"Major Degtyarev, reporting for duty," Alex saluted, entering the smoky office.
"Come, come, Major," the General waved him in. "Take a seat. I told the SBU to send me someone who knows their stuff, but—let's get down to business. You familiar with the Zone?"
"With the Exclusion Zone?" the intelligence officer repeated, blinking.
Right off the bat?!
He expected a pitch for a suicidal reconnaissance mission or something.
In the past few weeks, he had spent more time beyond the border than in Ukraine.
But no matter how sick of it he was, his realisation did not come as a relief.
"I was part of the first investigation team," Alex admitted. "When that CNPP crew disappeared."
But anything beyond that was top secret.
Even from the brass, only a small handful of men had permission to talk about the incident.
"Good. Great, even," this one said, pulling out his phone. "Then what do you make of this?"
A little fiddling, and he opened a voice file crackling with static.
"Attention Stalkers. The Brain Scorcher is offline. The path deeper into the Zone is now open. The first one to bring me proof from the CNPP will get a fifty-thousand-dollar reward."
Oh. That had to be the Barkeep.
Even through all that noise, it was impossible to miss his tone.
The General would study his expression, leaning back against his chair.
"There's another, from an old military fixer named Sidorovich," he noted. "Offering fifty thousand more for a detailed map with the route. But it seems like you already get the idea."
Yeah. And that was a lot of money.
He'd been away for a while, but even Alex could tell that something big was happening.
What he couldn't tell was whether this General had permission to ask about it.
"Why have you summoned me, Sir?" the Major asked, his face a mask of calm again.
His host grunted, putting the phone away.
He pulled out a half-empty pack of cigarettes from an expensive brand instead.
"You'd like some, Major?" he offered before lighting one for himself. Alex shook his head, and the General pulled back. "Good. Much healthier not to. But with all the stress from this job—"
Small talk? At this point?!
"Sir, you're aware how overworked the SBU is right now, right?" the Major asked. "If there's something you need me for, let's keep it simple. Any questions requiring permission would—"
"I've got permission," the General grunted, taking a long sip. "Wish I hadn't, boy, but—"
He produced a dossier with the familiar stamp of secrecy while letting all the smoke out.
"When we intercepted that message, I might've been a little overeager. I authorised a mission with four Mi-24s, but we lost contact with them in minutes. One single emergency call."
A chill ran down the Major's spine.
So he only got that permission after the fact. If he had it before, he would have known—
"They crashed into anomalies," Alex muttered. "It's unwise to send vehicles in there."
Even drones would only last a few minutes on average.
And only if their connection didn't cut off on their way there.
But judging from the General's expression, he was already aware of that now.
"I learned my lesson, Major," he grunted. "But that won't bring back the crews. One flight commander reached out to us on the radio, and I sent him to an exfil point, but—"
"You want me to pick them up and lead your men to safety?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.
That was already a tough ask, but there had to be more.
"That's the official mission," the General nodded. "But brass wants to know what's going on as well. And, um, one more thing. There might be an important propaganda asset involved, too."
Another blink.
"A propaganda asset? In the Zone?!"
That made no sense whatsoever.
"Well, mind you, nobody sent him there, but—"
He pulled out a new dossier with the photo of a young officer attached.
The Hero of Kyiv—whatever his name was.
The propaganda patriot leading the Foreign Legion.
Or at least should've.
A fancy job title that came with much fame. Meanwhile, Major Degtyarev served with the Security Service. Even if he ended the war by himself, nobody would ever learn who he was.
"He left his post a few days ago, last seen touring the borders with a foreign journalist."
"A patriotic deserter?"
Now that would have thrown a wrench in the propaganda machine.
"No," the General said, shaking his head, putting out the cigarette. "But it's even worse in a sense."
Opening the dossier, he explained the situation in more detail.
"I've no idea how he learned about the Zone, but we have ex-military eyewitnesses claiming he was there. Still with that journalist, who, well—he never worked for the company he claimed to."
Oh, it was getting better and better.
"So if he lives to talk about his experiences—" Alex muttered.
"Exactly," the General grunted. "It's your job to make sure he does not."
Does not survive, or does not speak?!
The good old plausible deniability was giving him the creeps.
"So extract your flight crews, gather intel, and deal with this leak," the Major listed his tasks. "Do I get a unit, or a deadline, or anything? When did your choppers disappear in the first place?"
"No and no," the man sighed. "And it happened yesterday. They briefed me this morning."
So the lead was fresh. But—
"Do you have any idea how large the Zone is?" Alex scowled. "And you want me to go alone?"
The General would only light another cigarette.
He had a big pile of butts in his ashtray already.
"There's a war going on, son," he pointed out the obvious. "I can give you permission to command any National Guard unit you come across. But we can't spare the extra forces."
Well, of course. And if he failed his mission, it would be a huge hit for the homeland.
"Understood, General," he said, his tone serious. "And my priorities are—?"
Even if he did his best, there was too much on his table.
It was likely he'd have to pick and choose, but he didn't want that responsibility.
"I want my flight crews back," the man said, taking another deep sip, then blowing it out. "But the brass wants more information first—and of course, to make sure nothing leaks."
Yeah, no compromise there, then.
He took the second dossier and skimmed it over.
"Captain Dmitry Bandera?" he mumbled, familiarizing himself with his photo. "He survived a ballistic missile strike right before his little adventure?!"
And that journalist was there, too.
The only one receiving medical treatment after that.
But after being so close to death, it was no wonder they decided to take a break from service.
"We're trying to look into his accomplice as well, but there's nothing," the General admitted. "As if that kid had never even existed. One day, he appeared in his office, and that's it."
"A russian spy trying to break the system from within?" Alex pondered.
But of course, he found no answers.
"I know this is a lot to ask," the General said, lighting his third cigarette. "But failure is not an option. And if you find my boys and bring them home, I'll make you a colonel in no time."
Oh well. He'd rather he got to pick which jobs he took or refused, but that was a start.
"It might take a while," the Major noted. "But I'll do everything in my power to serve Ukraine."