A bunch of idiots! They can't see beyond their noses, only thinking about immediate gains and losses.
Ivans was fuming, so fed up he just clammed up. If push comes to shove, he'd rather cut his losses, literally.
The meeting room was silent as a tomb.
After a few minutes of deep thought, the captain finally spoke, "Give them the plane."
Ivans chimed in, "And let's send off the survivors from the Australia base too. If we're doing this, let's do it right."
They'd already given up their most valuable plane, so they might as well throw in some supplies for the survivors and have a hunting team escort them to the Arctic coast. If you're going to do something, make it count, impress Stella and Jasper, and show them they're dealing with genuine folks.
The captain nodded, "You handle it."
Ivans sighed in relief, "Don't worry, Captain. I'll make sure everything goes smoothly. We'll show the other countries' survivors that we're friendly and peaceful. They'll be loyal to us in no time."
The captain agreed, and that was that.
Peter waited anxiously, his heart pounding. After about an hour, Ivans came out in a hurry, "Jiang, it took a Herculean effort, but the captain finally agreed."
Stella exhaled deeply, "Thank you."
"It's what friends are for," Ivans replied with a hearty laugh. "And hey, all the Australian survivors can leave too. We'll organize a team to escort them to the Arctic landing point so your compatriots can get home safely."
Stella had expected this but was still deeply moved. She gave him a big hug.
A fighter jet needs ample space for takeoff. The Russians, ever efficient, immediately sent men to the warship to clear the landing strip. Ivans had a plan, asking the Australian survivors to help clear it.
When they saw Peter in his air force uniform, adorned with a five-star badge, dozens of survivors were stunned. Their weathered faces went from shock to amazement, and their cloudy eyes quickly misted over.
Ivans shouted, "Friends, your country has established a safe haven. He's come to take you home..."
He went on and on, talking about everlasting friendship between nations, thanking the Australian survivors for their sweat and toil in building the base, and so on. It sounded better than a song. But they all knew the drill; it was a show for others.
The Arctic cold was biting; the survivors couldn't even cry if they wanted to for fear of frostbite. After the emotions settled, they got to work clearing the runway. Mark was among them, recognizing Stella even though only her eyes were visible through her wrapped-up appearance. It was indeed her, the same as years ago, silently offering help from behind the scenes, asking nothing in return.
A safe haven? That must be the "dawn" she had mentioned before.
The hangar door opened slowly, and a fully fueled fighter jet was rolled out. With the runway cleared and the plane in position, it was ready for takeoff. Peter took a deep breath, saluted Stella, and said simply, "Thank you, take care." He didn't know why she chose to stay, but he had to respect her choice. Without her help, he would never have had the chance to return to the skies, and the hundreds of Arctic survivors might never have made it home.
The black fighter jet accelerated down the arc-shaped runway, shooting into the clouds like a blade. Stella looked up at the sky, unable to snap back to reality.
Goodbye, the homeland that could no longer be returned to.
Ivans' eyes bulged. "Jiang, this is the antiviral miracle cure?"
It looked... unimpressive, rather cheap.
Stella kept a straight face. "Yes."
Ivans was skeptical. "It's just like this?"
Stella was visibly irked, rolling her eyes dismissively, "What's the problem? You think it should come with bells and whistles? This is military-grade stuff, made from materials so rare they're practically worth their weight in gold. So, of course, the supply is limited. Only military personnel with a certain clearance even get to see this stuff, let alone use it. We've been dealing with disasters for years. Fancy packaging is just a Western gimmick to trick consumers. We Aussies don't buy into that nonsense. Don't judge it by its no-frills look; it's about effectiveness, not appearance. If you don't trust it, then maybe you're better off not taking the shot. A good old amputation might be the safer bet for you."
With dramatic flair, she pretended to toss the syringe away.
Ivans, panic-stricken, quickly intervened, "No, no, don't throw it away! Of course, I trust you. I was just curious, that's all."
"I'm really disappointed in you," Stella persisted, unrelenting. "You're questioning our friendship here."
Desperate to avoid an amputation, Ivans hastily apologized, "Stella, I'm deeply ashamed of my doubts."
Jasper, who was nearby, couldn't bear to watch the exchange. He felt a mix of embarrassment and fear of being outed as a fraud, so he turned his head away, looking elsewhere as if searching for an escape from the awkwardness.
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