"What? Our mission..."
The sergeant frowned in confusion.
The lieutenant's eyes slightly narrowed, revealing a hint of greed.
"We still have half a carriage empty, and these deserters aren't on the registry... you know what I mean, right?"
The sergeant seemed a bit shaken.
"But..."
"These goods are worth a lot on the Slovakia black market. Once the deal goes through, I'll split it seven-three."
The lieutenant dispelled the sergeant's last bit of hesitation.
"Alright."
Just a bunch of Cuban deserters, no one cares if they live or die.
Upon knowing the other side agreed to bring them over and was willing to share some supplies, the deserters couldn't be happier.
Completely forgetting how many times they cursed those European pale pigs along the way.
Because, after all, you have to eat.
Upon entering, the deserters realized it was a medical supply depot; the tents even had Red Cross markings.
