Chapter 16-17-18

Chapter 16 – Nineteen Years in the Desert

The months passed with a mix of intense missions, constant training, and long periods of waiting. Alex Rider's routine had become solid as steel: endless watches, high-risk patrols, and, whenever possible, sessions in the makeshift gym.

He was no longer just a talented young man he was now standing out as a tough, respected soldier with a growing reputation among allies and enemies alike.

Now, his unit was only a few weeks away from returning to England. The mood at the base was changing. The soldiers, though always alert, began to make plans for when they returned home: reunions with family, parties with friends, or simple moments of peace and quiet that were impossible in the desert.

It was early on the morning of Alex's birthday. The Iraqi sky was still painted in pinks and golds, and the heat was already beginning to set in. Alex sat on an ammunition crate, adjusting the grip on his rifle.

The sound of a base waking up vehicle engines, soldiers talking, commands being shouted echoed around him. He looked out at the barren horizon and smiled slightly. Who would have thought he would turn nineteen in a place like this? From his training with his uncle to his days as a forced spy for MI6, he had always lived in extraordinary situations. And now, here he was: a soldier, serving in the British infantry and testing his mettle every day.

"Rider!" a familiar voice called out. He turned to see Thompson walking toward him with a big smile. The man was carrying a makeshift mug and what looked like a half-crushed chocolate bar.

"Congratulations, kid. Another year of life, and in one of the worst places in the world!" Thompson handed him the chocolate bar with an exaggerated gesture. "Your birthday cake."

Alex laughed and took the makeshift gift. — "Thanks, Thompson. Looks like you spent all your rations on this."

— "Don't get used to it," Thompson replied, sitting down next to him. — "It's just because you survived this far. It's not every day someone turns nineteen in the middle of Iraq."

— "Yeah," Alex muttered, looking down at the bar in his hand. — "Not the most typical place to celebrate, but I guess it suits me."

Thompson smiled and clapped Alex on the shoulder. — "You're a good soldier, Rider. You still have a few weeks before we get back, but until then, remember that we're all here to make sure each of us comes back alive."

Alex nodded seriously. — "And that's what matters. Everyone together."

Later that muggy afternoon, Alex returned to the tent after a shooting session at the training ground. As soon as he entered, he was greeted by a chorus of voices:

— "Happy birthday, Rider!"

The tent was decorated with makeshift ribbons made from strips of old fabric and paper. Jenkins held a small radio playing a lively tune, and Thompson appeared with an open can of rations, which he balanced like a cake. A makeshift candle made from a burning match was stuck in the middle of the can.

"I didn't expect that," Alex said, surprised but smiling.

"Of course I didn't," Jenkins replied. "We're terrible at keeping secrets, but we did the best we could."

Thompson placed the can in front of Alex and shouted,

"Make a wish before this match goes out!"

Alex laughed, but did as he was told. He closed his eyes for a brief second and made a silent wish: that they could all return home safely. Then he blew out the match with a quick blow.

"There," he said.

"I hope you wished for something that involves less work for us," Jenkins joked, drawing laughter from everyone.

At the end of the day, after the impromptu "party" was over, Alex walked away to a quieter corner of the base and picked up the satellite radio. He had a small window of time in which he could make a call. There was no one he wanted to hear more than Jack Starbright.

After a few seconds of static, Jack's voice finally came through on the other end.

— "Hello? Alex?"

— "Hi, Jack."

The sound of her voice brought a comforting warmth he hadn't felt in weeks.

— "Oh my God! Alex, are you okay? How's your birthday?"

Alex smiled. — "It's not exactly the most lavish birthday in the world, but it was good. The team threw me a makeshift party. I even had cake if you consider a ration can with a match stuck in the middle a cake."

Jack laughed on the other end. — "Sounds better than nothing. At least you're not alone. That means a lot."

There was a pause, and Jack's voice grew a little more serious. "And how are you, really? It's still a few weeks away, isn't it?"

"I'm fine, Jack," Alex replied earnestly. "It's been a long year, but I'm hanging in there. I'm not going to lie, I'm looking forward to getting home. See back London, walking the streets... it all seems so far away here."

"You can do it," Jack said, his voice full of confidence. "You always can, Alex. You've been through so much—this is just another step."

"I know," Alex replied softly. "But thank you, Jack. For always being there."

"I always will be, Alex. Always."

They were silent for a few seconds, just listening to each other's breathing through the line. Then Jack broke the silence:

"When you get back, I promise we'll celebrate your birthday properly. How about dinner at your favorite restaurant?"

"Sounds perfect," Alex said, smiling.

"Okay. Now, be careful, please. It won't be long. Stay safe, okay?"

"Understood, Jack. See you later."

— "See you later, Alex."

The line went dead, and Alex put the radio aside, feeling a momentary weight lift from his shoulders. Jack's voice always had the power to make him feel more human, more connected to something beyond the missions and the desert.

Later, Alex sat alone on one of the base's sand ramparts, watching the sunset. The sky was orange and purple, and the heat was finally beginning to ease. The silence of the desert, though often unsettling, seemed almost peaceful that night.

He thought of his Uncle Ian, who had trained him since he was a child. He thought of the dangerous missions MI6 had forced him to undertake. And now, here he was, celebrating his nineteenth year as a soldier. There was something ironic, but also meaningful, about this journey.

"You've really accomplished a lot for a nineteen-year-old," he muttered to himself.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Alex vowed to keep doing his best. He didn't know what the future held, but he was determined to live each day with the same discipline, courage, and focus that had gotten him this far.

Because deep down, he knew: his journey was just beginning.

Chapter 17 – Return to England

The Hercules C-130 military transport plane touched down smoothly on the runway at Brize Norton air base, England. The sound of the engines slowing down was met with sighs of relief from everyone on board. After six long months in Iraq, Alex Rider and his team were finally back home.

For many, it was the end of an exhausting chapter. For Alex, it was a chance to reflect, breathe, and prepare for what lay ahead. He felt more mature, more resilient, and carried with him the invisible scars of months in a war zone.

The soldiers stepped out of the aircraft, their heavy gear on their backs. The weather was cold and damp, a stark contrast to the dry heat of the Iraqi desert. Alex took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of British air.

"Welcome to civilization, everyone!" Thompson shouted, stretching his arms out as if embracing the cloudy sky.

— "Civilization? We're still on a base," Jenkins replied, laughing.

"It's better than the desert," Thompson replied. "Now, who wants a decent beer and a comfortable bed?"

Alex smiled, but remained silent. He looked around, taking in the moment. Though he was younger than most of his comrades, he was now treated as an equal, a soldier who had proven his worth time and time again.

Later, in the base's briefing room, the unit commander made a point of acknowledging the team's efforts during the deployment.

"Six months in Iraq is no easy task," the commander began. "You've handled situations few could handle. The work you've done will not be forgotten, and I am extremely proud of each and every one of you."

He paused, his gaze settling on Alex.

— "Rider, I heard about your performance. Thirty confirmed kills, an impressive number for a sniper on his first deployment. You've earned the respect of not only your team, but everyone who's heard about you."

There was a brief applause, and Alex nodded, uncomfortable with the attention.

— "But remember," the commander continued, turning to everyone. "You have six months home now. Enjoy it. Regain your strength. Train, but also live. You deserve it."

As soon as he was released, Alex gathered his things and left the base. He had arranged with Jack that she would pick him up, and there she was, waiting in the parking lot in a simple but reliable car.

When Alex saw her, he smiled genuinely for the first time in weeks. Jack got out of the car and ran to him, pulling him into a tight hug.

— "Oh my God, Alex! You're huge! And... older," she said, looking him up and down.

— "I've only been gone for six months," Alex replied, laughing.

— "It feels like forever," Jack said. — "Come on, get in the car. I want to hear everything."

As they drove back to London, Alex stared out the window, observing the familiar streets. It was strange to be back. Everything looked the same, but he felt different.

— "So, how was it there?" Jack asked, breaking the silence.

Alex thought for a moment before answering.

— "It was intense. Lots of missions, lots of sleepless nights. But... it was good. I did my job."

Jack glanced at him, trying to gauge his emotional state.

— "And how are you? Really?"

— "I'm fine, Jack. Really. It's not like before, when MI6 would throw me into situations with no preparation. I knew what I was doing, and... I think I handled it well."

Jack nodded, but he couldn't hide his concern. — "I just want you to know that if you need to talk, I'm here."

— "I know," Alex replied, sincerely.

Back at the apartment, Alex finally allowed himself to relax. He took a long shower, savoring the feeling of hot, clean water, and changed into comfortable clothes he hadn't worn in months. In the kitchen, Jack made a simple but comforting dinner.

As they ate, Alex told a few stories from Iraq, keeping the darker details to himself.

— "Are you really okay?" Jack asked again, more directly this time. Alex looked at her and smiled.

— "I am. I promised myself I wouldn't let it get to me, and I think I did. I'm okay."

The next few days were a mix of rest and training. Alex's unit, now back in England, was on a period of operational inactivity. This meant that although they continued to train regularly, the physical and mental demands were much less than on deployment.

Alex spent his mornings at base, taking part in tactical exercises and honing his sniper skills. He also began helping younger soldiers who were undergoing initial training, sharing his experience and advice.

In the afternoons, he returned home and spent time with Jack, exploring London or just relaxing.

One afternoon, Alex and Thompson were in the base's training area, adjusting their rifles.

"You know, Rider," Thompson began. "You've done a lot these past few months. Thirty confirmed kills. That's no small feat."

"It was my job," Alex replied, tonelessly.

Thompson stared at him for a moment before speaking again.

"Most guys who come back with numbers like yours can't sleep at night. But you seem… calm."

Alex thought before answering. "I guess it's because I knew what I was doing. It wasn't personal. It was the job. And in the end, I just wanted all of us to come back alive."

Thompson nodded. "You've got a strong mind, kid. Keep it up. It'll take you far."

As the days turned into weeks, Alex began to think about the future. He knew that in six months he would probably be sent back to a conflict zone. But for now, he was determined to make the most of the time he had in England. He had no family other than Jack, but that didn't bother him.

For Alex, she was more than enough. He also knew that he would soon have to make important decisions about his military career. But for now, he was focused on enjoying every moment of peace he could get.

After all, he knew that tranquility was a rare luxury for someone like him. And in the back of his mind, one promise remained firm: he would do whatever it took to protect those around him, always.

Chapter 18 – Discipline and Determination

Alex Rider woke before sunrise. The sound of his alarm clock shook him out of a deep sleep, but he was used to it. Ever since he lived with his uncle, Ian Rider, discipline had been a constant in his life. Now, as a seasoned soldier, Alex followed a strict routine even when he was at home.

He reached over to turn off the alarm and got up immediately, pulling on his sports clothes. After lacing up his sneakers, he went for his morning run through the quiet streets of London.

The air was cool, and the city was still waking up. Alex ran at a steady pace, his footsteps echoing on the empty sidewalks. As he ran, he mentally reviewed his plans for the day: physical training, language studies, and perhaps a relaxing afternoon at home.

The run was more than just a workout; it was a moment of mental clarity. He used this time to organize his thoughts, plan his goals, and process the memories of Iraq.

After about three miles, Alex stopped at a local park to stretch. The sky was beginning to lighten, and he watched the few people who were already out and about: early-rising workers, occasional joggers, and dogs being walked.

"Stay focused," he muttered to himself as he finished his stretch.

Later that morning, Alex headed to the local gym. Although he had access to the base gym, he preferred to mix it up and train in a more relaxed environment when he was off duty.

The gym was busy, but that didn't bother him. He had his routine down pat: weight training for strength and endurance, followed by functional exercises for agility and balance.

He started with deadlifts, feeling the weight challenge his muscles but also energize him. His physical progress since returning from Iraq was evident. He was stronger, with a toned body that reflected his hard work.

Between sets, an older man, probably in his forties, approached him.

"You're new around here, aren't you?" — the man asked, pointing to the weight bar Alex had just used.

"Sort of," Alex replied, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel. "I usually train somewhere else, but I like to change it up every now and then."

"Well, you seem to know what you're doing," the man said, smiling. "Good shape. Are you training for something specific?"

Alex just smiled. "Just keeping in shape."

Back at his apartment, Alex took a shower and made himself a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. As he ate, he opened his laptop and reviewed his study notes. He was determined to improve his language skills, a legacy of his childhood and his brief but intense experience as a spy.

Today, he focused on Arabic, a language he had begun studying during his tour in Iraq. He knew that having a good grasp of the language could come in handy on future missions.

With the help of apps, videos, and books, Alex practiced reading, writing, and speaking. He murmured phrases out loud, adjusting his pronunciation.

— "Ana ismi Alex," he said, repeating slowly. — "My name is Alex."

Studying required patience, but he was committed. He also reviewed French and Spanish, languages ​​he was already fluent in but didn't want to forget.

While Alex was focused on his studies, Jack came into the room with a cup of tea. She stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him. He seemed different, more mature. It wasn't just his physical appearance, but the way he carried himself, always focused and disciplined.

— "You never stop, do you?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Alex looked up, surprised. — "What? Oh, I'm just trying to improve my Arabic."

Jack laughed and sat down on the couch. — "You could take a day off, you know? You don't have to be in training mode all the time."

— "I know," Alex replied, closing his laptop. "But I like to keep busy. Besides, it's useful for work."

Jack watched him for a moment before speaking again. — "You know you're doing well, right? You don't have to prove anything to anyone."

Alex smiled. — "It's not about proving anything, Jack. It's about being prepared. Always."

In the afternoon, Alex decided to head to the base for more focused training. He found his team at one of the practice areas, participating in a simulated combat exercise.

"Rider! We thought you were taking a vacation," Jenkins joked as he loaded his mock rifle.

"Vacation isn't really my style," Alex replied, adjusting his gear.

The exercise was challenging, but Alex excelled, as always. He demonstrated leadership and tactical skills that impressed even the most seasoned soldiers.

After the drill, Sergeant Parker took Alex aside.

— "Rider, I hear you've been training hard lately. Any particular reason?"

Alex shrugged. — "I just want to be at my best, sir. I never know what might come next."

Parker nodded, respecting the young soldier's determination. — "That mindset will take you far, Alex. Keep it up."

Back at his apartment, Alex spent the night reading a book in Arabic, but his mind wandered. He thought about the future, his ambitions, and what he wanted to achieve as a soldier. He knew that six months at home would pass quickly, and soon he would be back in action.

But for now, he was determined to take advantage of every moment to grow, learn, and prepare for whatever was to come.

Before bed, he made a quick mental diary of his accomplishments for the day. Running, gym, studying, and training at the base. It was an ordinary day, but for Alex, every little effort brought him closer to his goals.

"Preparation never ends," he thought as he closed his eyes. "And that's what keeps me ahead."

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