Soul Taker

by John Garforth

  With not far to go, the men climb up onto the sides of the vehicle, rather than struggle back into the cabin and as Ivan pulled the beast into its designated clearing in the woods, the weather changed slightly for the better, the wind dropped a little and the snow trickled to a stop.

  “Vasilev,” Nik shouted over the idling engine, finally the man appeared from around the back of the transporter.

  “Yes Captain?”

  “Get back inside, make some tea for the Colonel, see if you can get him to drink some. If he’s feeling better, tell him we’ve had the order to launch and that I’ll be back inside soon.”

  “Yes Sir,” said the boy saluting.

  “OK,” said Nik, shouting at the rest of the men, “let’s get the old Girls feet down now, ready for launch.

  Nik found that the routine of getting the big steel feet down onto the hard earth and locked into place calmed him, it was familiar work and took very little thought, a respite from what was to come. He slid off a glove and pulled out his phone, when Artur answered, the news was good, the other launcher was up to speed, so he moved to the next stage and ordered a diagnostic on both sets of hydraulics. He got the thumbs up from both vehicles, so he moved the process on as far as he had ever gone in the past, ordering both Artur and Ivan to elevate the Yars rockets.

  Nothing happened, there was no whirring of machinery no hissing hydraulics, the rocket in front of him lay peacefully on its snow-covered bed. It was without malice or anger, a mass executioner unburdened by conscience, unfettered by nationality, creed or colour. The ultimate mercenary, it would kill anyone at any time or place and for that murder it sought neither reward or moral high ground, it neither judged or condemned. A harbinger of portent on a Biblical scale, delivering its payload without fear or favour.

  Then it began, with a hiss and a click, the hydraulics kicked in and the tall, elegant missile with its multiple warheads began to rise smoothly from its slumbers, ready to greet a new day. Once erect, it turned Nik’s stomach, he spun on his heel, following everyone else and reluctantly climbed back into the transporter, dreading what was to come. The Colonel was still unconscious, Vasilev had poured a little tea into him, but not a lot, Nik sighed, it was down to him, he’d not really expected any other outcome.

  “Sargent Popov,” he shouted, “I need some help here.”

  “Coming,” was the muffled reply

  He turned back to the flashing computer screen and typed the destination code DH3LB63, the computer began to tick as it supplied the missile with its destination details, then it demanded the Colonels pin, Nik knew it off by heart, he typed it in.

  Sargent Popov hadn’t arrived yet, so Nik simply paused the launch and unwittingly walked into an emotional ambush, a halt to the proceedings played into the hands of all the feelings that he’d firmly locked away. Raw emotions came screaming to the surface, the pent-up nerves and tension seemed to explode in his head. His dead mother’s voice, with Olga’s in the background were whispering in his ear, it sounded so life like that he half turned, just to check that they weren’t stood at his side.

  “For God’s sake Nik, please just stop and think for a minute, think what you’re doing, millions are going to die, we, your own flesh and blood, you’re killing us. Just stop for a moment and think about it, this might be pre-emptive, how do you know it isn’t, perhaps, just perhaps, there is no war, but your actions will start one, maybe it’s all a mistake? Listen to that sickness in your stomach and the thumping of your heart, they’re telling you that you’re wrong, just like when you were a child, remember, take notice, it’s a warning. If you launch this missile your crime will be greater than all the Nazi atrocities put together, you will be reviled by all mankind until the end of time, please Nik, don’t do it, follow your conscience.”

  His Mother’s and Sister’s voices faded as he stared blankly at the flickering screen, his mind in turmoil, it would be so much easier to walk away and leave all this behind, never make that sickening decision that would haunt him the rest of his life.

  “Jesus Christ Nik, man up,” it was Sokolov, his deep voice resonating with good humour, just hearing it made Nik’s throat ache with longing, “you’re a soldier, this is what you do, follow orders without question. You signed up to fight for the Motherland and to serve and protect it with your life, so what is the problem? Get on with it and stop pissing about.”

  “Sorry I’m a bit late sir,” it was Ivan Popov, bringing Nik back to the moment in hand, he turned to face the soldier, sweat trickling down the back of his neck, “the Colonel was awake, I told him what was happening and what you were doing, he just nodded and drifted off again.”

  Nik nodded, running a hand through his hair and wiping more sweat from his forehead, his mouth was dry, but he was regaining control. Sokolov was right, he was doing something that he’d trained for, he’d known that this day might come and he’d given an oath that he would do his duty. He looked around the cabin, everybody was staring at him, they all had families and they knew what he was going to do, he picked up the mobile and called the other launcher.

  “Artur, we are going for launch.”

  He looked down at the screens in front of him, picking up the information, everything looked good except for the trajectory, the computer flagged that it intended flying the missile at 20,000 feet which seemed dangerously low and could impact with civilian aircraft. Faced with the time constraints, Nik decided to dismiss the anomaly and reached into the safe for the two launch keys, he passed one to Ivan, who hung it round his neck on the long chain provided. Popov, being the third in command, had been trained for this launch, he now began confirming that all the flashing lights on his monitor were ‘go’, switching them off as he went, until only one was left.

  “Insert key,” said Nik, clearing his throat “now, on my count of three, turn to the left.”

  “One, two, slight pause three.”

  The keys turned and destiny was set, the missiles mighty engines burst into life, the roar of the neighbouring launcher increased the cacophony. The launcher platform creaked and groaned under the mounting thrust. Finally, the rockets began their long climb and everybody on board the Topol knew that their individual lives would never be the same again as they listened to the ‘bringers of death’ roaring off to their distant rendezvous’.