Balázs Pataki - S.T.A.L.K.E.R. - Northern Passage

“It is, and it’s yours.”

“Wait—wait a minute. No, Margarita. Let me give this back and—”

“I could kill Knuckles,” Nooria casually says with a shrug.

“No! Don’t even think of it! Sultan would kill you for that!”

Even if she feels nothing but disgust towards Sultan, Nooria realizes that invoking his rage would destroy any of her chances of getting back to the Exclusion Zone and then the New Zone. She quickly reconsiders.

“It is just the vodka speaking, Larissa. Can you leave with glowing stone?”

“Maybe, but what do you want from me in exchange? I’m not like Nastya, if you have that in mind.”

“Why, how is Nastya?” Nooria wonders.

“I was right,” the blonde says with a smile. After a heartbeat of hesitation, she gives Nooria a soft kiss on her scarred cheek. “You don’t belong here—it is not me but you who should escape from here.”

“Will you go home to your boyfriend?”

Larissa turns her head away and doesn’t reply. She stares at her teddy bear, as if expecting the toy telling her what to do.

A few minutes later, back in her room and stretching her exhausted body under the warm blanket, the first smile comes to Nooria’s face since she got separated from Tarasov. She had been able to help someone who did good to her, even if just by offering a little sympathy. This night she sleeps deeply, not even awakening to the commotion at dawn and the noise of the heavy door being slammed.

“Driscoll here, sir. Task Force Cobra is ready, over.”

“ Good job. You will keep a strangle on them until I arrive. Wait for further orders, over.”

The Colonel’s voice sounds calm, but First Lieutenant Driscoll risks to ask the question that bothers him.

“Sir, our detachment at Ghorband reported heavy gunfire coming from the Alamo’s direction. Is everything all right? Over.”

“ Ragheads, supported by about two dozen smiters have infiltrated our lower defenses. The storage vaults have been breached, but we managed to keep them off the upper fortifications. I’ll deal with the assault. Don’t worry, Driscoll. Stick to your orders. Over.”

“Sir, do you want us to return?”

“Negative. I repeat, we can deal with the situation here. Over.”

“Sir, please confirm—Task Force Cobra on Sierra Bravo while the Alamo is under attack?”

“Driscoll, I will not say it again. Your orders have not changed. Over.”

“How could they infiltrate the vaults? Over.”

“They used some kind of a mutant we’ve never seen before to navigate through the caves, then had the smiters break through the wall. Extremely effective, I’ll admit.”

“A new mutant?”

“Affirmative. It’s been neutralized. Appears to be brought in from the Exclusion Zone. Your intel from Ghorband supports my gut feeling about the ragheads having connections to the scavengers. Give me Collins, over.”

Driscoll passes the mike to Lieutenant Collins.

“Collins here, over.”

“Lieutenant, it’s time to check on the intel obtained at Ghorband. Take a Sierra Romeo squad to the northern approaches. Reckon the airfield at Charikhar and neutralize any hostile presence. Any further supplies for the new scavenger faction must be interdicted. We have enough on our plate already. Over.”

“Understood, sir. Sierra Bravo on Charikhar airfield, search and destroy, over.”

“Good luck, warriors. Alamo over and out.”

If Collins and Schmidt could see Driscoll’s look under the helmet’s face mask, they would be startled—doubt and bewilderment only rarely come to the tough First Lieutenant’s face. But Driscoll’s voice tells nothing of his misgivings.

“You heard the big man. He wants us to stand by. Until we get further orders, we keep Bagram locked down. Collins, prepare to move out. Questions?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Schmidt asks.

“Go ahead, Scotty.”

“Sir, our main strike force is idling here while…”

Driscoll interrupts him. “The task force is not idling, Lieutenant. We are carrying out orders. Our orders are to maintain our position, except for Collins’ special recon. Is that clear?”

“Sir, with all due respect, I agree with Scotty. We might have a Waterloo situation here.”

“What do you mean, Collins?”

“The Alamo might be hard pressed while we are away. If we return, no matter what, we might be just in time to prevent a disaster.”

“The big man told us to stick to our standing orders. It’s his call. Maybe you think you know better than him?”

Collins swallows. “No, sir. Absolutely not, sir.”

“Good. For a moment I thought you doubted the big man’s judgment. If he says he can handle the situation, that’s that. Period. Dismissed.”

The two Lieutenants salute. Leaving Driscoll’s command position, none of them says anything till they are out of hearing distance.

“Bauer was damn right,” Collins says breaking the silence. “Without the Top to reason with the big man, this… stubbornness will be our doom.”

“There’s no reason to doubt the big man’s insight, Joe.”

“I hope you’re right. Nonetheless, I got the feeling that we’re in the biggest trouble ever! Don’t forget what happened to Ramirez! That situation was also supposed to be under control!”

“The Colonel is not Ramirez. And hey, we’re talking about the Alamo here. It’s a little harder to overrun than that outpost, even for smiters!”

“For Chrissakes, Scotty, they managed to infiltrate the vaults! You get it? This mess is becoming a clusterfuck of epic proportions, brother! I really do hope the big man knows what he’s doing, while we just sit around here and do nothing because Driscoll can’t think for himself!”

Schmidt kicks a rock away. “At least you got a recon assignment while we’re staring holes into the air, instead of blasting holes into the scavenger’s defenses.”

“That’s right! Taking a damn airfield twenty klicks north of here while the Alamo is under siege. Really great.” Collins sighs. “All right… I better start assembling my team.”

“Going by Humvees?”

“Nope. It’s special recon this time. We’ll need to keep a very low profile until we get there.”

“At least you get a chance to fire your weapon.”

Collins adjusts the barely used M27 slung over his shoulder, muzzle up. “It’s about time!”

“Get up. I am here to bring you to Zaton.”

The voice awakening Nooria is pleasant but spoken in a manner that will not tolerate any argument. Stirring, she opens her eyes and sees a tall, handsome man wearing a smart suit standing next to her bed. He holds a big bundle in his hand, wrapped in drab brown paper. There is also a small rucksack next to her bed.

“You are to wear this,” he says and drops the bundle onto the bed. ”It’s already five past six. You have ten minutes to get ready.”

With that, he leaves the room. Nooria sits up and opens the bundle. She finds a black leather anorak inside that appears surprisingly heavy for its small size. On closer inspection, she finds that the jacket has plates of Kevlar over the areas covering vital organs, and each of the two big pockets holds a removable pouch, probably with a thin layer of lead sawn into the fabric.

The rucksack contains a Stalker’s most basic survival gear — a first aid kit, a bandage, a few bolts and two cans of processed meat.

When she appears downstairs, she sees the man leaning against the door and reading an English-language newspaper. With the paper, he appears to Nooria like a decent business man she had seen on the airports and the expensive hotel in Kiev. Only his hands tell of him being involved in shady business — there is barely skin left that is not covered with tattoos. Even his fingers bear strange symbols.