Heaven's Conspiracy (Child of Man)

Heavens Conspiracy (Child of Man) Chapter 5

    Demitri Bresvan was waiting impatiently for his wife's arrival home from the Health Ministry. He sat in the couple's combination den and office on a well worn couch reminiscing about his ten years of marriage to Arestina.Unlike most Soviet citizens, he and his wife enjoyed many pleasures and freedoms not accorded most commoners. His business practices within the Soviet Ministry of State Affairs under the Department of Finance, and Arestina's position of State Health Minister, allowed the two great freedom to travel outside the Union, virtually to any place on the planet. Though they had never abused the privilege, he realized that most Soviet citizens would kill to have such authorization.
    There was after all no reason to abuse the Carte Blanche travel clearance. He had seen many places in the outside world, and even many nations in the West. Although exciting and in some ways appealing, it was more frightening than anything else to Demitri.
    All those people having the freedom to come and go as they pleased bordered on chaos, he thought to himself. People needed order, direction from those who are superior, and discipline to those who are without, in learning to follow. To allow such individual thought and action was at best to him, foolish. Besides, what more could he want from the outside, that he didn't already have here.
    He looked over to see the late hour on the clock above the radiator on the far wall. He'd been tugging at the corner of his mustache and flinched from the sudden pain he caused himself, tugging hard on the hair extending over his upper lip. His mood grew more fowl with each ticking second, and he threw back the remainder of Scotch he'd smuggled in from this last business trip, which had taken him out of the state for more than a week. This was the last time he would accept his spouse's excuses for returning home in the dead of night.
    It seemed to him as though for the past eight months Arestina had been acting peculiarly, growing more distant and secretive about her late night returns from work. He'd begun to suspect her of an adulterous affair, being evasive and becoming hostile to his inquisitions about her schedule. The hadn't had more than a five minute conversation in the past two months, to say nothing of intimacy. There had always been occasions when crisis, or other factors of their occupations had kept them apart or distracted from each other. But even so, they would find time for a conversation if for no other reason than to confide in one another.
    By the time the clock struck one, Demitri had opened and nearly half finished a bottle of Irish Whiskey, smuggled in from a prior business excursion. He had reached his point of optimum mad, and now was entering into the first stage of drunken rage.

    "Well so much for the damn meal", he said to the empty apartment, pushing himself into a standing position from the couch he occupied, wobbily walking into the apartments kitchen dining area. He reached the kitchen table and began collecting the food prepared by Ellena, the Bresvan's maid and cook. By the time he'd finished putting the dishes away, and removed the flowers he'd brought home for his wife, hoping and anticipating a romantic evening, his jaw had tightened to the point that only the whiskey disguised the damage he was doing to his teeth.
    Completing the cleanup he grabbed the remainder of the whiskey bottle, forgoing the glass, and returned to the couch, all the while fuming and picturing images of his wife's unsubstantiated infidelity.
    From a nightstand next to the couch he retrieved a western magazine depicting all the material items of disgusting propaganda from the capitalistic West. He had to admit it was a more exciting read than the State paper.
    The wind was whipping through his hair and he coyly gazed at the beautiful blonde bombshell sitting by his side, arching an eyebrow with seductive intent. He felt the power of the roadster as he navigated the turns up California five, gazing out across the Pacific basin.
    The beautiful woman leaned over to him pursing her lips when a loud bang, he presumed one of the vehicle tires, though it sounded similar to a slamming door, exploded.
    It startled him and he felt the vehicle pull sharply to the left. He reacted and yanked hard on the steering wheel pulling to the right, then feeling himself becoming lost with the convertible as it careened off the road and out of his control, leaving him falling, falling, on to the den floor.
    Someone had opened his skull removing the catacomb network of brain tissue, and sewed up the incision shortly after filling his head with pea gravel. His neck was stuck to his chest but he raised it anyway, and it felt as though a great force of water was pushing on the backside of his eyeballs, attempting to escape confinement. The unwelcome movement sent tendrils of exquisite torture through his alcohol saturated mind and body.
    Demitri blinked at the floor, trying to focus his blood red eyes, finding pain existed even in a blink. His neck and back were stiff as a cadaver from his twisted sleep on the den couch.
    Slowly forcing himself into a kneeling position, something felt awkward and he glanced to his right hand, seeing it still clutching the bottle of whiskey. He shook the container hearing an empty backwash sound, and lifted the bottle to verify what his ears told him. Peering through the bottle neck he observed the dribble of liquid still in the bottom, and accidentally caught a whiff of the potent spirit.
    He dropped the nearly empty vessel from his hand and proceeded to cover his mouth, running in agony for the toilet as the smell of stale alcohol pummeled his queasy stomach. His body cursed his brain with every violent heave of the yet to be filtered whiskey, as his abdomen turned to iron in the fit of his convulsions. He clung tightly to the bowl gasping for air through the seconds of time before the next agonizing expulsion.

    Completed with the just punishment for his over indulgence, he used the bowl to push himself up to a standing position, pulling the overhead string to empty the toilet. He stepped sideways looking into the mirror over the sink, seeing a disheveled red-eyed reflection of a man fresh out of gulag.
    I promise I'll never do that again, he thought to himself, wondering how many times he'd made such a proclamation, knowing that speaking it would only result in more pain.
    He filled the sink with cold water and immersed his head, attempting to regain his focus. Grabbing a small hand towel he dried himself off, smelling the sickness on his own lips when covering his face. Tossing the towel to the floor he moved in automation down the short hall to the apartments bedroom.
    Reaching the door Demitri heard someone within and immediately, somewhat inspired by his current condition, became emotionally hostile, believing Arestina to be within.
    She was the reason he was in this miserable condition after all. Had she arrived home at a time of some consideration, he wouldn't have drank himself to the point of alcohol poisoning. There may not have been any validity to his argument, but right now he didn't care.
    He hit the door with more force than he'd intended, sending it crashing back up against the wall, scaring Ellena who was in the process of picking up clothes off the floor.
    "Oh, Ahhh, Good Morning Ellena", Demitri said frostily, the thickness of his swollen tongue making the greeting sound colder than it was, as he glanced about the room for his wife.
    "Did Arestina already leave for work", he asked, the aura of suspicion and the stale odor of alcohol surrounding the man, more than obvious to the house keeper.
    "I am not sure Mister Bresvan", Ellena replied, "I only just arrived to start. I see that the bed is still made. Perhaps the Minister became involved with a case sir, it has happened before".
    Ellena wasn't sure what was going on, but the look she received from her explanation, gave her the felling she was now under some suspicion. She heard Demitri's teeth grinding and returned to her chores pretending not to notice the scowl on her employer's face.
    Without another word Demitri turned heading back to the bathroom, an angry determined gait to his stride. He couldn't believe Arestina would be so bold as to simply disregard him, not even bothering to phone and tell him of her situation. His anger rekindled anew, he shaved quickly nicking his skin with the straight razor he used, barely noticing the pain as blood trickled down his cheek.
    He should be getting dressed and heading for work. It could wait, he thought to himself. This situation had become intolerable. Adulterous thoughts ran rampant in his mind, fueling the fire of rage already burning there. He tripped pulling on his trouser's and banged his head into one of the lavatory walls inflicting additional pain and anger to his volatile condition.
    Two books fell from the shelf several meters from the door when Demitri stormed out of the apartment. The slamming jolt caused Ellena to jump in fright back in the bedroom, and she let out a low whistle, shaking her head.
    "I'll be out of here before either of them return", she said to herself, picking up her pace, wanting to be completed and absent when her employers returned home. One thing she knew for sure, was Demitri Bresvan would one day go over the edge, if he did not learn to control his temper.

*                                    *                              *                            * 

    Demitri sat in his car outside the State Health Ministry, his anger unabated from the drive continued to war within his mind. He drew in several deep breaths, mentally attempting to calm himself before he confronted his wife.
    When he reached the receptionist's desk inside the building, he had managed to gain some control over his heated emotions. He introduced himself to the thin looking middle aged woman at the station,who sat studying several charts on clipboarbs spread out on the desk in front of her.
    "Could you page my wife and tell her it is urgent I speak with her"?
    The receptionist's puzzled expression made Demitri wonder if she'd heard the question.
    "Minister BRESVAN", he enunciated the name, a biting tone beginning to creep into his voice.
    Smiling disarmingly, the receptionist turned away from him removing a phone from the wall behind her, and speaking low into the transmitter, that Demitri could not hear her.
    Nodding affirmatively from the response she was given, the receptionist hung up the phone turning back to Demitri, who had crossed his arms over his chest looking quite sour.
    "Doctor Lenchenka will be with you shortly", the woman said, gesturing toward the chairs along the opposite wall, "If you wish to take a seat", she finished.
    Demitri's expression turned from sour to brow-knotted anger, and his teeth were clenched when he began to speak.
    "I asked to see Minister Bresvan, not Doctor Lenchenka", Demitri fumed, now thoroughly enraged by the woman's obvious disregard to his request.
    The receptionist continued to smile disarmingly, and began again.
    "Doctor Lenchenka will"....
    She never finished the sentence as Demitri's fist slammed down on the counter in front of her with enough force to upset many of the clipboards, causing them to fall and clatter on the floor. His raging gaze told the woman she was in a dangerous predicament, but she simply continued smiling right up to the moment her eyes shifted, alerting Demitri someone was behind him.
    His head slammed forward onto the receptionist's desk propelled by the two security officers who each had grabbed one of Demitri's arms, bending it up behind him, placing the bulk of their combined weights to hold him until he was securely bound.

    Having been dazed by the impact Demitri didn't react immediately, the pain still registering fully in his alcohol soaked brain. With the return of full awareness, he launched out with a blistering verbal diatribe aimed at the security guards ancestry, and their potential relation to the genus canine.
    The security officers showed not a whit of concern, each one gripping the man under one armpit, returning him feet dragging to one of the chairs against the far wall, setting him none to gently in the wooden seat, one placing an oak baton tightly to his chest telling Demitri not to move. The initial conflict had been more than enough, and he sat still, not wishing to endure further discomfort as his body told him this was not a good time for a fight. But woe be unto these two ruffians after he spoke with his wife.
    He tried to moderate his voice then and sound rational, appealing to the receptionist and the guards that he was the husband of Minister Bresvan, and had only come here to see his wife. He now regretted all the times Arestina had asked him to visit her at work, and he had declined. Maybe if he had, someone here would have recognized him.
    The slight creaking of hinges alerted the four, who turned to see a short, quite homely looking Doctor Lenchenka emerge from the door behind the receptionist's station.
    "I guess this is him", she said, a note of annoyance in her tone from the disturbance of her work.
    "I am Demitri Bresvan", he said, a snarl curling up one side of his mouth. "My wife is the Minister of this Department, and I am employed by the Ministry of State Affairs. I demand you release me at once, and notify my wife that I am here".
    The Doctor crossed her arms over her petite chest taking a stance of pure disdain, and stared down the length of her upturned nose through thick rimmed glasses, shaking her head as if anything this man said was a lie.
    "Then might we see your identification, Mister Bresssvan", the doctor asked, drawing out the name in a contemptuous manner.
    Had it not been for the restraint device, Demitri would have punched the obstinant woman in the face, then welcomed the fact that he was, picturing momentarily what the guards would do to him.
    "It is in my coat pocket", Demitri said, thrusting out the right side of his chest toward one of the guards, who reached inside the coat, patting to locate the credentials, touching only Demitri beneath.
    The guard looked back to the doctor, shaking his head.
    "I must have left them at home", Demitri said, now with a total change to his demeanor, realizing what his drinking and bad temper had gotten him into. He sat here making demands and graciously spewing threats and insults at these people, who were not responsible for his marital difficulties, or his alcohol consumption.

    Doctor Lenchenka threw up her hands in disgust turning away from the man, heading back the way she'd come.
    The guards took their cue from the Doctor's reaction, hoisting Demitri to his feet.
    "But I am Demitri Bresvan", the man said, almost a whining in his voice toward the retreating Doctor.
    Lenchenka stopped in her tracks, spinning about telling the guards to stop. She walked straight at the liar coming within inches of his face.
    "Minister Bresvan, And her husband", she said with emphasis, "have been on Holiday for the past week in Severodvinsk. I talked with her only yesterday, and she said that she and Demitri were having an exquisite time. She also said that the fishing had been wonderful, and she may extend the break".
    "The next time you attempt to access a state building thief", she glowered, suspecting the man had only wanted to get into the drug supply areas of the building, "you might at least have the brains about you to establish more of a plan. Even fake credentials would have been better than none".
    Having had her say, Doctor Lenchenka spun about heading back to her lab, ignoring the further protestations of the intruder as the burly security guards hustled their prisoner out the Ministry entrance doors.
    They'll do anything to get at the drugs, Dr. Lenchenka thought to herself. Shaking her head she reached into her lab coat pocket retrieving a small glass bottle. Dumping two of the little yellow pills into one hand she replaced the bottle in her pocket, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. She opened the back of her throat and the pills disappeared when she swallowed. That should help ease the pain of this most recent annoyance she thought, and retraced the steps to her laboratory.

*                          *                                  *                              *

    Arestina carefully studied the container she had just set up. It sat amongst eleven others in the underground basement of a building slated for demolition not ten minutes from the Soviet Health Ministry. After news of the break-in, the Minister had the following evening at a late hour, had all items removed from the laboratory that housed Itnavian.
    From there she had reestablished the laboratory in this building, donning a disguise after she arrived each day at the Ministry, slipping away with great pains to arrive here unseen. She no longer cared for anything but the child. She had become overpowered, enslaved by the depth of love she felt for this most magnificent yellow-eyed babe.
    Mere days ago it seemed, he had begun to turn ill, complaining to her of weakness and pains in his stomach. His temperature soon shot up above that which was sustainable for life in a human being. He'd cried endlessly, telling Arestina that he didn't like the animals anymore.

    "What do you mean Itnavian", she had asked him.
    "They make me sick, I want people", the toddler had responded.
    Without any consideration of her actions or the consequences thereof, she arranged to have patients transported from remote locations to this facility under her own Ministerial authority. She had personally screened the patients, choosing those under State care without any known close relatives, lessening the chance for inquiry when the person disappeared. She was sure she could lose the subjects, submersing their death documentation's into the bureaucratic shuffle of paperwork. What mattered first was Itnavian, for her will was in seeing to the child's welfare, and whatever the cost she would do what was necessary for his well being.
    She heard the noisy bay door close through the locked laboratory door, and the door opening into the service bay. Grabbing a stethoscope and drawing an injection from a nearby vial, she unlocked the lab door, traversing the short hall to open the other door leading into the large service bay, used in prior years for building maintenance.
    Just inside the closed bay door sat the Gurney. She walked over to the sleeping form which had been strapped down, using her stethoscope to listen to the rhythmic beating of the young girl's heart. She also detected the sound of fluid in the teens youthful lungs, a sure indication of tuberculosis. Feeling the girl's pulse she found it weak but steady. Next she produced a small pin light and tested the ocular retinal response, determining the child would regain consciousness shortly.
    Unlocking the wheels on the Gurney, she pulled the girl's prostrate form back into the laboratory, removing the restraints and attaching a harness about her shoulders. The teen began to stir during the process and she quickly attached the hoist to lift her up. Quickly inserting the needle into one of the girl's arm veins, she injected the steroid laced drug she'd drawn earlier.
    The young teen was blinking her way to full wakefulness when she felt the ground go out from under her. She dangled like a doll with her legs in space, working hard to overcome the lagging effects of the anesthetic she had been given before being transported here.
    Arestina now had her victim in place, suspended above the empty container. She reached to the side of the large clear cylinder, turning a valve leading from one of the other containers, letting in a tide of the virulent fluid that quickly filled the empty cell.
    A moan from above told her the girl was almost awake and she looked up to see the teen's eyes focus on her surroundings. The scream of horror from the girl was drowned out when she plunged into the viscous green fluid,  the Doctor having released the clinching pin on the back of the victim's harness.

    Arestina watched dispassionately as the girl frantically kicked and punched at the thick glass walls of the cylinder, her strength lessened to that of an infant by the thickness of the translucent fluid surrounding her. She saw panic in the youth's eyes when her oxygen starved lungs could no longer hold the air she had sucked in, before being swallowed by the liquid. Her mouth finally opened of it's own accord no longer able to sustain the pain, her depleted lungs sucking hungrily for life and drawing the virulent deep inside her. Thrashing about in her death throes she continued to lash out at the container, finally collapsing, sinking to her knees, mentally overtaxed by the terrifying experience. For several more minutes the Doctor watched the girl trying to convince herself that she was dead, then observing the realization of true horror on her face when it dawned upon her that she wasn't.
    Returning to a standing position inside the cylinder, the girl's wide eyes scanned the interior of the laboratory that held her prisoner. In utter despair she looked at the other cylinders in the room seeing the unholy results to the other victims in this defiled place. The pathetic plea for mercy etched on her face, may as well have been aimed at a brick wall for all the notice Arestina gave it.
    This was simply another action to preserve her beloved child, and now having completed the act a dozen times, she had become immune to the circumspection of her heart, and her oath as a Doctor. Admittedly, the first time she had performed this procedure she felt a twinge of inner clonflict, but it was fleeting, as some portion of her being reassured her it was for Itnavian. Each time Arestina had come up against such doubts and conflict, she would hear his lyrical infant voice, and all her doubts would fade.
    "Thank you Mommy", she heard him say from the center of the cylinder circle.
    A smile of pure joy crossed Arestina's previously vacant expression, and she turned from the sobbing horrified teen to look at the handsome toddler, standing wobbily legged up against the side of his play crib.
    "Itna", she said joyously, calling the youth by his shortened nickname, walking over to the toddler whom she'd named after her grandsire, Itnavian Domoskos. He had been instrumental in paving the path for Arestina's current occupation, and encouraging her in the desire to become a healer. Picking the child up and hugging him closely, she kissed his cheek and asked him how he was feeling.
    "Itna feels good mommy", his innocent voice replied, "they're better than the anijmals", he said, pointing a little finger at the subjects in the cylinders around them. "Itna loves you mommy", he continued, throwing his arms around Arestina's neck and hugging her as hard as he could.
    The babe didn't even understand why he did it, he only knew inside of himself that he could make big people react according to his desires. He sensed conflicts within them, and could make them feel better, or make them feel less pain from their actions, especially when he did so using simple words and gesture. It wasn't a mindful thing, thought out and controlled, it was an inner instinct.

    A sensation of love deeper than anything Arestina had ever known assailed the woman each time she was with Itnavian. It wasn't something physical or even emotional, but something all encompassing, unlike anything she'd ever experienced with another human being. Though she couldn't define it precisely, it was as if her inner being or soul was in love. She returned the child's embrace, knowing she would give her life, and any others, for this beautiful boy with the yellow eyes.
    Hoisting him in the air, holding him with both hands Arestina danced about the crib smiling, and singing, causing the boy to laugh playfully. Not because he was greatly impressed with the tossing around of his little form, but because he knew it was what she needed.
    Arestina continued to cavort about the laboratory area with the child, feeling as if she could conquer the world, just so long as Itnavian were with her. Yes, she thought again, she would give her life for this child, she knew it without question. Their dance of innocence, perverse in it's local, surrounded by the inhumanity in the cylinders about them continued unabated in its revulsion, the paradox of deepest love encapsulated in the darkest hell.
    Arestina Bresvan had no idea she would be giving up so much more than her own life.

*                                  *                                *                            *

    General Danko walked the hallway of the newly built facilities located in the closed city of Arzamas-16, where the current calculations for the next atomic experiment would originate. Turning to his left at the second intersecting hallway he opened the third door on his right, adorned with the name of his old friend, Uli Yelsin, the projects secondary administrator and director for field testing.
    His upbeat demeanor and sly smile were particularly out of place for the man, but considering the information he had, it was warranted. The General had heard from one of his contacts, who was involved in covert infiltration's into the Americans atomic programs research and development, following the Manhatten Project. It had been a counter measure to the failure of the Kytvak Station incident, and the resultant losses in Pusklava. If the Russian scientists could not overcome the ill effects of the last experiment on their own, then it would require another avenue to reach success. And if that avenue depended on stealing from the Americans, well, what were enemies for?
    "Come in", Uli said to the General sourly, picking up an eraser from the chalkboard to erase the unintended scribble that ran through the mathematical equation he was working on, when Danko barged into the room without knocking.
    "Oh, my pardons, Uli old friend, I forget this is not my office".
    "Yeah", Uli said, not facing Vladamir, but intent on his erasing.  "One of these days my friend", Uli began, "you will walk in on me like that when I have a volatile component in hand. You see what you made me do with my writing here. Imagine if I had been holding say, Nitroglycerin".

    "Point taken", Danko said, walking toward his old friend arms extended, greeting his old comrade with a brotherly hug, that was sincerely felt by each of them.
    "How's Tonluva and Berrill", Uli asked?
    "They are doing just fine", Danko replied, "Berrill may soon receive her commission to Captain", he said proudly.
    "Well done", Uli responded gladly, clasping Vladamir on the shoulder, "care for a drink", he asked, moving to a cabinet nearby and extracting a bottle of State vodka and two glasses. It had been a pointless question for the scientist to ask, as he knew the General well enough to know he would not leave here without at least one toast.
    Filling the glasses, the scientist and General exchanged a few more pleasantries, inquiring of family and health, draining the drinks. Uli refilled the glasses and made a toast to the General and to the success of their current mission. Danko returned the salutary gesture extending a file in his hand to the scientist.
    "This may be useful in reaching that end", Danko said slyly, his smile growing wider.
    Uli took the offered brief, his eyes widening along with his own smile as he recognized the priceless information on the pages he held.
    "Where did you get this", Uli asked, astonished by the sensitive military information and physics equations contained in the file.
    "A friend of mine named Percy", Danko replied, "but I didn't tell you that my friend".
    "Tell me what", Uli said, toasting Vladamir again. "I'll get these to the project leader and we'll begin working on them right away", the scientist said, almost giddy at this unexpected help.
    "What is your current status on the project", Danko asked, curious as to what the scientists had come up with on their own.
    Uli shook his head momentarily gnashing his teeth in frustration. "I'm afraid we haven't been able to overcome one of the main problems we've had before. That is, we cannot reach the temperature threshold necessary to cause the ignition sequence, which should ultimately result in the release of the chemical reaction to divide the hydrogen element. However this may now be a mute point", Uli finished gesturing to the file before him.
    Danko sat nodding at his friend, pretending he had a clue about what Uli had said, but not really capable of understanding the technical aspects of this scientific field.
    "I wonder if....", Danko began, but was cut short when alarms rang throughout the complex and a loud commotion could be heard outside, rising up from the courtyard, just below the third story window in Uli's office.
    Both men rushed to the window, Uli opening the blind by pulling the draw string on the shade. They looked out onto the courtyard to see a most bizarre scene.
    Guards were rushing from every corner of the complex with weapons brought to bare, as attack dogs trained to kill encircled a robed figure standing in the courtyard looking up into the building. The figure stood motionless, scanning the windows above him appearing perfectly calm, although his face was hidden in his cowl.

    It amazed Danko from his vantage point, to see the attack dogs surround the figure and just bark. They should have been tearing the intruder into shreds by this time. The General moved his head slightly to the right and saw the robed figure become encircled with fire, the next second seeing the reflection of the flashing flame in the window through which they looked.
    Both men spun about to face the enshrouded figure they'd seen a brief second ago in the courtyard below.
    "Who are you", Danko asked suspiciously, but making no move toward the man he could now see.
    His skin was black as a starless night, though only his hairless face and hands were visible. Incredibly on the figure's hands were an even darker black arrangement of strange tattoos.
    A flash of some distant memory assailed the General's mind, and he recalled that he had seen this type of thing before. He had not seen it since his youth, when Lenin had ruled the country, and he had been no more than an inexperienced army grunt. In those days, he and his fellow soldiers had been assigned to the destruction of the un-indoctrinated tribes, that were the Russian version of America's native peoples. They inhabited the deepest reaches of the Russian wilds, migratory at times, occupying the same forests as their forebears for perhaps the past millennia, no one was sure. He had personally killed many of these so called savages, as he viewed them, but knew that this one from observed evidence, was something special and dangerous.
    "Who are you", he asked again, less threatening and suspicious than before, but still keeping up his guard, uncertain of the man's intentions. Somewhere within himself, a voice told him not to confront the man.
    The dark figure reached up and pulled back his hood revealing a set of onyx black eyes with a hint of silver in the center. They were covered by a slightly protruding brow ridge and a high forehead, from which flowed an abundance of silky black hair. The combination of features suggested a subhuman appearance, akin to some pre-homosapien era specie of man, however the rugged features were quite statuesque.
    His eyes focused on Vladamir, studying him for several seconds, boring through him, and then turned to do the same to Uli.
    The two men stood motionless, still hearing the commotion from outside, unsure as to what the strange individual before them was about.
    The savage next looked to the formula still etched on the chalk board where Uli had been working on his mathematics equation. Without a word he walked to the board, erasing a symbol here and there, replacing them with different figures, and adding an entirely new set of equations at the bottom.
    "Wait ", Uli had said, to no avail as the man replaced his computations. However he made no move to physically interfere with the savage.
    Watching and studying the man's changes to the formulas, Uli looked perplexed, thinking through the new equations. His head bobbed about as he debated the computational formulas, absentmindedly gesturing with his hands like the stereotypical Italian.
    He was still thinking through the math when the savage began speaking to him, in Latin.

    Uli's head flashed up, his eyes wide, staring intently at the intruder, having a very difficult time comprehending any of these events. Now becoming more absurd as the man began to pronounce the ancient delicate language.
    "What did he say", Danko asked Uli, unfamiliar with the savage's words.
    "He says he was sent", Uli replied.
    "By who", was Danko's immediate inquiry, but his question went unanswered as Uli continued to stare at the savage who did not pause, continuing to speak eloquently in the ancient tongue.
    "What's he saying", Danko interjected, jarring Uli from a strictly listening mode into the position of interpreter.
    "He says the child is almost complete, whatever that means", Uli threw in. "You must watch, and train him for the coming battle", he continued, although at this point the savage had turned to look at the General. "The master shall deliver thy reward, by the hand of his servant, and of thy servant".
    "Ask him what the hell that means", Danko said to Uli, flustered and annoyed that he was unable to understand the conversation.
    Uli tried to interject Vladamir's question, but the savage was totally unresponsive to his interruption, continuing with his message undaunted.
    Giving up, Uli continued the translation. "The days are yet to be fulfilled. Our lives" the man continued, pointing to Danko, then Uli, then himself, finishing with a wide circling gesture, "All gone, all life",
he concluded.
    Completing his speech, the wildman walked straight toward Vladamir, extending his left hand as if to shake the General's.
    Hesitantly, Danko extended his own left hand, seeing no harm in returning the gesture, maybe it would make the man more amiable, and he would answer some questions, and if not, then he would put the man in a restraining hold and await the guards to remove him to a cell, where he was sure he could get his questions answered.
    As soon as the savage clasped the General's hand Danko flinched. Feeling a burning sensation he tried to yank it away, failing to do so as the savage's vise-like grip enwrapped his fingers holding fast.
    Fire erupted around them and Danko froze in fear, the purplish red flame licking every inch of his body hideously, taunting at the heat within it, hungrily wanting to consume that which it encompassed.
    The fire died almost as suddenly as it appeared, and Danko felt the crunch of dry snow under his boots. He looked up to see the savage still grasping his hand, noticing the man looking off to the distance. Before he could think of reacting the fire sprang up once more, and then again disappeared, and the General found himself in another location.
    Here the savage released his hand and Danko felt a burning sensation in his left palm, looking down to see it marked with one of the curious tattoos, only to see it vanish down into his skin.
    The General flinched when the fire erupted again, but this time it left him standing where he was, wondering where the savage had gone, and for that matter he asked himself, "where am I"?
 
    Turning around to look behind him, Danko saw the complex outskirts of Arzamas-16 about three hundred meters away, He stood frozen in the position he was in, angry and seriously frightened.
    All around him, signs depicted the exploding remains of trespassers in this area and the words accompanying the exploding human images, fully advising that the ground on which he now stood was laced with anti-personnel mines. If he ever got his hands on that savage again, he'd kill him, Danko thought to himself.
    The General, embarrassed possibly as he'd never been before in his life, began to call out ever so gently to the patrolling guards who passed within the fenced confines of the complex. His voice sounded almost feminine as he hailed the passing guards, and he knew exactly how silly he sounded by the response of the soldier's who, though they did an admirable job of not outright laughing, could not contain there snickers at the General's predicament.
    A sweep detachment soon found the General a path out of the mine field, but he knew that he would be the butt of many a joke in the coming weeks. He hated the fact that he had to call to his rescuers in the higher tone of a female voice, but the mines installed were known to react badly to the vibration of the baser voices of men, especially in snowy weather.
    Upon reuniting with Uli, Danko took great comfort in his offer of further spirits. Setting his second glass of vodka on a table in Uli's office after the rescue, he asked Uli, "what do you make of what happened".
    "Wooo-Weee", Uli burst out, triumph in his yell, having been paying scant attention to Vladamir, continuing to pour over the equations left by the intruder. "It's going to be better than the Americans bomb", he exclaimed.
    "Vladamir, I need to get this to the project administrator immediately", he said, grabbing up the notes he'd been making and the folder file Danko had brought in earlier.
    "And where are you going to tell him you got this information", Vladamir asked his friend.
    "General", Uli said respectfully, "do you remember what you told me, when you told me that you didn't tell me what you told me. Well I remember even less about where this information came from", the scientist said, staring at the General knowingly.
    "Keep me apprised of your progress my friend", Danko said as they left Uli's office, fully understanding that his friend's denial of what they had experienced today, was the wisest position either of them could take. After all, who would believe it.
    As they parted in the hallway, Danko spun about abruptly calling to his friend.
    "Uli, what kind of language was the savage using when he spoke to you?
    "Latin, Uli responded, "and yes, it took me completely by surprise General".
    "Latin", Danko repeated the word, shaking his head. "Latin"?
    It was obvious he thought to himself, he needed a lot of time to decipher, even digest the circumstances of the occurrences he'd witnessed today.
   
    Vladamir Danko had seen great and unique things before in his life, but never something to compare with the powers displayed by this savage. Imagine he thought, an army of troops capable of almost divine like maneuvers, able to appear and disappear at will against an adversary. There was no question he needed more information on this unsophisticated savage.
    No, not so, he told himself, his mind challenging his preconceived judgement upon the mysterious figure. He was of great intellignece, and power, and it was not to be viewed otherwise, lest he underestimate this savage to his own demise. The tumultuous ramble of questions persisted to expand in the General's mind throughout the return flight to Moscow.

*                                *                                *                              *

    Agent Otto Penske slipped in unobserved to the offices of Military Defense, making his way to General Danko's office shortly after dawn. Danko had requested an early morning meeting to be updated on Minister Bresvan's activities. Rounding a corner he almost walked into Captain Moval who was looking over a folder, intently reading, walking in the opposite direction.
    "Excuse me", Moval said, looking up to see Penske. "Good morning", he said, identifying the agent.
    Penske nodded to Moval and asked, "is the General in yet"?
    Moval looked toward the General's office and said, "yes, but he left instructions with Natina that he was not to be disturbed until notified otherwise. I have been waiting for an hour to see him, and I understand that something significant is in the works".
    Agent Penske simply nodded at the Captain's comments, fairly certain why the General was making the two wait. He knew of several items in the current government agenda, that he had been briefed upon only yesterday by the director of KGB intellignece, Hendrev Soshnif.
      The KGB director had assigned almost half of the agencies staff to a security detail involving operations on the island of Novaya Zemlya, a cold desolate stretch of rock nestled between the freezing Barents, and Kara Seas. They were to provide security for the Project known as Counter Point, the Soviet Nations first public display of their atomic capabilities. The KGB had been chosen over the NKVD Forces through some political wrangling by the Director, and he was certain that the insult would not be taken lightly by General Danko.
    "Looks like we'll soon know the details", Penske said, gesturing toward the General's office.
    Moval looked up to see Natina walking toward them.
    "The General will see you now", she said, turning around and preceeding the men to open the door, closing it firmly behind them when they entered.
      The two men found the General with his back toward them, his hands clasped behind his head staring up at the picture of Stalin hanging on the wall above him.
    "Be seated", Danko said, not bothering to turn around.

    Penske and Moval took their seats and waited for the General to proceed.
      When Danko turned around, both men were taken aback by the large grin on the General's face.
    "A beautiful morning comrades", Danko said, spreading his large forearms on the top of his desk and entwining his fingers.
    "Gentlemen", he continued, "I will need to rely on the both of you shortly for a series of very important assignments. Agent Penske, I would like to know the status of the Minister's activities".
    "As you are aware from my earlier reports General, the Minister is still secluded in the basement of the unoccupied building on Chekonevea Street, just minutes from the current Ministry building.
Health Ministry ambulances have continued to arrive at the Minister's hideaway during late hours of the night. From our surveillance efforts we have determined that the Minister is having patients delivered to the site, however there are no indications that any leave the building. I have done some checking, and discovered that several patients have been transferred from care facilities under the direction of the Minister. But due to your instructions General, I have not been able to glean what the Minister is doing with the patients. However there have been no further transport of patients to the site for the past week, perhaps the Minister is finished with her activities".
    The last line of Penske's statement sent Danko into an immediate flashback, where he saw himself in another room where the reflection of withering fire danced in the window through which he peered. A sudden tingling sensation stirred in his left palm, and the words of a savage spoke in his mind, curiously with the voice of his friend Uli. "The child is almost complete".
    General, General", Moval repeated himself, bringing his superior back to the conversation at hand. The Captain noticed the distracted look in his commander, something that was certainly out of character for the man.
    "Yes, ahh yes", the General began refocusing on the discussion,
"Comrade Penske, continue to monitor the Minister's activities and see to it that nothing prevents her from completing the task she is engaged in. If for any reason you have evidence that she is moving the child from her current location, she is to be arrested and held, in the NKVD detention facility. You will also advise the Captain immediately, if such action becomes necessary, as he will need time to remove any evidence of the Doctor's actions".
    "Comrade that is all", Danko concluded, standing up and showing the agent out.
    When he returned to his seat he addressed Moval. "Captain your report", Danko asked.
    Moval handed the brief binder he had carried with him, knowing the General would not be pleased. Since the General's recounting of the incident at Arzamas-16, Moval had searched all he could find on the indigenous people's that still occupied the Russian wilderness areas in Siberia. What little he could find from anthropologists who had studied these ancient people, hardly added up to a good one page document, most of the literature being destroyed during the Bolshevik revolution. Still he had been intrigued by the fantastical story his commander had told, and interested himself in discovering more on this little known society.

    "This is insufficient", Danko said, placing the folder down on his desk.
    "I'm sorry sir, but our historical data on these tribes is very limited, and my research was thorough".
    "I have no doubt that it was", Danko replied, waving off the explanation of his underling, knowing full well Moval had done his job.
    The General sat back into his chair then letting out an audible sigh, staring down at the desk in front of him, appearing to be wrestling with a great decision.
    "I have a great need for you Comrade", Danko started in, not looking up from his stare. "And for what I will ask of you, you may consider your debt repaid".
    Moval's eyes widened as he looked to meet his commander's rising gaze. He had never considered himself to be, like many others who were indebted to the General, even though in reality he was. Moval over the years had developed an intent respect for the man who issued his orders, their relationship having matured into genuine comradeship, each appreciating the other's talents, and devotion to the Soviet State.
    It was a true shock to the Captain, that the General would bring up the long ago ordeal that had placed him in serious danger of being hauled into gulag. As a young, newly commissioned Lieutenant in the ranks of the fledgling NKVD, he had over imbibed during a state reception, while providing security for the daughter of a visiting dignitary of a middle east country, the Princess Shashemes. To this day he still didn't know how he had become inebriated during the assignment, only having two cocktails at the reception over a period of hours.
    It had been determined by General Danko's personal investigation of the incident, that the auto accident which resulted in the Princess's death, had been mechanical failure on the part of the vehicle. Though the incident had been an embarrassment to the government and the NKVD, the only punishment Moval received was in the pain associated in recovering from the broken leg and ribs he suffered, during the crash.
    Shortly after his recovery, he had been transferred to the Military Intelligence unit of the NKVD, under the command of General Danko. In their first meeting the young Lieutenant had been in fear for his life, when Danko showed him the true report of the accident investigation.
    A number of attendees to the affair had sworn out affidavits attesting to the drunken stupor displayed by the rookie officer, and Danko pointedly explained his intervention, to cover up the truth of the incident, and save Moval's skin. From that day until now, though Moval didn't always agree with the General's orders, he knew he owed the man his very life, and would follow his instructions obediently.
    "Thank you sir", the Captain said sincerely.

    "Don't be so quick to thank me yet, Captain", Danko retorted, knowing what would be asked on the man before him. "I need to discover all I can about these people, for myself, and for the good of the Soviet nation. It will require a sacrifice of you that will be both harsh and demeaning, to your personal and professional life. This is something I will ask of you very soon, and you will hate every moment of it. But the potential rewards to you, me, and the whole of this nation will depend on your completing this task".
    It didn't take Moval a great deal of thought to figure out he was about to be skinned, and hung out to dry. But what choice did he have. Danko could have just ordered him to the assignment, but he had provided incentive instead, so Moval reluctantly decided to accept the offer.
    "I accept your offer sir", the Captain said.
    "Very good then", Danko replied, his stern visage changing to the expression Moval had seen when the meeting began.
    "Come Captain", the General said, gesturing for his subordinate to precede him, "I will go over the details of the assignment with you over lunch", we have a full schedule this afternoon, and tomorrow we must journey to Krasino", Danko concluded, following the Captain from his office.
    "Natina", Danko said as the officers filed past the secretary's desk. "The Captain and I will return in two hours, make the appropriate arrangements for the staff meeting this afternoon, and if anyone calls, tell them the Captain and I are already answering a call, from destiny".
    The General chuckled at his own remarks, as he and Moval entered the buildings hallway, neither seeing the secretary's lip slightly curl into a hate filled snarl behind them.