Dawn of Hope- Exodus

by Dobrin Kostadinov

  ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, all I know is that I want to go home safe and sound when all this is over. To give my family a hug, to smell the scent of pancakes early in the morning . . .’ Alan spoke dreamily.

  ‘Do you think we’ll be ready for the mission? I’m still doubtful about it. The time we have for training for a task of this magnitude is too short. I feel underprepared,’ Scott shared his concerns.

  ‘Fear is a bad advisor, Mr. Graham, learn how to overcome it or else you will fail us,’ Thomas intervened, standing on the sidelines as usual.

  ‘Look who’s criticizing–the guy who doesn’t show up regularly for shooting practice! Careful ‘cause it may well be you who fails us!’ Scott flared up and became arrogant, disregarding the higher military rank of the Russian Spetsnaz officer.

  ‘Don’t bother yourself with me,’ replied the Colonel calmly, giving him a little wink. Scott grew even more infuriated by the tranquility that always dominated the brawny Russian.

  ‘How can you be so calm, how? It’s not just that you don’t come to practice, but you don’t even flinch knowing what’s coming. You, moron, we’ll all die because of you,’ Scott’s rage turned into a shower of insults and threats against the Moscovian; there was a small wave of panic in the American. Was his disobedience owing to the fact that some of the team members were civilians or because of the people who had long ago cut their ties with the army? And was that going to prove pernicious to them?

  There was no apparent indignation in Tom’s look. He took a calm gulp from his beer and turned to the American.

  ‘Is there any point in being anxious?’ he asked. ‘Come sit by my side, brother, let me tell you a story so that you can finally grasp why I’m so calm.’

  Everyone made a room for the two quarreling parties so they could sit next to each other while Ivanov was readying himself to relate the story of one of his metamorphical experiences, looking Scott straight in the eyes.

  ‘Have you ever killed a man?’ the young Colonel asked. ‘Not out of self-interest or insanity, no, but simply to save your own life or that of your team,’ Tom clarified.

  ‘No, we’ve been in training programs with Alan, but nothing serious,’ the American admitted, not lying or overacting; the others turned their full attention to the two men.

  ‘Well, I have, very many times, at that. But I’ll tell you about my first time in details. It’s a nightmare I’m doomed to live with for the rest of my life . . . After I graduated from the military school in Moscow, I was sent on a mission in Eastern Siberia. There was some terrorist conflict there, groupings were involved, and so on, and we had to find a solution. I was still an inexperienced novice back then, armed only with two submachine guns, what I had learned during the training and myself. That wasn’t enough because despite my bullet-proof equipment I was still vulnerable. Yes, it is precisely when we think we’re in no danger because we have a vest that keeps us safe that we actually fall victims of a colossal mistake. Because if you don’t possess enough boldness and stamina to shield you from harm, you’re a goner,’ the Colonel said, pointing at each of his listeners, then he went deeper into his story. ‘Now you’ll see why. We entered a house that was thought to be the headquarters of the terrorists. We neutralized all of them in a matter of seconds. I was extremely proud of myself and of my team–that was my first mission. It was quick and clean, by the numbers. My men started taking out the men we had captured and loading them into automobiles that were to drive them away, but I decided to do something, I don‘t know what took me over, but went to check if there was anything going on in the basement of the house, for I had noticed that its door was ajar and that there was a staircase leading down to a ground floor. My fellow team members weren’t with me, but I felt compelled to go there anyway. What a stupid child I was!’ he explained so fervently as though he was reliving the situation. ‘I started climbing down the stairs carefully, peering into the darkness. When I got down I looked around, casting light around with the lantern that hanged down from my submachine gun. But suddenly a man leapt abruptly out of the darkness. He knocked my weapon down with a blow and it fell on the ground. He jumped me from behind, a second later he took out a knife. I was standing alone against an armed man with cold steel in his hand. He was ready to slaughter me. Can you imagine that? He wanted to finish me off and that gave him the chance to both escape and provide himself with a weapon, so that he can try to make off with some of his comrades, putting my team in mortal danger. I didn’t have much time to think, everything happened at the speed of light, but I remember it all as if it was yesterda . . . After he lunged at me I took a step back, but he made to stab me in the stomach. I leapt to the left and dodged the knife.’ Fear was etched on the face of the Russian as he was talking. It was visible in his eyes and in the way he spoke–it was a vivid recollection relived over and over again at that moment. It was hard for him to talk, but he continued anyway. ‘I grabbed him by the arm and managed to force the knife out of his hand. He hit me badly with something on the head, I couldn’t see what it was, and fell on the floor. By then it was clear to both of us–one or the other had to die, I realized it as I watched him go for the blade again. I rose up quickly, still dizzy from the adrenaline that had gone up so high that compelled my eyes and ears to focus on one single thing–the man who was about to spring on me. I stood in guarde, ready for an exchange of blows and for self-defense, while my body was slightly shaking because of the influx of the stress hormones. Even though I was giddy and wobbly, I was back on my feet and ready to fight,’ Scott looked him straight in the eyes, dismayed while the Russian army officer kept telling his story. ‘He picked up the knife again and headed in my direction. Imagine a spiteful man holding a knife, ready to stab you! I don’t wish that on anyone, it would be horrible even if you manage to picture just his eyes as he’s attacking you. But let me go on. This is the end, I thought to myself, I could hardly evade the icy blade a second time, so I decided it was time to take action. I launched myself at him and managed to knock him down with a powerful punch, with a straight left one, to be more precise. The man fell to the ground and my automatic reaction was to grab for my submachine gun, but the blow obviously hadn’t been powerful enough to render him unconscious. As he was lying down he seized me by the ankle, trying to trip me up. Then he pounced on me, aiming for my throat, the blade in his hand. A fight broke out, I screamed for help, but there was no one to hear me. He was pressing the knife harder and harder, the cold steel was slashing the upper layer of the skin on my neck as he was running it along my throat line. Seconds before the blade could feel my blood gushing out of the gashes in my neck, the terrorist made a mistake. He tried to thrust the knife, aiming a blow with his right hand, trying to plunge it deep. At that millisecond, probably due to the rush of adrenaline, cleanly and unexpectedly, just as he was aiming the blow at me, I managed to push him back as I was lying on my back. I grabbed him by the arm and twisted his wrist, disarming him. It didn’t matter his free hand kept punching me in the face, yet, luckily, he was on the floor. I used that against him . . . I stabbed him in the stomach and in the chest eighteen times, eighteen times! I kept prodding him not because he wasn’t dying, but because I was scared to death. It was either me or him–that’s what I was repeating to myself over and over again while I was sticking the blade through his ribs as I was pressing him down so hard on the mouth and the face, that he couldn’t even utter a sound. Blood spurted out of his mouth and then I felt like the droplets of his soul were slipping through my fingers. I felt his spirit, I just felt it. And I had never felt anything like that before. It was horrible . . .’ he shared his story with slightly teary eyes that cleared after he finished. ‘Well, Mr. Graham, do you know how it feels to be looking someone in the eye while they’re dying by your own hand? I hope you never have to know that because it took me months to get over that burden. I was captured by fear, but I overcame it and I didn’t give in. I fought till the end for the only life that I ha
ve. That’s why I’m here among you today instead of occupying his place six feet under, buried in a coffin full of my own bones.’

  Everyone looked scared and flabbergasted at his tale, Scott was genuinely shocked.

  ‘I won’t let anything or anyone hurt me or my team. I’m certain you’ve embraced the same principle, but it just still hasn’t reached your consciousness. That moment will come, though, you won’t miss it. Remember, doubts and lack of decisiveness will only try to fail you. My men don’t do that, they take action and if they have to, they die for their teammates because they spit on death and live knowing that they’ll live forever in the hearts of their brothers. Be “my” men and I promise you we’ll succeed!’ He spoke as no leader had ever spoken before and his new team listened intently. ‘Arm yourselves with courage, know that courage isn’t always the powerful “lion’s roar” of emotions, sometimes it’s the quiet voice that repeats to you every night “you’ll do it! You are the men!” You don’t happen to think you got here by chance, do you?’ he pointed a finger at Scott as his booming voice was echoing around the space. ‘There’re no accidents in this world. Do you think that what we’ve learnt in the psychology and biology courses won’t come handy? It will! And once doubts and questions spring up, you’ll have someone to turn to. The people here will give you proper answers and if can]t handle it, get out of here and leave your place vacant for someone who deserves to be here, among us!’ The Russian stood up, saluted everyone and went off to rest. He wanted to leave them alone with their thoughts and also with the things he had told them. The colonel was not going to allow any of his subordinates to fail the mission. He possessed a good deal of patience, but if he had to, he would cross the line and cut short any attempts leading to failure.

  Shortly after Tom retreated to his room Mila decided to follow him there to make sure he was all right. She was worried about him as she felt him a shade closer than the rest, not only because he was her compatriot but also because they shared the same set of understandings. They had spent their entire lives as servicemen and had been in similar situations. After she caught up on him along the lengthy corridor, she stopped him a little before he entered his room.

  ‘Are you doing fine?’ she asked sympathetically. ‘Such things aren’t easy to say. Could it be the pressure talking?’

  ‘Don’t worry, everything is OK. I just wanted to bring Scott down a peg or two and make him understand that he’s not the center of attention. And the other, more important reason why I told him those things, was to make him remember that when he speaks of doubts and fears, this could affect the rest of the team. Someone may succumb to their emotions,’ her fellow countryman explained.

  ‘That’s true, you’re right, one cannot talk like that in front of everyone,’ replied the Russian lady, indignant.

  ‘He doesn’t even suspect that getting arrested for insubordination won’t at all be the worst thing that could happen to him, he got lucky he’s under my command on this team. I hope that’s the last time he behaves like that, I never give second chances.’

  ‘Do whatever you have to, I’m with you,’ Mila said, pledging her support. ‘Good, since everything’s fine here, I’ll go back to the group. I wish you good night, Colonel,’ she added and headed back to the exit.

  ‘Hey, thanks for your concern. It’s much appreciated!’ Ivanov said, nodding at her.

  Mila turned a little just so as to flash a smile at him and left. After that conversation Ivanov slipped into contemplation. The boys and everyone involved in Probe lacked fighting spirit. He spent the entire night pondering over how he could pass on to them some of his own, for he had it in excess . . .

  The days passed by and the newly formed team was getting better and better, not only in their training but also in their bonding. On one of the last days before the preparation of the mission was over, at dinnertime the Russian leader noticed his fellow teammates were more downcast than usual and even slightly depressed because of the grey daily routine that was their inseparable companion in the German air base. He decided to boost their mood with a few kind words that he had planned on putting forth, but kept having the feeling the moment had just not arrived yet. That evening, though, came as the perfect opportunity. He stood up in front of them, climbed onto a chair and began speaking as never before.

  ‘To the attention of everyone eating here, in the canteen, this is Colonel Ivanov speaking! I’d like to tell you something.’ The power of his voice managed to capture the attention of everyone in the hall and he continued as a planned. ‘I’ve been observing you for some time now and I can see your spirits are low. The determination we started off with a few months ago is gone, too. Colleagues, people I’ve learnt to trust over the past months, I can safely call you friends as well! It’s tough for you, I know, but it will all be over soon. I also know that the hardest part for you is not being able to see your closest ones and your friends, but do not become disheartened. There’s only so little left, think about the nice things in life, may they be many or not.’ Everyone listened to him, dazzled, as though time had stopped. ‘I believe in all of us. I believe in our faultless completion of the mission and in your support as adherents in a truly daring and great deed because you’re the best and it’s no accident you’re here, by our sides, to have the backs of the six of us, not those of some random people. Therefore, chin up, we’re all writing the history of humankind right now!’ he ended his speech and got off so as to finish his dinner undisturbed.

  So far no one but his five colleagues had seen him in such light. It could have been just his sincere desire to help the rest with a few nice words in a critical moment. No one managed to discern his motives, probably because of the stone face he wore. His speech, though, managed to strike a chord not only with his teammates but with everyone who had gathered at the dinner. Scientists, military officers and assistants heard the kind words, even the cook who was in the kitchen of the canteen could not sleep a wink all night. Those powerful words did their job and even though Mila could barely manage to blink back her tears during dinner, she succeeded in getting a peaceful sleep.

  Two days later the last and most important practice session took place. The preparations were nearing their end, but the team had to go over everything they had learnt until then. A final test that was going to show if they were truly ready. Our heroes were summoned in a roofless barn to be introduced to something the five of them had never seen before. Thomas was absent again and no one knew why, but, before them, along with the commander of the operation, Professor Zanev, stood another person–a relatively young man of French descent who was known as Roman’s right hand, Jean-Pierre Alléguié; his presence was often times not detected. Because of his antisocial personality he was buried in work and different projects, so befriending him was not just tough, but virtually impossible. The honor fell to him to present the new generation of prototypical suits which were to be used in the mission–they were going to be the team’s protective clothing that was also meant to be worn during the group’s stay on the new planet.

  ‘Good morning, everyone!’ he started by greeting them. ‘My name is Jean-Pierre and I want to present to you, without many prevarications and introductions, Fighting Suit 1. This thingamajig will change you forever!’ he said and let out a small giggle while his assistants rolled in a huge table. Five enormous empty corpses that resembled cyber organisms from an alien planet. They were lying there, so lifeless, yet looking immensely terrifying, as if ready to come back to life, to take a deep breath and stand up on their gigantic lower limbs again only to dismember everyone present. They were really fearsome and it could not be any other way, after all a technology for billions of euros was put into them! In the bottom of it all lay the technology of the NSRs or “nano symbiotic robots”[3] as their creators called them. That technology made possible the symbiosis between a human organism and an exoskeleton suit, turning it into the perfect killing machine and not only, for its usage was to prove much more far-reachi
ng. When the exoskeleton was introduced to the team, a natural wave of discontent and skepticism washed over them; strong reactions followed right afterwards.

  ‘Instead of keeping me safe this thing is more likely to kill me, I don’t trust robots or French people for that matter,’ Alan said, his approach being quite blunt, while Scott tried to calm him down.

  The others disapproved of the suits, too, and while the commotion was ripening, a voice came unexpectedly from the back–it belonged to the only person who was familiar with the suits and had in fact tried one himself. They heard him talking, but no one saw him until after they had all turned around. It was Tom dressed in a suit that cost billions, if not more, who had sneaked up on them out of the blue. He looked equally fearsome and awe-inspiring. He went up to them and stood opposite them as the Frenchman began showing the different parts of the already activated fighting suit. At first glance the Russian looked much bulkier than his usual body size. He was about foot taller and vastly plumper in the limbs. His torso and limbs were covered with a frightening armor, he had something of a helmet on his head, elongated and thickened at the sides to protect the jaw from possible impacts. Multiple layers of a specially designed type of alloy were draped over his entire body. It was discontinued at certain spots so as not to restrain his movements in any direction. At the places where freedom of movement was needed, the joints for example, the alloy was replaced by organic self-recovering nano Kevlar[4] and carbon fibers so that nothing could penetrate it.