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Partridge's igloo

Язык: Русский
Год издания: 2020 год
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      Partridge's igloo
Victor Anatolievich Tarasov-Shlishan

Partridge's igloo is the story of the fantastic adventures of a Soviet surveyor. During the development of natural resources of the Far North of the USSR. At the heart of storytelling is an idea and notes of my father – Tarasov Anatoly Nikolaevich. Dedicated to all Pioneers of the Far North of the USSR. For a wide range of readers.

Chapter 1. Amazing salvation

This story happened with me more than five years ago. The most interesting thing in this story was that, under hypnotic suggestion, I completely forgot it. I could not remember until recently. Indirect evidence that something happened to me was enough. But what exactly happened. Where and when, I did not know. I did not remember. How did three days fall from memory without a trace?

I agreed with the version of Fedorov’s senior working topographic detachment. That I sat all the time under the snow. In a small snow cave. That we all calling – Partridge's igloo. Keeping my body warm. Such auto-suggestion reassured me. As it turned out, completely – in vain. Because it was on these days that I experienced an adventure. What influenced my whole future life.

But it is one thing to gradually acquire different human abilities. Another thing is to constantly be surprised. Where did they come from? Where is the source of my superpowers hidden?

Five years ago, I worked as a surveyor for the Iconic Seismic Group. Taimyr Geophysical Expedition. I lived in the Arctic city – Dudinka. With my family in a two-room apartment, and I considered myself an ordinary, unremarkable person.

The base of the field party was located near the mouth of the Ondodomi River. On the right bank of the Chopka River. That winter, we worked northeast of the base. Toward the village – Volochanka.

I will not describe in detail the specifics of work in the tundra. I will only say that. Our seismic group. With the help of resonance-frequency explosions and with the help of special reading and receiving equipment. I was looking for underground storage of oil and gas, in the strata of rocks. Where they have accumulated over millions of years.

My topographic squad. It was considered an auxiliary unit of the seismic party. Our responsibilities included laying a road. Installation of geophysical pickets and instrumental shooting of the area.

The hardest time for work, it is the polar night. Twilight, which we out of habit called – day. Not conducive to performance. It’s hard to work on a polar night. Workers, tractor driver and of course, a surveyor. Had to catch short hours of dusk. When at least something was visible. Hurry to process as much distance as possible during this time. Even at such a fast pace. Most of the time I had to move in the dark.

This story began precisely at the darkest time of the polar night. December 17th. In the morning, a southwest wind began to blow. Blowing snow made a noise. But visibility remained satisfactory. I gave a command. Everyone to go to work. We laid a seismic profile against the wind. On the bare, without a single bush, hilly tundra.

On the flat tops of each hill lay large boulders and pebbles. Left by the last glaciation. Snow from the tops of the mountains was blown away by snowstorms. Nearly. Few days later, according to my calculations. We needed to get to the border of the Northern forest – Ary-Mas. Where forward movement will slow.

Have to clear the clearing in the forest. To pave the way next to the milestones. For machinery and equipment.

There was still a bare tundra around. Therefore, the guys immediately went ahead. The tractor driver pulled next to them, our home – CUB. I carefully took the testimony of the first stamp of theodolite. Then, I slowly followed.

In an hour and a half, i was stuck on the next brand of theodolite move. The guys have already gone far ahead. Together with a tractor and Central Universal Beam – CUB. I still couldn’t take the next brand. It was getting worse every minute. The wind was getting stronger. I watched with alarm the sharp gusts of wind. Again and again, trying to make out the theodolite at the crosshairs of the optical tube, the front one is a mark. The air stream beat in the face, cut through the eyes, squeezing tears. Whistled and howled in a theodolite tripod.

Small and gray eddies above the snow surface, a widespread phenomenon in the Polar regions. Snow whirls increasingly began to come off the surface. Rising higher and higher, to the theodolite optics. In the theodolite pipe, not a single dark spot was already visible. There was no light from the tiny bulb of a flashlight. Which, the senior worker Fedorov, hung on each mark of the theodolite move. Together with frost-resistant batteries. A plain gray haze filled the field of view of the device.

Damn the weather! I swore mentally. It is necessary to quit work and get off. Until it's not too late! It can twist so that then I can not get to CUB. I do not want to hide in the Partridge's igloo again!

Once in my life, I already experienced such a pleasure. I sat under the snow. In a ravine. More than two days. I sat in wet clothes, trembling with cold and damp. Constantly poured a hole in the snow mass for breathing. All the time I had to fiercely struggle with drowsiness! So for the first time i learned what Partridge's igloo is. This experience was enough for my whole life.

An hour later I gave up. Packed in a canvas cover theodolite. I arranged and drove into the hard crust the sharp tips of a metal tripod. I put the theodolite logbook in my pocket and put my feet into the ski mounts.

I was annoyed. More than an hour – stood! The guys during this time managed to go three kilometers ahead. If not more! And CUB dragged to the end of the breakdown. Now they are standing on a small pond and waiting.

Snow on the Taimyr Peninsula is not at all the same as on the mainland. This snow is hard. Shoveled a hundred times, endless blizzards. Caked and frozen from frost in a strong crust. Skis do not slide on the crust. Because crust is very hard, like sandpaper.

In a topographic detachment they don’t ski like athletes. We work without ski poles. Carrying everything you need for work. Sawn logs for hanging profile. Batteries and bulbs for brand lighting. Pickets.

I always wear a theodolite with a tripod. I measure horizontal and vertical angles. I write the results of measurements in a special journal. Noting in this magazine pickets of brands and the distance between them.

It was getting dark. I went down the gentle slope of the hill. I tried to stay closer to the tractor track. A sharp wind – sec, the skin of my face. I had to hide from the wind – a mitten. Feeling my face periodically. In order not to miss the frostbite that has begun.

– Ahhhhhh …

I heard a subtle and slurred scream. This sound rang out to the limit of audibility and I stopped. New scream. Weak and barely distinguishable. I heard it, as if to my right. There was no more screaming – groan. A faint moan? Women or baby. Maybe I hear it, only inside my head? It seemed?

I cursed mentally and still decided to check. Does it scream me or not? I climbed to the top of the next hill and went around a group of large boulders. Now I had to go against the wind and I went down to a ravine with steep slopes.

At the bottom of the ravine lay a teenager half-buried in snow. I managed to make out. He was dressed in the national clothes of the peoples of the Far North. From deer fur, with the name – pajik. On their feet were dressed, embroidered with beads – untaikas. The teenager did not see me and sobbed quietly. When he noticed me, he stopped crying. He waved his hand, calling to himself.

What happened to you? I asked. How did you get here?

– Help, man! – answered me a thin, slightly hoarse voice – The deer was frightened of something and threw me off! My leg is broken. Help!

Girl, or what? I thought. Since when, local nationals began to ride deer? How did it get so far from human habitation?

I answered her – Of course! I will help! Now I will take you to our CUB! I'll call the helicopter on the radio, which will take you to the hospital.

Saying this in a soothing voice, I carefully lifted the girl in her arms. Trying not to hurt. Since her right leg was twisted and stuck to the side. As soon as I turned in the direction of the tractor track, the girl hid in my hands.

– No, man! Only not in your self-propelled beam! She vigorously protested. Bring to another place. Get over there! To the hill!

– There's nothing there. Boulders alone! – I objected.

– Everything's there. There is a doctor and a hospital!

The blizzard continued to intensify and began to howl already. There was no time for altercation.

– Okay – I succumbed to the stormy pressure of the girl – On the hill, so on the hill. Only – an agreement. If there is nothing there, I carry you to CUB!

I turned around. The wind now began to hit my right cheek. I went to the next hill the girl was pointing to. The top of which, at times completely disappeared, behind the dense jets of the blizzard that began.

– And now where? – I asked. We were on top of a snowy hill. Dotted with huge boulders.

– Over to that stone, please drop me down there too.

I lowered the girl next to the boulder. She leaned on her healthy leg. I held her. Just in case, for the belt. Here, at the top, gusts of wind hit especially hard. The stubborn right shin, for sure, was – broken.

The girl moaned softly, holding on to me with one hand. With her other hand, she reached for the stone. What happened then. Made me doubt my sanity.

The girls barely touched the surface of the boulder, which had been corroded by time. How a thin, rapidly expanding crack appeared in it. The top of a huge boulder silently slipped to the side and hung in the air, as if it did not weigh anything.

– Well, what are you, man! – the girl whimsically called – Do not stand a pillar. Help!

She did not let me come to my senses. With a gesture, she showed me to help her climb onto a boulder cut in an unknown way. On a flat, polished surface that. Oscillating dark, foggy – circle. The diameter is seven feet.

I probably also had fog in my head. I kicked off my skis and was not aware. Together with my burden, I climbed a boulder and entered into a circle. I saw my feet plunge into the fog.

– Do not move and do not be afraid! – a little companion warned me sternly – So huge, but afraid!

As if the feeling of fear depends on size! I mentally snapped back. Aloud, I did not utter a single word. Because I already managed to plunge into the fog, on the chest. Just in case, I took air into my lungs and closed my eyelids tightly.

Chapter 2. Alien house

My cheeks felt a gust of hot wind and a slight tingling sensation. Nothing else happened. When I again dared to open my eyes, we were already in a round room. There were luminous walls and ceilings around. Only the smooth, like glass, floor did not glow.

– Rather, man!

The stranger extended her hand to the wall, barely touching. The wall from her touch, went rosy stains. Caved in. Like water covered with a glowing film of oil. Parted, letting us in – on.

Now we have moved to a much larger room. Also with luminous walls. Lighting concealed the size of the room. Only appearing on the walls, fluid patterns, allowed to determine. What is this room, in shape and location – a vertical cylinder. About ten steps in height and forty steps in diameter. There was nothing in the room. Absolute emptiness.

– Bring me there!

The girl held out her hand. Pointing to a brighter section of the wall. Located opposite. I lifted the girl’s light body and carried it to where she pointed.

– Man, help me take off my clothes. I myself can’t overpower, it really hurts.

I hurriedly pulled off her fur jacket – pajik. Having set her on the floor, I removed the untaika from her left foot. But barely touched the right foot, as a girl, she cried out from a sudden pain. Without hesitation, I pulled a penknife out of my pocket. I carefully cut open the untaika deer skin – the camus.

Now the girl was left only in soft, to the touch, overalls. Which was silver-blue. Solid. Without a single seam or fastener.
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