Kai looked around and said they should be on the way, and the team started to get ready to leave – until Hunter came back in from the outside where he'd been exercising and keeping a watch on the world.
"Feels cold out there, really cold, temperature's dropped a good few degrees in the last couple of minutes."
Rasheed went outside, returning a few minutes later, and told the team that there was a storm front moving in – they either had to go, right now, or wait here for a day or two. The team hovered in indecision. Slowly they looked around them at the design of the massive shelter, checking out the thickness of the cable supporting the cammo netting, the angle of slope that would shed snow, the strength of the struts installed to break up the outline. It may have been installed quickly and still very recently, but it was obvious that the three escapees had worked hard – and they knew their stuff. The shelter looked solid to Aswon and Tadibya – by far the most practical amongst the team when it came to survival skills – and they said as much to Kai. With a nod from their leader, they decided to wait it out – nobody wanted to get stuck on the edge of Iran's highest mountain in a snow storm.
Tadibya returned to Nasrin, and continued to try and explain the mystic world to her, teaching her about astral space, spirits and mana. Whilst they were talking, Nasrin was sorting through a pile of mould, lichens and small but spiny plant leaves, kilos and kilos of the stuff. As Nasrin moved her hands through the materials, sorting it deftly with ease, Tadibya's voice trailed off and her eyes widened. She was no expert on the local materials, but it was clear that these plants were specially selected. Each was pure, and when she looked in astral space they glowed faintly and exuded a magical tang – the whole crop was magically active, and would form the basis for a prodigious amount of alchemy. Tadibya started to ask Nasrin about the plants, and was startled to find out that what she had in front of her was what she had collected in the week or so since arriving – a huge haul, from such little time.
It became clear in the next hour that Nasrin was a skilled botanist or horticulturalist, someone with naturally green fingers, who just had a way with plants. Years of experience of growing herbs in widow boxes, tending to small gardens and building floral displays with eye catching colours for the ski resort had her able to spot specimens and grow plants with ease. She learnt quickly from Tadibya, and taught her a few tricks in return. Making the most of the fact they would be here for at least another day, maybe more, Tadibya quickly set to showing Nasrin how to refine the raw material she had into a more radical form, distilling down the plant material into the components that featured the strongest mana flows and essence.
Meanwhile, Marius and Kai negotiated a price with Rasheed and Javad, and set to fitting the high-altitude conversion kit to the truck. The cold and dark conditions and rough nature of their working area didn't make the job easy, but after several hours, additional compressors, filters, manifolds and pumps were installed, the system pressurised and the engine fired up to check all of the pipes were holding. Even without touching the accelerator, Marius could feel the engine purring much more smoothly as the increased air supply to the engine led to greater fuel combustion. Whilst they worked, Rasheed described the path they would be taking over the spine of the mountain, expressing polite doubts about the ability of a truck to navigate the route. Marius responded with quiet confidence.
Nevertheless, he took advantage of the downtime and spent a good eight hours after the installation of the kit in maintenance activities, going over the truck's systems with a meticulous and thorough eye. Once the truck was done, he turned his eye to the chopper, and worked with Javad to strip down and rebuild that with the same level of Teutonic precision.
Kai, Aswon and Hunter spent their time either relaxing, gently working out and trying to acclimatise, helping with the layout of the new base, construction and discussions with Rasheed and Javad, talking to them about black markets, smuggling, border procedures and a million and one other small details about living their life in the shadows. Though neither Rasheed nor Javad were stupid – quite the opposite in fact – they were both very innocent about a life of crime, and several of their assumptions had to be quietly corrected. They both soaked up the knowledge like sponges, grateful to the team for their pearls of wisdom.
By the time the team were ready to roll on the evening of the second day, the truck was tuned and prepped, as close to 100% as the day it rolled out of the factory.
Gathering for the send off, Nasrin still lurked behind her husband, more confident now and occasionally making eye contact with them but Rasheed and Javad were the focus of the discussion. They wished the team well, and then Rasheed, after a none too subtle poke from his wife, turned to Kai and offered a suggestion. Would the team be interested in a trade – if they were given the raw and radical magical plants that Tadibya and Nasrin had spent the last two days working on – would they carry word of their existence, comm frequencies and recognition codes, spreading them around the smuggler community? Kai looked over at Tadibya, getting an emphatic nod from her – and with general assent from the others, agreed.
Ten minutes later, they were loaded, and making their way back down the river gorge, heading for their turnoff, more easily spotted from this direction. The next hour was spent climbing the slope, tracking back and forth across their route, the huge chunky tires of the six by six cutting deep through the fresh snowfall, biting into the frozen crust of the older falls below. Marius sat in the centre front seat, tightly strapped in by the five point harness with a head restraint to stop his unconscious form from lolling around as the truck lurched and bounced across the obstacles. The slender silvery cable ran from the jack ports at the back of his head to the dash, connecting the cybertronic modules implanted around his spine and hind brain, allowing his consciousness to perceive the vehicle as part of his body. As the truck worked its way up the hill, Marius could "feel" the snow beneath his bare feet, both of his sets of legs and arms clawing on the frozen ice and slick rock for grip, his breathing laboured as he fought his way up slopes of up to forty degrees, but less so than before the kit was installed. His eyes flickered behind closed eyelids as his sensors scanned around him, drinking in the detail revealed by the cameras, radar, rangefinders, lidar and other sensor system fitted to the truck.
Tadibya had attempted to summon a powerful mountain spirit to guard their ascent – but the exhaustion of the last two days of work had caught up with her, and no spirit answered her slightly rambling call for aid, and all she got was a thumping headache from the magical backlash. She wrapped the hammock around her and relaxed as best she could, swinging wildly as the trucked crawled up the steep slopes. Everyone else in the front also buckled up, cinching themselves tight into their seats to protect them from the violent movement – except Aswon. He stayed unbelted, ready to leap out of the truck in case of danger – whether that be natural or man-made. He had to work hard to stay in place, and was sweating from the exertion with aching limbs by the time they were half-way up the slope, but doggedly kept in position, surveying the slopes out of the thick side windows.
An hour later, and the truck climbed over the top of the ridge, having climbed up past 3600m in a snaking and fishtailed course that included several backslides and corrections.
Without pausing to examine the starlit view, the truck tipped forwards, and started to descend. As surely as the journey up, Marius controlled the vehicle, slewing from side to side as he navigated down the slope, his sensors questing forward to find the easiest path, the wheels biting deep into the snow, fighting for grip and purchase. It was a constant war against the forces of gravity, the wheels occasionally spinning in reverse, slowing the truck as it turned into a sled and slipped down the mountain side on a bed of snow that acted like a giant slick.
Under the iron concentration of their driver, the truck bounced, slid and drove down the slope, dropping over a thousand metres vertically in less than six kilometres of horizontal travel. Only at the very end of the descent did the truck have more than a moment of time out of control, and even then Marius managed to turn as a whole shelf of ice collapsed under his wheels, slewing the truck sideways on to the boulder that appears out of the darkness, and managing to spread the impact over the entire side of the van. For a moment, Aswon was thrown against the side of the window, like a cartoon character hitting a cliff, before he managed to peel himself off and resume his seat. Sedately, Marius changed gear, eased away from the boulder and then followed the beginnings of a trail down to the village of Namar.
They crept through the village, lights off, unobserved by the residents who had shuttered their hovels against the biting wind, and uncared for by the mountain goats in their pens. The track improved as they drove east, continuing to drop sharply in places and wind around the mountain, zig zagging around their base course and dropping them lower and lower. By the time they hit Panjab, it was a proper tarmac road, and the village had electric lights – fortunately by now it was late enough that everyone was in bed, and the truck just rolled through the village without observation. Shortly afterwards, they hit highway seventy-seven and turned north, heading for the coast and picking up speed a little on the better quality road.
They travelled north, the road dropping at a steady grade, winding back and forth only a little and dropping down the side of the hills, heading towards the coastal plains. Late at night, there was little traffic, and soon they were cruising down the road at the speed limit, the engine delighting in the normal air pressure and driving the bulky vehicle onwards like a champion. As the late night grew towards the start of a new day, they hit the road that bypassed Amol, taking the major road around, and turning east towards Babol. They thundered along the level terrain and clear wide blacktops – after the journey through the mountain even the pock-marked roads feeling like silk. They eased through Babol, the city quiet and almost deserted at this time of morning, following highway twenty-two, then through Qaemshahr, onwards to Sari, pushing hard to cover as much distance as they could under the cover of darkness.
They continued along highway twenty-two, as far as Galugah, then started to look for a place to turn off the main road. According to the maps, there was a province checkpoint ahead, and based on previous experience, they didn't want to risk that. Instead, about ten kilometres east of the small town of Galugah, they headed south, towards the foothills, following a farm track and then heading off road until they found a fence in their way. After quick consideration, Marius just drove over it, the three foot wooden posts and twin wires no match for the massive diesel engine and huge off-road tyres mounted on the armoured chassis. As they headed for another farm track, that would allow them to meet back up with the twenty-two, they saw a set of travellers ahead, walking down the track in two by two formation. Marius quickly slowed the truck to a halt, and they all looked forward and examined the group. They were oddly dressed – all wearing somewhat elaborate hats, and a strange kind of ceremonial robes. Two of them carried a large yoke, spanning both their shoulders and the gap in-between them, and suspended from the middle was a large and ornate metal cage, with some kind of paraffin lamp or other light source. A hurried discussion ensued as the group examined the strangers, marching through the dawn light towards them. Tadibya gave a little gasp as she examined them astrally, picking up that at least two of the group of twenty of so were magically active in some way. Then her brow furrowed as she thought – magically active, weird hat, carrying a flame…
"Zoroastrian!" she exclaimed.
"Bless you," said Kai, then grinned as Tadibya gave him a very odd look. Once she'd said that, a few others made the connection – Zorastrians were a very old religious movement, far predating Islam, and the "original" native religion of Iran. Likely to be heavily oppressed, these people were unlikely to be official in their movements either.
The team started moving again, driving slowly down the track towards the group. As they closed, the column of monks or adherents, or whatever they were, all started to move to the left side of the track – Marius echoed their movement, sliding to his left to give them as much clearance as possible. As he approached through, one individual, with a slightly more ornate hat than the rest stepped out directly into the front of the vehicle, and raised his hand in what was clearly a motion to stop.
For a moment, it looked like Marius was going to drive straight over him, but then the truck braked sharply, and came to a halt, just in front of the Zorastrian. He appeared completely unphased by this, and then uncorked a small container, poured some liquid into his hand and then started to flick it onto the truck, singing quietly as he did so.
The team looked at each other, and then back at the man – was he blessing their truck? Cursing it? Washing off bird droppings? Nobody knew, but they decided not to investigate, fearing that things could quickly go south, and at this stage, they just wanted to get the hell out of Iran. After a minute of singing and ritual wetting, the man turned away from the truck, without another word and resumed his place in the column, and then they headed on their way west. Marius started the truck and drove on into the dawn light, picking up speed as they transitioned from rough track to a cart track, then a single lane road, then back onto the highway.
They pressed on, driving as fast as they could, through Kordkuy and then around Gorgan, finally turning north onto highway seventy-three. Traffic picked up around them as dawn broke and the farmers drove to market and workers began their commutes. Hunter kept an eye on their speed, the traffic conditions and the map, working out their rate of advance and likely ETA at the border. As they left the town of Gorgan behind, he advised Kai that they were about an hour from the crossing, and he in turn poked Shimazu to call his fixer and see about the details for the crossing.
A quick phone call later, and they had a new destination – a desert area to the west of Alagol Lake, just shy of the border crossing. About thirty klicks from the border they turned off onto a dusty desert road, nothing more than compacted sand, and wound their way off into the wilderness. The green farmlands had given way to scrubland, and the area was barren and wild. After a few kilometres of bone jarring driving, the road suddenly swept upwards, climbing nearly six metres at a thirty degree slope as it climbed up the breach in a massive berm. They saw a few abandoned buildings at the base of the berm – maybe shepherds enclosures, maybe an old house… but they quickly attacked the sharp climb and then emerged onto a plateau of sandy rock and shale.
As they were driving along, Shimazu's phone rang - it was his fixer. He told the team to slow, and then flash their headlights a few times to mark their position. Marius complied, and ahead of them a huge plane just… appeared. Where once there was empty sky, now there was a large quad engine tilt rotor craft, the body a distended cigar shape, that looked capable of swallowing the truck whole. It approached them smoothly, the engine pods and props rotating as they transitioned from horizontal to vertical mode, until with a delicate touch it settled to a hover over the top of the truck. As it did so, the bottom panel of the plane split open, and two huge cargo doors split down the rear half of the fuselage. Four metahumans dropped down out of the craft on winch lines, large cargo hooks held in one hand, SMGs on friction straps in the other. Their faces were covered with full face dust mask, their heads wrapped in shemaghs but they looked… competent. They dropped to the ground and quickly attached their cargo hooks to fixing points on the truck, and then one after another gave a signal – hand circling fast in a winding motion, and the lines took in the slack and then started to lift the truck, up into the hold.
The engines started to tilt as the truck pulled into the hold, and they got a sense of forward motion. As the winches stopped, they realised that the truck was hanging, suspended in mid-air, the cargo doors still open underneath them as they flashed forwards over the hard and unyielding desert, probably no more than thirty metres in the air. The winch crew had swung themselves over to the edge of the bay, and transferred themselves to safety lines that ran the sides of the craft, and they busied themselves with tasks on various devices and electronic panels. Glancing down through the open doors, they could see when they crossed the border, recognising the huge rolls of barbed wire fence and the long snaking path of the minefield stretching out to either side of their route. About thirty minutes later, they felt the plane lurch again, as the pods rotated, and they slowly lost power and started to descend.
The crew connected themselves up to the winch line again, and as the truck started to lower from the bay, they received updated map co-ordinates – they were about a hundred and fifty kilometres north of the border now, halfway between the settlements of Ekerem and Kum Dag. As the crew started to unhook, the team received a short transmission, advising them of local conditions, how far north the main road was and checking they were good to go. Kai responded, and in the process dumped the codes and details of Rasheed and his family to them, recommending that there were a good stop off point for anyone heading for Tehran and needing a layover point.
The tiltwing angled away from them, the doors closing as the last of the crew cleared the opening, and dove down towards the coast, dropping almost level with them. As it headed north, it seemed to shimmer, and then just….fade from view. This time Tadibya was ready, and looking in astral space she caught a glimmer of the spell that wrapped light around the vehicle snapping into place, and the spirit that concealed it – two layers of magical protection, on top of the camo paint scheme. No doubt their electronic deception measures were just as competent…
The team stopped, checked the fuel supply and looked at the map. They'd used four hundred kilometres or so of fuel getting here, leaving them with about a thousand kilometres of range – but it was nearly thirteen hundred kilometres to Tashkent. Time to head for the main road, and work out where they could refuel – hopefully using real money…
Marius slipped the truck into gear and started to pull away.