The sudden noxious hiss of a nearby grate jogged Captain Nikolaev from his cross-eyed stupor, the tiny ember that had burned its way down to the filter etched in the center of both retinas. Before he was capable of any real coherence the hair on the back of his neck began to bristle, and a klaxon horn of alarm began revving in the back of the mercenary's mind
"Still do the cigarette thing, huh?"
"да." He let the spent butt fall from his lips freely, and a veritable cloud of stale smoke erupted with his brusque response, blanketing the tiny, fetid alleyway. Demonstrating the sort of habitual muscle memory only an addict could achevie, his foot shot forward of its own accord, stamping it out under his heavy black work boots. "Who's asking?"
"Private Alonzo Varela, señor," The voice was much closer now, indicating an unsettling ability for concealed movement to the Captain. "We met once, last summer in Mexia actually."
Yuri turned slowly, his left hand inconspicuously
disappearing into his jacket, an extra sidearm tucked away mere inches from his pack of cigarettes. Just in case. "Not my favorite meatgrinder, was too damn hot for a 'major city'."
A small wave of relief washed over the eternal pessimist as the familiar, grinning face of the Private greeted him. Tall, and wire-y Alonzo was a recognizable man with his sharp, but attractive features, bleached blonde faux-hawk, and twany, dark brown skin. He was clad in the same dull blue maitence jacket, cargo pants and work boots as Yuri, with the added bonus of an Autogun slung over his right shoulder. The two exchanged quick informal nods, the days of saluting and pomp long gone, before embracing, and patting one another on the back as comrades.
"That it was Captain, really made those unfortunate enough to die pungent, too." Alonzo pulled back from the brief contact, rolling his shoulder to reposition the rifle. "Two more men are en route, and the medic is already waiting at Bay Seven."
With another nod the Captain took a second to think, creating a convient moment to light up another smoke. "Xороший, хороший," he croaked between a heavy drag, "Has he said if this one is worth a damn?"
"Well..Our contact sure can't sing its overly vague praises enough."
"Hah!" A thick streams of smoke oozed out of both of Yuri' s nostrils despite his best effort to contain a snort. "Nor could he the last three disasters. If this one doesn't yeild anything of value.." He let himself trail off, exhaling another miniature nicotine cloud.
Having someone on the inside track of the largest - and almost only- Orbital Drydock for Sky's Edge was supposed to be a massive tactical advantage. A treasure trove of supplies, and raw materials. Yet so far it had been nothing but a procession of red herrings, and rusted scrap to the point Yuri half wondered if he wasn't being sent in a goose chase. One that had already cost him several men, and now had the last of their dwindling rations staked on it.
Glancing down at his watch he couldn't help but sigh as anticipation started to mix with dread. "Ten more minutes, да?"
"Yeah, then it's balaclavas down, guns up."