Читать книгу The Fallen Heroine - Fabienne Gschwind - Страница 15

The next day I slept in first and then did my little morning run around the dock and along the boardwalk. I could now run a good half marathon easily and had started jogging in the morning. All the other people around me were rushing to work as well.

For after the repro epidemic, the world population had been so decimated that there was more work than workers. They had transferred everything that could be done to robots, but there was still far too much left. That is, there was no longer any retirement. But there were plenty of vacation days and paid vacation trips to all the major tourist destinations. So people kept their spirits up on the job, even though the hours per week had grown from 35 before the apocalypse to 60 and more, and people worked until they died.

Back to me: I left running for today and wanted to go back to the barracks to start my duty on time. But in front of the barracks there were about 100 people armed with banners and flags.

On them were slogans like.

"THANK YOU ReS!"

"Super Tamara!"

"Our Saviors from the Nuclear Drop."

When Tartelette arrived from a swim out of the sea, people erupted in cheers and they formed an alley to let her through. Our captain smiled and signed autographs. When I joined them, I was also cheered and they patted me on the back.

The chief waved one last time and went into the barracks.

"So junior sailor, occasionally people show appreciation when you save their asses. You should read the fan messages I get on a regular basis." She laughed and stepped into her office.

I quickly stood under the Evapshower to get rid of the sweat. Fortunately, with this modern technology, it was no longer necessary to take off my clothes, because they were cleaned at the same time.

I thought of Tartelette: she was a living legend. She was highly respected by the people and the army, but as Thibault has already pointed out a few times, she had a habit of making herself very unpopular, at least with the nobles running the government, because she liked to cause trouble. That was exactly how it was with her letter calling for the elite unit. In it, she had pissed everyone off and named all the people she considered incompetent.

I put on my duty beret and went into our common office to have breakfast.

"Oh, our old Commodore Laura Cortaux is currently released from duty, her artificial heart has given out and she is motionless in the hospital..."

Emily read the ReS news. “The Headquarter is looking for a new commodore to take over. Well at least until Laura can be ready for action again... Hey, Tamara isn't that something for you?"

Tartelette nodded and absently explained that she had been forbidden to apply. But suddenly she stood up and taped a piece of paper with the training schedule to the wall instead of using the projector.

Sniper training, hand-to-hand combat, hacker training, and more.

Tartelette explained, “I am heading to Auvergne ... something went violently wrong there. Two units are said to have been hit. ReS headquarters wants me to look into it along with the incompetent USDU representatives..." We heard the rotor noise of a deca.

"Aha, here comes my Decacopter to pick me up. See you guys in a few days."

She was about to leave, but turned around one last time, "And make sure no one gets killed, or you'll be in for a treat!"

With that, Tartelette grabbed her gear and climbed to the roof, from which the Decacopter picked her up.

We were all still sitting at the table, looking at each other stunned after this departure. Two whole units had died? Surely that couldn't be!

In fact, it got worse.

We were training when an official announcement arrived:

The death of all members of two units in Auvergne was confirmed. Also, ten members of USDU representatives had been killed, two seriously wounded. They had all been attacked by reprogrammed Repros that a crazy rich man had kept in hidden in his private zoo located in a cavern in the Auvergne.

I was panicked that something had happened to the commander.

Fortunately, a text message from Tartelette arrived for us.

"Don't worry about me. Stop. Hospital food is horrible. Stop. See you tomorrow. Over."

Why Tartelette wrote in an old-fashioned telegram style was less important. It was bad enough to hear that she was in the hospital. But at least she was still hungry, so it couldn't be all bad, I tried to reassure myself.