by Madlen Namro
Then he reached for a halberd. Training with melee weapons had always been his favourite pastime. He found solace in the studied perfection of movement, the harmonious contact between the body and the tool. Every self-respecting commando mastered at least a dozen or so kinds of traditional weaponry.
When Jo returned from that hapless mission, she brought news with her that the terrorists had improved the Systema, modified by their leader, Kaminsky. Levi reckoned that Kaminsky had based his martial arts system on those developed by Oznobishin, Soloniewicz and Spirydynow.
As he chopped the air angrily with his halberd, Levi recalled various facts about the Systema. Originally, it used to be a combat system taught to KGB operatives, a combination of various martial arts such as judo or jujitsu. The Systema’s naturalness and simplicity made it highly efficient and deadly. The system was all about stress resistance and remaining calm and relaxed in a situation of extreme pressure. Levi decided to follow that advice himself and unwind a little. After forty minutes he switched to energy training, trying to balance energy levels in his body and control its flow. As usual, he finished his workout with a series of mental exercises, clearing his mind and strengthening his consciousness.
When he was done, he took a shower, got dressed and returned to the navigation room, relaxed and ready for new challenges. They were just about to land in Atlantis. He was glad to see that Jo had done a good job; her piloting was as controlled and steady as ever. She entered dimensional data at an even pace allowing the system to process it without delay and guided the shuttle towards the docking bay. She was going to take over manually just before the touchdown itself.
Levi watched Jo work and was pleased to see that the memorial procedure had not affected her skills or her passion for spacecraft. She was doing something she loved and remained one of the very best captains in the fleet.
The shuttle steadily lowered itself over the landing strip and begun the landing approach.
“Well done, Jo,” the commodore said several minutes later as the ship had already safely stopped with the engines shut down. Passengers were slowly preparing to disembark. Many of them, Levi included, called the space station their home and were relieved to once more walk its streets and corridors.
Jo and the commodore were the last to leave as tradition demanded. Mindful of her blank memory, he carefully watched her, ready to step in should her condition lead her astray. They soon noticed that a welcome committee of senators was awaiting them outside. This could only mean one thing – trouble.
“Welcome, Commodore Levi, Captain Starska.” The senators bowed before them in the manner of courtiers from ancient Japan.
“Why were we called back to Atlantis outside our regular schedule?” Levi asked directly, trying to read something in the senators’ eyes.
“You will be debriefed in due course. The Defence Council will be gathering shortly. We will keep you informed.”
The men walked away, the number of unanswered questions growing even larger. The commodore said his goodbyes to Jo who, as it turned out, still remembered her way around the base and the location of her old bedroom. He watched her walk off slowly towards the centre of Atlantis.
Not so long ago, less than five years in fact, when she first arrived here she had hoped to find herself a new home, happiness and maybe even love. It was also here that she had learnt the bitter-sweet taste of competition. She remembered entering the IT Navigational Competition with unshaken self-esteem and determination. She recalled the commodore’s pride when he accepted her into his crew… and then…
“Jo?” She turned around and saw a beautiful, pregnant woman. “I’m Diana. Alec’s wife.”
Jo glanced at her and offered her hand in a welcoming gesture, but Diana could sense that she did not remember her.
“Alec is one of your commandos, remember?” She watched the woman’s reaction closely.
“Oh, right.” Jo seemed confused. “My commando.”
She was trying hard to search her memory but found no answers. Diana looked strangely tearful. Feeling uneasy, Jo excused herself and walked past.
“Oh, God. I think… she remembers…” the pregnant woman whispered to herself, not noticing Margaret, who had appeared behind her.
“Come, Diana. You mustn’t strain yourself. It’s almost your term.”
* * * *
David’s odds were not improving. He had to flee from Earth where he had spent the last six months of his life, plotting, sneaking and utilising the best equipment he could find to plant the transmitter in the enemy’s base.
The mission was a brainchild of many commandos, including Levi, Jo and Alec. With the transmitter in place, they would have a much closer insight into any move the terrorists decided to make. This would provide the much needed edge to continue their struggle. David had feigned his own death, hopefully well enough to buy him a few more days and allow the commandos to evacuate him before the terrorists saw through his little diversion.
He was limping, sore and exhausted, with blood trickling down his right shin. He’d spent the previous night forcing his way through the eastern forests of North America.
Finally, he reached his old jeep hidden in the brushwood, got in, fastened his seat belt and reached to the glove compartment to retrieve the weapon stashed there. Instead, his hand fished out a picture of his son. He studied it for a moment, sighed heavily and put it away. There was no time for this. He turned on the ignition and drove off into the forest, as far away from people as possible. He would have to find a suitable location and make sure it was safe before contacting Atlantis again and sending off the coordinates. The next few hours were going to be crucial, as much to the success of the mission as to his own survival. He realised that he was responsible for more than just the outcome of the nearest ground troops’ campaign but also for the safety of the space base named after one of the first space shuttles ever built. Atlantis was one of the production centres for the newest and most advanced spacecraft and as such constantly in danger of becoming the target of a massive terrorist attack.
The streets of the base were often used as testing grounds for new technological wonders and each year there were more of them, so no one was surprised by the curiosity with which Jo studied everything around her. She walked slowly, as if trying to soak up everything happening around her. She threw her rucksack over one shoulder and entered one of the open hangars where technicians and automatics specialists were assembling a prototype of some sort of small airplane capable of flying both in space and in the atmosphere. She noticed a hydrogen engine inside the open chassis. She peeked inside and spotted, next to the navigational console, a new, shiny, state-of-the-art Tela 9645 processor. She stroked the craft’s bonnet and smiled the smile of a small child marvelling at a new toy.
“Nice one,” she said to one of the constructors. The man turned to her and saluted noticing her rank. “Oh yeah,” he answered. “It’s amazing. One of the
fastest ever built. It can fly in atmosphere nearly undetectable.”
“Steering?”
“Manual, but supported by an intelligent computer system. It has the best processors available.”
“The cockpit is a bit small.” Jo adroitly jumped inside.
“Two people, three at best. The total weight is most important.”
“Think four would squeeze in if needed?” Jo asked, looking around.
Levi walked into the hangar and noticed the captain. He smiled when he saw Jo so mesmerised by the new plane.
“Jo,” he said when he got closer, “in two hours, we’ll be debriefed by the Defence Council. Get ready.”
“Yes, Sir.” Jo jumped out of the plane and looked back at the technician. “It’s a pretty little thing. Hope I can fly it one day.”
“Which shuttle are you from, Ma’am?”
“The Luna circumterrestrial shuttle. We watch the terrorists from above. Funny, isn’t it?”
“It’s hard to hold out on Earth, with all those te
rrorists calling the shots.” The technician took off his glasses and tried to wipe them with his stained apron. “It’s not surprising we’ve used our technology to flee to the skies.”
“But how are we to be truly happy up here? Real life is down there, on Earth.” Jo fell into reverie. “I want to see trees, smell grass on the wind…” Behind her, Alec stopped half-way to the plane and listened curiously. “I want to hear children laugh, feel snowflakes on my skin, smell real bread…”
“Hardly anyone bothers to think of those things nowadays,” Alec interrupted her.
Jo turned around and fixed her eyes on his face for long enough to give him a glimpse of hope that she still remembered him. “We mustn’t forget,” she retorted, “we’re commandos and we’re fighting to get all that back. To get back our homes. If you forget that, what’s there to fight for?”
The technician nodded in agreement.
Jo walked away, leaving Alec and Levi deep in thought, pondering whether such a tomorrow was even possible.
For centuries now, terrorism had been enjoying a period of unprecedented success as means of political struggle. The killers now praised as heroes would once have been called criminals, assassins and suicide bombers.
What started with small-scale attacks soon gained pace with more and more daring acts of terror, such as the World Trade Centre, the Pentagon, Beslan and Ossetia. It didn’t take long for the scale of attacks to threaten the largest European metropolises: Moscow, London, Paris and Berlin. At that point, the mechanism was already too advanced and powerful to control. It became increasingly difficult to determine what was and what was not terrorism, who ought to be called a terrorist and who was a freedom fighter. The use of force, violation of law, intimidation and extortion fast became everyday reality. Terrorism became a population-wide issue. The wave had been set in motion. Unstoppable, Levi thought of the early terrorist groups, so eagerly recalled by the later caliphs as terrorist leaders: AlQaeda, Hamas, the IRA, ETA, the red Brigades and the Shining path, a Marxist organisation in Peru which at one point had controlled over fifty percent of the country’s territory. Levi drew a deep breath, shaken to the bone by the memories of past and more recent atrocities. * * * *
Day in and day out, a life of monotony. The many years in the service of the United Nations had taught the commodore to discard emotions and not to rely on feelings. But these last few years in the company of Jo, David and Alec had begun to reverse this transformation. He was starting to understand that sometimes being human was more valuable than being a soldier.
There were times when his thoughts would drift to the images of his daughter, living somewhere, thousands of kilometres away. He would even allow himself a moment of longing, but never for longer than a moment. He had ambitions to realise, goals to achieve. The commodore scratched at his beard and started towards his private patio. He needed a moment of meditation. After that he was planning to do some yoga.
Yoga was a popular form of exercise among commandos and everyone else living in space for that matter. Forced to come to terms with the specific living conditions of the space base, they treated the sport as a remedy for stress which at the same time allowed them to stay in shape. Most of its adepts were far from seeing it as simply a vent for physical tension; they had kung fu, box and karate for that. Yoga was, above all else, a mental and spiritual art, a means of looking deeply into ones own soul, of awakening the mind. Through it, they were able to feel free for at least a brief moment. While practicing yoga several hundred thousands of kilometres from the Earth, the commandos worked towards the illusive equilibrium between the body, mind and soul. They would also include asana in their exercises, improving the body’s flexibility and vitality. Breathing was also important if one wished to calm one’s senses and maintain the asana for an extended period of time. Focussing on those simple tasks allowed deep relaxation and took their minds off Earth, the fate of their families and even the most personal troubles lurking somewhere at the backs of their heads.
The commandos practiced yoga because it was a way of development in virtually all the aspects of a person’s life, physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. It was the sarvabhauma – general learning.
Leon and Eric, the shuttle’s pilots, were great lovers of the sport. It was through their efforts that a specially adapted exercise room had been created here on Atlantis, a room where they now spent most of their free time. Leon lay face-down on the floor, folded his elbows and placed his hands on the floor, along his waistline. He spread his feet by less than thirty centimetres and breathed in. Then he lifted his body off the floor, supporting it only on his hands and toes.
In this position his body stiffened, aligned above the floor. His knees were tense. Leon closed his eyes and drew a few deep breaths. As he exhaled for the last time, he leapt some thirty centimetres forward by suddenly lifting his hands and feet off the floor. As he landed, he repeated the breathing sequence before making another leap. He had begun one of his favourite exercises, the dance of a crocodile. While carrying on with the Nakrayana asana, which in fact literally meant ‘a crocodile’, he asked Eric,
“David could pull off one hell of a body twist, couldn’t he?”
“He’s probably pulling them off right now.” Eric looked around the room for ropes. “I’m glad he completed the mission and all, but I wonder if anyone’s going to pull him out of there.”
“Don’t you worry.” Leon made another leap forward. “Levi wouldn’t leave him behind. He’s the best of the best, isn’t he?”
“Sweet mother Earth…” Eric hung head-down from a rope, folded his knees and pulled his feet together. “If it wasn’t for his son, I wonder if he’d even want to come back.” He released and hung down loosely, touching the floor with his fingertips.
“But he does have a son. And don’t forget about Jo. Those two are really close. They’ve been through a lot together.”
Leon reversed his exercise and began leaping backwards while exhaling until he reached the spot from where he’d started. They continued their exercises, not speaking any more, each one’s thoughts drifting to David and his mission on Earth. They envied the opportunity to walk the plane once more, even for a short while. But they also remembered the courage and determination it must have taken for David to pull off this almost impossible task. His knowledge of Arabic languages, dark complexion and hair colour must have helped, but it couldn’t have been easy to actually become one of the enemies, to become a terrorist.
He had done it all in only six months, surprisingly fast considering the extreme danger and conditions he had had to work in. Why the hurry? The desire to return safely to his son was all the motivation he’d needed. It had given him almost superhuman abilities. In only a few hours he was to contact the commandos. It wouldn’t be long before he could see his friends again.
* * * *
The big hall, built only a year before, housed only several water barrels, chairs placed in a semicircle and a table in front of them with several more comfortable seats. The metallic walls gave the room a stern feel. Groups of commandos and a few commodores entered the room through a number of entrance passageways. Levi welcomed them as the oldest officer there and waved them to their seats. When everyone had settled down, he was the first to speak.
“Today, on the eve of the Defence Council’s next session, we are summoned here to discuss issues of the utmost importance. We have with us a senator, a member of the council.”
A gray-haired man rose from his chair and the commandos, alarmed by the sudden and unexpected assembly, began to whisper amongst themselves. The senator returned to his seat and nodded at Levi to continue.
“Firstly, the Defence Council wishes to be presented with the complete list of towns and cities regained from the terrorists. Secondly, we are to discuss our plans for the future and the new strategies which you’ve been so painstakingly working on this year. Thirdly…”
The room grew quiet. They all realised that the Luna was the
only shuttle that had attempted to infiltrate the enemy’s camps by sending a man to Earth, the type of mission which in the Council’s directive no. 45 was determined to only be the last resort, considering the danger involved for the soldier.
“Thirdly…” The commodore spoke louder to keep the commandos’ attention. “As you may be aware, one of our men has managed to place a transmitter amongst the group surrounding Alexander vel Alkhim, the son of the terrorists’ leader. Soon, our computers will be able to closely monitor the area and we’ll be informed of the enemy’s every move. Our top priority at this point is to assemble a team to rescue our commando stranded on Earth.”
At this the whispers grew much louder. Alec kept glancing over at Jo. He realised that once David was back, he and Jo would soon meet. Alec was curious how the commando would react to the news that his closest friend did not even remember him. He tried to conceal his happiness at the fact that the two would be somehow separated.
Suddenly, Jo leant towards him and asked quietly, “What’s that around Levi’s neck?” She pointed discreetly at the commodore.
“I believe that’s some sort of memorial data access code.”
“The volunteers,” Levi continued, “willing to take on the mission will report to my office within three hours of this meeting. And now, the senator wishes to say a few words.”
The politician got up and slowly manoeuvred between the commodores’ chairs. His expression clearly suggested that he had not come there to praise.
“In the last few months not a single city lost to the terrorists has been returned to the United Nations. We all know how the terrorists think. They are ruthless and unpredictable. And now they are lead by the best strategist we’ve yet to face. You all know of this man and most of you may have heard his story. He is a genius and a mad man, spreading fanaticism at every step. His name is Kaminsky.”
