by CJ East
Kinch narrowed his eyes at Volkov. “Surely there must be a misunderstanding, Viktor - if I may.”
“Yes please, let us lower the formalities of our stations and speak plainly as men,” Volkov responded with a slow, aloof smirk.
“Thank you, Viktor.” Kinch continued. “In fact, I am convinced there must be a misunderstanding because Sully expressed the same concerns about the other teams. I’ve been a little out of the loop as of late, but I can assume there aren’t any regular meetings to discuss the recent events on Earth and how it effects all of us. We need each other Viktor, we may be all alone up here.”
Kinch paused as he studied Viktor’s face for any sign of softening. Viktor’s engaged expression did not change, so Kinch continued. “The next wave of colonists should have started their eight month journey to Mars. Another four members of the five teams - making another 20 colonists and doubling the Colony size. Our job is to come together as a team and prepare for that appointment.”
“A very noble speech, Kinch. I cannot disagree with your sentiment. I can only disagree with the facts. Factual errors, of course, through no fault of your own. You are merely making logical assumptions the plan would be followed these past few months while you were in your coma. Allow me to, how do you say, ‘bring you up to speed,’ on events.” Volkov looked expectantly at Kinch with a raised brow, as if waiting for permission.
Kinch needed to know what happened on Earth. In fact, he was dying to know what happened, but believing Volkov’s version would be naive at best, disastrous in all likelihood. “I’ve been able to pick up a few pieces of info here and there, but I admit I’m missing a few details. A full and accurate account would be appreciated. Please, continue.”
“It would be my duty to give you an accurate account of events, and I would do nothing less,” Volkov said, stressing “accurate”.
Sashenka crossed her legs and shifted her body to face Kinch. He felt her studying the side of his face but did not want to betray her concern for Volkov’s lies. Kinch didn’t need help to know Volkov was lying. Men like Volkov were strangers to the truth.
The General’s expression turned distant and passionless, as if removing his personal opinion from relaying the facts, “The American aggression started a few days before your accident when China exercised its sovereign right to act upon its historical claim to the island of Taiwan in the same manner it did Tibet. The Americans interfered by sending their navy to violate Chinese maritime boundaries and to illegally blockade trade ships from mainland China. As you would, of course, understand, Russia was bound to honor our treaty with China, and the Russian Navy was engaged in a support role to the Chinese Navy. During this time communication to the Colony concerning Earth events were becoming more tightly controlled. The situation became tense, but stable. The Chinese, Indians, and your Google Corporation revoked their support for sending more colonists to the Internal Mars Colony. Weeks passed with lines drawn and vigorous negotiations. The Americans continued with their Mars program as expected, saying the opportunity for the orbital alignment of Earth and Mars could not be missed since it only occurs every 26 months. As a result, the Russians readied their cosmonauts for a Russian launch as well. So, Kinch, only two teams launched. The two teams should arrive in five months.”
Viktor paused from his tale, body inflexible, his eyes drifting down to the bed. He embraced the silence and held it with his cold presence, tightening his grip. He raised his eyes and delivered a piercing stare through Kinch.
“The rest of the details are unclear, but it was agreed there was a minor incident in the Taiwan Strait which escalated to a full naval theater of war. The Americans sustained heavy naval losses the first day. They began drone assassinations of Beijing military leaders and escalations of jet air strikes within China’s air space, expanding the theater of operations to the mainland. Information is sparse here. It is known there was a thermonuclear device detonated in downtown Chicago. It is thought to be a suitcase nuke or dirty bomb. The only parties to claim responsibility in the confusion were Muslim Jihadists. A brief time after this initial report, China was the first communication link to be lost. Hours after that, Russia. Within moments, the United States went dark. We have had no communication for five weeks.”
Kinch lay silent, absorbing the reality of World War Three and Mutually Assured Destruction. He looked over at Sashenka and could tell from her distant expression and the kerchief held to her mouth Viktor was delivering the horrible truth. He understood why Volkov was making a power play for the IMC.
“This is a horrific tale. How do we come together to insure an Earth war does not continue here on Mars, Viktor?” he leveled his eyes at Volkov. He felt pulled into a contest of wills.
“I assure you the Russian, Chinese and Indian teams have done everything in their power to work through these… concerns. It is the Google team we wish to join our coalition to help persuade the Americans to reason. You and our Russian daughter are the future of the IMC.” Volkov’s eyes widened and a slight smile appeared on his lips.
“You mean pressuring us to join you,” Sashenka spoke in short, terse Russian.
Volkov did not avert his gaze from Kinch, but waited coolly for him to blink, “leave us,” he slowly responded in Russian.
Sashenka sprang up from her chair and leaned into Volkov, her index finger jammed into his face as she delivered a hushed, desperate tirade in Russian, “I am not one of your trained dogs for you to command.”
Volkov stood motionless, not acknowledging her threat, still locked in silent combat with the boy. Kinch pulled his right leg under his left as a distraction and wrapped his hand around the handle of the dagger at his side. Kinch wasn’t going to let the fragile Sashenka fight his battle, she was still recovering.
Kinch smiled at Volkov, and let out a quiet laugh that sounded genuine even to him, and said in fluent Russian, “Sister, do not be concerned by the foolish games men play to convince ourselves of our bravery. Go and let us talk.”
Sashenka, spun and looked at Kinch with open-mouthed amazement. The shock to discover he spoke Russian was visible. Her expression changed as she looked from Volkov back to Kinch. She seemed small and betrayed.
“Of course. Forgive a silly girl’s interest in the talk of men,” she said acidly and turned towards the door.
Kinch’s heart sunk at Sashenka’s offense, but she was putting herself in harm’s way. He gestured to Sashenka’s chair, “Won’t you make yourself comfortable?”
Volkov smiled and strolled towards the chair. His eyes searched the table where the dagger had been and said, “Strange someone so close to you does not know you are fluent in their native tongue.”
He poured a cup of water from the pitcher and handed the drink to Kinch, saying “Allow me.”
Kinch nodded, “Thank you, I’ll take it with my left, the right hand is still sleeping.”
Volkov continued, “I, of course, knew you spoke Russian because in my capacity I have access to your dat file. You have read Tolstoy and Dostoevsky without translation, which is quite an accomplishment.”
“Well, I had some time on my hands and blew the dust off some old books.” He drank the full contents of the small cup and handed it back to Volkov. He took Kinch’s glass, smiling in approval.
“Yes, I do not doubt the great works were readily available in your home - the farmhouse of a PhD of Literature tenured at a Midwestern university.” He inspected the contents of the pitcher and poured himself a drink.
“I appreciate your confidence in me, but you may not be familiar with the American tradition of embellishing one’s resume. I’m not splitting any atoms up here on Mars. I’m not much more than an interplanetary grease monkey.”
“Ah, Mr. McGrath, I would never make the mistake to underestimate you. Not only are you home schooled to a doctorate level, but you have been raised in a warrior culture since birth. This is why Colonel Sullivan came to visit you earlier, why he was prepared to risk your life to bring y
ou out of a coma, yes? But I am not interested in your mastery of war. Warriors are dogs trained to bite. I came to discuss your family history.”
“My family history?”
“Da. You were raised by a European family. Given an exceptional gift of a European perspective. Taught to understand history, society, geopolitics and inter-dependency. Your family is Irish - yet still European. No offense intended.” Volkov smiled as he waved the glass of water beneath his nose, pretending it to be vodka.
“None taken, considering the Asian source,” Kinch retorted with a smirk.
“You see,” Volkov showed the first hint of human emotion, “right there is an example. You have wit. You are classically trained in debate and philosophy. These Americans don’t understand what you natively grasp. They are incapable of understanding the compromise needed to get along, as the Europeans and Russians have thrived for millenniums sharing the same continent. Americans are not prone to sharing, compromise, or living in close quarters. It is not in their individualistic DNA. You are perfectly positioned to bridge the gap between the Americans and the rest of the IMC.”
Kinch now saw his angle. Volkov needed an inside influencer to weaken Sully’s position, a useful idiot to work towards a philosophical ideal for a cover story. “Yeah,” he started slowly, “since you have accessed my dat file, you know I don’t have a lot of allegiance to the American team,” he lied. “They dismissed me from their program. Google drafted me because I was so far along in training and better than what they had.”
“Precisely why I speak to you with such familiarity. I am asking you to think beyond the old world and embrace the here and now. America is a memory, Kinch. This is a new beginning.”
The words stunned Kinch. They reached down his throat, stole his words, pulled forth his breath, and stopped his heart. He understood he was never going home. Kinch muscled through the lie, “Of course. Everyone has accepted this as the new reality. But, like Sashenka and everyone else on the Google team, I’m sitting this one out. I have no dog in this fight. I’m a mechanic. I’ve got a job to do.”
Volkov’s face betrayed a severe look of disappointment as he took a short drink from the metal cup, draining it.
“Ah, if only this was vodka!” Volkov lamented. “I have often said a Russian’s love for vodka is only surpassed by an Irishman’s love of whiskey. I mean that as a compliment,” he winked and leaned into Kinch as if to let him in on a secret.
Kinch tightened the grip on his dagger with his right hand as he played along with Volkov’s increasingly dangerous game. “Then I won’t surprise you, General, by asking if you would be so kind as to pour another drink?”
“Excellent!” Volkov exclaimed and turned to the table and stopped. “But you must drink it with your right hand,” he emphasized as he refilled the cup. “To strengthen your frailty, of course.” Volkov’s confident glare clashed with something primal and dangerous in Kinch’s eyes.
Kinch faked a huge smile and quoted, “’Tis the Paddy’s cure” from The Rocky Road to Dublin with a thick Irish brogue. He twisted his body to grasp the cup Volkov held out before him. Kinch grasped the drink and pulled, but found Volkov did not release. Instead Viktor lifted the metal cup and Kinch’s hand up and over Kinch’s shoulder, exposing the boy’s right side. Kinch looked up into Volkov’s face, finding a predatory posture of a hunter nearing his death blow. Volkov had opened up Kinch’s entire right torso and chest for attack. Viktor had staggered his right leg backwards and had his right hand hidden behind his side. Kinch furrowed his brow at Volkov’s offensive position and looked down at his own left hand, which he had slid across his shifting body and now gripped the exposed handle of the dagger. Volkov followed his prey’s attention, scoffed when he saw the weapon, and released the cup.
“I very much would enjoy playing a game of chess with you, Mr. McGrath.” He smiled as he took a step back from the bed and adjusted something in his right hand.
“How clumsy of me,” Kinch mused as he looked into his cup, “I assumed we were.” He drank the cup and held it high for Volkov to take.
“Da. Da. Life is a game of chess, is it not?” Volkov agreed and retrieved the glass for his turn.
“Here I must disagree with you Comrade General,” Kinch said losing his enthusiasm for the discussion. “Chess is a game of very structured rules and probable outcomes. Life is much more fluid.”
“I understand how one could come to this conclusion.” Volkov took the cup and turned his back to him to prepare another drink.
Kinch considered thrusting the dagger into his spleen. It was reckless for Volkov to assume Kinch did not understand the gravity of the situation.
“Kinch,” Volkov started in a somber tone, “when one reacts to the world, rather than acting upon it, events appear to be mystical, ever changing and out of control. I am asking you help us to gain control of the current situation. To bring order and structure to this chaos.” He sat the pitcher down and peered at the cup, his back still to Kinch.
“Who’s order? Who’s structure?” Kinch sneered. “History speaks to the pattern of your Russian order - revolution, mass murder, dictatorship, chaos, repeat.” It was time to end this. Attacking the General’s pride and nation would move to the next step. Volkov had a plan and would not be swayed by reason or rhetoric.
Volkov straightened. He took a deep breath and threw back the water. He stared forward to the wall and said, “Tell me, who will protect your Russian flower when you are gone?” He sat the empty cup on the table.
Kinch felt the rage welling in his chest. He could stab him in the back and end this here. Sully would do it with conviction. He couldn’t bring himself to the act. He had never stabbed anyone - let alone in the back.
“Viktor, this is madness. These people are elite technicians and scientists, not peasants and proletariats. We won’t be intimidated.”
Volkov reached down and picked up the kerchief Sashenka had left in her rage. He rolled it over his hand as he walked to the foot of the bed, turning his attention down the darkened hallway. “There is a chess tradition which passed away in the 19th century for which I am nostalgic. Similar to the honorable rule of announcing to your opponent his king is in check, in more noble times a Russian competitor of honor would warn his intention of capturing his opponent’s queen. The term is garde, young Mr. McGrath.” Volkov raised the kerchief to his face and captured her scent as he walked out of the room.
Sashenka
Kinch struggled from his recovery bed to his feet in the darkened room, leaning his weight on the table next to his bed. The sturdy rollers on the table would function as a make-shift walker. He wrapped a thick hand towel around the dagger and set it on the table. He had to move.
During the humbling labor of dressing himself in his green Google team jumpsuit with uncooperative fingers, he discovered his body was relearning movement with use. His muscle memory was forgotten. Kinch felt like a visitor in this body. A careless footstep without deliberate concentration now would be disastrous.
His body was physically changed. He had always been lean, but now his muscles were thick in his arms, back, neck and legs. Of course Sully had convinced Dr. Singh to bulk-up his comatose body with growth enhancers and electric muscle stimulation - optimistic Kinch would wake up, anticipating the ‘Big Dance.’
These heavy muscles covered his body like a new layer of bonding, pulling together healed tissue and knitted bone. A long, ugly scar snaked across his chest and midsection from the angry cable. Smaller pink scars branded his side and his left arm, healed over with puffy new skin.
He steadied his grip on opposite ends of the table preparing for the daunting walk. He rolled the table towards the hallway, his head down and weight distributed on the table like a palsied lecturer at a podium. The lights of the Colony were dimmed due to the late hour. He tried to be as stealthy as his lethargic body would allow. He staggered down the dark, hexagonal stone hallways in the direction of Sashenka’s cell.
&n
bsp; He concentrated on the geometric cobblestone floor. The entire subterranean Colony was carved years ago by excavation robots, the same bots Kinch maintained and programmed. The site was selected for the presence of columnar basalt. The rock was made by lava cooling over thousands of years and forming fractures in long, hexagonal columns which can be easily cut away to form passageways and rooms. The bot excavation programs were easy for Kinch to create: measure the column, slice the top and the base with diamond saws, and the column fell to be carted away.
Kinch entered into the main atrium and rested. The only light came from the skylight 40 feet up on the Common room’s ceiling. Columns of basalt, three to a support, held the domed ceiling aloft. Faint lights beckoned atop passage entrances which spoked from the central Commons. He focused on the doorway to the Google hallway spoke, plotted the most direct route. He then slapped a bare foot forward on the floor.
The digital readout on the wall displayed 1:14 AM in the Mars 24 hour, 37 minute solar day. All was quiet except for the constant hum of the muffled drilling of excavation bots expanding the Colony as he crept down the Google hall. He arrived at Sashenka’s cell and tapped on the door. “Sashenka. Sashenka!” he whispered and rapped harder.
The door flew open and a teary eyed Sashenka stood in amazement, “Kinch? How did you?” She flashed down at the table and back up at him.
Kinch wasted no time, “My cell, we have to hurry.” He pushed the table a short step down the hall and pulled his legs along. Sashenka watched Kinch shuffle down the hall in silent shock as she pulled the door closed behind her.
“Here, let me help you.” She said as she grabbed his arm.
“Actually, I’ve got this down to a pattern, thanks,” he puffed. “Six more steps should get me to the door.”
“You walked this table all the way from the infirmary Kinch? Do you not realize you could have hurt yourself by falling?”
