Jess nods to Koskov, then takes a swag from the flask and swallows the bitter liquid. She barely manages to contain the coughing, but tries to cover it with a smile.
"This reminds me why I never got into drinking. As for the piloting, Gaspadin General, one of my partners might be qualified. And I appreciate the offer of medical assistance - I'm sort of a field medic myself, but you wouldn't believe how often the boys manage to get themselves into trouble."
"It also is a good solvent for cleaning your weapons out in the field."
He helps Jess into the clearing where the smell of smokeless powder and high explosives pollute the otherwise crisp night air. Sasha comes out of the General's car with a large paramedic-like trauma kit.
"Sasha was the finest surgeon in the Russian army, until cutbacks forced her in a very early retirement. That's when I hired her as my own personal physician."
Sasha cracks a faint smile then looks over Jess and Harry's wounds. As she does so, Koskov walks over to the satchel.
"Well, let's see what our friends from above left us..."
Koskov reads the handwritten message inside the envelope:
Tell Nightengale that he shouldn't send boys to do a man's job. Next time you'll get more than a sack of rocks. -Wolf
The General then turns to the team.
"I believe you have a secret admirer. Good thing they have a sense of compassion and honor, otherwise I don't think any of us would be standing here right now."
"Well, I know when I'm wrong. Looks like you're not as bad as I thought you were. I'm gonna see about your chopper.. oh, by the way, where did your Uzbek friends go?"
(OOC: I'll edit that last statement if it's obvious, like they're lying dead around a train car or something)
"We share the same sentiments. Those Uzbek bastards went up with the car behind you. I'd say whoever wasn't killed in the initial explosion was killed when the car derailed. I see grease under your nails, no doubt the mechanic of the outfit. Can you fly a Kamov?"
Koskov looks directly at Artis then at his watch.
"I'd estimate that we have about fifteen minutes before a government patrol comes through here. We should be airborn and miles away in fifteen. Sasha, how are our friends doing over there?"
Sasha finishes up her triage of Jess and Harry.
"I wouldn't want them having to move anymore than they absolutely need to. We need to get them to hospital."
Koskov nods and looks back at Artis.
"Friend. I know of a military installation about 30 miles from here. My Kamov can get them there in no time. I promise safe harbor in exchange for your piloting services."
"Done and done." I'll help Sasha get our wounded people into the chopper. I'll also pick up Gregor on the way out, no sense leaving the poor bastard behind in the cold.
Artis climbs into the pilot seat and starts the pre-flight routine.
Uh...ok. It's been a while. Shit..where the hell is the horizon on thing? Oh...it must have been there...right where that bullet hole is. I hope the avionics survived the firefight.
After about 2 minutes of orientating himself of where everything was on the Russian heap, Artis give the A-OK for take-off.
The controls seems mushy and a bit unresponsive, but remembers that's just the way these Russian POS's are built. Koskov comes over the internal comm system.
"You'll want to be head due east. The military base shouldn't be more than 15 minutes away. Hopefully there's someone working the control tower...I'll do the talking."
The Kamov flies for about 5 minutes when Artis can hear some radio chatter come over his headset.
Attention unidentified aircraft. You are flying in restricted airspace of the Russian Confederation military. Alter your heading immediately to 270 degrees or your vehicle will be deemed hostile and be fired upon! I say again, alter your heading immediately to 270 degrees or your vehicle will be deemed hostile and be fired upon!
Artis knows was struggles not to be flippant, but this time knows when to shut up. He informs Koskov of the situation. He immediately replies.
"Hello Comrade. This is General Alexander Koskov of the Red Army. I have a medical emergency and request permission to land at your air field."
The line goes dead for a few long seconds then another voice comes on.
"This is Colonel Dehansky. Long time, no hear General. I proudly served under your command in Afghanistan...2nd Division, 1st Batallion. Permission to land is granted. I will have a medical team standing by upon your arrival."
After hearing the good news, Artis' deathgrip on the stick relaxes slightly. Minutes later he sees a small airstrip and what looks like rescue vehicles nearby.
The team lands at Pestova Air Base and is treated under the care of Sasha for next few weeks. Since everyone on the team spoke fluent Russian, the subterfuge of being Koskov's personal staff is bought by the military personel at the base. That's a good thing since everyone knows what happens to foreign spies in Russia.
Arrangements are made for the team to take a military transport plane heading to Vladivostok. In Vladivostok, contact is finally made with Agency HQ, London.
Nightengale here. Where the hell are you? It's been weeks since you last checked in.
Gatac
