by G.M. Shephard

The exciting conclusion to Motherland. Michael's friends are in danger, and teams up with his Russian friend and his brother by revealing he is not of this world. By the end, friendships will be made while others lost. Superpowers will topple, giving birth to something new.

Angel S:1 E:12 “Motherland Part II”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright  © 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kittylover

Episode 12 “Motherland Part II”

Dear readers,

What you are about to read is an alternative history of the events that led to the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. For the story, I have moved the events to march of 1987 a full four years earlier under the pretense that the fictitious events of the of the Icarus sparked necessary reform changes sooner in the Soviet Union’s history and that major players came onto the scene sooner. While the events described below have been altered, much is very similar to the actual events that led to the fall of the Soviet Union. I hope you all enjoy. Now to finish writing the final two episodes before the finale. Expect everything within two weeks.

---Nikolai Mitri’s Personal Suite---

"Who is she?" he asked Sergei.

"According to papers, she is Anzhela Surkov. Twenty-five, and lives in Arkhangelsk Oblast, but clearly this is not her. She is likely a spy or extremist who stole her identity to get close to you."

"Why me?"

"Brother, don't be naive; you are important to our country and have much value. People kidnap you and make demands, and Government listens."

"What does she say she wanted?" Nikolai asked.

"That she wanted to meet you."

"Is that not possible? I am a celebrity--women want me. Some girls get crazy over celebrities. Maybe she is an American."

"That is possible," Sergei said switching to a low voice, "her Russian is a bit strange, yet familiar."

"How so?"

"She sounds a bit like you. She use similar words to what you use, and she speaks our dialect."

"There you have it, then. The American woman is crazy about me so much, she studies the way I speak Russian. Do you mind?" Mitri said, asking his brother for permission to approach. He was on his way over when another gunshot sounded. Again the door opened. The Major didn't bother waiting for the guard's announcement.

"Where is the detachment? I demand to be informed in one minute or you will be stationed in Siberia." The guard closed the door and took off.

"What is happening? What is that gunfire all about?" Nikolai asked.

"We are trying to find out," Sergei said as Nikolai stood before me.

"Who are you--what do you want with me?"

Switching to English, I said, "Mitri, I am a friend, nothing more." Just then, another shot rang out as a KGB officer burst through the door.

"Comrade Major, the Banquet is under siege. About a dozen men have taken the room by force and locked it down. We can't get in without the hostages being harmed.” Panic set in at the news.

"Oh shit, what have I done?" I said aloud. I tuned my hearing again and could hear screams. Focusing, I filtered the noise as best as I could until I locked onto a voice that sounded familiar. Megan was screaming, terrified beyond belief. I stood up, picking the chair up with me. The guards each pressed their hands into my shoulders and tried pushing me back down. I squatted with their movement, while my diamond-hard fingernails severed the chains to my cuffs more effectively than a bolt cutter. My downward movement led the guards into a false sense of accomplishment.

Before it registered what was happening, I reached up with my free hands and grabbed ahold of their wrists as I dropped to my knees and leaned forward while pulling their arms low to my midsection. Both men lost balance, falling forward where I increased my pull on their arms, flipping them over my shoulders. They hit the ground hard momentarily, knocking them senseless. Sergei drew his weapon and took aim and fired. I dodged the round and sped to the left plowing through the wall. The suite they had brought me to was seated right next to the grand staircase. As my indestructible body finished penetrating the wood and plaster wall, I took flight, sailing over the balcony railing and somersaulted mid-air, bringing my feet down and my head up in time to see Nikolai watch me disappear down the spiral stairwell where I landed feet first.

---

“MICHAEL, HELP!” Megan screamed at the top of her lungs. A shot rang out and the gunman’s head exploded as a round impacted his skull and exited the other side. Blood splattered everywhere as his lifeless body collapsed onto the fancy carpet of the banquet hall.

“You stupid fuck,” Vladimir said lowering his weapon. Blood speckled Megan’s face from the messy head wound. She continued screaming as Vladimir approached her. “You assholes, you were given instructions not to harm the Americans, especially these two, and him,” he said pointing back at Collins. He pointed his weapon at the dead man and fired three more rounds into him, “You disobey me, and I will send you back to worst prison in Siberia and this time your families will join you.” He knelt before Megan handing her a handkerchief to wipe the blood off her face.

“You will be quiet right now. If you obey me, I will let you tend to your comrade over there. I understand you are doctor,” Megan nodded unable to speak, “He needs you, but if you don’t be quiet, I will take you out of the room and he will die. I won’t even count to three--you will be silent right now.” Megan looked at Eugene who was clutching his stomach. She sucked in her pride, swallowed her fear, and shook her head in agreement, “Very good, this matter does not concern you and the United States. This is a Soviet matter, and you are being used for leverage. It is not my intention that any of you are harmed. If you remain calm and stay out of our affairs, you will get to go home. Now go to your comrade.” He turned to two of his more trustworthy men, “Mentyukov, get her anything she needs--this man must not die. If he does, so do you. Penkovsky, you watch over them. They don’t leave, and no one goes near them unless I say so. Understand?” Vladimir turned back to Megan who was still in too much fear to move. “This man will get you anything you need.”

“Sir,” Collins said. Vladimir turned and saw just who had spoken up. A couple of his men were already obeying his commands afraid of the consequences of hurting Collins. Instead, they hovered over him, ready to act in Vladimir’s orders.

“Speak, what is on your mind.”

“That is my friend over there, may I help the Doctor?”

“You may, but no tricks, understand?”

“Yes.” Vladimir signaled him to move. Collins slowly got up and moved to Megan, taking a knee before her. “Megan, snap out of it,” he said grabbing her shoulders and giving her a quick shake. “Look, Gene needs your help. You are the only one that can help him right now. You’re a strong woman. You held us together up there--don’t fall apart on us now.” Slowly she came around and looked at Eugene lying down with one of his legs bent underneath him.

“Oh, god, Gene!” she said finally coming around. “Sean, grab a couple table cloths, quick.” She was back in doctor mode and ran over, taking position next to Eugene. She examined the entry point where the bullet entered his abdomen. She tried to think of the few gunshot cases she encountered during her residency as St. John’s in Dallas.

“Megan, I think I’m screwed,” Eugene said, his hands trembling.

“Gene, you are going to be all right, I am going to take care of you, just listen to me, OK?” He shook his head as Sean brought the table cloths over, “Sean, cover him up and put one under his head,” she ordered as she took her heels and suit coat off and resumed examining the wound.

“What else do you need?”

“I need a knife, some water, and napkins,” Megan requested as Sean went to collect the items. Vladimir handed her a folding knife from his pocket.

“Don’t be stupid with this or I will kill you. I keep it sharp; it should do whatever you need it for.”

“Thank you. I need to know what kind of round was in that gun. Can I see one?” He retrieved the weapon from Penkovsky who was now holding his dead comrade’s weapon. Vladimir removed the magazine and ejected a round handing it to Megan.

“Doctor, it is a 9x18mm Makarov round. Similar to western 9x19mm, but less power. Similar to .380 ACP. This is a standard ball round.” Megan examined the bullet.

“Thank you; that helps,” she said setting the bullet on the ground. She took the knife and cut a patch off of the table cloth, allowing her access to the wound, while keeping Gene covered. “Gene, talk to me. How are you feeling?” He looked up at her.

“I am OK; you don’t need to tranquilize me again.” He stopped and looked at her, “I wasn’t afraid this time. I told you I wouldn’t be afraid again.”

“That’s right, you did great. You saved me, Gene, now help me save you. I am going to have to make some cuts--I need to see something. Gene, it’s going to hurt a bit, but I need to know how much internal damage you have.”

“It’s OK doc; I don’t feel any pain.”

“Gene, what do you mean? You can’t feel anything?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Sean, quick, straighten his legs and take his shoes off.” Sean reacted very quickly and did what he was told. One of the gunmen arrived with a large green pack.

“Here, field dressing kit,” the man said as he showed Collins the contents of the bag

“Doc, what do you need out of here?” he said pouring the contents on the floor.

“Get some gauze and plug the wound. I need to check something. Be firm, but don’t push down too hard on his stomach.” She took the knife and grabbed the sole of Gene’s foot. “Gene, can you hear me?”

“He can hear you,” Sean said, relaying Gene’s nods.

“Gene, tell me if you can feel this,” Megan poked the various parts of his foot with the sharp clip point of the blade. There were no reactions, no twitches. “Gene, anything?”

“No Megan, he said no, does this mean-”

“-don’t talk, Sean; just apply that pressure.” She looked around for Vladimir who happened to be standing over her.

“What is story, Doctor?”

“Please, we need to get him to a hospital. He has a spinal injury and internal bleeding. I can stabilize him, but if he doesn’t get there soon, he is going to die.”

“I’m afraid there is little I can do, doctor. No one can leave at the moment.”

---

I was in a severe state of panic watching and listening to the drama unfold beyond the doors. There were at least a dozen or more silhouettes with weapons spread throughout the room. Had I not stopped to think rationally, and just burst through the door, it’s likely everyone would be dead. There was simply no way, even with my incredible speed, to take them all out without many of my friends dying. The recognizable sound of Vladimir was talking while standing next to a figure kneeling on the ground. Her cries were unmistakably familiar, belonging to the Doc. I was relieved that she was in no immediate danger and began formulating a strategy when Vladimir addressed her.

“You will be quiet right now. If you obey me, I will let you tend to your comrade over there. I understand you are doctor. He needs you, but if you don’t be quiet, I will take you out of the room and he will die. I won’t even count to three--you will be silent right now,” Vladimir said, causing me to speculate who he was talking about. Who was this guy and just what the hell did I get myself mixed into?

“Don’t move!” a couple men said to me in Russian. I turned to face them. They were Mitri’s men and looked rather young, about my apparent age. Several others arrived on scene pointing their weapons at me. One spoke into a radio.

“Comrade Major, we have her. What are your orders?” I shifted my vision to radio and could see the waves traveling out into a wide omnidirectional pattern spreading like ripples in a pond and disappearing into the distance. Turning back, I saw fainter signals originating from within banquet hall indicating that they, too, had communication.

“Nothing; stay there. I will be right there. Give me your location.”

Through the door I saw what I determined to be Vladimir’s silhouette move away from the hall and into the corridors where I had met him before my arrest. He signaled to someone and the house audio system squelched to life before classical music started playing throughout the speaker system. He turned to his radio and started speaking. I desperately tried to filter the sounds of the music out and tune into his conversation, but the background noise was masking all but a random words.

---

“Report,” Vladimir heard his superior say over the secure radio.

“The plan worked perfectly. Major Mitri and his men reacted just as you said they would. The woman we got was perfect. Her arrest record showing her associating with known extremist groups made her ideal for what we needed in a decoy. They thought she was trying to harm Nikolai and cleared her and the Hero from the room. In a matter of seconds they had her handcuffed, and the Major and all his anti-Party followers cleared the room for us, thinking an attempt on Nikolai had just occurred. If it weren't for Nikolai, I would have put a bullet in Sergei's brain a long time ago. Once he was out of the room, away from danger, the conscripts from the camp took the room quickly. We are now completely in charge.”

“Very good work. You may proceed and broadcast your demands on the open channel.”

“Yes, Comrade; it will be done. Before I do, you should know we do have a situation. One of the prisoners from the camp shot and critically injured one of the three Americans.”

“One of Mitri’s three? How could you let this happen?”

“The man was careless and I disposed of him. None of the men will step out of line again. We have a doctor in the room and she is tending to him, but I think it might turn out to be in our favor. The General Secretary will be foolish to not comply with our demands if an American hero will die should he delay. The US and Soviet relations would be harshly impacted. Urge the Secretary to respond to my threats and allow the American to receive medical attention.”

“Very well; I agree. We will show him and the people just who is in charge of this country after we dispatch the prisoners. Gorbachev will look like a fool and will be forced to step down.
Allow video of the wounded American to leak; we will later announce to the General Secretary that Nikolai has also been critically wounded. This should also provoke him to concede to our demands. Proceed as such, but no more complications.”

“Understood,” Vladimir said as he switched to an open radio frequency and began communicating.

---

“You will come with us now, and no more tricks or we shoot,” Sergei said to me as I watched Vladimir through the door.

“Then shoot. Otherwise, Sergei, shut up; I am trying to listen.” He was taken aback at my use of casual speech and orders I was directing his way. “You have to listen to me--something big is happening here. This isn’t some random hostage situation.”

“What is it then?”

“I could only hear bits and pieces. They mentioned something about me being used to get Nikolai out of the room.”

“Nikolai is very important icon to Soviet Union--maybe they don’t want to hurt their cause by getting him killed.”

“Makes sense, but they mentioned you and your loyal men specifically as if they used both me and Nikolai to get rid of you. I am trying to figure out why.”

“Well I am not popular in my ranks because I don’t have strong loyalty to the Party. If it weren’t for my brother, I'm sure I would be dead by now. How are you able to hear them?" he asked.

"It's not important; just know that I can hear them." I thought long and hard. "Several times the General Secretary was mentioned."

“I do not know; that can mean anything. What else did he say?”

“Something about dispatching prisoners to show the people who’s in charge.”

“They don’t plan on killing the hostages, do they?” Sergei asked.

“No, before he spoke with Megan-”

“-Who?”

“Megan McCormack, she was a mission specialist on board the Deliverance with your brother. Vladimir said to her that it was not their intention to harm them. Comrade Major, I can help. I can take those men out.”

“I am sure you are quite capable, but how do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

“Your brother here knows who I am.” He turned to Nikolai and asked. Nikolai simply answered negatively by shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m afraid I don’t know you.”

“Nikolai, have you ever told your brother how you got home?”

“I was forbidden to talk about it--in fact, I don’t even know myself what happened.”

“Nikolai, what is this she is talking about?” Sergei asked, surprised that there was something that Nikolai had not shared with him. I switched to English.

“My friend,” I said walking over to the wall and raising my hand, “you know a miracle brought you home safe that day. The Deliverance was disabled--it was impossible for you to have returned home.” I began repeating the message I coded to them by knocking on the hard wood. I wasn’t sure if Mitri knew Morse code, but I could tell from the look on his face, that he at least remembered the pattern.

“That was you?” I nodded yes as he slumped down along the wall, “and all this time, I had thought it was a friend of mine. Instead, this angel before me is my savior.”

“Nikolai, Michael did send me to save you. He is not dead, but I don’t have time to explain to you right now,” his head shot up at the news.

“What do you mean he is not dead? He is alive? Where is he?”

“Later, but now our friends need help, and I can save them. Tell your brother here to trust me, and have his men leave the room,” they conversed in Russian and a short time later, Sergei forced everyone out of the room.

“So, you are the reason my brother has returned to me? Hard to believe, but based on what I have seen, maybe not hard after all. What do you need from me?”

---Banquet---

“Let’s work the problem, people,” Dr. Roth said as he and a couple of the engineers stripped a large rectangular table. One of the cameramen was ordered to film the work the men were doing. They took a portable folding table made of compressed wood particles and began modifying it. Schneider used a large knife on loan from one of the gunman to start punching holes running up and down the table. He pressed the tip of the blade into the table while Gilmore hit the handle with a large heavy stone statue driving the steel through the particleboard. While they made the holes in the table, Collins cut one of the tablecloths into long strips. He hurried and handed them over to Schneider and Gilmore who started feeding the strips into the holes.

“OK, it’s ready,” Gilmore shouted as they collapsed the legs and laid the table next to Shephard.

“OK. We have to be very careful moving him. Grab the tablecloth we placed under him and lift slightly. You two slide the table under him. Be very gentle and try not to move his spine too much.” They quickly lifted Eugene and placed the table under him as Megan instructed. Eugene grunted while they moved him.

“Are you OK, Gene?” He simply nodded instead of saying anything. “OK, good. We are going to move you; before we do, we are going to strap you down, including your head and arms. You won’t be able to move, but don’t panic; we are just doing that so you don’t move and hurt yourself even more,” he reached up and touched Megan’s face.

“You’re an amazing woman Doc; I’m glad I met you,” she took his hand and squeezed it.

“You’re quite remarkable yourself. Now don’t worry, you are going to be fine. I had to open you up a bit and look around in there, you’re in luck, that round didn’t fragment. Your organs and intestines are intact, but that bullet is lodged in your spine and I can’t touch it. Listen to me, Gene; I don’t know the extent of the injury. As soon as we can get to a hospital, we will find out. In the meantime, keep calm. The important thing is you are alive.”

“OK, are you going to stay with me?”

“Yes; they are going to let the three of us move to the kitchen,” she said as the guys carefully started lifting the table. They held it high while Collins slid under and unlatched the legs. They set the table down and started pulling the cloth strips through the holes, strapping Gene in. Collins placed two rolled-up tablecloths along Gene’s legs, while Megan wrapped a shorter one around his neck. They began tying the strips tight, locking him to their makeshift long spine board. Vladimir came by.

“Very good work, people. How is he?”

“He will be fine if we can get him treated. He has a crude stitch job keeping him from bleeding out, but he needs professional care.”

“We are working on it; in the meantime, you and he will stay in the kitchen under guard. No tricks, understand? I am usually not this nice, but his well-being is in my best interests, so don’t abuse my generosity. Now hand me the knives and my men will escort you to the kitchen.”

"What about Sean?" she asked, finding it strange he was no longer being included in the roster of people moving to the kitchen.

"Your friend stays with us. He is important to your government. He will stay as extra security. Now go, and don't try my patience."

---

“We were able to get this for you,” Sergei said handing me a radio and headset. Our pilots use these, as do some of our soldiers. You wear it around your throat so you can talk in a soft voice and still be heard.”

“Perfect,” I said, completely familiar with the technology. Instead of a traditional mike, the mike on these sits on your throat and absorbs vibrations directly from the larynx. I put the radio on and ran through a test. As he spoke back to me, I tied my long hair back and pulled the black beanie out of my coat and pulled it over my head and down over my face. Using my finger nails I clipped away at the wool making a pair of eye holes.

'These things are pretty useful at times,' I thought looking at my fingernails.

“Here,” Mitri said handing me a small suppressed submachine gun.

“No thanks. I will be all right.”

“What are you going to do without a weapon?”

“Comrade, I *am* a weapon, and I am about to get really pissed off.”

“Very well,” he said, keeping his trust in his brother.

“I am going to get you intel on the room and situation. Do you know someone who knows international Morse code?”

“Perhaps, why?” I wrote a message down on a piece of paper and handed it to Sergei.
“If you can find someone, get them to the sound booth of the banquet hall. You will need to take someone out, but once you gain control, have him create some slight feedback and keep tapping that message until someone makes eye contact with the booth.”

“Collins?” Nikolai asked with a big smile on his face.

“None other. He will hear the message and can spread the word that we are about to take the room. Can you have someone standing by to kill all the lights?”

“Yes, but how will you see?”

“Don’t worry about that; just make sure there is no light. I need to get moving,” I said, “wait for me and I will report in soon.”

---The Crimea, Faros, Ukraine---

“General Secretary, we have a situation that demands your immediate attention,” Valeriy Boldin, secretariat head to Gorbachev, said. “Armed radicals have taken over the banquet where we are meeting with the Americans.”

“This cannot be, are you sure your facts are correct?”

“Yes Mr. Secretary. Reports say one of the American astronauts has been critically wounded by gunfire.”

“Which astronaut? Not one of *the* astronauts?”

“I am afraid so; he might not make it,” the deputy chief of the Soviet Defense Council chimed in, adding urgency to their appeal.

“Does Washington know what is happening?”

“So far we have managed to keep the situation contained, but it will leak sooner or later, and if we don’t act quickly to put an end to this madness, all the progress we have made with the Americans will be undone.”

“What do you propose we do?”

“We agree that the best course of action is to stop this uprising. If you declare a state of emergency, we can restore order and imprison any conspirators who have orchestrated this hideous act.”

“I can’t do that, nor will I. My relations with the United States are strong, and as you say, much progress has been made. If I issue a state of emergency as you propose, all my reform work will be undone. I must first and foremost think about what is good for the health of the Soviet Union, a union with more openness and freedom for the people.”

“Mr. Secretary, has it occurred to you that maybe our people still need regulation? Your plans to be more open with them and reform the Party were not accepted. See, they are showing their appreciation by killing an international hero, one who, like Mitri, is responsible for the life they continue to live. You will be finished, and the cold war will resume if you do not act.”

“I see, the situation is indeed dire. What is it they demand?”

“They have made no expressed demands. They as far as we can tell are trying to get attention. They refuse to allow the American to be taken for treatment and have threatened to kill others regardless of their status. It’s worse--Nikolai Mitri is one of the hostages. If he is killed-”

“-Mr. Secretary,” Baklanov interrupted, “our intelligence says that they have a strong network of conspirators and it’s possible their cause could spark anarchy that will quickly rage out of control. We need to act fast and quell this situation and make mass arrests, otherwise this country will fall. If you will not take the necessary steps, then we demand you resign and appoint Vice President Yananyev who will take action.”

“I will do no such thing, nor will I make any rash decisions. Get me more intelligence and find out what these people want. Until then, do not make such demands of me.”

---

“Comrade Major,” the young captain said reporting in, “all communication to the General Secretary’s dacha in the Crimea has been cut off. There are reports that there has been an increase in KGB presence around his retreat. Additionally, there are rumors that he has been placed under house arrest. This happened moments after a broadcast from the terrorists. They are demanding that the people be taken care of. They claim to be the voice of the people who are tired of waiting in long lines for food and basic needs. They want to be promised change or they start killing the Americans.”

“Thank you Captain for your report; is there anything else?”

“Yes, Comrade Major; it appears all KGB on holiday are being called in and armor units are being deployed. T-80s from the Tamanskaya and Kantemirovskaya armor units have already taken position in Red Square and are fortifying their position. Something big is happening.”

“Contact headquarters and report our current situation. Find out as much as you can about what’s going on.” The Captain saluted and left just as his radio crackled to life.

“Report,” Sergei said.

“Contact, two armed guards. I am going to take them out. Shephard and the Doc have been moved to the kitchen. Can you arrange an emergency crew to meet them out back?”

“Yes, we have a hospital nearby. I may be able to get them on the radio. Make sure if you take them out to do so quietly.”

“They won’t even see me coming,” the soft female voice said with absolute confidence.

“Nikolai, this doesn’t seem real. Who is she?”

“Brother, I really have no idea where she came from, but I almost didn’t come back and if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have. All the reports you have heard about the mission are false. We really didn’t do anything up there. The nukes failed and our ship was badly damaged. All hope was lost, and the governments were never going to tell you until the asteroid entered he atmosphere. My hero status is a sham. This woman, this angel--whoever she is--she is the real hero. Because of her you and I are alive. She stopped the asteroid and brought us home. I’m sorry my dear brother for not telling you, but it was forbidden for us to speak of it.”

“That is OK; I am in the intelligence business. I know what it is like to have secrets. What I don’t understand is how you keep attracting all the pretty girls and never introduce them to your older, wiser brother.”

---

“How are you doing, Gene?” Megan asked as she placed a wet napkin in his mouth letting him suck on the water.

“I’m OK, just a little cold,” he answered between his drinks. Two of Vladimir’s trusted men kept watch, one guarding the rear door to the loading dock, while the other kept a close eye on the banquet hall access door.

“You hang in there--we are going to get you out of there real soon.”

“Doc, be honest with me, I'm not going to walk again, am I? I mean, I know I can't feel anything below my stomach, but is it permanent? Am I going to live in a chair the rest of my life?” Megan reached for his hand that was still bound to his side.

“Gene, I really can’t tell you right now. It could be the bullet pinching the nerve, and once removed, signals from your brain will be able to travel to your feet again. I’m not going to lie to you; there is a chance the bullet did irreparable damage,” Megan was crying harder than Gene was.

“Don’t cry for me. I can handle it.”

“Gene, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. This all happened because of me. You wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t freaked out.”

“Megan, look at me. Listen very carefully, this isn’t your fault. See these guys watching us? It’s their fault, not yours. We trained to go into space to face all the dangers it has to offer. Up there, there are a million things that could kill us, and we were prepared for that. Still I freaked out. I didn’t want to die in that small ship. You, Megan--you have never trained to deal with a man pointing a rifle at your face as he started to pull the trigger. I would have messed my pants if I were you.”

“Still, it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“There is no need for you to eat yourself up. The more I learn about my place in life, the more I am convinced something greater is orchestrating it. I should be bitter right now, but for some reason, I’m not,” Eugene told her with half truth. Mostly he wanted to comfort her and keep her from eating herself alive from self-pity. “Please, if we get out of this, I will be OK. It’s not like I was an athlete–lately, I have been working in labs. Easily something I could do from a sitting position.” Megan was about to say something when there was a sound outside the door. Mentyukov stepped through the double doors to take a look. Megan heard him say something in Russian followed by the sound of his weapon hitting the ground.

“Mentyukov, is everything all right?” Penkovsky asked. There was no reply. He called out again, but nothing. Worried about the ramifications of failure, he proceeded to investigate his partner’s sudden silence. He pressed his Kalishnikov through the double doors and slowly moved forward.

Megan watched as the doors suddenly burst inward, knocking the gunman backward and sending him flying through the room where he impacted the metal door leading to the loading dock. A definite cracking sound filled the kitchen as the man's head hit the door and fractured. He slumped to the ground, his life having already left the body. Her eyes left the gunman and turned back to the door. She saw a figure dressed in a long black coat with a black ski mask on. She watched as the figure took the man’s gun and snapped it in half, completely destroying the weapon.

“What’s happening?” Eugene asked, unable to see anywhere but directly above him.

---

I could see the four bodies of heat inside the kitchen. One right on the other side of the door, the other on the far end; both were armed. Megan and Gene were talking while the two stood watch over them. Taking them out would be easy, but doing so in such a way that they wouldn’t discharge their weapons would be a challenge. I would have to lure them outside to avoid any further injury.

The hallway was relatively empty with little to use. Further down, I spotted a vase on a small table that could serve as a descent noise distraction to lure them out. I hurried over and knocked the vase down and sped back to the door, taking position floating just above. The gunman walked through and the doors and they swung closed behind him. He scanned the room looking for the source of the noise until finally finding the vase on the floor. He was about to write it off as a fluke accident when I dropped in behind him and entered my high-speed movement, dilating time as I did so. First I went for the AK-47, grabbing it by the area directly above the trigger while simultaneously covering the man’s mouth with the other. My right hand squeezed hard on the AK crushing the metal housing of the upper receiver together preventing the long flat hammer from reaching the firing pin. With the weapon disabled, I pulled it from the man’s hand and let it hit the ground.

He struggled as I repositioned my right hand around his throat, placing him into a sleeper hold. Frantically he stabbed at me with a knife while the last of his oxygen enriched his brain. I could hear the beat of his heart and blood flow slowing within his body until he finally went limp, dropping the knife. I released my grip so that I wouldn’t kill him and dropped him on the ground next to the door.

“Mentyukov, is everything all right?” I heard his partner say. His silhouette approached the door and he slowly pushed his AK through. I reached out as his hand appeared through the door. Repeating the same technique, I crushed the upper receiver while pulling the weapon out of his hand. His arm was still sticking through the door when I kicked the double doors in the opposite direction. I could hear the snap of his arm as the doors pinched shut on his forearm before swinging inward, knocking the disarmed gunman backwards. I watched as his body traveled the length of the kitchen coming to a sudden stop on the other side before going limp on the ground. With the threat neutralized, I stepped inside while tearing the AK in half. Megan was looking at me with a half happy-to-see-you face, and the other half showing disappointment.

“Where the hell have you been?” she said in a very soft whisper.

“What’s happening?” Eugene asked. I reached up and hit the talk button on the radio and reported to Sergei.

“Comrade, kitchen clear. Both are safe.”

“Good work--a medevac will meet you there,” he said over the radio.

“Who is that?” Gene asked in frustration that no one was answering him.

“Gene, it’s OK; we are safe,” Megan said. She turned to me, and in a quiet yet angry voice started cussing, "Didn't you hear me, where the fuck were you? What was all that shit about with the KGB?" I ignored her and went towards the back door, lifting the body and moving him out of the way. The door was locked, forcing me to tear the door open.

"Megan, please, talk to me, what's happening?" Gene asked in increased anxiety.

"I don't know, Gene," she said as I finished opening the door. Several emergency medical crew were standing on the other side. They rushed in and made their way to the table. "Gene, help is here. We are going to get you moved."

"What happened to him?" One of them asked me.

"Gunshot to the lower abdomen. He has a spinal injury; be careful moving him. She is a doctor. Do either of you speak English?" Both shook their head no. I touched the talk button on the radio. "Major, let me speak with Nikolai," I said as I went over to the body and grabbed his radio.

"Anzhel, how can I help you?"

"Nikolai, the Doc is heading out with the medical crew. I need you to translate her for her. I am giving her a radio from one of the gunmen. Find another radio yourself and tune to channel 263. Tell Sergei to stay on this channel with me." In a moment, Nikolai's voice came through the recovered radio.

"Doctor, this is Nikolai. Are you alright, Megan?"

"I'm fine, Nikolai."

"My new friend here wants me to translate for you. Tell me what you need the crew to know, and I will tell them for you."

---

I finished changing into the dead man's uniform and casted his near-naked body aside. His body odor was bothering my sensitive sense of smell, but I ignored it as best as I could. The other man started waking up as I dragged him into the freezer.

"Wake up," I said smacking him on the face. His eyes opened and saw me standing before him. He instantly became aggressive upon discovering I was female and unarmed.

"Screw you," he said as he tried to punch me. I simply caught his hand in mid-flight, holding it in place while I grabbed him by the throat and lifted him above my head, slamming him against the door.

"You are going to talk or I will slowly crush every bone in your body into a fine powder." To show I was serious, I began tightening on his closed fist cracking a few bones before releasing.

"Stop! What do you want to know?

"Who are you? What is it you are trying to do here?"

"We are just hired help--we don't really care what this is about."

"You take on a job without knowing its purpose?"

"Yes, we were prisoners in the Gulag. We were promised freedom to help end some revolution."

"Why end the revolution? Russia would be free--don't you want that?"

"Yes, but if we don't, we go back to camps along with our families."

"How did you get out of the camps? That's impossible."

"They let us out."

"Who?"

"A colonel with the KGB. He wants to stop some major figure from changing the Soviet Union."

"What is this colonel's name?" I said, re-applying pressure.

"Stop, I need to breathe. I will talk."

"Talk, or I will leave you in here to freeze to death."

"A Colonel Tolkachev--he’s the one who released us."

"Why?"

"I don't know; I just don't want my family to go to the camps."

I started squeezing his neck again, "So you shot my friend instead, you spineless bastard?"

"No, I didn't shoot him, the man who di...did is dead. Please, I don't want any part of this, I-" his radio squelched to life; it was Vladimir checking in. I picked up the radio and set him down releasing his grip.

"Vladimir is going to kill all of you regardless of the outcome. I heard him say so to his superiors. Now, you have two options, you can answer this call and report everything is normal, and I will see to it this man and those he works for can't hurt you or your family. Tell him about me, and I will leave you naked in this freezer until you freeze to death. What's it going to be?"

"I will help you," he said. I held his wrist tight, ready to squeeze down if he started to squeal.

"Smart move--no games, or I will crush you before you can get a word in." He put the radio up to his mouth and started speaking.

"Comrade, everything is secure here," he reported while I started thinking.

“Good,” I said, “Now, here’s what I want you to do.”

---

---

“Captain, did you reach headquarters?”

“No Comrade Major, all communication between here and the outside is cut off. We have tried radio, but have been ordered to maintain radio silence. We have also been told to stand down and not to attempt to re-take the room.”

“What of the reports in Red Square?”

“Armor units are increasing as is crowds of people taking to the streets. It’s almost as if they are preparing for an invasion of the Kremlin.”

“No, it is something else, but I do not know just yet. Get me as much intel as possible,” A communications officer burst through the door.

“Comrade Major, there is radio traffic that your brother has been critically wounded inside the banquet,” Sergei turned to the back of the room where Nikolai was sitting talking on the radio.

“Simply untrue, Nikolai is right over there. They are talking about someone else,” the officer sighted Nikolai with disbelief.

“Comrade Major, they were very specific over the state radio, that it was indeed Nikolai Mitri who was wounded. Television is also reporting video footage from the banquet. They must have edited a tape making it look like that woman shot Comrade Nikolai, then showed the American being operated on by a doctor on scene but claimed it's your brother.”

“Their report is false, they broadcast with misinformation. My brother is alive and well and his two comrades are en route to the hospital,” through the radio headset, Sergei heard a voice.

“Comrade Major, do you know a Colonel Tolkachev?”

“Indeed, he is a very high ranking KGB working close with the Politburo.”

“Do you know why he would release prisoners from Kolyma?”

“I do not, why?”

“I just forced a confession out of one of the guards, he claims him and all the other gunmen inside holding up the banquet hall are from the camps. They were released about two weeks ago and brought here."

"This is troubling news if true. This would mean some very high up in my ranks are involved for some reason. You think these are the prisoners they were talking about?”

“It would fit well with the puzzle. The prisoner mentioned they were trying to stop some revolution. Some major political figure is trying to change the Soviet Union. You know who he is talking about?”

“A revolution, I do not know of anyone who is causing a revolution,” Sergei paused still holding down on the talk button. He replayed the previous conversations in his mind and known intel on radicals that posed a threat to the system. There was no one major working towards change, “Anzhel, I know of no one trying to-” Sergei stopped again this time taking his finger off the button.

“-Major, Gorbachev? What about him?” She said beating him to the punch, “the mentioned him several times.”

“Yes, very good, makes perfect sense now. He is currently under house arrest in the Crimea. Reports have floated around that his Vice President has seized control after Gorbachev failed to prevent Nikolai from being wounded.

“What do you mean Nikolai is wounded? When did this happen?

“Relax, he is fine, it is a false report, but it would be effective at turning the people against Gorbachev.” Nikolai got up and rushed over to his brother.

"Sergei, my friend is reporting their van is being stopped by KGB just inside the gates," Nikolai said interrupting.

"Anzhel, your friends are in trouble just outside."

---

I didn't let Sergei finish before bolting out the back door and into the loading docks. I circled around the building, finding the ambulance trying to get out of the gate about a hundred yards away. Several KGB with assault rifles were barking orders at the driver to step out of the vehicle. Two more approached the back and tried to unlock the doors.

“Come out, or we will open fire,” they yelled. Megan was on the ground next to Gene, curling up in a ball while he remained strapped to the board. I sped over to the van coming to a stop behind the two KGB.

“Howdy boys,” I said in English while removing my face mask. They turned to see me suddenly standing behind them. They had a look of confusion on their faces, not sure what to make of the woman speaking English to them, while dressed in a Soviet military tactical uniform.

“Get back!” They shouted in Russian.

“Sorry, I don’t understand you,” I replied in English. They turned to each other seeking the other’s advice. Seizing the opportunity, I rushed them. Before they could react, I was standing in between their rifles, my body blocking them from training their weapons on me. I reached up and grabbed both of their heads as they tried to back up far enough to point their barrels at me, but it was too late. Careful not to use too much force, I brought their heads together, where a definitive cracking sound echoed off the brick walls surrounding the building. Their two bodies went limp and they collapsed at my feet. A shot sounded followed by the sound of the front door opening. I turned the corner to see another officer pointing his Kalashnikov at the driver as he stepped out of the vehicle. He immediately saw me and turned the weapon on me, his enjoyment of my image rapidly fading as I approached unafraid.

“Stop, or I will shoot.” I continued to walk toward him showing no fear. He raised the weapon and aimed with both hands and pulled the trigger. In slow motion, I could hear the long thin hammer release and hit the firing pin, discharging the primer of the 7.62mm round in the chamber. As the powder ignited and the gas expanded driving the round down the barrel, I sprang myself upward and over the officer, twisting my body mid flight, bringing my feet down and my head up. The bullet exited the gun and the gas started traveling up the upper tube above the barrel back toward the bolt, driving it back where it ejected the spent casing, and re-cocked the hammer before sliding forward again, driving a new round into the chamber from the magazine. By the time the weapon had cycled once and was ready to fire a second time, I landed feet first behind the officer and grabbed his parka with my left hand and his upper right arm with my right. Taking a step back I pulled hard and to the right forcing his gunfire away from the van. His vision had just cleared from the firing of the first round and was in the middle of processing the fact that his target was no longer there when my strong movement pulled him off his feet and his weapon fired in a wide arc to the right of the van. He lost his grip of the AK-47 as I completed the movement and threw him hard. He landed twenty feet away, impacting the pavement, the sounds of several bones breaking from the hard landing tingled my ears. The driver, in a state of disbelief, cowered down on the ground.

“Get in and drive!” I yelled as another officer got the drop on me and opened fire. It was too late and a stream of 7.62 rounds were already heading in my direction. They impacted tearing into my clothes and ricocheting off me. Several rounds bounced off riddling the driver’s side door. Realizing the danger my body was now posing for Megan and Gene inside, I turned my body so that the angle would force the ricochets away from the van while I tried to move out of the line of fire. The officer’s 30 round magazine emptied and I was still alive. A look of horror came over his face, seeing that the only damage his rifle did was shred my uniform. He reached for another magazine out of his pouch and struggled to change the clip. What should have been a fast fluid magazine change, one he had performed thousands of times in the dark, was now a haphazard and clumsy attempt to reload his weapon crippled by the fear of what he just witnessed. I slowly closed the gap and came within a few feet when he dropped the AK and went for his side arm. His Tokarev TT-33 was half drawn from his side holster when I grabbed the pistol and crushed the metal slide and barrel together as if it were made of modeling clay. My right hand drove a hard, but human, punch to his abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to the ground where I drove a hard hit to his upper back, knocking him out. With the threats neutralized, I turned to the driver who was still on the ground.

“Drive damn it,” I yelled. He was clutching his side, his hand covering a rapidly increasing crimson stain. The blood pooled around his trembling finger. He looked up at me as I ran over to him.

“Let me see,” I said in Russian. The driver looked up at me, his body shaking. He tried to speak, but his life left him, leaving him in a collapsed heap leaning against the ambulance.

“Shit, shit,” I started cussing knowing it was the ricochet off my body that resulted in his death. I pressed the talk button on the radio.

“Sergei, come in,” after what seemed like an eternity, a voice called back.

“Yes Anzhel,” Anzhel, why do they keep calling me Anzhel?

“I took out the guards, but the driver was killed, and it looks like the other is unconscious,” I said, coming around to the other side and seeing the other paramedic out cold with a large gouge in his head.

“We have trouble over here, other KGB units are surrounding the building and have shot at some of my men trying to leave.” I was in a tough situation. Why were they shooting at their own men? I needed to get back to the banquet hall and take out the rest of the conscripts from the camps, but at the same time, Gene needed immediate assistance.

“Megan, are you okay?” I called out to her.

“Get us the fuck out of here damn it,” I didn’t have a choice, she and Gene would have to be my first priority. Sergei and his men could take the room or delay until I returned.

“Ok, hold on back there,” I said as I ran over to the gate and tore the long metal arm off the post clearing our exit before rushing back and starting up the engine.

“Sergei, I need to drive them to the hospital, have someone give me directions,” I commanded as I stepped on the gas and took to the streets. This was the first time in about a year and a half I had driven a car. It was like riding a bike, but somehow it felt very strange and for the first few minutes driving, my motions were very rigid. I flipped on the lights and sirens while thinking just how grateful I was that the Russians drove on the right side of the road.

“Make a right up ahead,” Nikolai said guiding me blindly through the radio.

---Banquet---

Sean sat on the floor in the middle of a the group. He sat close to his wife holding her tight.

"It's going to be all right Deb, we are going to get out of this. Keep praying. He will hear our prayers."

The house audio systems seemed to come to life for a second, then fade. A subtle feedback persisted that was hurting his sensitive ears. At first he didn't notice it, but there was a distinct pattern. It was a message encoded in the noise. Once again he could hear a repeating message in Morse code.

“Gumby, calvary coming, will signal when ready. Prepare to hit the deck in zero visibility. Spread the word. Thumbs up that you acknowledge."

"Sean what is it?" as he raised his thumb then used it to scratch his head as a guard walked by. He watched as another guard left the room minutes later one of the ones that Megan left with returned. He spoke with the guy in charge briefly before approaching another guard.

"Start telling everyone very quietly to get ready. The lights are going to go off, when they do, tell everyone to get down."

"Why what's going to happen?"

"Help is on the way."

"How do you know?" Deborah asked unsure how her husband came across this bit of information.

"Long story, just do what I tell you, I think our prayers have been answered."

---To Moscow---

I touched down on the roof; Nikolai and Sergei stood waiting for me. They stared with disbelief as I flew unassisted.

“That is quite remarkable. How is it you can do that?” Sergei asked.

“Not entirely sure, I just can?”

“How are Eugene and Megan?”

“Fine, thank you for your directions. He is being rushed into surgery right now and Megan will wait with him.”

“She is quite a woman, we were lucky to have her with us.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “She is quite extraordinary.” Sergei broke up the conversation.

"We need to get Nikolai to Moscow. If the people can see that he is alive and not hurt, then the people will know the CPSU is lying. You can fly with someone else?"

“I think so. Are you dressed warm enough, Nikolai? It’s going to get very cold for you.”

“I’m fine, what about you?”

“I will be fine as well. You trust me Nikolai?”

"With my life. Let's do it."

"You be careful with my brother, I want him back in one piece."

"Trust me, I wouldn't let anything happen to my comrade here," I turned to Nikolai, "You ready?"

"No, not really."

"Since when are you afraid of flying?"

"I'm not, I...um. I have a little problem."

"You will overcome it, hurry, we gotta get going."

"No, it's embarrassing, but you are turning me on right now. I'm sorry, us guys can't help these things." Of the thousands of hours of simulator time, endless forms of distraction were programmed into the computer to see how I could fly the shuttle under duress. They would throw alarms, system failures, cabin de-pressurizations, etc. at me. The good pilots, the ones calm under pressure, dealt with the distractions while focusing on the critical phase of flight. Of all the things that could distract this ace during a flight, I never imagined in all my life, it would be one of my good friends' erect junk sticking into my back.

"Don't be embarrassed, I completely understand. Make it up to me later and buy me a few drinks when this is over. Deal? Now hop on my back and think of Turner." He hopped up onto my back. Sergei stripped off his gun belt as well as the one around his pants. He crudely joined the two together and tightly secured his brother to my body.

“Sergei, you sure you can take that room?”

“Yes, we will take it. Trust me, like I am trusting you. If that prisoner will do as he says, we only have one man to worry about.”

“You have my trust my friend,” I turned my head back to Nikolai, “how about you, are you ready?”

"Turner huh, that was better than a cold shower. How do you know Tuna?" I ignored him and slowly lifted up off the roof.

"Hold on," I said as he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, not needing any instructions from me.

"Wow!" He shouted in amazement watching the rooftop disappear from under us. Our altitude rapidly increased, taking us into a steep vertical climb before leveling off at several thousand feet. Except for Clint and Anzhela, this was my first joy ride with a passenger. Unlike my solo flights, where I was immune to temperature, thin oxygen, and high G's, Nikolai was vulnerable and if I didn't pay attention to my flying, I could injure or kill him.

"You ok my friend?"

"This is...how you say? Awesome!" Mitri said with about the same level of excitement Megan had the first time I took her up on a training flight. I had thought she would have been afraid, but a minute into the flight, she was howling like a teen on a roller coaster, “This is incredible, how are you able to do this?”

“It’s complicated,” I yelled back to him hoping he could hear with the wind blowing in his face, “maybe I will tell you all about it someday.”

“So, you are the one? All this time, I thought it was Michael. The morse code, the jokes, all the knowledge of our spacecraft. Instead, it was you. So, you say Michael is alive?”

“Yes, Michael is safe. I found him adrift, on the verge of death.”

“Where is he then?”

“On his way to my home.”

“Where is that?”

“Only about thirty light years away.”

“You mean, you are from-”

“-Yes, I’m not an angel, I’m from another planet.”

“And does everyone on your planet speak good Russian like you?”

“No, I had to learn.”

“Well you had a good teacher. Some minor flaws, but I can teach you. What is your name?”

My real name is Kaaren, but mostly people call me Karen for short.”

“Karen? I like Anzhel better, it suits you more than Karen. Karen is a terrible name for a pretty woman such as you. Karen is an Armenian Man’s name.”

“Hold that thought a moment,” I said interrupting him, “You think you can handle a little more speed?” I said guessing we were only doing about a hundred knots.

“Hit me with it, I trust you.”

“Ok, tell me if you can’t take it anymore. Don’t worry, I can hear you. Ready?” I was already accelerating when he started to speak. Slowly, little by little I increased speed, accelerating toward Moscow. Below I could see an increase in traffic, especially military vehicles. We followed along the highway flying over many Soviet tanks en route to the city center. The cloud layer was getting thick, making visibility difficult, but at the same time I was grateful for it gave us the ability to approach without being seen.

"Mitri, you know of a good place we can land?" I said as I started surveying the area in infrared looking for a spot with the fewest people. How about that alley behind those buildings north of the Kremlin?

“That will work, but there can be heavy foot traffic-” I didn’t let him finish, but started to rapidly descend after finding a brief window in which there were no pedestrians.

“Sorry my friend, I had to act quick.” I said in apology the moment we touched down.

“It’s okay, re-entry is worse.”

We exited the alley and proceeded around the building and hurried down the street at the end of which was the northern end of Red Square. A large gathering of people were in the square protesting in front of a tank column guarding the entrance to the government's headquarters.

"They all think I'm dying or dead."

"Yes I can hear them. Seems like they are calling for Gorbachev's head. The people are fighting for you."

"Only they are fighting the wrong people."

"Got that right, their emotions are going to be their undoing. If the CPSU regains control, their small taste of freedom will pass into history. The Red Amy, you think we can sway them?"

"Possible, like you Americans, a lot of cosmonauts come from the military. In many ways, we are interconnected. What do you have in mind?"

"If I can run interference, you think you can get close to that tank, the one over there in the center?

"I think I can, how are you going to distract them?"

“Nikolai my friend, leave that to me. Just think about what you are going to say. When you left earth, you became a hero to the Soviet Union. Like Yuri Gagarin, you have tremendous influence with your people, and they will listen to you. They know you are not about politics or part of the military. This is your day comrade, right now, you can change history and shift the balance of power away and give it back to the people.”

“You really think it can be done?”

“Your job is easy, it’s been mostly completed for you. All you have to do is get up there.”

“So what are you going to do?” I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the crowd. “Anzhel, what are you doing?”

----CPSU Head Quarters---

“He’s escaped!”

“Who?” Colonel Tolkachev demanded.

“Nikolai. We took the building as instructed and executed any prisoners who surrendered. After, we searched the building for Nikolai but he was nowhere to be found. We have his brother in custody and is en route via helicopter. According to several of his men, Nikolai went to the roof, but after an extensive search, we turned up nothing.”

“Vladimir?”

“Unknown. The prisoners caught wind that they were to be killed and sided with the Major. Vladimir helped us capture Major Mitri, but some time after disappeared.”

“What of the Americans?”

“All safe and being treated now. Two of the three astronauts are missing. There are reports two Americans fitting their description have been admitted to a hospital nearby, one with a gunshot to his midsection. Shall we investigate?”

“No, leave them alone, them missing is not my concern, if they made it to the hospital it is just as well. Nikolai missing is bothersome. We need him found. Have his brother brought to me as soon as he arrives.”

“Yes, Comrade Colonel, it will be done,” the Major said as he saluted and turned away to follow his orders. Tolkachev thought about how their plan was unfolding. It wasn’t perfect, but the people were now turned against the General Secretary and in a matter of days, he would be destroyed, and replaced. Before their emotional response could calm down, they will realize that the Party will be back in greater power, and it was them who chose it.

---Red Square---

“Come on, let’s be bold,” I said, changing my mind about distracting the tanks. Something told me, once the military saw him and positively identified him, they would immediately stand down. We reached the rear of the large gathering of protestors, many holding signs with various messages written on them. Interspersed throughout the crowd were KGB officers shouting useless threats over bullhorns, informing them that this was an illegal demonstration. The people paid no attention to them and kept up with their protests. I started to push my way through while pulling Nikolai in tow.

“Izvi`nite,” I said, excusing myself as we pushed on through the dense crowd making our way toward the front of the Kremlin. It was slow moving considering the sheer volume of Russia’s people turning out in protest. Men and women of every age group took to the streets letting their disdain for the tragic events that may have taken the life of this generation's beloved hero be known. The smell of burning Soviet flags permeated the air and spoke louder than words, that the people had had enough.

"Comrade Nikolai!" a teenage boy yelled as he spotted us in the crowd. "It's Nikolai Mitri." Slowly, little by little, those surrounding him turned to see what nonsense he was spouting. The older people in the crowd recognized him first. They looked him over in disbelief wondering if they were imagining things. Timidly they approached us and put their hands on him, touching his shoulders.

"Comrade, is it really you?"

"Yes," I answered on his behalf, "The Great Nikolai is standing amongst you. Help us get to the front of the crowd." At the first utterance of my authoritative commands, the crowds complied and packed themselves tighter so that a clear walkway formed. With an unimpeded path clearing before us, our trek forward increased its pace. We walked by and the people reached out to shake his hand as he walked by. Mitri, timid at first, began working the crowd as a seasoned professional Hollywood actor signing autographs on the way down the red carpet. A silence rippled out from our location and traveled throughout the massive cluster of people

---CPSU Head Quarters---

The massive helicopter touched down on the landing pad next to the CPSU headquarters. The pilot shut down the engines as the rear door to the passenger hold was opened. Two armed guards jumped out and helped the handcuffed Major out. Tolkechev stood on the edge of the landing pad and waited for his prisoner to be brought to him.
“Welcome to Moscow Comrade Major, I trust you had a good flight.”

“Piss off Colonel,” Sergei barked back.

“Major, we haven’t even begun yet and you are already showing me resistance. Come now comrade, we have the same training, you know this will be useless for you. Simply tell me where your brother is,” Sergei remained silent as he was led inside and forcibly seated into a small interrogation room. The Colonel didn’t waste any time and began striking Sergei hard in the face.

“Where is he?”

“Why, what’s he to you?” You can’t touch him, you know that.”

“You are right. I will not kill the Great Nikolai like I will you, but I will send him away until this passes and we have regained all that belongs to us.”

“You are a miserable piece of filth. Are you that hungry for power. You like seeing people suffer?” Tolkechev struck him again sending a splatter of blood across the room.

“You are a traitor to the Party, and you no longer have the privilege of being able to hide behind your brother. I am going to enjoy watching you suffer,” Sergei sat unafraid.

“Do what you want to me, but Anzhela will find you, find all of you, and destroy you,” there was a knock at the door. With the Colonel’s permission, one of the guards opened the door to an out of breath captain.

“Report, what do you have for me Comrade Captain?”

“Comrade Colonel, I have received reports first hand, that Nikolai is in Red Square with that woman Vladimir hired. Somehow they were able to escape and fly to Moscow.”

“How, there was no Helicopter to meet them, everything is grounded in that area.”

“It doesn’t matter, my intel is sound, he is there and making his way through the crowd. I gave orders to stop him and arrest him on sight as an impostor.”

“Excellent work Comrade Captain. Order the helicopter to prepare for immediate takeoff, I will be right there.”

“Yes Comrade Colonel, what is the destination?”

“Red Square.”

“What are you going to do Colonel when you get there? Fire on the crowd?” Sergei asked.

“Whatever is necessary.”

“You have gone mad. This isn’t about some power play anymore, face it, you are scared to death.” Sergei could sense the Colonel knew his time was limited and if the people saw his brother alive, he would be finished.

---Red Square---

"See my friend, they love you?" As we approached the tank column in the front of the crowd, uniformed KBG and Red Army soldiers rapidly approached and formed a wall, blocking our approach. A KGB officer withdrew his side arm and pointed it in our direction.

"Stop right there, this man is under arrest for impersonating a national hero,” I placed my invulnerable body in between his gun and my friend, doubting very much he would be foolish enough to pull the trigger, but taking a defensive posture non the less.

“Stand down Comrade Captain, this is Nikolai Mitri, and his brother outranks you. You go ahead and shoot me, and shoot him, but you know very well who you are killing. Think about what your superiors will do to you if you somehow manage to survive this crowd.” As my speech in fluent Russian was processed in his mind, I stepped aside offering him a clear shot, knowing I could react before his bullet left the muzzle. “Go ahead, shoot the impostor, what are you afraid of?” The fear started to build and everyone with front row seats could see him starting to sweat profusely in the cold.

“Arrest him,” he stuttered to the soldiers. They too sensed the fear in him and remained hesitant to act, knowing the consequences of acting rashly. “What are you waiting for, arrest him, and this woman.”

“Comrade,” I began to say, “the game is almost over, and when it is, whose side do you want to be on? The choice is all yours. Today, you can side with the people, allied with this man here, or you can be sent to prison with all the other conspirators. Think about it, right now, you are the most powerful man in the Soviet Union. Your decision right here...right now, will forever be written in the pages of history. Do you really want to kill the great Nikolai Mitri?” His hand was trembling, having a hard time keeping his gun steady. Before he could react, people stepped forward, placing their lives between his gun and Nikolai. One of the soldiers stepped out of the line and stood before the officer, placing his forehead up against the muzzle of his handgun. It was all the others needed to convince them which way to turn. One by one, they all followed suit standing behind their brave comrade using his skull to protect Nikolai. When the crowd started to shout his name, the officer lowered and holstered his weapon. He picked up a megaphone and yelled through the device.

“Behold, the great Nikolai Mitri!” He stood at attention and saluted, leading the rest of the Red Army soldiers to follow suit and salute him as well. The people nearby witnessing the event, started chanting Nikolai’s name as he moved out from behind those protecting him. The captain handed him the bullhorn and pointed him toward the tank.

“Comrade Mitri, forgive me. Here, take this, your people want to see you.”

“Thank you Comrade Captain,” he turned to me as several reporters finally made it to the front to capture the event. Before he could speak I urged him to continue.

“Later, tell me later. Get up there, everyone is waiting for you.” A tank driver scurried out of his T-72 and met Nikolai, offering his hand to help him up. I was ducking back out of view of the growing presence of international reporters when my ears began detecting the sound of an approaching helicopter. The unmistakable sound of its rotor blades slicing through the air grew louder. Bringing up my infrared, I tried to find a heat signature of an approaching helicopter. As the crowd cheered at the sight of Mitri, I hopped up on top of another tank. The driver tried to push me off, when he started to home in on the sound of the helicopter.

“Crocodile approaching,” he said softly at first, then again to his crew with a louder voice.

“Crocodile, what’s that?” I asked the driver.

“Mil Mi-24 flying tank,” knowing the sound of his air support as well as any Vietnam soldier knowing the sound of inbound Hueys. His human eyes and ears located it first, and a split second later, I picked up its heat signature. Massive amounts of heat poured out of the engine exhaust, making the feared helicopter a very visible target in the infrared spectrum.

The Hind banked hard left as it cleared the buildings and turned toward Red Square, coming to a quick hover facing the tank column. The crowd along with the reporters shifted their attention to the fearsome helicopter that was suddenly hovering over them. The people looked up with a sense of awe and dread at this monster's sudden presence. I was contemplating its intentions when I noticed its 12.7mm gatling gun turret moving around searching for a target. The gun stopped on Mitri’s tank and paused.

“Oh shit,” came pouring out of my mouth as I sped over to him stopping quickly to grab ahold of him. The stream of canon fire started as I quickly flew him to the rear of the next tank. The cannon rounds bounced harmlessly off the tank’s armor and continued for a second before the gunner realized his target was gone.

“You ok?”

“I’m always alright when you are around. You are my own personal guardian angel.”

“That’s cute, but I’m no angel. Hurry get under the tank, that cannon can’t penetrate it. Under the tank was a heavily armored access door that allowed safe escape from the vehicle. I reached up and pulled on the door tearing the latch holding it closed. The heavy door fell, allowing entry to the tank. One of the tank’s crew was standing over looking down with a handgun ready. When he saw Nikolai below, he reached out and took his hand.

“Comrade Mitri, it is a great honor. Come quickly, and your friend too.”

“I have to go, get him out of here? Nikolai, I will be back for you,” I said using my flight to push me clear of the tank where I got to my feet. The gunner who was firing at Mitri’s tank, hoping the shells would miraculously penetrate the armor, saw me appear from under the tank and turned on me. A new stream of canon fire was unleashed toward me. I watched as the rounds left the rotating barrel of the gun heading to where I was standing. Turning away, I looked down the empty space between the tanks and the Kramlin walls and took off running in a fast but peak human speed. The first rounds hit the walls surrounding the government's buildings and continued for a moment before the gunner reacted to my quick movements. Leaving Mitri alone, the pilot moved the cyclic control to the left, tilting the rotors, producing a leftward thrust vector pulling the massive Hind into a sideways movement, tracking me while giving his gunner a stable shooting platform.

A new stream of fire erupted ahead of me as I ran. The 12.7mm rounds arrived at where I would be, rather than were I was a moment ago. The first rounds missed, but the gunner had already adjusted and the second burst hit my upper body hard, destroying my uniform. I increased speed, leaving the area fast enough to leave only a dark blurry streak clearing the Kremlin walls and took to the sky as the ground ended at the Moscow River. With great speed, I propelled my body vertical while removing my shredded top and discarded it, leaving me in just my sports bra. The Hind lost track and was frantically circling my last know position when it turned its attention on Nikolai’s tank now fleeing Red Square. The pilot turned and pursued the tank through the streets.

---

“Where the hell did she go,” Tolkechev demanded, “I hit her. She should be a shredded corpse on the wall right now, but she’s gone.”

“Sir, the target is leaving.”

“Where is she?”

“No sir, the other target. The tank he crawled under is leaving.”

“After him.” Tolkechev demanded. The pilot stopped circling the area and rotated the helicopter toward the tank and moved forward after the fleeing tank.

“He’s heading toward Tverskaya Street.”

“Keep on him,” the Colonel yelled as he fired another burst at the tank.

“Colonel, that gun isn’t going to penetrate the armor, it’s not meant to be used against heavy armor, certainly not our own.”

“Then use the rockets,” he yelled back to the pilot.

“Sir are you mad, I can’t fire those inside the city. Who are you after any way?” The Colonel was going insane.

“How dare you question me, do it or you and your whole family will be dealt with severely.”

“Very well,” he said, reluctantly complying with the order. He flipped the switch arming the AT-2C Swatters and brought up the fire control system. The pilot lined up the targeting recital and was about to fire when something suddenly appeared in his sight. The blurry object came into focus and hovered in front of the helicopter. At first the pilot thought he was seeing things and was about to rub his eyes when Tolkechev yelled out.

"Impossible!" The woman he knew from the photos as Anzhela was flying before them, matching their speed, traveling backwards. She wore a pair of Russian military combat uniform pants that appeared a little baggy and sagged slightly on her hips. The jacket she had been wearing was gone, leaving only a black sports bra to cover her upper body, "Die you bitch," Tolkechev screamed as he placed the targeting recital on the female figure and unleashed a stream of 12.7mm rounds. She crossed her arms over her chest as the shells began to impact her. To his amazement, the rounds were bouncing off her body, inflicting no damage. He shifted up to her head as he yelled to the pilot to fire the rockets. In a panic, he fired while still locked onto the tank. The Swatter missile's engine ignited and instantly accelerated off the hard-point rail on the right wing. The missile flew past her as she covered her face from the continued stream. The prolonged firing of the Gatling gun started to generate too much heat, setting off alarms, automatically killing power to the gun until it could cool down. The woman moved her hands away from her face as a fireball ignited behind her.

"Yes, die you bastard." Tolkechev yelled as the tank exploded off in the distance. "Now you really are dead, and soon your brother will be too."

---

The helicopter continued on a forward flight path continuing toward the fleeing tank as I flew in front. The pilot quickly brought the Hind to a hover and stood before me for a moment.

"That's right boys, party's over, Angel's here.” The gun locked onto me and fired. Crossing my arms, I covered my breasts, keeping the rounds from impacting my sensitive areas. The rounds hit my body, some coming to a stop and falling below, while others hit and ricocheted in other directions. Far from being an effective weapon against armor, it was still considerably stronger than the 12 gauge that hit me before, yet the rounds were causing no more damage or pain to my body.

The cannon shifted and began firing at my head, the gunner assuming that I was more vulnerable there and changing his tactic. I continued to let the rounds hit me, convinced my head had the same protection. Each impact was as futile in stopping me as the rounds hitting my lower body, until I realized I had made a simple mistake. A couple of stray rounds fragmented on my teeth and found their way into my open mouth, one of which bounced and slid down my throat. As I started choking on the bullet, I brought my hands up to protect my face, trying to cough the hot shrapnel up and out of my mouth as the stream continued. The cannon fire stopped and I hovered still trying to cough up the round when I noticed the smoke trail. At that moment the sound of the explosion reached my ears. I turned in time to watch Nikolai's tank turn into a fireball.

"No, oh God no. Mitri!" I said as I sped toward the wreckage.

---CPSU Head Quarters---

Sergei sat in the chair while the two armed guards sat watching him. Slowly Sergei fished around his belt for the tiny pouch he kept on the inside of his belt, all the while trying not to give away what he was up to. With his cuffed fingers he felt along the edge until he came across what he was looking for.

“You two are making a mistake, the Colonel is about to make a terrible mistake and we need to stop him.”

“Quiet traitor,” one of them barked back.

“Traitor? To who? All I want is freedom. Don’t you get it, all of this was almost destroyed had it not been for my brother. Your lives belong to him. Yet, you are going to sit here and let some madman kill the very one who engineered your continuous existence? Is that really so?” The two were quiet and had nothing to respond with, “I don’t care about my life, I will gladly give it up, but Nikolai...we need to stop Tolkechev, he’s gone crazy.”

“I said be quiet.” Sergei didn’t listen and kept talking, distracting them as he withdrew his spare key. A close friend of his was once jumped by a small group of misfits who cuffed him with his own handcuffs and proceeded to beat him to death. The idea of dying in your own bonds troubled Sergei and since the day he learned of his friend’s untimely death, he made sure to carry a concealed means of escape. Slowly, careful not to drop the small metal key, Sergei started to work the lock.

“He’s right Comrade, Nikolai can’t be killed. He was been awarded the Hero of the Soviet Union medal. Harming him without very good cause carries very harsh penalties.”

“And do you know the penalties if he stands before that crowd? We will all be finished,” the Lieutenant was saying to his Sergeant, turning away from me.

“Comrade, I agree with the Major here. I would rather be held accountable for this stupid uprising, than allow Nikolai Mitri to be killed. The plan failed and killing Mitri is only going to make it worse.” As the Sergeant continued to talk, Sergei felt confident his odds suddenly doubled. Free of the handcuffs he rose up behind the Lieutenant. The Sergeant turned his eyes toward Sergei’s movements and accidentally gave him away, but before the Lieutenant could turn, Mitri was on him. Sergei reached around with his right and held the man’s chest, while he reached with the left and gripped his chin. With a quick tug to the left, he could hear the vertebrae in his neck pop. The man instantly went limp and collapsed to the ground, his arms and legs twitching. Sergei stood there watching the Sergeant, who still had his AK-47 strapped around his shoulder.

“So, Comrade, do you still mean what you just said a moment ago? Do you want to help my brother, or are you going to shoot me?”

“Comrade Major,” he saluted, “Sergeant Zhavrid at your service.”

“Thank you Lieutenant, can you hand me my side arm please?” The newly promoted Lieutenant quickly squatted and handed Sergei the dead man’s AK-47 while he removed the gun belt and handed that to the Major. Sergei gave his weapons a quick check and proceeded to the door.

---

The tank was completely engulfed in flames, the gun turret destroyed.   As I approached I could tell all hope was lost.   Without a care of being seen, I touched down just as a secondary explosion knocked me off my feet.   I picked myself up off the street which was littered with bricks and glass from the surrounding buildings, broken free from the shock wave.   Several bodies of pedestrians laid lifeless on the ground.   Quickly, I ran to the tank, hopping up top where the turret was, frantically tearing away the twisted metal but finding nothing but unidentifiable body fragments.   The only thing left that resembled anything human was a pair of cracked helmets with shattered skulls still strapped in, the bodies vaporized from the shock wave.   At first it was a simple feeling of pain that began to well up inside me. I had failed another friend. First Eugene, now Nikolai, both victims of this curse of a body. Tears began to form around my eyes, mourning the loss of my good friend, then suddenly nothing. There was a brief moment where I could no longer feel any pain. I stood there engulfed in flames from the burning tank as my pain disappeared, only to be replaced by anger, then, my anger morphed into an intense rage consuming me.   My eyes quickly scanned the sky for the Hind, spotting its heat signature in time to watch it launch a second missile.  

My mind sent signals to the lower half of my body to immediately start purging my stored energy, and provide thrust.   My lower half of the body still engulfed in flames, I lifted off the tank and accelerated toward the inbound missile, rapidly closing the gap.   As I neared impact, I shifted to the side and came to a sudden halt, reaching out with my hand. I latched onto the Swatter’s stabilizing fin and pivoted in the air, guiding the missile into a wide rotating arc around my center. The momentum of the missile continued to build as I redirected it, letting go the moment it was facing the Hind. The pilot took evasive maneuvers, barely evading the missile which passed harmlessly before exploding The explosion rocked the Helicopter, but did little to its armor.

“You son of a bitch.” The gunner began firing at me. Instead of taking the hits, I dodged the stream diving low, then reversed coming up low under the nose of the Hind. My dense hand cut into the turret as he relentlessly tried to track me. Sounds from the alarms penetrated the armor and registered in my ears as the damage I inflicted on the gun turret set off mechanical failure warnings. Using both hands I held on to the four barreled cannon and used my feet against the fuselage as leverage to tear the gun from the rotating ball turret. The gunner yelled as I held the cannon like a bat and began striking the armored glass of the front bubble canopy. The first hit cracked the glass, but before I could do any more damage, the pilot drove hard on the cyclic and banked the helicopter hard to the left, pressing the left rudder at the same time. The aircraft went into a steep left hand dive attempting to flee. The sudden movement caught me off guard as I was focusing my rage, channeling it into my attack. The glass bubble slammed into me as the rotor blades arched high and wide over my head. I lost grip on the remains of the cannon and let it fall onto the streets below.

As the helicopter rapidly lost altitude from its sudden maneuver, I moved to the right side and began attacking the door to the pilot’s cockpit. My hands dug into the armor plating as if it were nothing but paper. In defense, he banked hard again and fired a volley of 80mm rockets which narrowly missed my ass as I held a firm grip on the door. I looked below seeing the city rushing up fast to meet us. His evasive maneuvers bled off a lot of altitude taking us from about 7,000 ft to just over 400 ft. We skimmed over the rooftops while I resumed working on the door. The metal hinges twisted and snapped, freeing the door from the aircraft. I let the door fall and turned my attention to the pilot who had already drawn his side arm and began firing at me, the bullets harmlessly bouncing off my bare skin.

“Pull up!” The gunner yelled. We both turned to see the Hind rapidly approaching a tall building. The pilot dropped the gun and grabbed the collective, pulling hard to increase lift, while pulling back on the cyclic to bleed off speed and put the helicopter into a steep climb, missing the roof by a few feet. I broke off my attack, letting him gain altitude while I returned to attack the gunner’s cockpit, pulling the left side door off and exposing the gunner, who to my surprise was wearing an officer’s uniform instead of a common flight suit. His rank insignia was that of a Colonel.
“Colonel Tolkechev I presume?” I said, striking him hard in his throat. His hands came up as he began choking from my strike. With nothing to fight back I quickly unsnapped his harness and dragged him from the helicopter. The pilot, seeing that I had pulled his superior from the aircraft turned to give chase as we entered a railroad junction near the industrial section of the city. I began climbing high into the sky watching the Hind attempt to climb after me.
“You piece of shit, what did you have to kill Mitri for?”

“Pretty riled up over him, looks like your nights are going to get pretty lonely.” Switching hands, I grabbed his throat and let go of his coat. I squeezed hard while I drove a hard punch into his midsection.

“Fuck off,” he said in English as he pulled out a grenade, its pin and handle missing. I grabbed the grenade with both hands and turned around, locking his arm under my armpit. I felt the explosion inside my hands as the hot expanding gas and metal shrapnel destroyed his hand. The force repelled my hands away from each other, allowing the gas to escape. My body acted as a shield protecting Tolkechev from the blast, but the stump where his hand used to be slipped through my arms and he fell away as the explosion pushed me backwards. I looked down in time to see Tolkechev hit the titanium rotor blades of the Hind as it rose toward us.

His body instantly shredded, bathing the bubble canopies in blood and carnage while his head, still strapped into the helmet, bounced off the blade and was ejected off into the distance. I turned away from the gruesome scene as a Mil Mi-28 Havoc entered the fight approaching from the opposite direction. Instead of climbing toward me, two missiles streaked away from the Havok, recing through the sky, leaving twin trails in their wake. They impacted the front of the Hind causing a small primary explosion as the first missile exploded, shattering the canopies. The Hind nosed down as the second missile arrived, hitting near the engine exhaust. The secondary explosion cut through the armor, and the rotor blades disintegrated. The heavy helicopter, no longer supported by the lift of its main rotor, fell like a brick and exploded on the train tracks below.

---
Sergei exited the stairwell leading out onto the executive floor where the Central Committee Secretary’s office was. As he and his partner left the stairwell a voice cried out through the halls alerting everyone of Sergei’s presence. Several officers opened fire without warning, hitting the wall with their side arms. Sergei fired a long sweeping burst from the AK-47 hitting two of them before charging across to the office on the other side. Zhavrid remained in the doorway of the stairwell providing cover.

“Three more Major,” the kid yelled as he opened fire, hitting another joining the firefight. Sergei knew they were going to be outnumbered really fast and if they didn’t take advantage of the small resistance now, they wouldn’t be able to push later.

“Cover me,” Sergei yelled as he moved forward, rifle up firing at any movement as he made his way to the next door. Shenin’s office was down the long fancy hallway where Sergei hoped he would be hiding out, likely drinking up the courage to put a bullet through his brain.

---

I raced through the sky making my way to the Communist Party Headquarters west of the Kremlin. Below, the tanks guarding the entrance to the Kremlin walls had dissipated and were now traveling in the same direction I was, leaving the large crowd behind. I looked at the last spot I saw my friend alive and began choking up. The rage began to overtake me again as I neared the main building. My vision revealed several silhouettes assuming shooting positions firing on two lone gunmen. The first of the tanks were arriving below just as I sped through a window on the 10th floor, plowing through walls until I reached the hallway where the gunfight was taking place. There, I came to a sudden stop between the two opponents. For a brief moment the gunfire stopped as both sides, in a state of disbelief, ceased their assault to make sense of my sudden presence.

“Anzhel!” The unmistakable voice of Sergei echoed through the halls, originating from behind me. I turned to look at him and quickly turned away not able to look him in the eye knowing I let his brother be killed. Instead, I turned back to the group of KGB standing their ground, my head lowered but my eyes facing forward delivering a menacing gaze. They opened fire as I began walking towards them, their bullets harmlessly bouncing off my body. They quickly realized that I was no mortal human and began backing up in terror.

“Enough,” I yelled speeding over to the closest officer, stopping at his side, where I grabbed him and threw him into a nearby wall. One by one I drew their fire moving about the room. My destruction became their futile obsession. My rapid movements and invulnerability to their gunfire instantly wore them down psychologically. One, giving up on small arms fire, fired his grenade launcher at me, hitting me in the abdomen. The round exploded causing little sensation to my body. I watched the rapidly increasing fireball expand and the small shards of metal deflecting off my stomach. The force knocked several standing near off their feet, catching hot shrapnel in the process. I turned to the last remaining officers ready to continue the fight when an AK sounded behind me. My remaining opponents fell as Sergei’s AK rounds took their lives ending the confrontation.

“Stay put,” Sergei yelled back to Zhavrid not wanting him to see me up close, “Anzhel, I am very happy to see you. I thought we were screwed back there. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t, I am here for blood,” I paused as my emotions overtook me.

“What is it? What happened?” Sergei’s voice changed seeing my distress.

“I’m sorry,” my knees gave out and I collapsed on the ground.
“What happened to my brother?”

“The Colonel arrived in a Hind and destroyed the tank Nikolai was fleeing in. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop the missile. He’s gone Sergei,” Mitri fell to his knees beside me. Instead of getting emotional along with me, he instead put his arm on my shoulder.

“I know you loved my brother. Come, we are close. Let’s finish this and make those responsible pay. We can drink our sorrows away later. Get up, Anzhel, I need you, my country needs you.” He gently took me by the arm and lifted me to my feet. “Let’s go, the Secretary’s office is this way.”

---

Kryuchkov sucked down another long tug of vodka while Shenin released the slide on his handgun, loading a round into the chamber. He set the gun on the desk and picked up his glass, emptying the contents.

“It is time Comrade, they will be here for us any moment,” Kryuchkov, the KGB Chairman said.

“Yes it is. It is too bad things did not work out as planned. You think they will have decent vodka in hell?”

“I hope so,” Kryuchkov said putting the gun up under his lower jaw. He was in the process of pulling the hammer back when the two heavy wooden doors exploded inward, one of them impacting his back. The force knocked him forward into the oak desk pinning him in place, his gun falling to the floor and out of reach. Shenin stood up with his own gun in hand looking around the door. Instead of men in uniform, a single tall dirty blond woman in tattered clothes stood in the doorway.

“What is this? Who are you, what do you want?” She remained silent and approached, grabbing the heavy door and effortlessly lifting it over her head, tossing it across the room. She bent down, not concerned about the gun now pointed at her as she retrieved Krychkov’s gun. Shenin didn’t wait, and pulled the trigger. The single round hit only to stop and fall at her feet. He pulled the trigger a second time, hearing only a click reminding him he had only loaded a single round. He went for the box of ammo in his drawer when she kicked the desk backward, crushing his legs. Shenin yelled out in pain, trapped between the wall and the desk. He tried pushing the desk back, but the heavy oak he chose to furnish his fancy office was too massive for him. The strange woman approached and put her foot up on the desk and pushed toward him. The oak pressed harder into his upper legs shifting the broken Femurs.

“STOP! I’ll give you what you want, please stop,” at this point Sergei entered the room.

“There is nothing you have that you can give.”

“Major Mitri...this, this is all just a big misunderstanding. You have us all wrong. We were trying-” The woman pressed into the desk again.

“-Save your bullshit for the courts. Your little escapade placed the General Secretary under arrest, you removed him from power, and you killed my brother, a National Hero. All of you are going away for a long time,” Sergei said.

“What are you talking about, we didn’t kill your brother, he killed us.”

“Scum, let me deal with him,” the woman said.

“No Anzhel, we have much worse places than death in this country. He and the rest will be visiting soon enough. You don’t want anymore blood on your hands. Killing him won’t bring Nikolai back.”

“No one better kill anyone over me,” a voice came from behind. Sergei turned first then the woman.

“Nikolai! You're alive.”

“Very much so,” he replied with a large smile on his face. Several military officers stood at his side.

“How, I saw your tank?”

“Anzhel, you are quite amazing, but it looks like we fooled you too. He chased the wrong tank and so did you.”

“Thats right,” the tank crew member who met Nikolai and I under the tank said, “my comrades volunteered to run diversion and draw the crocodile away. While he was busy shooting at them, your brother here delivered one hell of a speech to the crowd. You should be proud Major, your brother may have just changed the course of history.”

---Star City---

"Dr. McCormack?"

"Yes," Megan answered the American who approached her in the waiting room.

"Doctor, I am Neil Holland, special liason with the American Embassy in Moscow," he said, showing her his diplomatic ID.

"Oh, thank god," she said with a sigh of relief, "Mr. Holland, can you tell me just what's going on?"

"Doctor, we are still trying to figure it all out ourselves, but it appears you and your friends from NASA just got caught in the middle of the last desperate attempts by the CPSU to regain control."

"CPSU?" Megan asked,

"Sorry, we get used to using the initials. CPSU, Communist Party of the Soviet Union. According to the reports, General Secretary Gorbachev was temporarily removed from power and the Party tried to implement their own plan of reform, placing Vice President Yanayev in power. What happened to you was a ploy to mask who the perpetrators were."

"What did they want from us?"

"Leverage, you, Dr, Shephard, Collins, and Mitri have a lot of value. By pretending you were in danger, they thought they could get Gorbachev to react in fear of international pressure. He didn't quite react the way they thought he would. So they changed tactics and leaked footage through the State Television of your friend here. They stitched some video together and made it look like someone shot Nikolai. They fed it to the public, who immediately took to the streets in protest. The people were demanding that the General Secretary stand down, thinking Gorbachev’s lack of leadership caused the death of their National Hero. Somehow your friend made a public appearance and convinced not only the people, but the Military that what was happening was an illegal attempt to overthrow the government. With the backing of the military, communications to the Crimea were restored as was Gorbachev’s seat. From our sources, an immediate order was given, and all those responsible have been arrested. Today very well might be the end of the communist party in Russia. If predictions are correct, it may also mean the end of the Soviet Union in the near future.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"It's a very good thing, but there are a lot of complications associated with it. Like a company restructuring, it's going to have some hard times ahead. Anyway, lets talk about this later; for now, I want to sit down with you and go over a few things."

"Ok, is everything all right?"

"Dr. Shephard, I presume? I spoke with the lead surgeon. Your friend is in recovery right now. It will be a few hours before you can see him, but he is stable. You should be proud of yourself Doctor, you saved his life," Holland took ahold of her as she started crying, mostly out of happiness.

"What about the," she stopped, her emotions preventing her from talking.

"The bullet did do damage, but it was a very low powered round and the damage wasn't severe. It's quite possible in time, feeling will return and your friend might be able to walk to some degree. Right now it's too soon to tell. These men that they used to seize the banquet, apparently they were to be expendable. The ammunition they had was very low grade and under powered. Most of the spare magazines they carried were not live rounds.

"What does that mean?"

"Well for your friend, it means he has hope, it could have been much worse. It appears as if the weapons they had were meant to keep you all in check, but when the time came, they would be unable to defend against anti-terrorist forces re-taking the room."

"I was so scared back there."

"Of course, you wouldn't be human if you weren't. Doctor, let me give you the rundown on what is going to happen. In a couple days, we are going to move Dr. Shephard to our medical facilities inside the embassy. They are top notch, and we have very good doctors. We have one of the best neurologists in the country on a flight, he is due in about ten hours and will remain in the Embassy treating Dr. Shephard. I think we can use one more good doctor if you are up for it. We would like to welcome you to stay at the Embassy, or, if you prefer, we can make arrangements for your immediate return to the States."

"I want to stay with Eugene if that is all right."

"Of course. I have sent for several agents to come and watch over you if you choose to remain here. You will be very safe."

"Where are the others?"

"They are all at the Embassy and we are currently working to get them home. Doctor, is there anyone at home you would like us to reach and let them know you are ok?"

"Thank you, yes, I would like to get in touch with my parents. I'm sure my mom is a nervous wreck right about now, and I might know a better neurologist."

"I recommend we do this. Dr. Shephard will be in recovery for at least several hours. Let's get you back to the Embassy, get you cleaned up, fed, and let you call home. By the time we are done with all that, your friend should be waking up," Megan hesitated, not wanting to leave, but ultimately agreed. A short time later, Holland made sure a diplomatic limo was waiting for them downstairs to take them back without fear of being harassed. The entire ride, Megan sat in utter silence. Her mind kept replaying the vision of the gun pointed at her skull. Over and over she could see the finger slowly squeezing on the trigger. Every time, the action was interrupted by Gene's desperate attempt to save her. She watched as he used his legs for the last time to ensure she would go on living. A deep sense of bitterness started to fill her heart. Her new friend will never walk again because of his sacrifice, and the one friend that could have stopped everything without risk, was nowhere to be found. Gene overcame his fear of death, while Michael was too afraid to reveal himself to a room full of people, men and women who dearly loved and missed him.

"How can you be so selfish Michael? Why did you just sit there and let this happen?" she said quietly with her hand inside her pocket pressing down on the talk button on the radio.

--

"So my comrade is not dead?" Nikolai said as we finished our late night dinner in his lofty apartment. His wife Alena graciously prepared the very best and left us alone.

"No, he is alive and well.”

"I am very happy to hear, that he is alive. To think all this time, I thought he was dead.”

“I thought the same about you last week. One minute you were in a tank, the next a fireball,” I put my head down recalling the feelings surging through me when I saw, what I had mistakenly concluded was Mitri’s death. I killed because of you.”

“You are simply human to feel that way, you did what any one of us would have done. Many who have run this country have never given such thought to the value of life. Because of you, that is about to change. There is a new light approaching on the horizon, and the decades of oppression may very well be over,” he paused and took a sip of his wine, “you know, we call our land Rodina, or Motherland. The word Russia is in the feminine gender and we consider our land as giving birth to all our people. In time, perhaps a day will come, when all my people will know who gave birth to our new free country.”

“Nikolai, my friend, I do no need any such recognition for what I do. As they say in hockey, I provided the assist, but you got the goal.” Nikolai laughed.

“Ah, you know hockey. We will definitely be good friends.”

“Indeed I do.”

“Well because of your assist, my brother has also scored,” he said patting her and continuing her joke, “the KGB is being dismantled for involvement in the coup, to be replaced with a new State Security force. Sergei has been given a very special commission and has been made a Colonel, but will likely rise much higher in the near future. He has been placed in charge of seeing the perpetrator’s are tried and sent away. Whole archives of document’s have been seized from the Party Headquarters and being investigated.”

“What about you my friend, what is next for you?”

“My love is in science, venturing out into the cosmos again, not to mention our continued effort with the United States.”

“How are they handling the situation?” I asked, not really clear how my country was dealing with the events that paralyzed one of their own heroes and endangered the others.

“The Government is being rash, but supportive. It is the people at NASA who don’t care about the political crap and are pushing to see our plans through. There are many who want me to enter into politics right now. I don’t care for the idea, but Gorbachev’s influence was greatly tarnished and he will not remain in power long. This is a critical time for us, and I may have to become something I don’t want to in order to save all those I care about. I will have great power and influence and can use it to for the good of my people.”

“My friend, I know what that is like more than you will ever know. Sometimes we do need to transition to a life we never imagined for ourselves,” I stopped to think about what I have been through. All the pain, as well as the good that has come from my personal transformation. One day I hope to be able to look back and see it was all worth it.

“Well I will give it some thought. I know I will hate it, but deep down, I know I have little choice. Now, how about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s next for you? You yourself are transitioning to a new life here, yes?”

“Well kind of. It’s been tough fitting in and adjusting.”

“Does any of the other crew know about you? I take it Megan knows.”

“Yes, she does. She has been a friend to me since the funeral, but no one else knows.”

“I am honored that you found me and privileged me with knowing who my savior is. I will forever be your friend and keep you safe until your time to leave arrives,” Mitri stood up and walked to the cabinets. He withdrew a large, rather old looking ceramic bottle with a label on it. There was a paper seal in the cap ensuring one that the bottle had never been opened. "I promised Michael, I would share this with him when we returned. I have had it in my family for a long time and was saving it for the most special of occasions. Before we lost signal with Michael, I said I would drink his half, but when I returned, I could not bring myself to drink it. Tonight, I want to share with you. Because of you, not only are we alive, but so is my friend." He carefully opened the bottle and poured a little in each glass. He raised the glass to his nose and smelled the very expensive vodka. Approvingly, he raised his glass with mine. "To my old friend, so very far away, and to my new friend, so very close,” we drank in silence for a while, enjoying a long standing Russian tradition of socializing to the wee hours of the morning.

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I know Michael would love to be here instead.”

“Wouldn’t he? He was a good friend, I hope to see him again soon,” I looked at the clock and realized the sun would be coming up soon.

“Well my friend, I have business to attend to back in the US and must depart. Thank you for your hospitality this past week.”

“It is the least I could do Anzhel.”

“Anzhel, you never told me why you call me that?”

“Anzhela, the name of the woman who’s identity you took, is the Russian form of Angela,” I said it a couple times before letting it sink in.
”¨“No kidding, Angela, really? Which of course is short for-”

“-Angel,” he walked over to the living room and returned with a bag, "I have something for you, but promise me, you open when you get home."

"I promise," Nikolai handed me the bag which contained a medium sized wrapped box, "thank you, and thank you for the vodka, that was a special moment. I am glad to have you as a friend."

"Yes, so am I. You take care and if you ever need anything, I will be here. Please come visit me again soon." We said out goodbyes, and a short time later, I was back home at Megan's place. The lights were off, and everything was just as I had left it two weeks ago. After the incident, she disappeared. It was my hope that she came home, but the evidence led me to conclude the contrary. I left the lights off and laid down on the couch where I quickly let the tiring events of the last couple weeks overtake me. I fell fast into my deepest sleep.

---

The sunlight was pouring through the windows when I finally woke up. The early morning rays penetrated my body and energized my cells. Like an intense rush of caffeine, my eyes shot wide open, taking in the colors of the room. I sat up and rubbed my eyes before stretching. Megan had still not returned. I knew she was ok from reports I heard circulating, but her exact whereabouts were unknown. She could be anywhere, Washington, JSC, or perhaps she continued on the tour as planned. After putting on a fresh pot of coffee, I opened my bags and dumped my clothes into the washing machine. In the second pack that I wear on my front during flight was the box Mitri gave me. I withdrew it, stopping to examine it for a moment before my fingers tore the paper off the box. Inside was a fancy wooden box with a little brass latch. After it was unclasped, I opened it up and found an object wrapped in a silk bag. surrounded by a red silky cushion. The object inside was large and round. As I pulled the object out of the bag, I found an image of myself painted onto it. At first it appeared to be simple, but upon further investigation, I realized the figure was an angel with my face and hair.

"Cute, Mitri," I said as I looked it over. I had seen many like them while walking around Russia, but never stopped to look into them, art never being an interest of mine. The painting on the doll was quite exquisite and obviously hand made with great care. I wondered if Mitri had this custom made for me, or found one that looked similar to me. As I was looking it over, I heard a car pull up into the driveway. My excitement of Megan’s return was short lived as I determined the engine sound was not the same as her Beemer. I put the doll back and closed the lid as the sound of two people approached the door. Instead of a knock, a key entered the deadbolt and turned the lock.

"Hello," I called out the moment I heard the door open.

"Karen?" Well they knew me, that was a relief. The couple turned the corner and entered the kitchen area. It was Megan's mom and brother.

"Hi Catherine, Ronan. Good to see you two again. Have you heard from Megan?"

"Karen, Megan is in Moscow."

"Still? Is everything all right?" I asked, suddenly becoming alarmed.

"She is staying in the Embassy for a few months while her friend recovers. I am not sure if you know, but he was wounded pretty bad and it's going to take a while for him to recover. We just came to get some of her clothes so we can send them to her."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"She said you would ask. The simple answer is no."

"Why, what's wrong?"

"I don't know, she wouldn't say, but she wants to be left alone right now. Please don't take it personally Karen, I know she thinks the world of you, but she has been through a lot. She did say that you may continue to stay here if you please."

"Thank you, but I think I will leave. I have overstayed my welcome anyway; it’s time for me to go home.”

“It’s really ok, Karen, but if you insist. Do you have a place to go?”

“Yes, I have a couple of places, thank you Catherine.”

“You don’t hesitate if you need anything.”

“I appreciate it, I will be fine. When you talk to her, please tell her I hope she is well and that I miss her.”

“We will be happy to,” Ronan said. I served them the coffee I made while I cleaned up. Ronan and I spoke a little while Catherine grabbed her daughter’s belongings and packed them up into a couple of suitcases they brought along. Catherine spent a while making sure everything was neatly folded and tightly packed while Ronan went into her office and packed up some of her files. I got nervous as he drew near the locked drawer with my NASA photographs, but he ignored it and packed up files without even looking through them. He closed the case and locked it wheeling it out of the room. I was beginning to feel at if it was some kind of bad divorce. The other found it unbearable to be in the same room, so the spouse sent her family to come separate our assets. A feeling of loneliness started to creep back into my world as my only friend who knew me, was leaving me all by myself. I chose not to wait for the laundry to dry and dumped the damp clothes into a trash bag and grabbed my few belongings out of my room. Using all my strength, I quickly stuffed as much as I could into my bags, stopping before they burst at the seams. Before they noticed me missing, I walked out the front door, leaving my key behind and hurried to the park where I could fly away without being seen. The Houston landscape grew smaller as I gained altitude, before leveling out and heading west toward my place of solitude.

To Be Continued....Episode 13 “Untitled”

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