Chapter Text
Kcchhhhhh…..
“Illu….report….sector sevente…”
“Shit, that's the distress signal.”
Kchhhhh….kch…
“Injured…unconc…taking him to…”
A man with salting dark hair strode calmly up past the pair of scrambling Ratniks, grey eyes scanning the map, gloved fingers tracing over the established campsites.
“Sector seventeen is pretty deep.” He commented, heavy Snezhnayan burr husky in the back of his throat.
“Yeah, we better suit up immediately. It'll take at least half a day to get there at a quick pace.” The brown haired lightkeeper was already pulling on his boots in the dusky light of the control room.
“Vanya, sit down.” The older man cast cold eyes on the younger, and waved away the other, sandy haired lightkeeper with a black leather glove. “Viktor, you as well.”
“But–”
“Commander, there's a bad snowstorm on the horizon, if we're going to leave, it needs to be–”
“And you idiots get caught in snow and die on way back.” He crossed his scarred arms over his chest, still staring at the map, brow furrowed.
“Sir…” Viktor's lips remained parted, trailing off at the truth of the situation.
“Illuga is smart boy.”
“Commander Vadim, Sir, there must be others at nearby camps. If we could mobilize them, we–” Vanya offered, securing his lantern to his belt.
“Tsarista's fat tits.” Vadim swore under his breath. “Get bunch of men in one cabin, still stuck in snow.” A rare, bitter scowl marred his face. “They leave you in charge of this? All units have been called back by now.” Cold, steely eyes flicked over to Vanya. “From what I heard, Illuga is survivor. Trust him. He is not baby.”
Then, suddenly, in a voice as sharp as the carving knives his father forged, “But you two are! Sit down. Stop trying to endanger more men.”
Kchhhhh….
Vadim turned his attention back to the radio that hung from the top of the chalkboard beside the map.
“Hol…p….bad…..fin whale…hy…th..mic.”
“...” Vadim's shoulders tightened. It was him. Dammit, woman, couldn't you send your idiot children in pairs?
“Sir…” Vanya stepped beside the older man, leaning over to catch his stony gaze.
“Pray he has good firewood.” And that was that. Vadim was gone in a flourish of his sable fur coat, out the control room door and into the cold.
There was a chilly, uneasy silence shared between the two ratniks for quite some time. Until Vanya spoke up.
“Something’s off about that guy.”
“...You think so?” Victor watched as Vanya finished suiting up.
“Said he's a transfer from Piramida. I don't believe it for a second. The guy acts like he knows more than he should.”
“Well, they did say he was experienced enough to be in command while the other recovered…”
Vanya narrowed his eyes.
“Experienced, but heartless. The man's a machine. And I'm going to get to the bottom of it.” And with a sharp tug of his boots’ braided laces, he marched out after the man, leaving Victor to stare blankly after him.
Kchh…
Victor perked up, head snapping up to look at the walkie.
Ba….ry alm….gone. G…speed