In the northeastern part of Bear Nation, at the edge of the Siberian Permafrost Belt, a vast expanse of snowfield stretched for hundreds of kilometers, extending from one end of the horizon to the other.
The temperature hovered near minus forty degrees Celsius. The freezing wind carried fine ice crystals through the air, scraping delicate white frost patterns across the low conifer forests and exposed rocks.
A convoy slowly approached from the direction of the distant border, its wheels crushing two deep, long tracks into the snow that stretched back toward the horizon.
The convoy consisted of more than ten vehicles of various types. At the front was a heavy snowplow, its massive blade shoving aside the half-meter-deep snow ahead and clearing a barely passable path for the vehicles behind it.
Following close behind were two armored patrol vehicles, their roofs fitted with rotating searchlights and infrared thermal imagers. Their side windows were half-open, with armed guards seated inside.
In the middle of the convoy were three heavy transport trucks, covered in white camouflage netting and hauling sealed containers with no markings on their surfaces.
The vehicles' chassis had been reinforced, and their tires were broad and heavy, suited for slow travel across snow. Behind and alongside the patrol vehicles, several snowmobiles patrolled back and forth within a range of several hundred meters, their engines' deep roars carrying far across the empty snowfield.
Inside one of the patrol vehicles.
Luka, the burly man in the front passenger seat, rolled down the window a crack. Cold wind and snowflakes rushed in. With a cigarette between his lips, he lit it with a windproof lighter, took a deep drag, and watched the white smoke instantly torn apart by the freezing wind outside.
He hunched his shoulders and swept his gaze across the