Earth. Russia. Somewhere in Siberia
Three years ago. A month before Petrovich's death.
"And how do I start it or activate it, how does it even work?" I asked the old man.
"You shouldn't talk about this with me, but with those who came up with all this and created it. We've simply built on their work," he replied.
"I don't understand," I looked at him in surprise.
"What's so hard to understand?" Petrovich shrugged. "We didn't invent or invent anything. We found a ready-made portal stone, as our people called it, and then, albeit with difficulty, we were able to activate it." He paused. "The stone was actually found a long time ago, during the time of the father of the last emperor of the Russian Empire. During a polar expedition. And from then until now, it lay tucked away in the basements of the Secret Chancellery, then the NKVD special storage facility, then the KGB, until one of our curious employees stumbled upon a photo of it in some old magazine. That's where we pulled it out. We were primarily interested in the symbols on its surface. We were looking for something else at the time, and this artifact fit the general description. But we soon realized we were seriously mistaken. The stone was so old it was beyond all imaginable. There simply wasn't anyone around at the time who could have created it, let alone made it from such material."
- Then who made it?
"Probably those who once came with it or delivered it here. Our scientists have never deciphered the writing on its surface. But it doesn't belong to any script on Earth. They don't even have any family ties here. Therefore, we had only one hypothesis: this artifact is of completely extraterrestrial origin. That's when we began working on it in earnest."
"Unbelievable!" I was amazed. "But how do I get it to start?"
"Well, that's where it's all quite simple. We made an activator. It's probably still working, since it's completely manual. But even if it isn't, you can still insert everything yourself, although it will take a little more time. It works by selecting the desired character. This is apparently how the coordinates of the transition point are set. I can't say more. However, there are a lot of different character sequences. If only you had come to us then. We would have made a lot more."
"Got it," I nodded.
Petrovich took out a piece of paper:
"Here, these are the coordinates we've managed to verify, and the ones from which we've received a positive response, at a minimum, for at least the closest match to Earth's atmosphere. Remember this sequence especially. It's the longest, and surprisingly, it has the greatest agreement. More accurately, it's a complete match with our gravity and air composition, though only if samples are taken in the taiga or Amazon. Conclusion. The technological residual exhaust from a random air sample taken there is small, meaning there's no significant high technology there, or it's long since outgrown that period. However, it's just like in other successful transitions: if there are civilizations there, they're either not technologically advanced or, on the contrary, have long since outgrown our level."
I looked at the strange, somehow unimaginably alien signs.
"Indeed, no human could have come up with such a thing." I had no doubt about it. "But who?"
"You'll learn them by heart and destroy them. No one else must know about them. And anyway. If you ever have to use this last option, it'll be a one-way ticket for you, so cut off all ties. No one can follow you. The entire facility is mined. I'll tell you how to activate the timer. Everything is designed to ensure that nothing gets to anyone who tries to use the artifact later. Destroying it yourself is very difficult; it's created practically from a single piece of a strange iron alloy. But there is one removable part. We tested it. After removing it, the artifact works for five seconds and then shuts off. And without it, it will never activate again. Replacing it with a full copy is impossible; the portal won't work anyway. We called this part the key. When you leave, take it with you. Just to be sure." He handed me another piece of paper. "This is the part itself and a diagram for removing it from the solid structure." And he fixed his steely gaze on me. - Did you understand this?
"Yes," I nodded slowly.
"Okay, then." And he got to what I thought was the most important point. "A human has never crossed through a portal."
"How is this possible?!" I thought indignantly.
My pantomime made absolutely no impression on the old man.
"Only animals," he continued. "However, even in this case, we noticed something curious, and therefore you will need to take our observations into account when teleporting." He glanced at me. "Our scientists have suggested that there are certain laws that are immutable constants for any world. This has been confirmed in seven cases out of the nine transitions that have been completed. And you will need to memorize them. First. Don't bring any high-tech items with you. During the transition, they have the dangerous property of exploding with completely different consequences. And this happens almost always. Second. Forget about food from this world; it can become poison in the next. So you will need to leave it here too. Third. To avoid being left naked there, look for things made of natural materials without any synthetic admixtures. And lastly. Weapons, as you understand, are indispensable. Everyone should be able to protect their lives. However, you can immediately throw away various firearms and the like." It's been tested on everything: either it simply falls apart, or it ends in explosions. The only thing we managed to smuggle in and confirm its existence during those few minutes while the most basic camera was transmitting footage were forged items, handmade. So, take care of that too. And finally, I recommend finding gold or silver in bars, coins, jewelry, and the like. It's a universal metal, accepted everywhere. I think that's pretty self-explanatory. He paused. "I hope you won't have to take my advice, but you should know this."
Petrovich was right on target then. I needed to know that.
Village
A month ago"Granny, can you whip up a suit like that for me? I'll pay," I said to the old woman selling various small items near the train station, with sly, mischievous, yet youthful eyes in a wrinkled face that didn't show a trace of age.
I ended up in this remote village because my further path lay deep into the taiga, where the object was located that the old man once told me about.
She looked at me in surprise.
- Why do you need it?
"Well, I'm an actor," I began to explain, "we need homespun clothes for the production. Where can you find such skilled craftsmen in the capital these days? So a friend recommended I take a stroll through the countryside. I need a couple of suits made, like everyday clothes, or something similar. I'll pay for everything."
"Ah," she nodded understandingly, "you've got that right, grandson. You probably don't even know what a loom looks like."
"Well, I saw it in a picture," I answered, rummaging through my memory.
"In the picture," the old lady grumbled and shook her head disapprovingly.
I asked her again:
- So, will you take it? And for how much? I won't offend you.
She calculated something in her head, looked at me with an appraising glance and answered:
"Sorry, my dear, but no less than five thousand for each suit. And it'll take about seven days."
I nodded:
"Agreed. I'm in no hurry right now." He then asked, "Could you tell me where your hotel is? I'll stay there."
"Well, it's not there," the old lady shrugged, "and it never was. No one ever comes to visit us. You'll be the first one in ten years. No one even goes past the station. They only jump out of the engines for a moment, and then they're rolling on again." She pointed to the departing train, the one I'd arrived on.
- I see, but what should we do then?
Actually, I was asking myself this, but grandma heard it.
- If you want, you can stay at my place. I'll take some.
"Yes, of course," I nodded in agreement, "that would be even better. Just... am I disturbing you?"
"Who are you bothering there?! Although..." She looked me over again. "If you hurt my granddaughter, I'll curse you."
"I won't offend you," I answered briefly, remembering Lera.
I don't know, but for some reason I immediately believed that the old woman could really curse. If I believed the tale of a portal to another world, then why couldn't I have met an old witch woman with her little granddaughter along the way?
"Well then, let's go, my dear," she invited. "It's not far. And there won't be any trains today." And she quickly gathered her simple belongings.
I adjusted my usual gray travel bag on my shoulder, in which I had nothing but a weapon, a couple of towels, a washing and shaving kit, a toothbrush, a few T-shirts, a jacket, a sweater and another pair of shoes... Although no, there was still something in there.
Suburb of a large city
A few days before that- Listen, Rusty, are you sure that this weakling should have any money?
– I saw him shaking the wad when he paid at the cafe. That's enough for us.
"Quiet, idiots, there he comes," hissed the third one, who was standing on guard.
A young man of about twenty was walking leisurely down the street toward them. He was wearing a simple dark jacket and jeans. His hair was tousled, a straw-colored color. A bag was slung over his shoulder. He approached the turn where the thugs were hiding.
"Hey, kid, do you have a light?" The old, hackneyed phrase that usually starts everything.
But after that, "everything" went completely differently than the brothers had expected. Khlyupik turned around, and they noticed a bagpipe in his hand. Without even straightening his arm, he immediately shot Rusty in the leg.
"You," he said very calmly, "squeak a word and you'll all lie down here. Understood?"
Rusty whines, the other two just stare blankly at the gun in the unknown man's hand.
Tom apparently got tired of waiting for an answer and pointed his weapon at the next one.
– Nod if you understand.
All three, even the wounded bandit, nodded in unison. Only now did it dawn on them that they'd run into some kind of thug who couldn't care less whether they existed or not.
"Good. That's already a result." He glanced at them and asked point-blank: "Which of the locals has the most cash?"
They didn't even think of denying it, such steel sounded in their voices.
- At Gosha the Fighter's.
- Address?
One of the bandits quickly named it.
"Thank you," the stranger thanked them politely and walked away down the street just as calmly as he had walked before.
"They'll kill us," the wounded Rusty squeaked quietly and fearfully. All his pride had vanished.
"They won't have time," the most reasonable of them answered quietly, looking at his accomplices. "Nothing happened, and we saw nothing, didn't meet anyone, and didn't tell anyone anything. And you got hurt while picking mushrooms in the forest. And anyway, we weren't in town today. Understood?"
"Hey, what about your leg?" the wounded man asked in a whiny and frightened voice.
"You better think about your head." He tapped the other one on the forehead, hinting at another new hole in it. Noticing how it was starting to sink in, he said to the second one: "Let's drag him away. I know a girl who can fix him up."
And the three hobbled away, and on the spot, except for a shell casing that had rolled into the sewer hatch and a fairly large blood stain, nothing remained.
Suburb of a large city. Cottage community"
Look who's screwing around over there?" the heavyset man ordered one of his bodyguards.
A few minutes pass. Calm, quiet footsteps are heard from the hallway.
- Sherman, who's there?
Georgy Yerkola, better known in town as Gosha the Wrestler for his youthful passion for wrestling, didn't know why Pyotr Yegorov was nicknamed Sherman, and never cared. Now he looked nothing like the fit, strong man who had been the region's hope in many competitions. He was too flabby and overweight. He'd neglected himself. His skin was shiny, his chin was double, his cheeks were drooping. But no one would have told him so to his face.
Back in the 1990s, Gosha turned to crime, which he considered more profitable for his reputation and his pocket. Back then, this small-time gangster formed a gang that took over all the retail outlets on the outskirts of town. There were gatherings, shootouts, showdowns, and shootouts. Drug and arms dealing. Racketeering. Blackmail. Kidnappings. But Borets was lucky. The bullets always missed. Everyone with him or around him was killed, and he rose higher and higher. And now he's one of the most influential people in the city. So he couldn't even imagine that someone could just walk into his house and take something from him. Just like they used to do.
The doors open. Another bodyguard rushes towards them, but falls with a bullet in his shoulder.
"A wrestler?" the blond guy asks the authority figure sitting on the couch.
"Do you even realize who you're dealing with?!" Gosha yells, getting furious and getting up from the couch. "I'll bury you alive! You're..."
Borets didn't have time to finish telling him what this boy was supposed to do to him, because the boy calmly raised his hand with a pistol and shot him in the leg.
"I'm asking once, then one of your people will tell me. How much money do you have in the house and where is it?"
The kingpin starts to spin his head around, trying to either think of something or buy himself some time. But the young man raises his hand and fires another shot. This time he's shot the bandit lying on the floor in the arm.
- Where?
It finally dawns on the former racketeer that someone just as tough, if not much tougher, has come for him. And fear fills him. He wants to live. He likes living. He's gotten used to his existence. He grasps at this straw, hoping to bargain it away.
"The safe is in the basement. There's an alarm. Only I can turn it off. And a combination lock."
"Let's go." The guy points his gun at the door.
The fighter struggles to his feet and, dragging his shot leg, stomps over there. He has a chance. There's a pistol in the safe. He'll make it in time.
The young man slowly follows him.
"Now you'll dance to my tune," Gosha thinks joyfully, "if only I could get there. And then you'll be covered in blood, you bastard."
Here's the door he needs. He disables the alarm and approaches the safe. He pauses deliberately to make sure his companion is there.
"Now." A happy thought flashes through his head as he opens the safe door, grabs the pistol lying on the edge, and turns around sharply.
But the guy who escorted him is no longer there.
Clap. And the heavy body falls.
That's how I got my money. Plus a fair amount of jewelry. I also bought silver and gold bullion, in small quantities, wherever I could, trying to keep a low profile. Pawn shops, workshops, and antique stores were especially helpful.
I didn't buy a gun. It was too early for that, and if it's something truly valuable, official places require a permit. And after that incident, I decided not to get involved with criminals for now. Although I didn't care anymore. I was cutting ties. I won't be coming back here again.
Village
A month agoI grabbed the old lady's bundle and she led me into the depths of their small village.
There was a strange ringing sound.
"Do you have a little church here somewhere?" I asked, looking around.
- No, it's Nilych who's making something in his forge again.
"So you have a forge here too?" I asked in surprise.
It felt like they were made to order, exactly what I was looking for. If only I could find a leatherworker to make me a jacket and shoes, it would be perfect. But then I realized that was just wishful thinking. True, I'd already considered moccasins several times. They're easy to make. Comfortable to walk on. But they wear out quickly. Oh well, we'll see.
"Well, it's not a forge," the old woman shrugged, "but there's a blacksmith. He can mend some pots and do some other little things."
– Do you think he knows how to forge knives or swords?
"Why do you need it?" the old lady asked warily.
"It's all for the same reason," I waved my hand, "it's just that if we have anything forged there, it's at exorbitant prices and you need a special permit, but here… Maybe we can come to an agreement with him?"
"Then go and see him," the grandmother calmed down. "He's a smart guy, I think you'll be able to negotiate. Just don't agree to drink with him or play cards. He'll leave you without pants, the bald devil."
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I said, smiling at the recommendation. After a moment's silence, I remembered I still hadn't asked the old lady's name, nor had I introduced myself. "Sorry, I forgot to ask. What's your name? They call me Stepan."
"Styopa, then," the old woman nodded, "a good name, ours. And mine is Agrippina Nilovna."
"Nice to meet you," I smiled.
While we were walking, I asked my companion about the surrounding area; I needed to understand how to move on, about the village itself and what was there.
It turns out, not very many. For example, only Nilych has a TV. True, the power goes out periodically here. And it only shows one channel.
Basically, the locals live like it was the time of King Pea or even earlier. But they don't particularly worry about it. There wasn't even a grocery store here—or rather, there was one, but it was a traveling one, so to speak, and this department store on wheels opened very rarely, barely once a month. Only occasionally, when their pensions were delivered.
The local population had practically no money, and the few unusual goods they had, like candy or sugar, were resold to them by the guides.
That's why, by the way, homespun clothing is so popular. As I understand it, it's easier to make everything yourself than to buy it. Since there's no one to buy it from and nothing to buy.
So, while chatting, we reached a small hut, I almost said "on chicken legs." But there didn't seem to be any in sight.
"There's Anyuta pottering around in the garden," said grandma, nodding towards the area behind the house.
Now it's clear why she was worried about her. If her granddaughter had shown up at a beauty pageant casting, all the other contestants would have been disqualified for not meeting the standards. Such natural beauty, femininity, tenderness, and ease shone through in the girl that it was hard to miss, and she did so without any makeup.
"Granny!" she cried, only then noticing me. "Oh, who's that with you?" She asked, a little embarrassed, trying to smooth back her disheveled hair.
"Well, she brought us a guest for a week and a client for you. He wants you to make him some clothes. We agreed on five thousand a set, he wants two," she said proudly.
The girl's eyes became huge.
"But, Grandma..." Anyuta wanted to object. However, the old woman stopped her:
- Don't worry, he's already agreed.
The girl just nodded and, picking up a bucket with some weeds, went behind the house.
"Just take out the trash and come back. You can make some arrangements with her while you're at it. She'll even take your measurements."
"Okay," I nodded.
We walked into the house. A small, clean, cozy room-entryway, and then, apparently, a second, larger one. But we stopped in the entryway.
"You'll sleep here," Agrippina Nilovna pointed to a spot by the window. "We'll put a folding bed there. It's a comfortable corner. It's warm. And there are no drafts. And we'll be there, in the room," she said, waving her hand toward the door.
"Thank you," I thanked the old lady, "otherwise I would have had to look for a place to stay for the night somewhere."
"It would be worth it," she waved her hand. But it was clear she liked my gratitude.
And then Anyuta came. And my desire to escape to another world somehow immediately faded into the background. But, looking into her pure, smiling face, I remembered another one, the one I couldn't protect.
"I have to," I kicked myself, "it will be better this way. Sooner or later they will find me, and if something else happens to her, I will never forgive myself."
So I tried to turn into stone and not notice this sweet, friendly and naive creature.
"No," was my constant thought these days.
I stayed in the village for five days. During that time, Anyuta sewed me not only two suits, but also a nice thick jacket with several inside pockets and something resembling a backpack or knapsack. When I asked for this, she didn't even ask why I needed it; she just nodded.
Besides, Nilych and I forged me a couple of knives. He'd never done anything like this before, but he agreed, especially after I beat him at cards five times in a row. The knives weren't exactly high quality, but they were well-balanced and made entirely from natural materials. An alloy of iron, copper, and some other secret additives of Nilych's that reeked of moonshine, plus wooden handles.
"It's time for me to go," I said to the girl in the evening before leaving, looking at the crimson sunset.
We've been sitting here on the bench in front of the house a lot these last couple of days, and grandma's stopped looking at me sideways.
"You're not staying?" Anya asked.
- No.
"You've been avoiding me. Do you have a girlfriend?" She looked me inquisitively in the eyes.
"Not anymore," I answered quietly.
"I'm sorry." I don't know what she saw there, but Anyuta exhaled just as quietly. Trusting some feminine intuition of hers, she immediately understood everything correctly and even reached out to stroke my shoulder, but then pulled it back, a little frightened. "I'm sorry," she said again.
I nodded:
"No one knew, and I don't want something like this to happen to you again. That's why I have to go."
The girl asked in surprise:
- You're not preparing to die, are you?
– In that case, do they really buy new clothes, and such unusual ones at that?
"Some, yes," she nodded seriously.
"No, Anyut, I'm getting ready to live. And that's why I'm here."
The girl looked at me:
"I believe you." She leaned in slowly, then, looking me straight in the eyes, quickly kissed me on the lips. "May he bring you good luck," she said quickly, jumped up, and ran into the house.
And her grandmother came out to me.
"So I take it you're leaving?" she looked at me with the same sly squint as on the first day.
- Yes, I must.
Agrippina Nilovna sat down next to her.
"Don't worry about Anyuta," she began slowly, looking off to the side. "She can't see as far as I can. But I can clearly see the death you're trying to keep away from us."
"Thank you," I thanked the old woman sincerely. "You understand that we can't hide her here forever? She needs to adapt to the world out there," I said, pointing somewhere in the direction of the road.
- Yes.
I got up, went into the house, took my bag and returned to the old woman.
"Here," he said, pulling out all the cash I had left, "there's plenty here. Enough to buy an apartment, pay for her studies, and still have some left over for living, if I don't go overboard." He pulled out some jewelry: "And this is for Anya personally, as a keepsake."
Nilovna looked at me attentively:
- You're not an actor.
"As if you didn't already know," I chuckled.
"Okay, I'll think about it," she said.
"No," I shook my head, "don't think about it. Just do it. Take Nilych with you—I understand he's your younger brother—and go to the city. The three of you. With his character and yours, you'll be fine there. Anyuta needs to study, and now you have the resources to do it."
She looked at my face for a long moment.
"Thank you," the grandmother said sincerely.
I nodded:
"This is my retribution. I must leave something to this world. And let it be a future for Anya. I couldn't do better now anyway."
Agrippina Nilovna sighed and went into the house, taking what I gave her.
And in the morning, at sunrise, I left. Like the hero of some B-movie. Into the fog and dew.
For a long time, I felt the greenish gaze of the most beautiful girl I'd ever met on my back. But she wasn't for me. I tried to do everything I could for her now.
These were the last people I spoke to in this world.
"Granny," asked the young girl, "do you think he'll come back?"
"Would you like that?" Agrippina Nilovna asked, looking at her granddaughter.
"Very." The girl's cheeks flushed. "He's kind and good. But strange. I don't understand," she glanced at her grandmother, "what's wrong with him."
"It's all true," the old woman answered quietly, "except for one thing. Everyone near him is doomed to die. And that's why he wants to drag her down with him."
"He wants to die?!" the girl exclaimed in fear.
"No," Nilovna replied. "I don't know what he was planning, but he's thought of something." And the very old woman, who had lived on this earth for almost three hundred years, looked out the window. "May he succeed," she quietly wished. And then she turned to her adopted daughter or granddaughter, the girl she had found as a baby in the middle of the dense forest: "We're moving to the city." And under her breath, she muttered: "It's been a while since I've been out of here. What was around here? I think it was the Siberian province and Tobolsk. But I can't remember exactly. I'll have to ask Nilych. Otherwise, with these trains, you can't figure out what's what."
"But money?!" Anyuta looked at her in surprise.
"Say thank you to your Stepan, he provided you with a dowry. Oh!" The old woman leaped to the window. "He asked me to give it to you yesterday. How could I have forgotten?" She laid a handful of jewelry in front of the girl. "As a keepsake of him."
And only after these words did both the elderly woman and the girl understand that they would never see this incomprehensible, strange man again.
"God bless you, Stepanushka," the girl said tenderly and looked out the window towards the forest, where a darkening figure disappeared behind the trees.
NowI'd been making my way to the right place for three weeks now. Petrovich hadn't warned me that the facility was located in the middle of the swamps on a small island.
"I hope nothing gets flooded there," I thought, wading knee-deep in some kind of slush.
Good thing I thought of packing all my things tightly in cellophane back in the village.
It seems like he never fell through, but he was covered in mud from head to toe.
I guess my appearance saved me.
As I was climbing a fairly steep bank, a soldier in camouflage passed by and didn't notice me. Incidentally, I didn't notice him either, until the very last moment. He moved skillfully, very quietly, expertly. I quickly ducked.
This is the worst case scenario that Petrovich warned me about.
Three years ago
"Don't expect this place to go undiscovered. Sooner or later, they'll dig up information about me. It's only a matter of time. And so, when you get there, your opponents will already be there," the old man said. "So, proceed with that in mind." He looked at me with narrowed eyes. "Prepare for battle as soon as you get there. But it can be avoided if you can get here undetected." Petrovich then sketched out the complex's grounds. "There's a large sewer here that's not marked on the map. It was completed much later. You can enter the complex through it." "Well, you know what to do from here."
NowI planned my route exactly this way.
Of course, I had foolishly hoped that there was no one there, but, as they say, hope for the best, but prepare for war. And so now I was approaching the island from this side, which wasn't the most convenient for entry. But not far from here is the entrance to that very sewer the old man had spoken of.
But there were posts and small mobile groups here too. In total, I counted four camouflaged firing points and three mobile groups, each controlling its own area.
Forget about sneaking in there during the day. But we'll do it now, because my opponents are even better prepared for a nighttime infiltration. After all, the people there think like the old man.
But I'm not him, and that's why...
What do we have?
I look around, examining the area in front of the hatch.
I can pick them all off from here, especially if I catch the moment when all three patrols appear in the same firing zone. But there are probably several cameras on the site that will cause a general uproar. I need to find a different approach. Or distract them?
No. I need at least a few minutes of calm and relatively safe movement around the complex.
If you recall the old man's instructions, the self-destruct timer counts down to ten minutes. But if you tinker with the fuse a bit, you can set the minimum general alarm time and reset it to just one minute. Petrovich explained how to do it. That means I'll have about nine minutes.
During this time, I need to make my way to the teleportation stone and activate it. The old man said it would take about three minutes if I hurried, but in fully manual mode, it would take about seven minutes. Then the portal would activate almost instantly. That means I need to climb in unnoticed.
And then I look around at the stationary and mobile patrols that control the institute's territory.
"Why bother, actually?" I grinned.
After all, I essentially need to move freely around the complex itself, not the entire facility. And I've memorized the internal paths. We'll be a little brazen. But I need a dedicated patrol.
And I crawled along the island, looking out for firing points, their control by the security system and moving patrols.
That's what I need. I found a blind spot where one of the patrols is crossing. He'll be there for about thirty seconds. That should be enough.
I climb down the island's shore and crawl behind the bushes. I undress. Then I put on the clothes Anyuta sewed for me. It feels so good. I even feel a warmth spread through my body. It's a shame I got a little dirty, but I'll wash it off later, if that "later" happens.
Next. I put everything I'm not wearing in my knapsack. Moccasins on my feet. They're my shoes now. My jacket on top. I stuff gold and silver into the pockets. I button them up. I shift, checking that everything fits snugly and doesn't rustle. I throw my spare clothes and another pair of moccasins into the knapsack and put it on. I pull it close to my body. It's more secure this way, and it won't stand out too much. And most importantly, it doesn't get in the way.
Next up, the knives. I put them on my belt. I made special wooden sheaths for them. I stuffed the pistols and magazines into my pockets; I was going to throw them away anyway.
Okay, I'm ready. But I need thirty seconds for something completely different. Let's play ninja.
I'm in enemy territory.
The patrolman is in sight. Now no one is monitoring him.
I wait for a step and a slight forward lean.
Shot.
The body falls, continuing to move forward.
Quickly to him.
What a lucky guy! His clothes fit perfectly over the ones I'm wearing. A machine gun over his shoulder. A radio on his belt.
I'll run through it quickly. I made it.
And just as slowly as this patrolman, I move on.
Next time someone will show up here in another circle. But by then I'll be in the sewer.
I walk, precisely following the deceased's route. Turn around.
New dead zone.
His partner takes a few steps forward and disappears around the corner of some outbuilding.
I slip to the hatch. I open the lid and climb down. I put the lid back. That's it, I'm inside.
It's good that Petrovich gave me such a wonderful gift as a reserve detonator, and it's located nearby.
I walk a couple hundred meters underground. It's muddy, but surprisingly dry. It seems like the object is in the middle of a swamp...
And here's the door I'm looking for. A hidden lever. I open a small, secret niche. It contains only one remote control, but what an important one!
I enter the code. The code is accepted. And then follow the instructions.
"That's it," I noted, seeing the report running, "now I have ten minutes and no turning back."
Moving in the right direction. Three steps. One more step.
I hear voices above me. Right where the exit is.
I carefully approach the hatch.
Two people are talking. Someone's shrill voice is answered by someone calm and measured. The words are indistinct.
I'm getting ready.
Door. Exit. Sliding up and forward.
There were not two, but three people in the office.
A shot at the most dangerous one, the one I didn't notice. He was sitting awkwardly and could reach me. That's why the first bullet was his.
I move half a step closer to the wall and begin to squat.
Another shot. The second one falls.
The shrill voice belonged to a fat man in an FSB general's uniform. Shot. No more tails. Besides, they won't be tracking my connections now. I've made my decision. Anyuta and her grandmother are safe. I need to move on.
I approach the second door. I listen. There's no one in the hallway. I open it slightly and peek out. I see someone's silhouette around the corner. But it's far away. I slip out of the office. Five silent steps.
The enemy was around the corner. He estimated his height by the shadow. And, without leaning out, holding out only his hand, he shot him in the head.
Step forward. Finish him off.
Now I have to go down two levels. The testing ground is there.
There are two more at the next turn, but they don't expect an attack from behind.
Two shots merged into one.
Okay, here's the right staircase. I'm going down. I'm taking my time. It's dim here, and the last thing I need is to screw up the operation because I didn't notice a broken step.
The necessary passage. I open the door and see the glow of welding. Someone is trying to break into the lab or weld the door shut. I don't need this.
Three quick steps. They're trying to break into another room. The others have already been breached. Three targets. Just like the quiet shots that rang out in the silence of the basement.
The door doesn't seem to have been sabotaged. I can get in by entering a code. I try it. The code is accepted. But the door is jammed. I cut the hinges. This takes time, and now I don't have the cover from behind I was hoping for. But I'm glad they didn't get inside.
I walk in. Everything is exactly as Petrovich described.
I approach the portal stone. The symbols on its surface don't seem so alien to me. But there's no time to examine them. There's not even time for manual activation.
I peer into the device once created by the old man's subordinates to activate this portal stone. It works. So, my efforts weren't in vain, and there's a chance.
I enter the first symbol. The second. The third.
I hear some noise from above. But no one is coming down to the basement yet.
I enter the remaining symbols and head for the door. I stack the corpses on top of each other. It's some kind of protection, but it's still protection. I take off my paratrooper camouflage, leaving only my new clothes. I can't drag into another world something it might not accept. There's no doubt about me. I'll get through. If the portal opens, I'll get through.
Steps on the stairs.
The activator only needs to enter three more symbols. This means a fight is inevitable.
I load fresh magazines into my weapon and lie down behind the door slab. It will provide the element of surprise. They will check the bodies and the room beyond. The machine gun is nearby. When the noise starts, it doesn't matter what the gun will be. That's it, I'm ready. For death or a new life, I don't know. But I'm ready.
Two people are walking. They're checking the open door and the bodies lying there. True, I could have hidden among them. But I'm not there.
They come closer. Three more appear behind them.
I raise my weapon and shoot at those who are coming first. They fall back.
Return fire.
I pick up the machine gun. Now I need five seconds to extract the key. I fire suppressive fire. Not trying to kill or wound anyone. I just need to drive them up the stairs. Which is what I did.
I throw down all my weapons. And approach the portal stone. Here is the key. Click here. Move here. And it is in my hands. Now forward. No time for doubt or nervousness. I only have a few seconds until the portal is open.
New world, here I come!
I take a step into the slightly trembling mirror surface.
There's nothing. Emptiness and some passing stars.
But now one of them is rushing straight at me. I'm about to be crushed, flattened against its surface.
But I take another step. And step off the portal stone lying on some strange surface.
"Well, hello, new unknown world," I think.
And then a strangely familiar sound is heard. The sound of battle.
"At least I'm not alone here," I grinned, looking around and sneaking towards the raging battle.