Sergey bravely held on to the crossbar that provided the necessary stability for the vehicle not far from the front axle of the van, while the heavy diesel engine roared above him. He had made himself a tightly stretched suspension of three wide leather belts the previous night to be able to hide under the truck as a stowaway. However, he had underestimated the permanent vibrations of the vehicle due to the bad road conditions, as he now had to painfully admit to himself. Too often, he had to compensate for the swaying with his arms in order to keep his balance and not slip. If he made a mistake in the process, in the worst case he would be dragged for miles to his death.

"What a fucking stupid idea!" he hissed angrily and grimly to himself, while his arms got more and more tired. In the parking lot where the journey had begun, there had been no possibility to hide at least in the interior of one of the trucks that were now on their way south. On the way towards Elysium. However, these were not normal military trucks, but vehicles of this mysterious special unit, to which his brother now belonged. They were painted black and bore the image of the bear's head with crossed swords on the doors of the cabs. It was the symbol of the Prizraki, the >Ghosts<. The Duke had helped him one more time and had given him the information by telephone when and where exactly the departure of his brother would take place. This time, however, he wanted nothing in return except a detailed personal report from Sergey once he was back in the north. This eccentric man seemed to be very curious himself about how this matter would develop further.

The convoy had unexpectedly grown to eight vehicles. The three vans from the parking lot had been joined by two tank trucks, two light tanks, and another truck from an outpost. According to the lord, his brother Artyom had been in one of the first three vans. However, he must have been loaded into the truck before Sergey arrived, because he had not noticed that Artyom had gotten in while he waited all night for the departure in his makeshift and uncomfortable hammock. To keep track of time, Sergey had bought a wristwatch from a traveling merchant. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be very reliable; the minute hand got stuck on the hour hand much too easily. However, the constant vibrations of the journey were good for the watch's performance. A glance at the dial told him that the journey had now lasted four and a half hours when the convoy suddenly stopped in a patch of forest. He sighed and let his arms fall back in exhaustion until they almost touched the ground. Finally, a break. But wait, why did they stop in the middle of nowhere? The area was practically uninhabited. If they had wanted to, they would have had the opportunity to stop in at least one of the small towns that lay along this road every 70 to 80 kilometers. But when the doors of the vehicles opened and the soldiers got out and started talking, it quickly became clear what the problem was. Apparently, two trees had fallen and were blocking the road. Sergey turned his head with difficulty and looked around as far as he could. The thick, big tires of the other vehicles, the legs of the soldiers, then he saw the tree trunks... The convoy could not avoid the obstacle, the vegetation on both sides of the road was too dense, and the ground off the road was probably too soft for the massive transporters.

"Should we let the cyborg out? He can easily pull the logs away," he heard one of the soldiers say not far from him, and Sergei winced.

"No, too dangerous. He'll stay on standby until he reconnects. We shouldn't take any chances until he's connected to Base 2," another countered.

"But he's been downgraded to Command Level 5 for the trip as a precaution, he'll obey any of us. What's the problem? Why should we work our backs off now if..." the first voice objected defensively.

"And what if he doesn't for some reason? He's still too unstable for me. What if he suddenly gets some stupid ideas out here?" another interrupted in an energetic, commanding tone. "So forget it, get the chainsaw and axes out of Transporter 1 and get to work! But don't bump into the chest!"

"Yes, sir," the others confirmed the order resignedly and made their way to the transporter that stood directly behind the one Sergei had strapped himself to. Number 1 then, he thought to himself and his thoughts began to race. He couldn't stay here, sooner or later he would run out of strength. The soldiers opened the back door of the wagon and stocked up on tools, then began to dismantle the tree trunks. Could he really dare, should he take the risk? If they found him here, it would be over. He would not be able to stop his brother. Should he do it anyway? Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and with shaking hands he slowly loosened one belt buckle after the other, lowering himself to the ground as quietly as possible with great body control. The soldiers seemed to be distracted enough. Sergei almost didn't dare breathe as he slowly crawled backwards on all fours.

"Please don't look under the damn truck right now! Just don't look my way!" he kept thinking. His body was stiff from hours in that tense position, every joint and every movement aching. Anxiously, his gaze followed the wandering pairs of legs of a few soldiers who took advantage of this break to smoke a cigarette or go out while the rest of the troops worked. Unnoticed, Sergey managed to crawl under the rear transporter and clenched his teeth when a sharp rock dug right into his left kneecap. He had missed it because he had been so focused on his surroundings. Trembling, he lifted his knee and carefully removed the pest with his right hand. The stone was bloody. Of all things... He couldn't leave any traces of blood if he tried to sneak into the now unlocked cargo hold from behind!

"How's it going up ahead?" a voice sounded from behind.

"They'll need a bit longer, I'll stretch my legs until then," another answered and moved away. This was the chance! As far as Sergey could see, there was no one near the opening. He forced his frozen body into a quick movement, crawled out from under the vehicle, stood up and then quickly climbed up the retractable ramp into the interior. He immediately looked around for a suitable hiding place and found one, while pressing a hand to his injured knee and wiping the blood that had collected on his pant leg. Without hesitation, he crept to the left rear corner. The transporter was full of all kinds of tools, but at first glance they were not in the best condition. It smelled of gun oil, grease, and diesel. He also discovered half-opened crates of technical equipment such as radios, Geiger counters, and even a dismantled radar. To his great surprise, he also discovered some containers of diving equipment. What were they for? He quickly hid behind a pile of crates, finding just enough space to avoid being spotted. The sound of chainsaws and axes at work could be heard from outside. He really had made it, at least this far. The axes and saws would be put back in their places in the entrance area, no one would find him. Hopefully.

He waited, and slowly the warmth returned to his body. When the convoy would continue its journey, he could try to get some sleep. Suddenly his attention was drawn to a strange-looking wide chest, which he spotted through a gap between the crates he was hiding behind. The chest looked extremely high-quality, the surface was chrome-plated and secured with a thick padlock. Sergey thought about it. Maybe he should take a look when the coast was clear? He was familiar with such locks, and just to be on the safe side, he had taken two of Aksinya's hairpins with him before he left.

"Finally, that was some work. Can we at least eat something before we continue our journey?" he was interrupted by an approaching voice.

"You can eat while we're moving. We're behind schedule anyway," came the voice of the commander Sergey recognized from earlier. Without a word of protest, three soldiers stomped onto the loading area and began to put the used tools back in their places, tying the chainsaws to the brackets with rubber ropes. Sergey breathed as shallowly as he could. His plan worked, no one saw him. When the door of the van was finally closed, it was completely dark, except for the little light that shone through the gap into the cargo space. The engines started and the convoy picked up speed again. Sergey stood up and climbed over to the ominous chest. The movement caused the ground to sway, and combined with the poor lighting, it was not a safe venture. At that moment he didn't think about his bleeding knee and didn't feel the wetness that was slowly spreading down his pant leg. He reached the chest unharmed and examined it more closely, feeling it over. Surprisingly, there seemed to be some slack in the lid due to the padlock. However, when he lifted the chest to assess its weight, he was startled. There was a blue light emanating from the inside, and it was extremely heavy. So it contained something that could produce light by itself? Blue light? How could that be? And more importantly, what could that be? This only fueled his curiosity even more. He eagerly pulled one of Aksinya's hairpins out of his jacket and began to fiddle with the lock. The darkness and the vibrations made it difficult, but after about five minutes he succeeded and the lock popped open. He pulled it off and placed it on the ground in front of his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up with tension and excitement, and his hands tingled as if he had reached into an anthill. He gripped the lid and opened it carefully. The blue light reappeared, shining majestically in the darkness, pulsating. At first Sergey didn't notice it, overwhelmed by the beauty of the color that enveloped him. But after a few moments he realized that this light was pulsating in time with his own heartbeat.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"What is this...? How can this be...?" he stammered, impressed, and bent directly over the chest to take a closer look at its contents. It was a deep blue piece of crystal, a good meter and a half long and the diameter of a thigh. It was just big enough to fit across the chest and had been placed there without any other attachment or protection. All the light emanated from it. However, there was a small crack in the center from which an equally glowing, glittering liquid seemed to have been dripping for hours. A small puddle had already formed at the bottom of the chest. Perhaps this damage was caused by the pressure inside the chest itself? But the crystal itself seemed quite stable?

"A crystal with a liquid core..." he murmured, unable to take his eyes off it. The longer he looked at it, at the pulsating light, the glitter, this fantastic alien structure, the more he felt a deep desire to reach out and touch it. For a brief moment, Sergey shuddered. It was almost as if the crystal was calling him, speaking to him through pure emotion and energy. This couldn't be right, he must be wrong? Even as he thought this, he reached out his right hand. Slowly but steadily, it moved toward the crystal, as if drawn to it. He had long forgotten everything around him, and even if he had wanted to, he could no longer prevent what was happening. First, he touched the crack with his fingertips, the glistening liquid dripping from it. It felt cool, almost like touching ice water. After a few seconds he was overcome by an enormous rush of endorphins, a feeling of happiness he hadn't felt since he was with Aksinya. His eyes widened, he wanted more of it, now! His senses were going crazy. It was as if he was about to explode with happiness as the liquid flowed over his hand. He opened his mouth and gasped for air as his body began to shake. Lights of all colors suddenly flashed before his eyes. He reached his hand to the bottom of his chest and dipped it directly into the puddle. His heartbeat quickened, the pulsing of the light matching his heartbeat. He breathed harder and harder.

"Is this... a drug?" he slurred, his tongue feeling dry. It took him an incredible effort to stand up so that he could breathe better again. He leaned his left hand against the wall and looked at his right hand. It, too, was now blue and glistening from the liquid that was slowly turning into a gelatinous mass on his skin. He stared in disbelief at the metamorphosis of the liquid, which now completely covered his hand and then began to seep into his skin through the pores. He just shook his head in confusion and stared at what was happening, hot and cold running down his spine. Was this a dream or was this really happening? He was no longer sure if he was still in reality. The liquid was now completely absorbed into his skin, his hand still glowing faintly. Then this foreign body slowly followed the blood vessels in his forearm and up into his upper arm. He could feel it, could clearly feel the coolness in his arm as it spread further and further. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but it was more than frightening. If he hadn't been in this paralyzed state, he probably would have panicked and screamed for help. Instead, he let it happen and felt the liquid slide through his shoulder and then slowly into his chest. It approached his heart. He forced himself to breathe slowly, trying to calm down. This could only be a dream, there was no other explanation.

"Aksinya, Irina, don't worry about me. I will come home when everything is over. I promised, and I'm doing it again here and now. I'll come home again..." he whispered and then collapsed, falling to the floor and coming to rest right next to the chest. The shock caused the lid to fall shut. The padlock, however, slipped between two of the nearby crates.

Sergey woke up and slowly regained consciousness. He was roughly grabbed by his upper arms and dragged across the floor. There were two men dragging him. Where was he? All that bright light, the sounds. The crisp air brought him back to his senses. He opened his eyes, his vision blurred at first, then clearer.

"What is your name? What is your mission?" someone yelled at him. He raised his head. Soldiers held him by both arms, he was still too weak to stand on his own. Several other soldiers stood around him with their weapons at the ready. Directly in front of him was an officer. They were all wearing the black uniforms of the special forces.

"W-what?", Sergey answered the question. His thoughts began to race again. What could he do now? They had discovered him. Where were they now? He looked past the officer for a moment. They had stopped somewhere in uninhabited territory again. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. He couldn't look at his watch now. Maybe it had only been a few hours, maybe even days? This area didn't look familiar. Flat land, a few hills in the distance, a forest not too far away.

"I will repeat my question one more time: what is your name and what is your mission?" the officer hissed coldly. What should he tell him? He couldn't tell him the truth. He had no choice but to play dumb.

"My name is Danilo Lasarev, from Neo Yakutsk... I just wanted to steal something when I saw the vans in the parking lot... Unfortunately, I hid in the interior when it was locked. I've been in there ever since, hoping that no one would find me..." Sergey bluffed, trying to imitate the dialect he had heard so often in the city. It was the best he could come up with in a hurry. The officer raised his eyebrows. His expression darkened even more.

"From Neo-Yakutsk, then? And why are you dressed like people from the periphery?" came the question. Everything inside Sergey tensed. Of course, it had been obvious that he couldn't be a city dweller. His lie had been easy to see through. The officer came closer and struck him in the stomach with a powerful blow. Sergey gasped and doubled over in pain, but was immediately picked up by the soldiers who held him.

"I..." he began, but was cut off.

"You opened the chest. We've already found the lock. And you touched the crystal. Your handprint was clearly visible on the bottom of the chest," the officer explained. Sergey nodded. So it was true, it hadn't been a dream. The crystal from which the strange liquid had dripped... Denial was useless now anyway. But why hadn't the crystal enchanted the soldiers with its light? What was different about them?

"Yes," he croaked. "What is that thing anyway?" Some of the soldiers grinned.

"How dare you ask a question in your situation!" the officer shouted at him. Sergey winced and didn't answer. "So... you're either an agent and a saboteur or a thief. In any case, a liar. We're in a convoy with a clear destination, and we don't have the time or capacity to drag along and guard a saboteur or a thief."

"But..." Sergey gasped. The officer drew his pistol from the holster and checked the magazine. Sergey's face turned white and he tried with all his might to tear himself away. But he had no chance against the merciless grip of the soldiers, and he was still very weak from his previous unconsciousness.

"In the name of the Party, you are sentenced to death on suspicion of espionage during a military operation and attempted theft of military property," the officer said to the soldiers. Then he took the safety off his pistol and pointed it at Sergey, who just shook his head in disbelief.

"Aksinya..." he whispered.

The loud thunder of the shot echoed over the plain. The bullet pierced Sergey's chest. He looked down at himself, saw the hole from which his blood was flowing. He could not feel his legs. The soldiers let go of him and he fell face down on the stony ground. He could not move or breathe. All he felt was cold as the blackness of death enveloped him and the last spark of life drained from him.