Chapter CIII: The Power Plant Hungers

 Small portable light struggled to keep the large room illuminated, especially as it was getting cramped by big figures blocking the light. A trolley of sorts had been pushed into the room, and on top of it lay a man in a Twilight suit, blood trickling drop by drop to the dirt below. Three men stood around the patient, one of them an old man with a hairline that seemed to retreat faster than renegades from a fight. He wore the distinct cyan colours of Clear Sky, and with steady hands stitched wounds on the wounded. The other two men, in crimson and matte black Sunset suits, helped where they could, but it was clear that the old man was in command. Three other men stood aside a bit further, observing the operation with stressed expressions.

• Alright, I've done all I could. If I was a religious man, I'd say it's now in the hands of God, but for now I put his survival down to luck and personal attributes of the patient, the old man said, betraying a sophisticated accent of an intellectual, a rare thing outside of Ecologists.

• Thank you, Dr. Kalancha, we can only hope. Redemption is in your debt, Vityukha replied, sighing as he placed down a stack of bandages he had held.

• Alright, Valik, you stay here and alarm us the second Gleb's condition changes. Vova and Vityukha, take a break, you've earned it. Professor, can you spare a second?, Boris ordered quickly, and Kalancha nodded.

He stepped outside the Deserted Hospital with Dima, and while waiting for Kalancha to finish, Dima sparked a match and lit an old Soviet cigarette. The pungent smell contrasted the crisp winter night. Kalancha stepped out and wrinkled his nose at the smoke disapprovingly.

• You get to use to it, Professor, Boris commented.

• Besides, it's not like I'll live past 60 with the amount of radbathing I've done in my years. But to business, allow an old man his only vice, Dima said with a grin.

• Fair point. But yes, what was it you wanted of me?

• We want to know what our standing with Clear Sky is. We've been fighting alongside you, yes, but so did Duty and Freedom in Limansk. Many of us, me included, are renegades, some are bandits, everyone is a recluse one way or another. Yet we want to do better. My question is, will Clear Sky give us a second chance?

• We discussed this with the leadership, and while many in our ranks were, to be courteous, less than convinced of your faction ideals, I personally believe that such suppositions have changed after the events of Limansk, Kalancha replied.

• Good to hear. I wish no harm on Clear Sky, and there are few things I regret more than taking the lives of some of your comrades during my past life. Let Cold know that every bit of blood I caused to flow from your factions due to my past actions, I will pay back with my own and that of your enemies, Boris swore, and Kalancha nodded.

• I am no warrior, but I recognize an oath of one when I see it. I wish I could do more to help, but Clear Sky needs my skills as well, and faction comes first. Still, I wish you all the luck in your endeavours, may your quest succeed for the sake of us all!

The old scientist begun to walk back towards Limansk, joined by his guards, Slavik Doc and his men. Boris stepped back into the repurposed entrance hall, with Dima staying back to finish his smoke break. Valik was still standing there, his IBAz suit filling the room. Boris closed in, and despite his suit's servos and machinery creaking and whizzing, the Redeemed did not even notice him.

• Valik, you okay?, Boris asked, and Valik turned to face him.

• Not really. Gleb's like a brother to me. He wanted to join Redemption for a gig we did back in Dead City that went real bad. I've grown to understand the ideals of this faction a lot more now, but I only have Gleb to thank for joining you guys. If he dies..., Valik spoke, crumbling down at the last sentence.

• It's alright bratan, we've all been in similar situations. And guess what? I just had an idea I wanted to try out. Help me out a bit, will ya?, Boris said, a lightbulb had lit inside his head earlier.

The two men approached Gleb, laying on the trolley. Valik opened a module on the wounded man's suit, while Boris unhooked an Artefact Application Module from his Nosorog. They placed the module into the slot on Gleb's suit, and Valik turned to look at Boris questioningly.

• What's inside? A Firefly? I've seen Surgeon use one when healing people, he asked.

• Something far more potent. Just make sure Gleb gives it back to me when he gets better, I don't want you two zhopas stealing my only delight in these dark times, Boris replied with a grin and continued:

• Besides, I want you to get the wounded back to Meadow. Hip, Dimuha and Gleb can't stay here at their condition, and I'll send Vova with them to keep them stable. Go with the Clear Sky guys.

• I... Thanks, boss, I'll keep them covered. I won't forget this!

• Hey, I owed you one for that heli back in Limansk, A-class work. Good luck, bratan. Get them home safe, Boris said, this time warmly, and Valik nodded.

The lone antiairman remained at his friend's side, while Dima stepped in and moved further down the hospital with Boris. Hip and Dimuha, much better off than Gleb, both having healed quite well already, played cards on the second floor. Dimuha greeted them and cursed his broken left arm. Hip coughed and spread a winning row of cards on the ground before her, prompting more curses from Dimuha. Boris gave them the order to follow Valik to Meadow while Dima did the same to Vova. The wounded soon started to travel back towards Limansk with the help of a few Clear Sky stalkers.

With this, the rest of Redemption geared up for battle once more. Sin and Monolith corpses were looted of ammunition and any possibly useful goods and medical supplies, machine gun posts were emptied of their ammunition, and Sin armoury and ammo room was raided. The supplies were not meager by any stretch of the imagination, but most of it was handed to Tooth for further trading and supply purposes. Some of the Sin weapons were only good as spare parts, while some of the more pristine guns found new owners among Redemption. Polymer kept the PTRS rifle of the Sin sniper as a trophy for future tinkering, although Boris made him swear that he would not try to make it into sawed-off obrez weapon for exoskeletons for shits and giggles.

With everything in order, weapons maintained, holes in armours patched and ammunition supplies reinforced, Boris and Dima led their men into the tunnel connecting the former sickhouse, now mostly a cemetery, into the infamous Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. The maze-like tunnels were mostly just dirt and soil with some old logs holding the dugout from collapsing. This boring corridor continued for about a kilometre. Sanyok remarked on how the builders could have made it that long, which everyone stated their answers, each wilder than the others.

The factual answer remained as unknown as they often do in the Zone, and no one pondered it further as the light at the end of the tunnel came into view. Reefer had taken lead, tossing empty bullet casings ahead while keeping his Ruger revolver pointed down the tunnel and muttering to himself something about psi-tushkanos. The ex-bandit stepped outside to the faint, grey sky, where sun barely penetrated the heavy clouds. And in the distance, like a monolith of eldritch creation, the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant stood. It was not their destination this time, only a mere stop along the way. Boris looked at the tower reaching towards the sky, touching the most low-hanging clouds just barely.

• Once more we're here Dima. Will this lead to yet another catastrophic crash in the Zone's balance?, the Redemption leader asked with a sigh.

• We'll see. All I know, even if it will, we must stop Sin. No matter the cost, Dima answered, his voice determined.

• For Redemption then! Once more into the breach boys!, Sanyok shouted, and the others followed his example. Despite his uneasy feeling, Boris smiled.

On the gates to the plant, Monolith sentries hastily rushed into positions, charged up their Gauss guns with fresh batteries, prepared their weapons with mechanical hand movements and placed their grenades to a spot where it could easily be triggered. Their fanatical Sin allies said their final prayers, dozed themselves with combat stimulants, mix of herbs and some even with blood of mutants, extracted off any beast too foolish to approach the hallowed centre of the Zone. The final three Castigators, clad in the finest armour Sin could muster and sporting the heaviest weapons available in the Zone, sat together in prayer to the Zone, to Vyraj and to their Holy Father. Once more, the Power Plant would be a sign for a horrid battle to come. The crows begun to gather around the building roofs. They would not go hungry for long.