When Emmy, Dan's wife, returned home, he took her aside to talk privately about what was happening.
The atmosphere became uncomfortably awkward incredibly quickly, especially when Emmy approached me, curious and worried, to ask about the Muri from the future.
She also wanted to know about her own fate, although I didn't have much to tell her about it.
I simply told her that she had died when I was little, and I barely had any memories of her.
Emmy gave me curious glances during dinner, but she didn't dare to ask more questions after our brief conversation.
That night I stayed in the guest room at Dan's house.
When they finally left me alone in the guest room, I tried to rest, but my thoughts kept circling around what was coming.
We had to get to Russia, find that frozen alien ship, and destroy it.
The next morning, Dan was serious but resolved. He looked at me briefly before we got into his car, not saying anything more about the previous night's events.
It wasn't necessary. We both knew what we had to do.
The silence during the drive felt heavy. Dan was about to meet a man with whom he hadn't had the best relationship, and his mood was not good.
During the journey, Dan barely said a word, focused on the road, but at one point he broke the silence with a single question:
"What do you have in that briefcase?" His voice was laced with curiosity, as he cast a quick glance at the briefcase resting on my lap.
"It's called Quinque, it's a weapon from the future designed to deal with a large number of White Spikes," I replied, inventing a story on the spot.
It was the best I could come up with, and apparently it worked.
Dan looked at me with interest, although he warned me that I would have to show him that weapon later.
Dan drove to a private airstrip on the outskirts of the city and parked next to an industrial hangar.
"We've arrived," he muttered as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
We got out of the car, and Dan walked with a calm confidence toward the hangar door, opening it with the familiarity of someone who has been there hundreds of times.
The interior was plunged into darkness, until a metallic sound broke the silence, the unmistakable click of a weapon being loaded.
Dan paused for a moment before slowly turning towards the man pointing a Desert Eagle at us.
A mocking smile spread across his face. "Are you really going to shoot me?"
The man, who turned out to be James Forester, lowered the weapon, squinting as he recognized him. "I didn't recognize you. It's been a long time. Although... it might be because of that three-day beard you're wearing. Either grow it or shave it, make up your mind," he joked, though his tone hid a latent distrust.
It wasn't common for his son to visit him, voluntarily, at least.
After a brief pause, James's gaze fell on me. "And who's the kid?" he asked, pointing the gun barrel at me.
Dan didn't hesitate. "He's Muri's son. My grandson," he replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
James blinked, visibly confused. "My 8-year-old granddaughter has a brat who is... what, 19, 20 years old?" His voice dripped with skepticism.
Dan let out a sigh, his tone becoming somber, charged with an urgency he had never shown him before. "I need your help, Dad..."
James's face hardened upon hearing those words. The skepticism vanished, replaced by serious attention. He nodded slowly, lowering the gun completely.
Dan had never asked him for help in his entire life.
Wasn't it a father's duty to help his son when he needed it?
"I'm listening," James said firmly, crossing his arms.
Dan sighed, and a mixture of fatigue and resignation crossed his face. "It's a long story..." he murmured.
James, still holding the weapon but without tension, leaned against an old table nearby. "Long or not, we have time. Start from the beginning."
"It's better if he tells you..." Dan said, nodding towards me.
James looked at me with a frown, silently assessing me. He lowered his gaze to the weapon he was still holding and, after a moment, tucked it into his belt.
"Alright," he said, his voice rough but firm. "Start talking, kid."
After that, I told James the same story I had already told Dan, without omitting any details.
At first, James was skeptical, his eyes narrowed with distrust. But as I continued, and after observing Dan's expressions, who nodded in silence, his resistance began to crumble. Finally, he decided to believe me.
Dan looked at him after the whole conversation and said: "You are the only pilot I know capable of entering Russian airspace undetected, and the only one I trust to help us land on a glacier to find a frozen alien ship."
James let out a sigh, looking at us with a mixture of resignation and humor. "Well, I'm going to get my coat then," he finally replied.
Although he still seemed to feel that there was something strange about the story he had just heard, the fact that his son was asking for his help for the first time convinced him.
So, without further questions, he decided to agree.
We spent the rest of the day loading James's plane with all the necessary equipment for the expedition.
...
When night fell, Dan received a message on his phone, notifying him that he had to report for recruitment testing the next day.
At that moment, any doubt he might have had disappeared.
The three of us were bundled up to withstand the extreme cold of Siberia.
While James prepared the plane for takeoff, Dan and I sat in the back, among the cargo.
Boxes of explosives, weapons, and vital equipment surrounded us, as the faint purr of the engines began to rise.
"We must be fast," I reminded Dan as we settled in for the long flight. "We cannot let them wake up before we have placed the explosives."
Dan nodded, frowning.
I could see the tension and the questions that were surely invading his face: what if something went wrong? What if we accidentally woke them up?
The mission depended on flawless execution; one mistake and the whole world would be doomed.
Although Dan was now a biology teacher, he had previously been a Green Beret sergeant, with experience in Iraq.
James, for his part, was a Vietnam veteran, with nerves of steel.
While I, until this moment, had never held a weapon in my life.
It's thanks to the skill book I had obtained from Cassandra that I knew how to use one. I hadn't hesitated to use it on myself the moment the exchange was complete.
To say I wasn't nervous would be a lie, but I couldn't afford to show it. Every second counted, and staying calm was essential.
Suddenly, Dan broke the silence with a question: "Don't they have any weakness? Something like a weak spot, perhaps?"
I knew who he was referring to. "Neck and abdomen," I replied without hesitation. "Those are the vulnerable points. If you have to kill them, aim there... although I hope we don't have to resort to that."
Dan nodded, thoughtfully. We both knew that the best option would be to avoid any confrontation.
If we managed to place the explosives and get far enough away before detonating them, everything would be much easier and safer.
But the reality was that, on a mission like this, the unexpected was always just around the corner.