling.
"Then we're moving. But first, we need to talk to him," I added.
"Seraphim. Black Hawk is ready."
Meow!