by CJ East
Volkov bent down and felt the bodies. He raised up again and said with a cool detachment, “I disagree with your hypothesis, Professor. I have held dying comrades on the battlefield who have bled out. When major arteries are severed, the blood is drained in minutes at the most - their heat escaping with their heart blood.” He looked at Doctor Doug Mrazik with intense seriousness, “A cold, lifeless body in minutes, this is how fragile our lives are.”
“Yes, but physics demand a much different outcome.” Resentment and offense raised in Doug’s voice at Viktor’s challenge, “Muscle and fat are insulators. It isn’t possible -”
Volkov cut him off. “Your hypothesis, good Professor, based on what should happen does not compare against my intimate knowledge of death. Years of experience with shattered, broken bodies. I warn you of the mistake all academics make: you over complicate explanations in theory. These men are saboteurs. They made a foolish mistake and the result is before you. How can you deny what your eyes testify to you? For what purposes would you design such inventions of the imagination? What schemes or plots are you devising?”
The Google team leader was taken by surprise, “I’m not plotting anything General. I’m drawing logical conclusions based on observation,” Doug stuttered.
Volkov stepped into the man’s space, “Have you ever observed a dead body, Doug? Have you ever carried a wounded man in your arms only to reach the medic with a cold lump of meat? Have you ever tried to breathe life into a cold, dying soldier and have your breath escape through a sucking hole in their chest? I have observed this, in the hells of Crimea, Sudan, Kazakhstan and the Bohemian homeland your ancestors abandoned, Professor Mrazik.”
Doug recoiled backwards in shock at the unforeseen aggression as Volkov took another step into him. “I have made these observations, Professor, and, therefore, I propose you are in error and should strongly consider the consequences of applying your irresponsible academic theories to a very delicate situation.” Volkov poked two fingers hard into Doug’s chest to accentuate his point.
Doug stood buffaloed, unable to respond. It was apparent he was not used to being physically threatened, and not by someone as skilled as Viktor Volkov.
“I agree with the Doctor,” Kinch said. He dropped Sashenka’s hand and took an unsteady step forward. The combatants spun to face Kinch who was shuffling towards Volkov. “You said I was the explosive expert. Those men had to be lying prone. If they were standing or squatting there would be nothing but pink mist. A C-9 interface has a countdown display and two buttons: green engage with safety mechanisms and a red panic button abort.” Kinch continued forward in slow, painful steps. “Engaging the countdown sequence required thought and purpose, but a monkey could abort it by hitting the red button.” Kinch stopped inches away from Volkov’s face, a glare of pure disdain burning into the man.
“You expect the professionals in this Colony to believe a contrived fairy tale of a combat war veteran and a PhD scientist face down, inches from an explosive device beeping every second as it counted down and couldn’t muster the cognitive process to touch a red button? What nature of fools do you take us for?”
Volkov held Kinch’s gaze, formed a warped curling snarl and said, “Perfect fools.” Zhukov and Brzezinski stepped from the shadows behind Sashenka and moved towards the men. Battle lines were being drawn, Kinch felt electricity fill his body as the adrenaline rushed through his veins.
“Where do we bury these men?” Sashenka almost shouted. “We must have decency. Our humanity, gentlemen,” she emphasized in a hushed tone.
Volkov menaced a toothy smile at Kinch. “My men will not touch those traitorous cowards,” he said. “Let the dead bury the dead.” He took a step back, his face transforming to his familiar stone expression. He turned to Doug, made a final judgment on the condition of the man, and delivered his parting shot. “Weigh my council with care, Professor. These are perilous times. Your team looks to you for leadership.”
Volkov did not wait for reply. He strode past Kinch, Zhukov, Malenkov and Brzezinski following from their flanking positions. Brzezinski leered a cocky, taunting expression and threw his right shoulder into Kinch as he passed. Kinch spun on unbalanced legs and threw an automatic left fist in Brzezinski’s direction. It connected with a loud smack in the back of his thick neck. Kinch continued to hop on one leg trying to regain his balance without falling over.
Brzezinski stopped, made a slow turn with calculated violence in his face. Kinch steadied himself, squared his shoulders and stood to his full height. He leveled his gaze at Brzezinski and saw he was laughing, “Feeble boy. My sister hits stronger than you.”
“I hear your sister does a lot of things well, Sasha,” Kinch sneered.
“Brzezinski!” came a clipped order from Volkov. Brzezinski pivoted with a smoldering frown and lumbered into the darkness.
Damage
Sashenka slid to Kinch’s side and stood in the quiet darkness as the Russians retreated towards the hallway. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she whispered.
Kinch smoldered as Brzezinski’s shadowy figure slipped through the door. The goon would pay him back for the sister crack. He had only a few hours before then.
He turned to see Sashenka staring at him with concern and fear. He inspected his boots and raised his eyebrows in embarrassment.
“I’m scared Kinch. Your friends, do you really believe they were murdered?”
“Everything is going to be fine, don’t worry. Nothing is going to happen now. We have some time.” He couldn’t think of a bigger lie. With Sully and Curtis gone, Viktor controlled time. 9 a.m. was the time he had assigned to Kinch.
Kinch put his hand on Sashenka’s shoulder and shuffled to discover Doug, looking offended and lost, whispering to Ron. This is the man to confront to Volkov? Sully said there was hope, but his wishful thinking didn’t work out. Worried thoughts jumped through Kinch’s mind, each more hostile and concerning than the last.
The lights flickered to life on for the side of the lab furthest from the blast area. The four members of the Google team blinked and surveyed the lab. A white haze drifted over the high ceiling. A pillar group close to the blast zone had broken two of its three basalt columns. Soil and green plants were scattered in all directions.
Kinch studied the two men massaging their bruised egos and tried to think of optimistic or encouraging words to say. There were none, so he said, “We better get out there. The argument is being framed.”
“Framed? What argument is being framed?” questioned Doug.
Kinch could not hide an incredulous eyebrow raise at his lack of understanding of the situation. “The argument proposing two of our closest friends killed themselves attempting a coup. The argument concluding the Americans and this corporate team can no longer be trusted. Decisions are being made in the Commons as we stand here wasting time.”
“The Google team had no involvement in any of this, Kinch. You can’t be so rash as to say these extreme accusations,” the Doctor admonished.
Kinch pursed his lips together with all his restraint. Doug got knocked on his hind quarters pretty good, and a repeat performance was waiting for him, this time in front of the Colony. If he wanted to walk into a gun fight with a knife, so be it.
Sashenka slipped under Kinch’s arm to support him and they shambled towards the door. She was tiny, but didn’t buckle under his weight. She placed a hand on the small of his back and wrapped the other hand around his forearm. She stared forward, focusing on him in the corner of her vision.
Kinch owed her an explanation. He needed to tell her why he couldn’t join Volkov as she wanted him to do, but she would know. She was much more intuitive than his friends.
She studied and listened to people - was interested in them. She was always putting puzzle pieces together. He was distrustful of quiet people as a rule, those lingering souls scrutinizing in judgment - hiding, waiting, even plotting. They were so foreign from his worldview. He preferred to speak your mind and be
correct or corrected, either way, everything was in the open. Sashenka was not like him, she was special.
Kinch felt sick to his stomach. Not due to his weakness or the events from the past few hours. Something older, more familiar returned to him. A self-doubt settled in his soul, whispering he was wrong about the explosion, Sully had manipulated him, and he needed to follow Sashenka’s lead.
“You accept he will kill you now,” Sashenka observed as they navigated the debris. “He is the type of prideful man who will take satisfaction in performing the deed himself.”
“Yes, I know,” he answered. She didn’t need an explanation.
“But he will make it appear an accident, or you started a fight, like just now, foolish boy.”
“Not one of my best choices,” he answered a little annoyed.
“Volkov has been studying you for a long time and can take advantage of your rashness. He perceives you as the biggest threat since your Colonel and Curtis are dead. You are now the leader of his opposition.”
Kinch was annoyed now, “But Doug, he is our team lead. He -”
“Oh, stop it,” she said in an angry whisper. “That academic has no idea his life is in danger. At least you can do something about it, Kinch.” She turned to him with tears spilling over her eyelids. “Please, Kinch. Tell him you were wrong. Tell him you made a mistake. Volkov needs you. He told me so last night. He said the young people trust you and they will follow you.”
Kinch remembered Sashenka and Volkov’s argument that woke him up an hour ago. Kinch accessed her memories of the argument. He replayed how she feared Volkov, how she begged to do anything to keep him alive. She agreed to be the man’s mistress if only he would spare Kinch’s life. Volkov demanded Kinch’s support for taking temporary oversight of the Colony. She promised she would make Kinch understand.
He let go of the memories and his limbs felt heavy as stones. He perceived the strength drain from him. They approached the door and Sashenka stopped. She peered behind her to find their Google teammates were out of earshot. She flashed a hard, chiseled expression at Kinch.
“Who will fight with you against these killers? Me? Venkat? Those two show ponies behind us?” Her eyes pleaded with him.
Kinch understood her - her fear and sacrifice for him. No one had ever been so selfless for him. She had seen so much suffering in her young life. There were no secrets about her, he held them all. And she only wanted him to live.
“I, I don’t know what to do,” he said as he flitted from Sashenka to the door footsteps away.
Sashenka’s lips trembled as she searched his face, “You must do what we do in Russia,” she said as she stepped into the hallway with a hopeful expression, “You stay alive.”
Anarchy
The Commons was filled with worried colonists huddled in small groups, talking and gesturing, and a few were watching the four members of the Google team as they emerged from the bio lab. Grace shouted, “Here they come!” as the crowd turned. The colonists searched their faces for clues on what was in the other room.
Kinch leaned over to his team lead, “Are you ready for this Dr. Mrazik?”
“Of course. We are only reporting the facts, Mr. McGrath. We must not leap to assumptions based on our fears. Right-minded people can sift fact from fiction.” Doug had his swagger back.
“Exactly,” agreed Kinch. “What right-minded person would prohibit an impartial investigation of the facts if there were legitimate questions?”
“No person here, Mr. McGrath. Aristotelian use of logos, the appeal to logic, is the most effective instrument of persuasion for an audience.”
He was about to speak when Sashenka gave him a small pinch in his back. He turned to her and received a sour look of disapproval. He slowed his walk to let Doug pull ahead. This was about to get real.
War wasn’t coming, war was here. Mars, the blood-soaked deity of war, the rust-stained planet, was now contaminated by the same disease which killed Earth. The outcome was inevitable, the reason why both the Russians and the Americans had contingency plans.
As he walked he considered the story of humanity on Mars should not be so different from Earth. The history of every nation is written in blood, their borders forged by war. The song of man is a long, suffering dirge of man’s oppression of his fellow man. Why should humans on a different planet be exempt from this natural condition?
Someone called out his name. ”Kinch! So glad to have you back, man!” Jon Kindred clamped a hand down on his shoulder and shook him. A short, scrappy geologist weighing about a hundred and fifty pounds if he was carrying a big bag of rocks.
“You too, Kindred. Where’s Alexa?”
“She is over there trying to figure out what is going on with the lights. We tried to get in touch with Sully, but he isn’t responding.” Jon leaned in close so as not to be heard. He said in a hushed tone, “Did Sully bring you up to speed?”
Kinch turned to Sashenka, and back to Jon, “Yeah, he did. Told me a bunch of stuff. He, well, he.”
“Then you’re in, right? I told him you would be in.”
“Jon. There is no ‘in.’” Kinch took a deep breath. “Sully and Curtis were in the explosion. They are both dead. You and Alexa are all that is left of the USA team.”
Horror bleached Kindred’s face. “Oh, God no.”
“I’m sorry. Come on Jon, let’s walk,” he said as he shifted half of his weight off Sashenka.
He was considering what to say to the shocked man when a strange warm pressure crossed his forehead as if a hot towel had been wrapped around it. A familiar sensation tingled through him like a mental link being formed, as if a thought was pushing into his mind.
He lifted his head and was drawn to Volkov, watching him like prey. Volkov was nodding in agreement as Mrazik was talking to him. Sashenka pulled Kinch’s head down to whisper in his ear. “Do not antagonize Volkov. He will make trouble if you become a threat to him.”
The heat spread throughout his face. Kinch wondered what was causing this new sensation. Yes, it was blood lust and vengeance for his murdered friends, but it was something more - a warning system, an alert of danger. Perhaps the intensity of Volkov’s thoughts could be received by his newly awakened mind. If only he could read Volkov’s thoughts instead of this vague intuition of mortal danger.
Doug popped up over the crowd, scanning as if taking attendance. He was standing on a short column of rock which was used as a stool around one of the dining tables. He assumed an erudite air of privileged leadership. He adjusted his thick-framed glasses with purpose as he began speaking in a soft voice until the crowd stopped to hear him.
“Thank you for your attention. I have some solemn news to impart to you. Earlier in this hour there was an explosion causing extensive damage to the bio lab area. Multiple cultivating systems were affected, to what extent, we have not yet determined. After initial consultation with General Volkov and our explosive demolition technologist, Cullum McGrath, it was determined a C-9 charge was detonated.”
Conversation rippled through the colonists at the news. “Why? Who would have done this?” a voice was heard over the noise. Volkov surveyed the crowd with a keen eye, focusing on the voice.
“Please,” the Mrazik continued, “I have one more horrible event to reveal.” The crowd turned stone quiet. Doug sighed and blinked away an imaginary tear. “I regret to inform you Colonel Tom Sullivan and Jeff Curtis were killed in the blast.”
A sharp, collective gasp escaped the group. They rumbled with words of disbelief. Volkov’s expression did not change, his eyes scanned the reactions, landing on a person of interest for a few seconds then moving on. Doug was waving down the crowd, raising his voice to gain their attention, but the colonists’ momentum grew louder.
“Murder!” one voice rang out above the rest. The voice belonged to a woman with a thick New York accent. An immediate silence swept through colonists as all eyes turned to Alexa who was glaring at Volkov in defiance.
Doug reac
ted to the charge like a shotgun blast to the chest. He stumbled and almost fell off his perch. “People!” he chastised as he regained his balance and composure, “People, we cannot be irresponsible in accusations. I assure everyone there will be a full investigation of the facts concerning this incident.”
Alexa ignored him and continued, “Sully and Curtis would never have set a charge to blow up the bio lab.” She dropped her voice to a confident, low declaration. “They were murdered.”
“On the contrary, Miss Lucente,” Volkov shouted over the crowd. He paused as he stepped forward in front of Doug to confront Alexa. “Our initial findings do not point to any acts as distasteful as the one you suggest. This was sabotage by the American team for some reason we do not yet know.”
“You are a lying pig and a murderer!” Alexa shouted. She lunged forward but was caught by Dr. Singh standing next to her. “Let me go!” she protested, struggling to free herself for the conflict.
“Colonists!” Volkov shouted through the tumult, “We must not fall into anarchy. At all costs we must have order and safety. We must master our passions or they will be the masters of us.”
He was barely audible above the crowd. Kinch watched the hysterics of Alexa, filled with grief and fear, leaning on Pushpa and beginning to cry. Her outburst shamed him. She was honest with the grief he was hiding. He envied her, wanted to cry out the truth. Jon ran from Kinch’s side to grab Alexa and she collapsed in his arms.
Sashenka pulled closer to him. She was watching Alexa and starting to sob. His chest expanded, filling with rage. He turned back to Volkov who was staring through him, searching his expression, anticipating with a cold, calculating detachment.
Sashenka squeezed his hand, “Kinch, look away, look down. Now is time when you must stay quiet.”
The words ripped through him like razored arrows. An old quote came to his mind, “When faith is lost, when honor dies, the man is dead.” Was his choice a sacrifice to keep the peace? Or was his decision cowardice of self-preservation? He was transfixed by Volkov, his steadiness and composure. As Kinch studied the man, a faint orange sphere appeared on the General’s forehead. The translucent ring was a weak shade of his mind portal.
