The Jet Night Osprey felt so far away, shrouded in logistical secrets that only Juri and Kratos knew the location of. All that remained for me was the protection unit, the haptic feedback unit strapped tightly to my left arm, and an absolute commitment to success. Jax Blackford the architect was now gone; now there was only a ghost infiltrating the enemy's nest, crossing the San Isidro cargo beach that smelled rotten from a combination of industrial aromas.
My movements were rough as I pulled back the steel hatch of the Maruta Ship Bridge and inhaled the cold AC air, replacing the salty vapor from the outer corridor. In the Captain's chair, Pavel was still restrained, his face filled with silent shock from the low-level muscle relaxant injection. He wasn't dead; only totally neutralized.
