Eyes barely open, everything is in a fog... I am already immersed in the capsule... a friend stands nearby, but his face is indistinguishably far away... — I did as we agreed back then... when everything is ready, I will find you and wake you... they must be stopped, nothing will stop him now... — And if things don't go according to plan... what should I do... if everything works out... after waking up I will need to do everything quickly...

  I dozed off a bit and woke up from a sharp jolt and the vibration of the helicopter's hull. The roar of the blades pressed on my temples even through the standard-issue headphones; the air was dry, smelling of heated metal and kerosene. I didn't immediately realize where I was—my whole body was shaking with a fine, persistent tremor. A strange short dream, like a delirious vision with distorted objects... fragments of phrases without meaning. My helmet lay on my lap. I grabbed it, checked the fastenings, and put it on. The internal interface flared up with a soft white light.

  — Alexander, do you copy. You are safe. A stress reaction is detected. I recommend respiratory normalization. Laura's voice seemed to put the world back in its place and, for a second, returned me to the quiet hum of the bathyscaphe's cabin. — Laura... you're here, — I exhaled. — Where are we now? — The flight has lasted 2 hours and 13 minutes. Geolocation signal is unavailable, there is no connection to the helicopter's control system. According to estimates, we are 43% of the way to the port of Varandey. — What is the port of Varandey? — Our destination point. An oil shipping terminal, industrial platforms, a transport hub. Located on the coast of the Barents Sea. Partially flooded in 2034, after which the infrastructure was moved further south, taking flood forecasts into account. The last information update was in 2039. The relevance of the data is low. — Your memory archive can be deleted... — I muttered. — So you don't know what's there now? — Correct. External communication sources are unavailable. The information update was unsuccessful. — Alright. Over and out, — I cut her off.

  I took off the helmet, and the roar of the helicopter hit my head again; I winced, putting the headphones back on. Sergey threw a quick glance at me over his shoulder and focused on the flight again. I caught my breath and tried to distract myself—from the emptiness in my memory, from the questions without answers.

  Outside the porthole, the world was cold and alien. The dark ridges of the Urals slowly floated by at the horizon—sharp, as if laid bare after centuries of climatic shifts. Deep cracks intersected the slopes, like traces of old fault lines. Old snow lay in the shadows of the hollows, dimly reflecting the light. The further north we went, the poorer the landscape became. The taiga thinned out, not dying, but rather fading. Where there used to be moist valleys, dry gray plains now stretched out. Rivers had shifted their courses and broken down into thin shining threads between stone ribs.

  — Alexander, — Sergey's voice broke through the noise of the rotors. — We have a meeting point. A couple of kilometers from Varandey. The coordinates are already loaded. When we arrive, there will be a short communication session. The client will initiate it. Then we wait. — Wait for what? — I asked. — For further instructions.

  I looked at him more closely. Sergey rarely looked uncertain. Now he resembled a man with a half-assembled puzzle who continues to put it together out of inertia. — Sergey... who are they? The ones who tasked you with finding me? He nodded, as if expecting the question. — I'll tell you everything I know. But I warn you right away—it's not much. He exhaled and continued: — A few months ago, I received the first message. Not from a number and not from an address—from an identifier that shouldn't exist on civilian networks. Secure transmission. A couple of phrases: "Find the target. Target: Alexander". Your data, approximate coordinates. And an advance payment. — Who sent it? — It was signed with just one word: Vulnos. Without explanations. At first, I thought it was a mistake or someone's prank. But an hour later, a second packet arrived—confirmation and keys. Moreover, everything was at a very serious level. Such a level of encryption is used either by military structures or AI clusters.

  I felt something tighten in my chest. — Do you think it's the military? — No, I don't think so. I just don't know for sure, and I don't like to guess. The messages concerned the assignment. No dialogue. No explanations. Only coordinates, search status, route adjustments, and instructions to keep the target alive. The ultimate goal is to deliver to the evacuation point. He fell silent. — But why do they need me? — I asked. — What do they want? Sergey shook his head. — Not a single hint. All information flows one way. I execute. They observe. — Aren't you afraid of this uncertainty? — I asked. He chuckled. — I am. Only an idiot wouldn't be. But if I hadn't taken the contract, someone else would have. Everything would have happened differently, and not necessarily for the better. And now... — he glanced at me over his shoulder. — Now at least I know that our efforts were not in vain. It's not even about the imminent completion of the mission, its success, and certainly not about the reward for it. My gut tells me that this whole story is worth something more than finding an old friend. Time will tell! As they say... And right now we are just approaching the evacuation point.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Sergey's answers did not clarify the situation much, and there was no time left to overthink it. — Sergey, we have about 5 minutes of flight left, we're almost there, — Farid reported, pointing with his hand to an approximate spot ahead.

  Outside the window, Varandey was already clearly visible. As we approached it, the straight lines of old roads, sunken embankments, and tracks of vehicle columns emerged. Then—low metal hangars, masts, warehouses with collapsed walls. An interesting place where civilization had tried to take hold through the incredible efforts of thousands of people, but quickly retreated back as soon as the efforts weakened.

  The helicopter flew a little further, and in the direct clearance between two hills, I saw a lone cinder-block house. Square, squat, almost intact. It stood too perfectly, as if it had been left here intentionally. — Looks like this is the meeting point, the coordinates match the given ones, — said Sergey. — Farid, look for a landing spot.

  Having flown around the place in a semicircle, the helicopter began its descent. It landed unevenly, with a short roll across the wind-scorched landing pad. The blades were still spinning when the engine began to reduce its RPMs, and the roar settled into a heavy, viscous noise. — We work fast, — said Sergey. — We can't stay parked for long. — I'm on comms. If anything happens—I'll give the signal immediately, — Farid nodded. He remained in the cabin without taking off his headset, and immediately shifted his gaze to the instrument panel. Several screens came to life with graphs and markers after his swift finger manipulations on the dashboard. He checked the radar, then the sky, then the radar again, as if hoping to see something between the frames.

  We stepped outside, and the wind instantly hit our faces. The house stood about two hundred meters from us, on the slope of a hill. Broken windows, a skewed porch, a low leaning fence that looked more like a palisade enclosure. — Cozy, — Sergey chuckled, looking at the house. — Looks empty, I didn't notice any tracks leading to the house during the approach.

  We headed toward the house along an old path; fine gravel mixed with sand and dry grass crunched underfoot. The closer we got, the more distinctly I felt a strange tension—as if the place itself were watching us. Sergey walked slightly ahead at a steady, measured pace, frequently casting glances at the sky—a habit honed over the years. — Listen! I too have been wanting to understand all this time why they need you, — He stopped abruptly and turned to me. — It's important to me, so that I can leave you here with peace of mind. Especially after that fire show on the lake... — I don't think you should worry too much, — I replied, interrupting him. — After thinking a bit about your "client" during the flight, I realized one thing. Whoever is meeting me here will not harm me... because he has been looking for me for a very long time, persistently looking. And if the bathyscaphe is already lying in pieces at the bottom of that lake, what stopped them from taking me out in the air with a second missile? Or here, right after arrival—after all, only we and he know the coordinates of this house. Yes, it by no means rules out a threat... but I feel that I can trust this person... or these people, perhaps... this place. Ultimately, I have nothing to lose. So much effort, time, and resources have been spent to find me... they clearly need me alive! — Be that as it may, a meeting in a half-ruined house at the edge of the world—sounds reliable. Sergey chuckled slightly, then added more quietly: — Look. I was told: to get you here and wait for the signal. Once there is a signal or someone picks you up, then after that I am "out of the game". — I understand, — I nodded.

  — Then, before we enter the house, take this thing from me, — Sergey held out his hand, revealing a small gray box. — It's an emergency beacon, the signal of which I will track if you activate it. — And why do I need it? — I looked at him in bewilderment... and added after a short pause: — However, I understand... how do I turn it on? — There is only one button there—if necessary, when you feel danger, press it. The signal lasts for about 6 hours; when I receive it, I will be able to get to you quickly.

  I nodded, taking the beacon. We moved on. Before entering, Sergey peered through the window and, convinced that the house was safe, stepped onto the porch. He motioned with his hand for me to stay a little behind. With a small tug, the front door creaked but did not yield. And after a second effort, we stepped inside...