Disclaimer: The characters and story originally created by Dmitri Glukhovsky in the book and video game series "Metro: 2033" and its sequels do not belong to me. Those properties are owned by Glukhovsky, 4A Games, and Deep Silver. This work of fiction is intended for entertainment purposes and is not meant to be canonical, though I tried very hard to make it fit within the parameters. I do retain my rights for the creation of my own original characters and ideas. I do not make any money from writing this story.
Song Recommendation: "The Dark Side" – Our Last Night, "When the Seasons Change" – Five Finger Death Punch
Chapter Thirty-Six: Ready Up
"We need to look into this!" Hunter asserted the request sharply rather than outright demanding; he was smart enough to know not to tell the Colonel what to do directly. "People are being abducted, driven mad in their sleep, able-bodied fighting men turned comatose in an instant. Bullets don't stop them."
"You know we don't have the manpower," Melnik began to make his case against the forceful plea, "Nor the time to spare."
"Then I'll spare it," Hunter growled loudly. "I'm heading in that direction next anyway."
"You mean you'll go off on your own again," Melnik spoke in a low voice, trying not to sound accusatory but resolved to accept that Hunter was going to do so no matter what he said.
"As usual," Hunter narrowed his eyes and confirmed in a quieter tone to match the Commander's.
"We have other priorities, the uneasy alliance between the Red Line and Hansa in the South is becoming heated again. Nazis always looking to expand their territory. The plague epidemic still going on, as you know. It's all I can do at the damned Council to keep the peace," Melnik explained uneasily, not expecting Hunter to really take interest in his diplomatic responsibilities.
"That's what you're good at," Hunter turned his gaze out the door. "What I'm good at—"
"And what can you do against their psychological trickery?" Melnik pressed with concerned intrigue. The question of battle prowess and physical strength was never a question with Hunter, but he'd heard his own rumors about these Dark Ones in the North.
"Between the hammer and the anvil," Hunter stared back with a determined expression and just a hint of a sly smile, it almost seemed as if he'd rehearsed this answer. "I'd rather be the hammer."
"More like a rock and a hard place, though I'm neither. I'm the poor bastard caught in the middle, playing at purgatory." Melnik sighed a long breath out through his nose, defeated. "Be the hammer, then."
"There's one more thing before I go. Just in case." The positive outlook abandoned Hunter's face.
"Let's hear it," Melnik held out a hand as if to accept the reply physically. He felt the shift in the air of the conversation, and his next breath caught in his chest in order to receive the message clearly. Hunter never said or did anything 'just in case,' he was always over-confident that he would see the mission through to the end one way or another.
"It's about… in my will… if you find her, if she finds you," Hunter glanced down at the floor, never liking to speak about her aloud to anyone, not even his best friend.
"Aleksandrya?"
"You'll know it's the genuine article if you ask her," he brought himself to look into Melnik's eyes to reinforce the sincerity, "She knows my name."
"I understand, Ivan. I already gave you my word," Melnik said softly with a nod, using the name to confirm the sentiment directly. "Good luck to you in the North. I hope it's not as serious as you say."
"I'll find out soon enough," Hunter rose from the chair in a fluid motion and held out his hand to solidify the understanding of the mission. "Не пуха, не пера."
"К чёрту!" Melnik replied with a confident smile as he grasped the veteran Stalker's hand firmly, trying to impart that exact kind of luck to his most trusted soldier and friend through the connection and the words.
Hunter walked away giving a lazy wave of his hand, disappearing into the crowded station halls of Smolenskaya amongst the other members of the Order and their adjutants. Having watched the Ranger's departure as he had done so many times before, Colonel Melnik would never have guessed that this interaction would be the last time he would see Hunter.
The Colonel was poring over Mikhail's notes on Ivanovich's coded letter, his eyes growing wider with each criterion and sentence. He sifted through the layers of maps and diagrams on the conference table, poking at Herman with his elbow to help locate a specific marking.
About half of the original group of Rangers had dispersed and gone back to their regular duties or to whatever fulfilled them during their off hours. Those who remained in the conference room were either technical staff members assisting with the planning or had been selected to take part in the mission. The basic plan of action that they had put together remained the same: one squad would approach Chekhovskaya to initiate diplomatic negotiations while another squad would make their way into the underbelly of Reich to carry out the rescue of Aleksandrya from the Second Unit Interrogation Sector. It was hoped that the unusual personal appearance of the first squad at the Reich's borders would draw out as many officers as possible, to distract them from what was really going on in the distant and forgotten tunnels.
"This is almost too specific," Melnik glanced over at Victor and Herman warily as if to pass on his suspicion and then turned his head to the side. "Are you both one-hundred percent certain of this source?"
Mikhail and Artyom both nodded their heads soundlessly, unshaken in their support of the intelligence they had retrieved and the informant who had concocted it.
"It's rare that we get such detailed information from someone on the inside," Victor confirmed the Commander's skepticism but wasn't ready to give in. "When we're presented with such a solution that we have been asking for, it's best not to recant on our prayers."
"Listen to this, 'You'll need at least four men, have a medic on hand'… smoke bombs, three kilos of C4… this is incredible. To think they have people like this… a security sergeant." The Commander looked horrified for a moment.
"Almost a shame we didn't get this guy along with Aleks," Ulman spoke in his lighthearted tone but kept his face tranquil so as not to draw a glare from Melnik.
"So, we'll have to take the railcar along the Tagansko-Krasnopresnenskaya line," Melnik traced the route out on the map with his finger, "A service tunnel runs through here to bypass Pushkin, and this sector has shared walls with the Tverskaya transfer passage."
"You guys get to have all the fun," Dukov tried to lighten the mood with a false pouting expression, taking over Ulman's job of making humorous complaints.
"Bravo Team, are you prepared to move out? We'll need to ensure that we arrive at roughly the same time. Romanov, I want you in command of this, you're the best talker," The Colonel checked his watch as if to estimate their arrival time.
"We're ready, sir!" Romanov confirmed readily and eyed each of his squad mates as they organized themselves into a lineup. "I'll take point with Idiot, Dukov you're on comms, Arseniy and Zero you're our fireteam and rear-guard."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Ulman said in a tone that was both excited and uneasy. He'd been infected with Artyom's anxiety and desperate desire to have Aleksandrya back in their company.
"Ulman, you're in charge of demolition. Go get yourself prepared and don't overdo it, I'll meet you at the armory," Melnik instructed firmly. The dark-haired Ranger gave a resolute nod and left the room hurriedly. "Mikhail, Artyom, might as well keep a good thing going. Stick together and be our fireteam. Armor up and meet us down by our Barrikadnaya cordon in one hour."
Artyom was the first of the pair to confirm the orders and jump into action, reinvigorated by Ulman's eagerness to get going as quickly as possible. Mikhail followed him this time, closing the door to the conference room behind them and then jogging a few steps to make it into the lift that was already waiting on this floor.
Back to the barracks they went, this time gearing up for an entirely different task. Mikhail disappeared in a flash up the small set of stairs that led to the upper bunk level, and Artyom mirrored his pace, diving into his own room at the end of the hall. He didn't even bother to close the door for privacy, going straight for his own black uniform which was at the bottom of his pile of folded laundry.
Usually, he wore the standard Spartan camouflage on the few operations, more like errands, he had been part of so far. He had been steered more towards formality and diplomatic undertakings since Melnik had been somewhat mentoring him at first. When Ulman was officially named as his senior partner, they had done more of the boring tasks which didn't require combat in the slightest. Their recent assignment at the Church outpost was as close as he had come to seeing any action and, of course, it didn't turn out very well. Although Artyom truly wanted to be on the extraction team, he was still uncertain of his capabilities. Stealth? In enemy territory? The possibility of a firefight? He'd listened well in his training and learned a lot in the last few months but so far, every single time he'd been field-tested it had ended up in complete chaos.
"No, this time I'm the chaos," he breathed lowly to himself.
He was absolutely done with being the unfortunate and foolish hanger-on to random chance. Too many times he'd let the reins of life go slack, only to complain that he had no control over the course of his path. 'Are you in charge of your mind, or is it in charge of you?' Aleks' words from Hunter's philosophy came to the forefront of his thoughts at the right time. Just as he had gone definitively to the rendezvous with the courier at Mayakovskaya despite the uncertainties, he was ready to face whatever was waiting further down the line. The visual memories of Aleks, trapped in the rubble and surrounded by her hostile former peers, returned to his eyes. His fingers clenched a little bit as he dressed, imagining that he had chosen the other option: shooting the Nazi soldiers with the silent and efficient Vintorez. He had been ready at that moment to snuff out the lives of human beings he hadn't even met, yet he had held back, listening to the doubts in his head instead of the insistent instinct.
Perhaps that's what those lessons of Hunter's were about, at their core. That was the attitude that one needed to create to do such risky jobs as the veteran Ranger had done countless times. Hunter's intuition had proved to him time and time again that listening to the natural reactions of your body and mind was the correct choice, so he did his best to teach others to be just as efficient as him. As Aleks said outside Mayakovskaya after shooting Boris the sentry, there isn't always time to decide. If he continued to lend a platform to the fearful hesitations, he would never excel in this profession. He would not be able to make a difference without intentional action.
At the armory, Artyom requested the Vintorez that had been submitted by Mikhail in his name. He had already chosen it before they had even come down here, believing that he would be able to employ those necessary instincts if he held the weapon of the people who tried to explain it to him. For a moment he almost felt sorry that it had come to this, that he had waited so long to step up to the controls of his own destiny. It was still unclear to him how he should feel about the conclusion of the missile strike against the Dark Ones but was able to push it to the side for now. It wasn't the details or even the mission itself that mattered but he had told himself that there must be another purpose for him to fulfill because he was still here on this scorched Earth despite all odds. In the name and memory of those who had laid down their lives for his pursuit of salvation for everyone and everything at Exhibition, he would not allow anyone else he cared about to die.
Artyom set Aleks' weapon onto the bench of the firing line, ejecting the magazine even though he already knew what it contained. Only one round was missing, the one she had fired at Mayakovskaya. That left nineteen remaining rounds, nineteen threads that could be cut. Aleks had taken extra magazines with her but Artyom didn't even consider going to retrieve anything from Hunter's box, not even to replace the one missing bullet. He pushed the magazine back into place and brought the rifle up against his shoulder, looking for the first time down the scope at the backstop of the firing range. The reticle had strange markings on it; a curved line, a horizon, some numbers, and three vertical chevrons in the middle. He tried to remember everything else that Aleks had said about it, a suppressed assault rifle that was the cousin of some other version, though it was designed to be stylish and used more for long-range precision shots rather than on a front-line conflict. It could be disassembled into three pieces; which pieces? How did it come apart?
He was still thoughtfully looking over the Vintorez when Mikhail stepped up next to him and dropped several stripper clips onto the bench. He was arrayed in all the gear that Artyom had seen on him when they first met but he had forgone his balaclava and only wore the usual Spartan helmet. The blonde Ranger placed down his chosen weapon next, a beautifully polished Simonov carbine that looked like it had seen a lot of use. Artyom could recognize it only because of the descriptions that Aleks had given about the assortment of weapons found in the warehouses of D6 but Mikhail had probably owned his Simonov for much longer than they had been stationed here. His partner organized the clinking clips neatly in a pouch on the front of his plate carrier but then took out a much larger metal magazine from a different pocket and began to load it from a box which read, '20 - 7.62 x 39mm FMJ.'
"That's a nice rifle," Artyom gestured towards the Simonov, noting that it had a silencer but no attached optics.
"I could say the same, a complete VSS is a rare find. I didn't have the chance to check it out earlier. May I?" Mikhail held his hands out and Artyom set the Thread Cutter into them. The blonde Ranger turned the weapon over carefully, looking at it up close and far away, down the scope, into the breech, then examining the registration marks before handing it back. "You said it was hers?"
"Well, it was Hunter's actually. He left all his gear to her, I guess."
"So, have you used it yet?" Mikhail asked warily, his eyes trying to determine if Artyom would have any issues with the upcoming operation.
"Not yet," Artyom said slyly and Mikhail seemed to pick up on his confidence, giving him a hearty pat on the back before turning back to his ammunition.
One final check of their gear marked fourteen minutes by Artyom's watch, and sixteen on Mikhail's. There was a short playful argument as to whose timepiece was correct, and did a minute or two even make that much of a difference? With your watch tuned ahead by a bit, you'd end up on time even if you thought you were late and Artyom admitted that there could be a benefit to that. Then again, if you were told to meet someone or be somewhere at a specific time, you'd want your watch to be acutely honed down to the millisecond, Mikhail conceded. For now, they agreed to disagree and not waste any more of the resource they were trying to measure. In any case, they had already conducted their preparations ahead of schedule. The remainder of the hour they had would be spent travelling to the specified location.
Thankfully, there was no repetitive monorail ride to Mayakovskaya this time. Mikhail took the lead through the vast expanse of desolate concrete compartments and supply halls which The Order had come through on their initial search for D6. Endless wide airlock chambers snaked through the earth and Artyom could never guess what they were built for. There were so many hallways and rooms between the stations and tunnels that it was hard to stick to the belief that the Metro was built simply for public transportation. But what did everyday people trying to rush around to their various destinations need to know about any of that? What point was there in displaying every little transfer, corridor, warehouse, depot, ventilation shaft, drainage pipe, or underground bridge? The little rainbow maps of the Metro lines were complex enough already without all that stuff cluttering it up further. Yet, it was those exact features that mattered most to the people who were left here. Nobody had thought to re-draw the map for those who would spend their entire lifetimes relegated to the entrails of Moscow.
Mikhail turned off into yet another side-passage that Artyom hadn't known about, though the one facing the opposite way was the hall that eventually connected to Arbatskaya. Artyom submitted it into his working memory in case he needed to make use of it in the future. How long might it be before he was a senior partner leading some green recruit around the tunnels so confidently?
They successfully reached the end of the maze and came out into a normal metro tunnel. This was supposedly the purple streak on the old rainbow maps, the Tagansko-Krasnopresnenskaya Line. Artyom had been told once that this line used to be one of the busiest in the whole Metro, taking people from the north-west to the south-east or the opposite. Nowadays the most notable stations along this route were their current location which intersected with the Koltsevaya Ring line, Polezhayevskaya and the tale of its haunting abandonment, Kuznetsky Most the weapons manufacturing station, Kitai-Gorod with the two halls and two bandit clans, and of course its stop within the Reich territory - Pushkinskaya.
Artyom and Mikhail marched quickly towards the illuminated forward outpost of Barrikadnaya, where a short flatbed railcar was already waiting. Artyom expected that Melnik and Ulman would reach the agreed location first but he was surprised to see that he and his partner were the only ones to have arrived so far. Mikhail went over to exchange greetings with the sentries, two men being from the 1905 Confederation to which this station belonged and the other two guards were from the Order. Artyom gathered from the casual chatter of the men nearby that this was a relatively safe rally point, so he placed his weapon inside the railcar and then leaned against the rear wall of it to watch the tunnel for the rest of their squad.
He started counting the crossties beginning with the one he was standing on, multiplying them and continuing to tally them into his imagination. The vision pushed him swiftly along the tracks as if he was already riding on the railcar, curving, climbing, and descending until it reached its destination. Not so much a princess in a tower, but Aleks was indeed in distress, though he pictured her to be sitting on the floor in the middle of an abandoned station hall. The columns were cracked and beginning to crumble, the black perimeter began to close in, but it wasn't just regular darkness – it was a faceless company of Nazi soldiers encircling her, inching closer as she tried to make herself as small as possible to delay their impending contact. Artyom tensed up, seeing himself at the end of the platform, he had the opportunity because they didn't seem to notice him. He raised the barrel of the Vintorez and brought the viewfinder up to his eye.
"Hey, Artyom, you're looking good!" Ulman's compliment ended the nightmare.
Colonel Melnik and Ulman emerged from the darkness alongside the tracks and walked towards them. Ulman was carrying his rucksack in his hand, likely because it contained the explosive charges they were instructed to bring. The Colonel had his customized railgun leaning on his shoulder and raised the opposite arm into the air to acknowledge the Barrikadnaya defense team. Ulman stepped past them and swiftly climbed up into the railcar with a grunt, obviously still running on the adrenaline that everyone else was feeling and more than ready to get underway. Mikhail looked over upon hearing the arrival of the other men and read the room, laying his immaculate Simonov rifle next to Artyom's and going to assist Ulman in getting the engine started up.
The Colonel slowed to a stop just in front of Artyom who was standing at the ready, watching carefully for any cues his Commander would give.
"While we're waiting for Damir, I thought I'd disclose the remainder of what I know. You deserve to have some answers, Artyom. After all, secrecy is what got us into this mess in the first place," Melnik said with a regretful kind of sigh, placing his gear into the railcar but not getting in just yet. "Mikhail, I see that you're a part of the inner circle now, so you can listen too."
The named Ranger nodded politely and came over to fold his arms together and lean on the back railing. Ulman glanced over but didn't seem interested, so the Colonel had probably already filled him in on what was about to be revealed on their trek down here together.
"You were correct, Artyom. I did promise Hunter that I would protect Aleksandrya if anything were to happen to him, but I never knew much about her. He didn't give many details at all despite his attraction. I knew her name and vaguely that she lived or worked in Novokuznetskaya. As I said, he mentioned that she had escaped from Reich with a security guard and that the Nazis were searching for her just like they try to hunt down anybody who's half-important. I thought it had to do with her companion, who would have thought that she'd be part of the Führer's family? Blood related or not, that is an incredible fact."
"Hunter must have known about it from the beginning but I can understand why he wouldn't say anything," Mikhail said ponderously.
"I wouldn't want to admit to that shit either," Ulman spoke loudly enough to be heard over the engine groaning to life. "I mean who's daring enough to date the boss's daughter?"
"I didn't have time, like always, we couldn't spare anybody to go off in search of her based off the limited information we had." Melnik admitted without indulging the comments of the other Rangers. "When you got separated from the company on the surface and then reported in with the revelation that you had miraculously stumbled upon her, I believed it was some kind of fated coincidence. And I thought, in my rush to accept everything at face value and finally see the mysterious woman who had ensnared Hunter… I thought that she might know where he's gone to, but of course she was looking to us for the same answer."
"Crazy that you two probably meant the most to him, and ended up meeting," Ulman said more quietly as he joined Mikhail at the back of the railcar and looked down at Artyom with compassion.
Artyom took in the confessions of the Colonel with a deep breath, running through everything he had blurted out in the crowded hallway of the Kremlin monorail station. He didn't regret anything he said at all but did feel just a little bit guilty for stirring up all these strong emotions in everyone. The Order was still divided on how to process the loss of their senior comrade, half believing that Hunter was still alive out there somewhere and the other half resolved to bury him like they had done with so many others.
"So, what's quantum entanglement supposed to mean?" Artyom asked absent-mindedly, as he'd arrived at that point in his memory and the curiosity returned along with it.
"The sentimental old fool," Melnik laughed warmly at Hunter's expense and shook his head. "Essentially, it's a relation at the smallest level of the matter that makes up everything you see. There are tiny little atoms that learn to stick together to form, well, just about anything. I guess it's a romantic kind of way to say that you're bonded exclusively with another. In quantum physics, two particles link together, and even if they are carried to the opposite ends of the known universe they are still connected somehow. Whatever happens to one, happens in turn to the other. They affect each other, no matter the distance."
"Wow," Ulman stretched up his eyebrows. "Didn't think he had that kinda shit in him."
"Everybody's got somebody," Mikhail sighed out almost sullenly.
Artyom wondered who Ulman and Mikhail might have in their lives to care about like that. Although most of his fellow soldiers were disinclined to speak about their private lives and romantic undertakings, there were a few of them who were notably married, their wives usually filling some supportive role within the vicinity of the Order or at Polis. The women who weren't in the exclusive sniper division helped with all the regular chores that life required: cooking, cleaning, laundry, organization, and raising children.
"So, you see, if he's in danger then so is she. He ran into some kind of situation at the Gardens and she was taken captive from Tver Street. The Dark Ones… the Nazis. If we allow her to succumb to the evil impulses of the fascists, then we are condemning Hunter as well."
"So, you think that by saving her, he'll somehow come back too?" Ulman asked with hope but skepticism.
"That, I don't know. But either way, I owe it to both of them." Melnik concluded the divulgence with the tone of his voice.
"Thank you, sir," Artyom didn't know what else to say. He was thankful for the information, the clarity of the situation, and the fact that they were heading out on this mission at all. Now he also understood that he wasn't just going to rescue Aleks for his own desires but that she was still tied up with Hunter somehow. Colonel Melnik would probably have been the last person he could think of that would believe in such endearing sentiments, but here he had just confessed to his subscription to the notion. It was the only thing written in her cartridge capsule and the more he had heard her speak about Hunter, the more Artyom had believed in their connection almost as its own entity, something to be guarded and respected.
"Sorry, guys!" Damir, a combat medic in the Order, suddenly ran up to the group slightly out of breath but with a lighthearted voice, "I was assisting with a punctured lung. All good now."
"Let's get going," Melnik commanded sternly, chasing away the somber atmosphere that he had created. "We'll check in with Bravo team on the way."
The five men organized themselves into the electric railcar and said their thankful farewells to the sentries they were leaving behind at Barrikadnaya. Motor rumbling steadily, the railcar carried them smoothly along the tracks and towards the Reich territory. Colonel Melnik had one hand steady on the accelerator lever and the other propping up his notebook, assumedly filled with the directions and markers from Ivanovich's letter. He glanced around to confirm their location and then gave a nod towards Ulman who leaned his head towards his radio.
"Bravo team this is Comedian-612, are you in position? Over."
"Chhk," the radio chirped its reply, "Uh, that's an affirmative Comedian, we are ready to approach on your signal. Over. Chhk."
"Stand by," Ulman said and clicked the button to release the channel back to quiet static.
Melnik stopped the railcar at their first major junction where the tunnels met up in one central vault. Mikhail jumped down to switch the points to keep them on the proper path, then he stepped up on the back ledge of the rail car because there would inevitably be another crossing and it wasn't worth the effort to climb in and out of the flatbed every single time.
As they grew nearer to Pushkinskaya, the tunnels were unusually clear of debris and soon a faint echo of a recorded song began to reach their ears. The railcar stopped after a gradual squeak, leaving them a few hundred meters away from the next convergence of the tunnels. Melnik signaled to the three combatants and Mikhail dropped down again, this time grabbing his Simonov and advancing along the tracks, clearing the area left and right as he went. Artyom looked over to Ulman who doused the oil lamp and then aimed his VSV in Mikhail's direction to support him. Artyom reached out along the floor boards to find his own rifle, tuning his eyes to the lack of light. When he discovered his weapon and looked back up, he began to recognize that there was still a dim glow up ahead, and if he strained his vision enough, he could see red banners lining the passage further on. The tracks split here into three possible routes: straight ahead seemed to lead to the first border of Pushkinskaya, the right-hand tracks curved off but then aligned itself with the central track so it was likely a parallel stretch where trains could reverse direction or switch between lines, and the left-hand tracks veered off sharply but didn't give any more clues about itself.
Artyom positioned himself next to Ulman and looked down his scope, aimed at the border, but didn't see any guards or moving shadows. After five minutes, a dull grinding could be heard and then the Colonel gently pushed on the lever, steering the railcar onto the left-side set of tracks and keeping the speed extremely low. The grinding sounded off again and Artyom understood that Mikhail had switched the track back to its original position behind them, covering up the signs of their presence but also preventing a concise escape route. As they turned off the main track, Ulman relaxed his stance but kept his eyes on the velvet mouth in front of them. Mikhail hopped up on the back end of the flatbed again, letting out a breath of effort as if he was relieved that nobody had been standing guard this far out today. Melnik accelerated a bit more, keeping the engine and axles as subdued as possible.
"Bravo team, this is Spartan-117 actual. Begin parley operations. I say again, begin parley operations. Over," The Colonel spoke at a subdued tone as he gave the order.
"Chhk… Roger that, Spartan-117. Beginning parley operations. Over, and out. Chhk."
It wasn't clear to Artyom who the person on the other end of the radio was, he had only been concerned with his own squad mates. He thought at first that Ulman might be assigned to the negotiations team, as even in a tense situation, he could joke his way out of almost anything. Then again, he could also get himself into trouble equally as effortlessly if he wasn't careful with his wit. But Artyom was happy to have Ulman with them on the extraction team; he had been the first one there on the platform excitedly welcoming Aleks to the stronghold of the Order, he had been frustrated with Melnik about the lack of understanding they had of her, and he'd been genuinely disturbed when he was finally clued in to her capture. As if on cue, Ulman glanced over at him with a confident expression, trying to bolster Artyom's resolve before the hard parts of the mission began.
"Chhk… here to negotiate… amicable release… comply with… policies… chhk," Ulman's radio whispered quietly.
Another five minutes passed, or was it seven? Artyom thought of the dispute with Mikhail and his watch, and looked around at the other men to determine what might be going through their minds. But he didn't have enough light to get a good read on anybody, except for Damir who was holding a skinny flashlight in his mouth while laying out an assortment of items that he might need for his patient. He had carved out a good amount of floor space in the middle of the flatbed to serve as his operating room, nodding contentedly to himself when he was satisfied that everything was ready.
Mikhail and Ulman both jumped down as Melnik brought the railcar to a halt. Artyom looked up to see that the tracks ahead were blocked off with heavy steel caltrops and towering debris but there was just enough of a clearing between the lower beams for a man to crawl through. Ulman began inspecting the obstruction with his tac-light, trying to ensure that it was stable enough before they attempted their infiltration. At the very top of the tunnel was a crudely painted sign which read, "Не Входиь!" It didn't yield any clues as to who might have built this barricade or why but they were most certainly deep within enemy territory.
Artyom held the Vintorez tight against his shoulder and watched the two active Rangers, covering their advance as Ulman had done for Mikhail earlier. Ulman lowered himself down onto his stomach and angled the light around through the opening until he was satisfied. Then Mikhail took point and crouched down to low-crawl between the metal bars, pushing his weapon in ahead of himself. Ulman looked up and gestured for Artyom to follow. He took a final calming breath and stood up, glancing back at the Colonel before he disembarked.
"Good luck," Melnik imparted encouragingly, but his face looked quite intense in the shadows, "Don't come back empty-handed."
"I won't." Usually, Artyom would be trying to convince himself as he made the promise but this time he didn't waver. He meant it.