The Spoils

Samir truly wanted to prove his worth, but Sokholov honestly could not be bothered to listen. Now was simply not the time. The firefight had only just ended; they had no idea how many more enemies were out there, or whether adjacent positions had already fallen. Combat could erupt again at any second, leaving no time to listen to Samir brag about himself. A few words of praise had been enough. Using the light cast by the illumination flares, Sokholov took another quick sweep of the battlefield and decided they couldn't just sit around doing nothing. "You two, go deliver the mercy rounds. Not you—stay and keep watch with me." The order to finish off the enemy was directed at Glaski and Samir; telling someone to stay behind was meant for Gao Fei. Having the position's core fire support get pulled into a mutual kill while administering coup de grâce shots would be an utter joke. Worried that a newcomer like Samir wouldn't know what mattered, Sokholov called out to him, "Leave the bodies that are too far out alone. Clear the bodies in the trench, and prioritize finding night-vision gear." Right after finishing, Sokholov suddenly remembered something and shouted, "See if there are any mobile phones!" Gao Fei glanced at Sokholov, knowing full well that Sokholov was keeping him in mind and trying to find him a phone. Now came clearing the battlefield—looting the bodies to see what kind of good loot they could pull from the dead. Still, there was little hope of finding a phone. This was a night raid, a small-scale infiltration. The enemy surely knew there was a high probability they wouldn't make it back alive, so carrying phones on them was very unlikely. Nor would they carry cash. Night-vision gear, on the other hand, should certainly be there; otherwise, the enemy never could have crept in so easily. Though Sokholov had said to ignore the distant bodies, Glaski still went across to the front of their position, put a round into each of the three bodies out there, and dragged them directly into the trench to search them at his leisure. Items were brought over bit by bit, starting with combat gear, followed by valuables. Yet "valuables" basically meant combat gear anyway—no one on a mission this perilous was stupid enough to carry their life savings. In total, there were four helmet-mounted night-vision devices—one smashed, three intact—three walkie-talkies, one GPS unit, and rifles that were all AK-74s, though one had been modified with a Picatinny rail and fitted with a scope. There were no pistols. Few people chose to carry sidearms in this kind of trench warfare; they'd rather carry two extra rifle magazines instead. Nor were there machine guns. It was a night raid after all, where machine guns would be entirely useless. "All gathered up. Quite a haul of good gear—these guys were Ukrainian elites." Glaski looked thoroughly energized. He moved close to Gao Fei and Sokholov and said, "Every single one of them was wearing a watch. Rex, you don't have one. Pick one for yourself." Not knowing the time had been truly frustrating, but now they had watches—eight of them, in fact. Samir brought out the things he had gathered. He had collected three watches, then called softly to Gao Fei and tossed something his way. Gao Fei caught it and looked down. It was a lighter—just the most ordinary spark-wheel type, though abroad a BIC lighter went for several bucks. Now things were set; he had a light for his cigarettes. Sokholov glanced over the pile of gear assembled beside him and said without hesitation, "Pick a watch." Gao Fei wasn't familiar with watches and knew very little about brands, but he recognized Casio, and among the pile there were about eight Casios. There didn't seem to be any expensive brands, and even if there were, Gao Fei would have felt awkward taking one. He reached out for a black Casio, but the moment his hand went forward, Sokholov scooped up a watch with a black nylon strap and said, "Take this one." Gao Fei caught it and realized it was a Marathon General Purpose watch. The Marathon looked very simple—simpler than several of the Casios laid out before him—but Marathon was a standard-issue US military watch, whereas Casios were bought out of pocket by individual soldiers. Not that Casios weren't good, but cheap ones were two or three hundred yuan, and the most expensive barely broke a thousand, so the Marathon was clearly rarer and more valuable. Besides, it was military spec, so of course Gao Fei wanted the Marathon. It was quite light and looked practically ninety percent new. With a glance at the time, he finally wouldn't have to ask others what hour it was. Even though the watch came with a soul ring, Gao Fei didn't care. Seven of the eight watches were Casios and only one was a Marathon, which meant whoever wore it was noteworthy. "Who was wearing this?" Glaski pointed toward the rifle set aside. "The guy carrying that." "An American?" "No. Had dog tags." As Sokholov and Glaski exchanged questions and answers, Sokholov looked somewhat disappointed. He waved a hand at Gao Fei and said, "A pity. If he'd been an American, the bounty would've been much bigger." Curious, Gao Fei asked, "How do you tell if someone's an American? If they have dog tags they're Ukrainian, and without them they're American? Couldn't someone just rip the dog tags off?" "Ukrainian soldiers all have dog tags, while Americans wouldn't have Ukrainian tags. Ripping them off doesn't do any good either—you need proof to establish someone's an American, but if they have Ukrainian tags, there's no need to look for proof." "How much is the bounty on an American? What counts as proof?" "Uh, two thousand for an American. Lots of things can serve as proof, as long as it's convincing. Identification documents are the most straightforward. Some soldiers also carry action cameras, or post videos on social media—people keep dedicated records of those. If you kill an influencer, the bounty is even higher." "And if there's no proof?" "Without proof, even if you kill one, it doesn't count." Gao Fei nodded. Thinking it over, he asked again, "So there's a bounty for our fight tonight?" "Yeah. Judging by our spoils, the enemy was definitely elite, and we held our position. That should put the bounty between one and two thousand." "Eight men might not even match a single American? That's ridiculous." Sokholov shrugged. "If we'd killed eight new recruits, there wouldn't even be a reward." Gao Fei sighed. "What a hassle. Oh well, forget it. Getting paid anything tonight is good enough." "Mm, there's a problem, though." Sokholov looked somewhat hesitant. After pondering for a moment, he finally spoke. "Strictly speaking, captured gear has to be turned in. We need these items to prove the raiders were elites in order to get the bounty." "Oh?" "If we turn this stuff over, we'll be lucky if we're allowed to keep even one of the four night-vision devices. Then there are the walkie-talkies and the GPS—if we hand them over, they definitely won't let us keep them." Gao Fei frowned. "That hardly seems right. We fought the battle, so shouldn't we get first priority on the gear?" "This gear is scarce—the whole company is short on it. Strictly speaking, leaving one night-vision device for our position is enough, and the rest would be distributed to other comrades." Anger crept into Sokholov's voice as he continued. With a vicious snarl, he said, "Our squad was only issued a single night-vision device to begin with, and we took the initiative to hand it over to the center position so they could watch over our flank at the same time and alert us if enemies got close. And you saw what happened tonight—those bastards!" Gao Fei considered it, then said, "I think we should keep these things. They're for staying alive. What do you think?" Sokholov smiled, then lowered his voice. "Two thousand euros couldn't buy all this, so of course we're keeping it. We'll turn in whatever weapons we don't need, and keep everything useful that we can carry on us. Speaking of which..." Sokholov picked up the only rifle mounted with a scope. Leaning his eye behind it for a glance, he said, "This rifle goes to you." Gao Fei certainly wasn't going to turn it down. He picked it up and inspected it, recognizing the brand as Pulsar, though he didn't know the exact model. Inside the optic was a stark, bright image with a reticle crosshair in the center, alongside numbers and mode displays on the display. It was a thermal optic. Lowering the rifle, he dropped the magazine, racked the bolt to clear the chamber, and pulled the trigger to ensure it was empty before raising the weapon to look toward Glaski. He could see Glaski clearly—a human silhouette, his face and hands glowing bright white, cooler areas bordering them in red, while the sections covered by body armor remained white. Overall, the image was very sharp, though how it performed at greater distances remained to be seen. Thermal scopes had one drawback: they couldn't be used during the day. Not being able to use it in daylight didn't matter. At worst, he could carry two rifles from now on, using one by day and one by night; he certainly wasn't going to give up a rifle equipped with a thermal optic. Lowering the rifle, Gao Fei said without hesitation, "I'll take this one." Sokholov picked up a blood-splattered helmet, inspected it, set it down, and casually picked up another. "Pick a helmet to swap out. Mm, you got lucky." Sokholov was staring at the top of Gao Fei's head. Only then did Gao Fei remember his helmet had been struck during the firefight. He took it off at once and immediately spotted a gouge. The bullet hadn't penetrated; it had grazed right along the edge. Just a fraction closer, and the round would have punched through the helmet and blown his head apart. He had been five millimeters from death—a centimeter at most—and the helmet would have been pierced. Russian and Ukrainian helmets were identical, differing only by the colored flag tape wrapped around them, making a swap very simple. Gao Fei recognized the model of the night-vision device—the renowned AN/PVS-14, American-made. It was tech from over twenty years ago, and now the Americans were shipping them to Ukraine in droves, basically clearing out old inventory. Still, the AN/PVS-14 was genuinely decent. Ancient though it might be, its performance was more than adequate. Gao Fei slipped the helmet over his head to test it. He had never used such fine gear before—in fact, he had never even seen one in person. Then he realized that besides pulling the helmet down heavily in front, sweeping his gaze around produced a disorienting glare. Turning his head again, he discovered it wasn't just glare—it was motion sickness. Gao Fei took off the helmet, scratched his head, and murmured, "Wearing it makes me dizzy." "Uh, that's a problem. Not everyone can get used to them." Gao Fei let out a rueful sigh, then said helplessly, "You guys take the night-vision devices, and I'll use the thermal optic on this rifle. That way every one of us has night vision. The only issue is that there's no way to recharge the thermal scope." Sokholov nodded and said in a low voice, "From now on, you don't take night watches; the three of us will rotate sentry duty. Conserve the battery. Later on, we'll see if we can scavenge a charger. Either way, right now we're the best-equipped combat team in E Company."