Chapter 584 4 Rays of Light
Chapter 584
There was a black carrying case in the helicopter cabin, with the words "special box for photographic equipment" written on the lid in English.
The box is 230 meters long, centimeters wide and high, and weighs kilograms.
Even at his strongest, Mikhail could not lift such a heavy box by himself. Now, with advanced lymphoma, it is even more impossible for him to lift such a large box.
Pale and sweating, Mikhail looked like he was about to faint even when he was doing nothing.
The helicopter landed inside the crater, not too far from the hiking trail because the area looked flat enough.
After landing, Mikhail pushed open the door of the helicopter. He was the only one in the cabin and no one could help him lift the box down.
But there is no need to lift it because there are pulleys at the bottom of the box.
Mikhail walked to one end of the box and slowly exerted force. The aluminum-magnesium alloy box slid out. The two wheels slid out of the hatch first, and then the box was stuck on the edge of the hatch.
Mikhail continued to exert force slowly, and the smooth box slid down along the edge of the helicopter door, making a loud clang, and fell on the snow-covered ground.
The box was not deformed or broken.
Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief, picked up the large backpack thrown aside, took two steps forward, and then jumped out.
The ground is not flat, and the crater cannot be very flat. Now the crater of Mount Fuji is covered with snow, and you can't see the ground under the snow at all.
The downwind generated by the rotor blew away most of the floating snow, but there was still stubborn hard snow attached to the scattered stones. Mikhail jumped down and stepped on a stone, which made him lose his balance and his body tilted to one side, but Mikhail did not fall to the ground. Instead, he simply sat on the box he had just pushed off the helicopter.
The wind was very strong and cold, blowing hard into his neck, making Mikhail unable to help but shrink his head.
The helicopter began to ascend, and the downwind became weaker and weaker, but the altitude was too high, so the helicopter took longer to fly away, causing Mikhail to feel the cold wind for a moment.
Mikhail did not feel any altitude sickness, even though the altitude here is about 3700 meters.
It's almost dawn.
Mikhail could see the box clearly without the help of any lighting equipment.
When the box fell, it first stood on the ground and then fell over. But it didn't matter, because Mikhail still had enough strength to turn the box over.
It's very Russian to treat something extremely important so violently at such a critical moment.
It was easier than I thought. It was my first try and I turned the box over quite easily.
Mikhail sighed, nodded meaninglessly, then bent down, opened two buckles, and then opened the lid.
There is a green cone-shaped object in the box.
It is an elongated cone, 1.5 meters long, with a circumference of about 40 centimeters at the thickest end, which is not very thick.
The medium-sized sub-missile warhead of the Satan intercontinental missile has a yield of 75 tons.
The originally streamlined warhead is now equipped with a rectangular box on top. It looks simple, but when you open the box installed on the warhead, you will find that it is a machine full of beauty.
It does not contain any electronic components, it is a purely mechanical structure but extremely reliable mechanical fuse.
There was no preset height or timer, and it didn't have two red and blue wires, so it wasn't the kind of fuse that could prevent detonation by cutting one of them.
After taking a look, Mikhail closed the box, because he had no place to sit unless he closed it again.
He took out the backpack that had fallen on the ground, scratched his head, then Mikhail took out a bottle of wine that he had secretly stuffed in there and placed it on the slightly tilted box.
The wine bottle slid down. Mikhail was quick-witted and caught the bottle that was about to fall and placed it at his feet.
A little cold.
To be exact, it was very cold.
My fingers were numb from the cold and my movements were not very flexible.
Mikhail blew on his hands, then continued to take things out of his bag, and this time he took out a box.
It was not much bigger than an ordinary shoe box, but when the lid was opened, there was a layer of folded black metal sheet inside. Mikhail carefully lifted the metal sheet and gently pulled it with both hands, and the folded metal sheet turned into a dish-shaped antenna.
Mikhail opened a delicate and compact tripod, placed the antenna with wires attached to it aside, and pressed a switch.
As part of the box cover, the screen lights up.
Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief. He lacked trust in this delicate and fragile high-tech gadget, and he was very happy to see that the screen could light up.
It started searching for satellites. The antenna was not big, but it was much larger than the antenna of a satellite phone, so the speed of searching for satellites was actually quite fast. It only took a few seconds for the signal to be full, which was not much slower than the boot-up time.
Mikhail waited for a while, waiting to access the network. He didn't need to do anything, everything was already preset.
Mikhail waited for his image to appear on the screen. Although it was a little laggy, he was finally completely relieved.
Signal connected, live broadcast started.
But Mikhail did not assign any lines for himself, nor did he have a video call with anyone. What appeared on the screen now was his own selfie and his own live broadcast.
Mikhail had a blank expression on his face as he pulled a rectangular piece of iron out from around his neck.
It's not a dog tag, it's a key, a key with one side engraved and the other smooth.
Mikhail shook the iron sheet towards the camera, then put the key around his neck and took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
A box of Benzi Seven Stars, black Seven Stars. Not Mikhail's favorite cigarette, but he had no other choice.
Mikhail quit smoking the day he was diagnosed with cancer. He was forced to quit, but now, it is obvious that there is no need for him to continue quitting.
He tore open the package, put a cigarette in his mouth, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter.
My hands were a little cold and my fingers were a little numb. I rubbed it several times, and although sparks from the flint kept coming out, the lighter didn't light.
Mikhail knew that ordinary gas lighters wouldn't work on the plateau, but he just wanted to try.
After all, there is no need to use matches if a lighter can be used.
How could Mikhail not prepare matches for himself?
He threw away the lighter and took out a match. His hands were too stiff and it was difficult for him to strike the match.
The first match broke, and Mikhail took out another one. The third time the match lit up, and then he used the match to light the cigarette.
Took a deep breath.
He inhaled too deeply, and Mikhail, who had quit smoking for some time, couldn't help coughing, but while coughing, he also felt unprecedented satisfaction.
This cigarette feels very refreshing to smoke after more than two years.
Mikhail took a long puff of smoke, put the cigarette in his lips, stood up and left the box, and opened the lid again.
Due to the angle, the camera cannot capture what is in the box, but it doesn’t matter. This nuclear bomb must explode, so there is no need to capture it.
The cigarette in his mouth stung his eyes a little, and Mikhail tilted his head. He reached into his pocket with his right hand and took out a piece of paper. With his left hand, he tore off the iron sheet hanging around his neck and inserted it into the fuse box on the warhead.
When the iron sheet was inserted, I heard a few subtle mechanical sounds, and the creaking sounds sounded quite pleasant.
The box opened a crack and Mikhail lifted the box on the warhead.
Inside the box is a row of numeric keys, metal keys, just like the ones on an old typewriter, arranged in order from 0 to 9.
In fact, Mikhail memorized the password, but he still decided to look at the note, as he felt it was safer this way.
Ten numbers, a ten-digit password, just press the number keys in the correct order.
Mikhail pressed the number key, and the number key fell down for a while before bouncing back up, and then there was a crisp metallic collision sound.
Each time you press the button, it makes a sound. You cannot make a mistake. If you make a mistake, the box will explode and the nuclear bomb will not have a chance of detonating.
I don't know which bastard designed this simple yet complicated manual mechanical fuse.
After entering the ten-digit password, the last step is to pull a not-so-big paddle, which is the confirmation button, a mechanical confirmation button.
Mikhail exhaled, but instead of rushing to confirm, he turned and looked at the screen.
Mikhail sat directly on the nuclear bomb.
I picked up the bottle that had been placed next to the box. It was a bottle of vodka, not made in Russia, but Absolut Vodka made in Sweden.
But Mikhail didn't care about the brand, he was satisfied with just one sip.
Mikhail opened the bottle, raised it with his left hand, and took the cigarette from his mouth with his right hand.
With a cigarette in his right hand and a bottle of wine in his left hand, Mikhail wanted to say something, but when the time came, he didn't want to say it anymore.
It’s not that I don’t know what to say, but I don’t want to say the lines I’ve designed anymore. I simply don’t want to say them anymore.
Mikhail took the bottle back and took a big gulp. It was a big gulp, filling up a quarter of the bottle.
Putting down the bottle and taking a long breath, Mikhail put the cigarette butt with only a short piece left in his mouth and took another deep puff.
He shook his hands casually and comfortably, knocked off the ash, and exhaled the smoke mixed with the smell of alcohol.
He raised the bottle towards the screen again, and after a moment, Mikhail took another big gulp.
This bite is not that big, and my head is a little dizzy.
He exhaled, then put the cigarette in his mouth and took another deep puff. The tobacco was completely smoked and burned on the cigarette butt, which smelled a bit.
Mikhail threw the cigarette butt away fiercely, then he smiled and raised the bottle of wine to the screen again.
He took it back, took another big gulp, put the bottle down and turned around.
Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief, feeling very comfortable, and casually reached out his hand to flick it lightly.
There was a crisp crash.
There was a slight delay in the explosion, but it was only a delay of a few dozen milliseconds.
Mikhail didn't feel or realize the delay, he just pulled the paddle, and then daybreak came.
Shining on Fuji, illuminating the East.
(End of this chapter)