Крип / Kryp: Отряд_4.23

Chapter 23

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 18:25

Inside the 'Chimera' was unexpectedly spacious. In a compartment designed for a dozen soldiers with ammunition, there were only three people, of which only one - Kryptman - was big. Olga was placed on three blankets stacked on top of one another. Kriftman silently wrapped duct tape around her wrists.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 18:32

"Is that really necessary?" Demetrius asked.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 18:33

"Yes," the inquisitor said briefly. "We don't know..."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 18:54

He hesitated, glancing sideways at the orderly. Demetrius couldn't help but smile crookedly, thinking what he hadn't said: No one knows who or what will wake up in the girl's body.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 18:54

"So..." Fidus laid out on the metal seat the equipment sent by Wakrufmann. "So," he repeated.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 18:58

"Need any help?" The Driver looked through the hatch from the control compartment.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 18:59

"No," said Fidus, then added more politely. "You'd better go... outside. Anything can happen here."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 19:01

Demetrius grimaced in anguish at this but said nothing. The Driver only smirked.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 19:04

"Well, that's up to you," said Fidus, taking a screwdriver from the pocket of his baggy overalls.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 19:05

"You can die anywhere and any way you," Driver remarked with an unusual verbosity for himself. "And you have a circus for free. So I'm both on duty and entertained."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 19:06

"Aren't you afraid of being defiled?"

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 19:06

"My friendly pie," said the Driver with good-natured patronage. "I'm the longest-serving man here, I've got indefinite exile. Even our mutterer hasn't dragged it out as long as I have."
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Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 19:10

Fidus frowned but immediately realized that it was about a radio operator.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 19:14

"If heresy could penetrate my eyes, I'd be tapping my mutant hooves," Driving continued. "So you do your work, and I'll take a peek, for fun. I'll never see such a thing again"

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 19:15

"Yeah," Fidus agreed, rattling the complicated hardware that Jennifer's new servo skull had brought. "That's how it starts. First, it's 'I only got one look'. And then 'what's this fire for, where are you taking me?"

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 19:16

The Driver grinned even wider, which looked comical with his red-skinned face, and put his famous hat on top of his tank helmet.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 19:20

"For luck," explained the Driver, intercepting the inquisitor's surprised look, and added, returning to the original theme. "You're not used to it yet, and we're very boring."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:17

"Boring?" Fidus caught himself that the conversation was quite appropriate. His hands were familiarly connecting contacts in a familiar pattern, and his head was distracted from his gloomy thoughts by an unnecessary conversation.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:20

"Sure," Driver shook his head, and the silver beads tinkled softly in his long strands. "It's scary to the point of yellow underpants at first, but it's curious, too. Horrors and variety! And then just horrors, the same thing, day after day, year after year. Mutants, cultists, festering, scorching. Give them an acid tank, measure the level of pollution, organize mass incineration. And they have all this," Driver waved his thumb, obviously symbolizing the other squads. "I'm sitting in a tin can all the time. Ugh. Only fun if I have to shoot with a cannon. Or talk to the machine spirit."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:23

"And he answers?" Kryptman became interested.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:23

"No, of course not," smirked Driver. "I'm not a cog. Spirit only listens. And rumbles like a diesel. But it rumbles in different ways, like a cat. I've learned to tell when he's happy and when he's about to burn the pistons out of spite."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:28

"You've got the wrong job," Fidus commented inaudibly, his teeth clamping down on a thin wire, his tongue tingling with the faint electric shocks. "You should have put a pot on your head, too."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:30

"Maybe... You do it, do it, I'll be quiet, I won't interfere. And if we get out, there will be something to remember."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:33

He paused for a moment and then added philosophically:

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:34

"If you don't survive, I'll remember you and speak well of you. Or you of me, as the case may be.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:35

"You're a goddamn optimist," Fidus muttered as he tightened the last nut.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:37

"What are you in for indefinitely?" Demetrius suddenly asked, rubbing his wrists quickly and nervously, as if he wanted to get the blood flowing in his frozen palms.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:40

I got into an argument with a factory priest when I was young and foolish," remembered the mechanic good-naturedly. "The Emperor is God or a superhuman of divine power."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:52

"It was unwise," commented Fidus.

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:52

"Yeah. We went together under the church investigation. He went straight to the bonfire, because he was a religious person, and I went to jail and came here. That's how I settled in."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:53

"Here is the place that waits for the man, and the man that has taken his place," Fidus quoted. "That's it, now stay out of the way."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:54

"I got it," the Driver spread his palms black with oil and grease. "I'll shut up."

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 20:55

* * *

Camrad_RIP 30.11.21 в 21:10

The sounds of gunfire were getting closer. Jennifer wasn't a skitari and didn't know much about tactics, but ordinary logic was enough to understand this wasn't a fight in which the opponents were at least conventionally divided and organized. This is chaos and senseless violence. The problem was that the chaotic violence was coming, and fast, and the hulk of the techno-priest in charge of the steam engine was swinging on a metal cable in the sharp gusts of the night wind. The mechanic's brain was dead, but the electronic circuits were still drawing power from the built-in batteries, crying out sadly to the ether. The servitors, who had destroyed the operator on his own orders, lined up in a circle and went into power-saving modes, like immovable statues. They appeared to be very old specimens, capable only of the simplest of operations, the remnants of consciousness in their brain matter insufficient for a crushing psyker attack to get a grip on anything.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 05:33

Wakrufmann turned on the backlight, making the optics glow bright yellow, like little spotlights. The priestess could see in infrared as well, but she preferred the ancient, conservative style. The work was not easy, and the first thing the techno-priestess did was to bring the servitors back to wakefulness.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 05:36

Of course, Jennifer did not believe in spirits sitting inside machinery, cheering prayers, and drinking machine oil out of saucers. As the popular and ancient saying of Mechanicum put it, 'it doesn't work that way'. Machine spirits- as propaganda interpreted and described them - are just a useful superstition. The truth was much simpler - there are no spirits. And at the same time much more complicated - there are Entities.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 05:37

Any mechanism more complex than a stick with a wheel is a Construct. It is built, it exists, it serves, it is repaired and upgraded. Every minute of operation, every manipulation of the operator adds a little bit of Influence to the machine. And each machine thus acquires an Individuality, a unique imprint, comparable to life experience and even character. In a world where devices serve for centuries, even machines have a soul. It has no self-consciousness but can display character and personal habits, i.e. programmed reactions to external actions. A machine that has served in harsh conditions will be harsh and demanding, the operator will first have to prove that it is worthy to be a companion and master. A machine that has been mistreated by denying it decent care will acquire the stamp of defectiveness, even vindictiveness, which is difficult, often impossible to remove. And so on...

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 05:39

Jennifer knew at a glance what was in front of her, so referring to the form only confirmed the knowledge. An ancient steam locomotive that once hauled heavy rockets and trusses to mount launch pads very, very far from here. Then transferred to a more peaceful service due to the specific design of the undercarriage - the axles could be adjusted to the width of non-standard tracks. Distinctive characteristics - excessive even for military vehicles safety margin (and therefore weight), especially for operation in wittingly destructive conditions. Primitive boiler, especially simplified to be able to feed on solid fuel of any composition, including wood and peat. The old, very reliable design, for which a good look after. And... it's a problem. Or maybe it's a virtue, as you can see.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 05:42

Military equipment was difficult to work with, it was notoriously bilious, prone to petty regulation. It was doubly difficult with conversion equipment, the machine aura was 'accustomed' to a certain reverence. Accustomed to the fact that the thoughts of the crews were full of hope and gratitude for the loyal iron. Deprived of this, moving to a more peaceful service, the machinery was like a resentful veteran, whose services are consigned to oblivion. The old steam locomotive remembered the fire raging in the combustion chambers of giant missiles, the sizzling flashes of atomic explosions, the deadly raids through wastelands poisoned by radiation. The present labor of the shunting cart was insulting to him. The machinery did not trust the new operator.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 05:44

Unless...

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 05:45

If Jennifer could, she would have smiled. Book experience threw up a comparison of a steamroller to an old, mighty dog. A hunting dog, more like a fighting dog, accustomed to walking side by side with man against the fiercest foes, now living out his days in a warm kennel, munching bones with toothless gums, occasionally letting himself be ridden by the grandchildren of the same old master.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 05:48

Well, why not?

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 05:49

Wakrufmann walked along the wheels, quickly checking the condition of the water pipes and the quality of the felt covers on the oil pipes. At the same time, Jennifer addressed the machine 'spirit,' carefully, with due deference, so that the complex aura woven around the mechanism would not bristle in denial, sensing the pressure. Wakrufmann did a very simple thing - she invoked the huge machine's glorious past. She promised to quench a long-standing longing for deeds of which legends and army reports are written. She showed images of the war and destruction through which they would have to walk. The tech priestess promised the machine a return to the hour of glory and the real work for which it had been created. Such work, after which death is no longer a tragedy, but a dignified and welcome end to a very long existence. Or perhaps an excuse to return to military service. The machine 'thought'.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 05:58

Jennifer still didn't understand why the steam locomotive didn't get a normal cabin on the Beacon, with insulated walls, solid glass, and furs connecting the main platform and the tender. Open design would have been logical in hot climates, but not in the tundra with constant cold winds. Losses on insulation must have been enormous, but there must have been some reason for that. However, they did not help to warm up the steam locomotive.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 06:00

Drain the condensate from the grease nipple until the oil comes out instead of water.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 06:03

Check the condition of the mineral wool around the cylinder block.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 06:03

The servitors, awakened by their new master's will, moved in silent shadows, like fingers on a hand, performing thousand-fold repetitive actions. Judging by the design and degree of wear and tear, at least five of the seven were the same age as the steam engine, most likely having come with the machinery from its homeworld. The Psyker attack had affected them as well, the machine men could now function normally only with constant monitoring by the operator. Still, the servitors worked.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 06:08

Open the cylinder valves, pull the handle all the way to the stop.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 06:09

The protocol was helpful in indicating that the spool rod should be locked in the middle position. Wakrufmann racked her brain for the best way to do this. After that, she had to tear off the arm of one of the servicemen, using the limb as a block to hold it in place. The original was lost; there was no time to look for a replacement. The action was met with an understanding of the machine 'spirit', he was convinced that the new operator is similar to the commanders of the distant past - decisive, stern, ready to do anything to fulfill the order. It was not yet a collaboration, a symbiosis of the priest and the invisible substance that penetrated every cog of the complex machine. But, at any rate, the locomotive did not resist, showing something like interest, and a couple of times even suggested the best way to do it.

Camrad_RIP 01.12.21 в 06:10