by CJ East
“Yeah, we have to hurry. Open my cell door, please.”
Sashenka ran around Kinch and threw open the door. Kinch shuffled in and stopped in front of his bed. He pivoted, falling on the bed. Sashenka helped to lift his legs to his bed as Kinch sat back. She reached for the towel and felt the dagger wrapped inside. She let go and hurried to close the door. She handed the wrapped weapon to Kinch and pushed the table to the side of the room.
“You need to rest, foolish mule,” Sashenka admonished. “You will end up bursting scars or tearing wounds. Not to mention your muscles have not been used for three months.”
“Sashenka,” Kinch started, “I just learned how escalated this situation is between Volkov and Sully. There is going to be bloodshed. Volkov is planning something.” Kinch massaged the leg spasm convulsing in his right thigh.
“Kinch, do not get involved. You are too weak. Even if you could, the Americans are all alone, no one is standing with them.” She pulled up a short stool next to his bed.
“I am with them, Sashenka,” he turned to look at her.
“No, Kinch, no. You cannot. Volkov and his men will kill you.”
Kinch searched deeply in Sashenka’s eyes, “Volkov is only emboldened because his numbers are so weighted in his favor. If the odds were more even, his confidence would erode. Don’t you see? By joining with the Americans, we can discourage Volkov from attacking.”
“Kinch, please. Stay out of it. You are on the Google team, not the USA team. Maybe no one will bother you if you don’t get involved - if you stay neutral.”
Kinch stared hard at Sashenka. She was not without grit. What happened to her? Volkov must have scared her. Sully talked about percentages. He wondered the percentage of Sashenka joining the Russian team. She didn’t like Sully, but she feared Volkov. What leverage did her fellow Russian have over her? Her eyes met his. They pleaded with him, enveloping him in her concern.
“Give me your hand,” he said and reached out his left hand.
She dropped her tiny hand in his palm as he twisted his body towards her and placed his other hand on top, capturing her hand like a delicate bird. “Everything is going to be fine,” he reassured.
He studied her soft, pale skin and memorized the pale shade of her blue eyes. He cleared his mind of Volkov and the coming war, concentrating only on her essence as she began to radiate a silver glow. He closed his eyes and saw her shining outline persist. In the middle of her forehead burned an orange ring; the portal to Sashenka’s mind. He focused on the center of the blazing circle until orange rays began to burst from the sides in a rapid blur. The flares created a tunnel then seemed to freeze in time as he beamed into the center of Sashenka’s mind.
He successfully created the psychic bridge through touch as Amica had instructed. He drifted, detached from his body, existing only in thought and emotion. Could he read her memories the way the Coccino were able to access his? He thought the words “show me your life”. What happened next shocked Kinch to his core. His mind flooded with Sashenka’s memories replayed at high speed, downloading to his mind with almost instantaneous speed. They sped from her first memories like a video in sequential fast motion. He watched her life through her eyes, every private moment displayed to him, too rapid to parse.
There wasn’t time. He had to know where Sashenka’s allegiances were, so he brought an image of Volkov to his focus. A flood of her emotion overwhelmed him; fear of his threats and intimidation, despair over her helplessness. Kinch felt her mind react in terror at Volkov’s repeated threats to kill Kinch if he helped the Americans. He saw her protecting him, trying to keep him alive, lying about Kinch’s allegiances and motivations, pretending to hate Sully. Sashenka had worked this plan to keep him alive.
He watched as she had slept near him after the night Volkov interrogated her about Kinch. She feared Volkov would kill him in his sleep and she couldn’t let that happen, nothing else mattered, because she loved him. A distant, adoring, deep love consuming all her moments. She knew he could never love her because of her broken past, but she could not stop from loving him, even if unrequited, from afar. It would be the only happiness she believed she would ever know.
Kinch recoiled from his intrusion in fear and shame. He felt a pull back to his body and saw the blur of rays reversing into Sashenka’s mind portal, the link severed. He opened his eyes with a jump to see Sashenka’s concerned stare locked on him, “Kinch, are you alright? What is wrong?”
Kinch blinked rapidly, he was sweating and breathing short, quick breaths. He surveyed his cell in quick glances, trying to get his bearings. “Yes, yes. I’m OK. I just had a flashback - the accident,” he lied.
She leaned in closer to him and lowered her head. He now understood her. She wanted to be near him, not for herself, but for him. She wanted to give comfort, not receive it. She had been protecting him against Volkov, explaining her look of betrayal when Kinch sent her away to protect her.
He filtered through her downloaded memories to find the beginning of it all. A little, blue-eyed, blond Russian girl with ribbons in her hair and a colorful dress opening like a kaleidoscope as she spun in her back yard. Then the drunken step-father, with his leering stares, his apelike face, and wretched heart pulling her to the dark, cold shack. The years of sexual abuse, the shame, the secrets, the lies twisting everything to blame her. The horror of suicide as the only escape and knowing she was, and always would be, broken and dirty. She sensed every man and boy knew it instinctively when they watched her. She was tainted, soiled, and useful for only one purpose. She knew no man would ever love her.
Sashenka, felt the violent tremble in Kinch’s hands, “Shhh. She whispered to the floor. The dreams will pass Kinch. You are safe here, I will stay with you, as you stayed with me after my Neuromorphine awakening.”
Kinch tried to separate his thoughts. He didn’t want to witness her Neuromorphine memories. The three days after the team was brought out of the deep space coma, Sashenka was catatonic. He could not bring himself to know her torture, but instinctively knew the apelike face of the step-father would break through whatever totems and defenses she built and haunt her nightmare.
Sashenka could not communicate when she was awakened from the seven month sleep. She only rocked and sobbed, sometimes a low, hopeless moan like a sick child. Kinch had stayed close to her every minute he could. He worked next to her, lightly talking about the tasks, joking about their food and how he looked forward to the fresh fruits she would grow in the bio lab. After her recovery she apologized to Doug, the Google team leader, with the explanation of being surrounded by light and only hearing distant sounds she could not comprehend. She was interviewed by Earth medical teams and Dr. Singh. The incident was documented and never spoke of again.
He saw those shattered days of recovery now through their shared memories. Her desperation, trying to find the strength to take another breath, trying to cross the abyss between herself and humanity. He saw the determination it took for her to come back to them. To come back to him.
Kinch became self-conscious as he saw his hands were still shaking. He breathed in a calming breath and let out a long, slow exhale. He felt the tension move out of his arms.
He opened his eyes and saw Sashenka’s head down, wisps of her hair layering down her face. Her brow was furrowed and lips were moving. He knew what she was saying: the Orthodox Prayer of Protection she would recite as a child to a deaf God before her abuse. She never gave up on the prayer, or on God. Even in His silence, she knew God wept with her. He clenched his eyes shut, his chest swelling in a shared pain which now belonged to them both.
His mind clicked over like a switch to warnings which dictated he would process these emotions later. He had to get control of his thoughts. He remembered Sully and their discussion. Execute the plan, push forward, he told himself.
Kinch opened his eyes again and surveyed the broken girl battling to strengthen and protect him. “Sashenka,” he paused. “You are a good person. Thank
you, sincerely.”
She did not lift her head. “You must rest,” she whispered. “My mother used to tell me, ‘The nights are long, but joy comes in the morning.’”
“I need you to do something for me, Sashenka. I need your help. I have to speak with Venkat and Chang. You must bring them here. I can’t walk to them.”
She lifted her head and gave him a forced smile. There were tears in her eyes. She stood and moved with a gentle grace to the door without a word. She turned back and gave a sad smile. “Measure carefully what you will ask of your friends. They are under great pressure,” she said.
Venkat
When Sashenka opened the door, she ushered in Venkat and Chang with a stern, unspoken reminder of the warning to remain quiet. Venkat, an expressive young Indian, squealed childishly with delight as he discovered Kinch propped against the wall. He leapt on the bed, straddling Kinch’s legs and wrapping his arms around him. “You are alive and well!”
The force of Venkat’s hug slammed the back of Kinch’s head into a stone hexagon corner of the wall.
“Hey. Easy there, tiger! No need to put me back into a coma,” he said rubbing his head.
“Many apologies. Oh, Kinch, it is unspeakable the joy I feel at seeing you. I feared the worst when I saw bones and blood and stitches.”
Kinch laughed and drank in Venkat with his eyes. His presence was infectious, easily the most demonstrative personality Kinch had ever met. There were no secrets with this boy, which was why Kinch loved playing poker with him.
“Chang, my brotha! I owe you a big one!” Kinch held out his arms to the young man who talked him through the rescue mission.
Chang beamed a huge smile. He leaned down to Kinch with an unsteady hug, “I knew you would make it. Never doubted it,” he grinned.
Something seemed wrong with him. Kinch searched his face. He had a large bruise partially covered by a bandage on the right side of his face. Venkat elbowed Chang and told him to wait his turn. This started a conversation on who had made more trips to the infirmary.
Kinch watched the boys’ faces as they talked rapidly, cutting each other off and talking over the other. It was a warm and glowing reunion. He searched for Sashenka and found her sitting on top of a small dresser on the far side of the room, watching Kinch with interest.
“All right, all right. Settle down you two, you argue like kid brothers. How come you are so polite and well-mannered in front of your bosses, but you almost come to blows when it is just us?”
Venkat smiled, “We sink to your level, Kinch. You are a corrupting influence on us.”
Kinch ignored the swipe and struck right to the issue, “So anyway, I’ve missed a couple of things while I was napping. A world war, an emerging coup. Chang, the Russians and the Chinese are together in this?”
Chang’s body transformed dramatically. His spine became rigid as his body tensed. His eyes darted to the right and the left as he fumbled for words, “I do not know many details. Only it appears to be the Americans against everyone else. There are a lot of accusations, disappearances of crucial equipment, food supplies. It is concerning, Kinch. No one knows what is happening. It seems everyone is frightened of each other.”
Kinch looked at the side of Chang’s face, “What happened to you, Chang? Is everything OK?”
“Oh this?” He covered his bruise with his hand. “In your absence I have taken on Tai as a sparring partner. He found an opportunity as I was unfortunately inattentive. The contusion looks far worse than it is. Nothing comparative to your injuries of course.”
Kinch liked to play poker with Chang too. He always used his best English words to compensate when he was nervous or lying.
“I see. So what has Hong Li instructed you, Grace, and Tai to do? Are you working with Volkov?”
Chang slid his hands in his cargo pockets and looked at Kinch. “Hong Li mostly talks with Tai. Grace and I have been told to stay away from the Americans. And from you,” he looked to the floor.
“Hong Li has forbidden you to speak to me?” Kinch asked curiously.
“No, not expressly. He has said if you get involved, you may join the American’s plan to take over the Colony.”
“Let me guess, imperialistic tendencies,” Kinch smiled as Chang stared down at the smooth, red stone floor of the cell.
Kinch turned to Venkat who looked as if all the blood had washed out of his body. His eyes were wide and mouth down-turned, anticipating the questioning.
“So Venkat, where is Arjun in this?”
“Arjun is keeping communications open with both Colonel Sullivan and General Volkov. He is stressing compromise and wanting to find a solution to the issue.”
Kinch smiled at his friend, “Is that what he told you to say, Venkat.”
“Yes,” Venkat admitted with a large smile.
Kinch looked at Sashenka. She had a trace of a smug expression on her face. She gently smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
Kinch thought for a second, then exclaimed with a smile, “Hey, I have an idea. I haven’t shown you my new trick. Just perfected it.”
“New trick!” shouted Venkat as he clasped his hands together, “Show us, show us, please!”
“Alright Mr. Excitement, you first. I want you to think of a number between one and a hundred. Something meaningful to you personally. Whisper it to someone and don’t let me hear. I’m going to read your mind.”
Kinch laughed as Venkat stared to the ceiling undertaking some complex internal algebraic calculation for the least-probable number for a teenage Irish-American astronaut from Muncie, Indiana, to guess.
Kinch waited for him to tell Chang his number, knowing he was too shy to whisper into a girl’s ear. “Tell someone your number,” chided Kinch.
He spun around on the stool to Sashenka and with a blush, changed direction, leaned over to Chang, and whispered in his ear. Kinch exchanged a knowing laugh with Sashenka.
Kinch watched Chang back away from Venkat nodding in consent. Venkat faced Kinch with a pleased, self-assured look, betraying he had found the perfect number. “So how many guesses do you get?” he asked.
“I will need only one,” Kinch smirked and scooted himself forward until his knees bent over the bedside.
“Oh ho, ho! This is simply wonderful,” Venkat exclaimed. “Kinch is always so cunning and sharp, but not this time. Oh my! Simply wonderful! I want to see this amazing trick.”
“Then give me your hand.”
Venkat thrust an upraised palm a little too close under Kinch’s chin with wide eyes and an unconstrained smile. Kinch snapped his head back and shot Venkat an expression of mock anger. He peeked towards Sashenka and Chang. They were captivated by the shtick the two were acting.
“Now, you didn’t pick pi of course,” Kinch teased.
“Oh my goodness!” Venkat protested. “I knew you would cry foul if I did pick real or algebraic numbers. They are technically numbers, Kinch, you understand, but I am not giving you the excuse. I am limiting my choice to a range of natural numbers starting at or including one and ending at or including 100,” Venkat admonished.
“Good, Venkat. I wouldn’t want you to cheat,” he said and winked as he grabbed Venkat’s hand. “Now concentrate on your natural number.”
Kinch locked eyes with Venkat. Venkat blinked like he was sending Morse code and a contagious smile grew across his face. Kinch smiled too and shook his head. He closed his eyes and focused on Venkat’s essence. His shining silhouette and mind portal appeared in the same manner as did Sashenka’s, though not as strong. He wasted no time when the link was established and entered Venkat’s mind.
“Show me your life,” he thought and all of Venkat’s memories and experiences injected into Kinch’s mind. He watched with amazement as they sped through his consciousness, becoming memories of his own.
“How could a man with his past be so happy?” he thought. An image came before him of a young Venkat at his mother’s deathbed. He was crying as she smiled and smooth
ed his hair. “My son,” she whispered, “Your heart can be filled with bitterness or it can be filled with joy. Everyone must choose how they fill their hearts. Promise me you will choose joy.”
Kinch recoiled from his intrusion on the moment, a moment long past which had become a shared memory. The experience made him love Venkat as it made him love Sashenka. To truly know someone’s struggles - their life - there is no choice but to love them.
The reminder of danger returned to Kinch as he focused his next thought, “Show me Arjun.” A wave of Venkat’s fear and distrust surrounded Kinch. Arjun had used his position to cower Venkat, forced him to do unethical things. He saw Venkat copying the classified dat files of every colonist, collecting their communications and bundling them for Arjun.
“Show me Volkov,” he thought. A feeling of terror transferred to Kinch. Venkat viewed the Russian as inhuman, a soulless demon, threatening and demeaning Arjun in front of him. Volkov wanted the dat files on the USA team, Kinch and their communications with the USA base, but Arjun wouldn’t give it to him. Volkov struck him hard in the stomach, kicked him to the ground. Kinch watched the savage beating through Venkat’s terror filled eyes.
Kinch pushed back the rolling images from his mind. Volkov knew everything - communications, contingency plans, and time lines. Kinch was starting to feel weak. “What is your number?” he thought.
A photograph of Kinch appeared in Venkat’s thoughts. Venkat had selected a picture taken after a race. Kinch was holding a medal worn around his neck, smiling happily as his grandfather beamed in pride next to him. The number pinned to Kinch’s jersey was 87.
Kinch pulled back from Venkat’s mind, breaking the link in an explosion of orange and white. When he opened his eyes, Venkat was staring straight at him, failing to contain his enthusiasm.
“You picked the number from a picture in my dat file. An endurathon, when I won the youth division. Your number is 87.”
Venkat jerked his hand away from Kinch to cover his open mouth. He shot up and spun around to Sashenka in amazement. “That is it! That is the exact number and the exact reference from which I got the number!”
