The downpour raging over the mountain lake began to approach rapidly. Silently, we picked up our load and started walking, but after about a hundred meters, we were caught in it. Sarah turned her back to the wind, but water lashed us with icy streams. Wanting to protect the zinc cases with medicine from the water, she quickly stacked them, placed the mysterious container on top, and shouted to me through the noise of the rain:
"Lie down on them, and I'll cover you from above!"
This time, I disobeyed. Forcibly pressing her against the container, I positioned myself next to her and covered us both completely with my rubberized tactical jacket. Water streamed down my lower back and legs, flowing into my boots. Cheek to cheek, we lay under the jacket, and, whether I wanted to or not, the scent of her hair and skin, the gentle warmth of her body, unexpectedly reminded me that I was a man...
The downpour passed as suddenly as it had struck. We struggled to our feet. Both felt awkward and were afraid to even meet each other's eyes. Silently, we picked up the load and, carefully stepping on the wet clay surface, reached ATLAS.
During our absence, the patient had been moved from the stretcher to a seat in the cabin, and now Emily and Keila were caringly feeding him hot broth reheated in the microwave. He was a man around fifty, slender, with pleasant features, intelligent blue eyes, and completely gray hair and a mustache.
"And here is our dear acting doctor!" he cheerfully greeted Sarah as soon as she appeared in the hatch opening.
Sarah glanced at her wet boots, the floor where water had dripped from them, and for the first time after the rain, spoke:
"Do you have anything to change into?" she asked me, slightly blushing.
I invited her to the baggage compartment.
"Sorry, but there's nothing more suitable," I pointed to the rubberized tactical clothing hanging on racks.
That day, we went to the shelter several more times and carried everything that, by common agreement, might be useful: tools, battery-powered lanterns, water filters, dry rations, first aid kits. Only metal cots, wet mattresses, satellite phones with dead batteries, and inactive computers remained in the shelter. Sarah locked her office as if leaving after a hard day's work, and all of us, including Lieutenant Howard, who had left his now unnecessary guard post, returned to ATLAS.
"And what do we do now?" I asked Hunter, who was dozing in his seat.
"Set a course back to the Mojave," he replied without hesitation.
I went to the control panel, entered the ascent altitude and flight route, and soon we were above the clouds again, at an altitude of twelve thousand meters.
Emily and Keila had already settled in during our absence and now played the role of flight attendants. Opening several cans of vegetable soup, they heated them in the microwave, fed everyone, cleared the dishes, and when they were free, sat down next to the wounded colonel.
"Come join us, Colonel... or rather, Professor. Hunter already decoded everything for us, so I'll just call you Ork," he invited me in a resonant voice and offered a large, strong hand. "Colonel of the Marines, Arthur Daniels."
"Ork Ackerman," I introduced myself and sat nearby.
"Seems you've never carried so much load before?" he sympathized and, lowering his voice, continued: "Pity Sarah, she's strong and responsible, but still a woman..."
Sarah was reclining in the back of the cabin—it was hard to tell if she was sleeping or pretending.
"How are you feeling, Colonel?"
"How can you feel with a broken spine?" he smiled so sweetly, as if announcing something very pleasant. "You better tell me, what do you plan to do next?"
"Didn't Hunter tell you?"
Colonel Daniels just waved his hand.
"He's not particularly talkative..."
I began to tell how cheerful and optimistic Hunter was before the catastrophe, and how only thanks to his hunches about the impending threat and personal courage we were saved.
"...He's special," I said. "He never complains about fate, though his hasn't been easy. A dozen years in assault units in the hottest spots, then a serious injury, and in recent years—with the rank of major—served in external intelligence..."
"In intelligence?!" the colonel exclaimed and looked curiously at the seat where Hunter lay. "Then everything is clear... where he got such unexpectedly accurate hunches."
I stood up, pressed a button—the blind covering the porthole smoothly rose. The entire sky from edge to edge sparkled with emerald stars. Directly above us hung the Moon, seeming to draw us in with its calmness.
"There, in the Sea of Tranquility, our early-warning radar station for intercontinental nuclear missile launches was located," Daniels pointed upward. "I wonder if the astronauts on it survived?"
"There were no astronauts there; they only flew in for a few weeks; the rest of the time, the station operated autonomously."
"How do you know that?"
"The equipment for the station, like the software, was created by our lab at base 'Sigma-7.' That's why our developments were so important that we were supposed to be evacuated among the first—on par with the government."
And to pass the time, I began to tell how this was a retaliatory measure against the increasingly dangerous buildup of nuclear arsenals by potentially hostile countries. Tactfully remaining silent about the real capabilities of our scientists at "Sigma-7," Daniels only sighed heavily.
"If we had even a fraction of intelligence, we would have united forces and forced the leaders of countries possessing nuclear weapons, nuclear missiles, and depleted uranium munitions not to test or produce such weapons, and to try those guilty of violating the ban as criminal offenders—the catastrophe could have been avoided."
I don't know why, but every time he uttered the word "crime," I felt it directly related to me. I had indeed actively participated in creating military-purpose artificial intelligence. Our base worked on developing an early-warning system for nuclear missile launches, which, despite enormous taxpayer expenses and the efforts of many talented scientists, turned out to be ineffective and failed to warn us in time about the nuclear strike.
"How did you manage to activate the 'SOS' system in the shelter without power?" I hurried to change the subject.
And as if in response to my question, the screen flickered:
"...what happened... to you? Res... pond... anyone...
...what happened to you?.. Respond... can you... hear me...?"
I didn't immediately determine the transmitter's coordinates and gave "Alice" the command to compute the location.
"Better turn on the response signal and wait!" the colonel said loudly.
Hunter woke up, glanced at the screen, but remained silent.
After waiting about ten minutes, we didn't hear a repetition—the airwaves were silent again.
"A distant colony on Mars, millions of kilometers from us," Hunter said with closed eyes. "If the signal repeats, briefly inform them what happened to Earth... now they'll have to rely only on themselves."
Meanwhile, ATLAS reached the spot over the Mojave Desert where we had begun our journey four days earlier. The vertical descent turbines engaged, and the machine hovered in the air.
"Shall we descend?" I asked Hunter.
"Let's wait until morning," his voice, it seemed to me, trembled.
I understood him: I myself burned with impatience and hope that someone from our city had survived. Base "Sigma-7," the lab, years of work, so many familiar and dear people... Everything blurred before my mind's eye, seemed unreal, as if it had never existed. And yet I hoped.
Morning came, and sunlight filled the cabin. The first to wake up (perhaps he hadn't slept at all) was Colonel Daniels. He yawned—that was enough for Doctor Sarah to jump up.
"Good morning, Captain," he cheerfully greeted her. "Should have been at work long ago, and we're still lounging in bed." He raised his arms above his head and began making smooth movements.
His strength of spirit was astonishing. Though his face sometimes contorted with pain, he never groaned and even encouraged others.
"In any endeavor, a leader is needed," he said after some time. "We need to choose a commander and obey him unquestioningly. Any suggestions?"
"You, Colonel," Sarah began neatly arranging her loosened hair.
"No, Captain, I'm helpless as a child," he shook his head. "In my opinion, only the professor among us is suitable for this position. He's fit as a recruit!"
No one objected, but no one gave consent either.
"Let's descend!" Hunter suddenly exclaimed, jumping up, and I went to the control panel.