Balkan Mountains, exact location unknown
They reached the village the next morning, and the Captain was honestly surprised to find the inn still standing. After what had happened at the base, a part of him expected to find the building in ruins…another part of him had expected to find the entire village likewise destroyed. The Captain pounded on the door until it was opened by the innkeeper, an enormous bear of a man named Grigori; after the necessary exchange of code words, the gigantic man moved aside and allowed his four tiny guests in. Hot food and fresh water were immediately brought, but the Captain's first concern was not for his stomach. "Anyone else?"
Grigori shook his head slowly, his face showing roughly the same emotion as a statue. "Only one, dead now," he said in broken, heavily accented English. "Told me what happened. Nerve gas killed everyone else…all the civilians, too."
"Who was it?" SC-80 felt sick, but he suppressed the feeling.
"Name of Bradley. Looks like you're in charge…only officer left."
"My companions and I have to get to England," the Captain said. "We were supposed to have gone yesterday, just before the attack. There was a truck sent for us…"
"Truck from Varna…yeah. They came through here."
"I need them to send another."
"What for?" Grigori could not suppress a derisive snort. "We're done anyway."
"No, we're not." The Captain's tone was icy. "My mission is of the utmost importance if we want to save what's left of the Resistance." The lie rolled easily off his tongue…but was it really a lie? We will be saving the Resistance, after a fashion…it will never exist in the first place. "Now I am giving you an order. Call Varna and get me another truck."
Grigori gave the Captain a suspicious glance, but lumbered off upstairs to use his transmitter. And, true to form, a truck did indeed arrive at the inn the following morning. Its three crew, who had obviously driven all night from the coast, were swapped out for several fresh locals, and the Oompa-Loompas were quickly on their way. Though infiltrating passenger airlines was all but impossible, the Resistance had a number of contacts in various freight airways; Jonesy and three remaining crew of Deepstar quickly found themselves aboard a plane for France, and within twenty-four hours they were on British soil once again.