Мозги против неба.
It was August 19, 2001. Engineer Grigoriy and his team safely arrived at the Orsk Base. Since the food delivery truck won’t depart for Mezhgorye until Monday, they have one day to relax.
Instead of relaxing, Engineer Grigoriy and a juvenile apprentice spent the day servicing his vehicle to ensure it would remain in top condition for the clan while he was away.
Meanwhile, Radio Operator Grigoriy spent the day bragging about his two-way radio that could reach 5-15 miles in a dense forest.
The day was anything but relaxing for Medic Grigoriy. He spent most of it gathering additional supplies, thanks to his comrades' chaotic nature.
As night fell, they quietly put their plan into motion. Under cover of darkness, they made their way to the food delivery truck and slipped aboard without drawing attention. Once safely concealed among the cargo, they settled in and waited for the journey to begin.
The truck departs at 0200 hours. The journey is uneventful, a welcome bit of good news for the Grigoriy Clan. They arrive in Mezhgorye at 0830 hours and are welcomed by Sentinel Grigory and Dr. Grigory, who escorts them to the Mezhgorye Safe Haven.
Dr. Grigory looked from Engineer Grigoriy to Radio Operator Grigoriy, then slowly closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
He opened his medical pack again with a long-suffering sigh.
“Medic Grigoriy,” he said, “take these too.”
Medic Grigoriy accepted the additional supplies without complaint: extra bandages, antiseptic, emergency stimulants, and a small sealed pouch of medications intended for situations Dr. Grigory sincerely hoped they would not encounter.
“Doctor,” Engineer Grigoriy said, checking the straps on his equipment, “you've given him enough supplies to treat an entire platoon.”
“Yes,” Dr. Grigory replied dryly. “And considering the mice he's traveling with, I consider that a reasonable precaution.”
Radio Operator Grigoriy grinned. “Hey, I resent that.”
“You should,” said Dr. Grigory. “Self-awareness is the first step toward improvement.”
Before Radio Operator Grigoriy could formulate a response, Sentinel Grigory, who had been studying the surrounding terrain in silence, raised a hand.
Everyone stopped.
The wilderness around them seemed unusually quiet. Wind moved through the trees, carrying the smell of damp earth and pine, but beneath it was something else, a tension that made even the most experienced members of the team instinctively lower their voices.
Sentinel Grigory crouched and examined the ground.
“We wait until nightfall,” he said.
Engineer Grigoriy frowned. “Why?”
Sentinel Grigory pointed toward the treeline.
“There’s a pair of Eurasian goshawks hunting in this sector. Bonded male and female. They've been unusually aggressive.”
Radio Operator Grigoriy glanced upward.
“They have two juveniles nearby,” Sentinel Grigory continued. “The adults are protecting their territory and hunting heavily to feed them.”
Medic Grigoriy tightened his grip on his pack.
“And you think we'll cross their territory?”
“I know we will.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Radio Operator Grigoriy looked toward the darkening forest and shrugged.
“The Commander issued ‘War Mode’ for this mission,” he said. “Can't we just blow them to smithereens?”
Several heads slowly turned toward him.
Dr. Grigory stared.
Medic Grigoriy looked genuinely offended.
Sentinel Grigory's expression remained perfectly calm, which somehow made the silence even more uncomfortable.
“That,” Sentinel Grigory finally said, “is not what the Commander would want.”
Radio Operator Grigoriy raised an eyebrow. “Even in War Mode?”
“Especially in War Mode.” Sentinel Grigory stood and brushed the dirt from his gloves.
“You know the protocol. War Mode authorizes us to use whatever force is necessary to complete the mission. Necessary,” he emphasized, “does not mean convenient.”
The radio operator's grin faded slightly.
“The goshawks aren't enemy combatants,” Sentinel Grigory continued. “They're defending their young. We go around them, we wait them out, or we move through without provoking them. Those are our options.”
Dr. Grigory nodded approvingly.
“Remarkably sensible,” he said. “You should write that down for certain members of the team.”
“I heard that,” Radio Operator Grigoriy muttered.
“Good.”
The group settled into a temporary position as the afternoon slowly gave way to evening. Equipment was checked again. Radios were tested and silenced. Engineer Grigoriy quietly reviewed the route, while Medic Grigoriy reorganized the ever-growing collection of medical supplies Dr. Grigory had insisted on providing.
Above them, somewhere beyond the trees, a sharp cry echoed across the wilderness.
Everyone froze.
Sentinel Grigory looked toward the sound. “That's the female,” he whispered. A second cry answered from farther away. “The male.”
Radio Operator Grigoriy slowly lowered his hand from the device he had been examining.
“So,” he whispered, “we're definitely not blowing anything up?”
Dr. Grigory gave him a look.
“I'm beginning to think I should have packed something specifically for your condition.”
“What condition?” Asked Radio Operator Grigoriy.
“Poor judgment,” Dr. Grigory replied.
As the first shadows of night spread across the landscape, the team waited in silence.
The mission ahead was dangerous enough without creating enemies where none existed.
Against all odds, the team reached the Mezhgorye Safe Haven without injury or incident, emerging from the dangerous journey tired but unharmed.
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