Final Chapter: 'A healthy twist of Fate'by Alec Corday "My fellow citizens. I speak to you today not as your president, but as a humble member of the human race. What I have to say to you, not only concerns the American people, but every person on this small planet we call home. "In the past few day's aberrant developments have led to the inescapable assumption that the Soviet forces where in the attempt to launch an attack against NATO, and more specifically against the American heartland. As reliable intelligence personnel from across the iron curtain informed us, the Soviets mobilized their forces in the Atlantic and the Pacific. A nuclear explosion vaporized our NORAD installations in Colorado Spring and though it has not yet been accounted for, the FBI and CIA are certain that a Soviet-backed, New York terrorist group can be held responsible. How will our answer look? Concerning the terrorists, an elite team of Navy SEALS had been chosen to take out their training facilities in Cuba, and where sped up after the Colorado incident. Twenty minutes ago I received the communication that the assault was successfully accomplished. Concerning the Soviet naval activities, I have decided not to take any actions." The last few words shivered. Many had opposed Craig's decision, but the firm Texan had not quivered from his stance. He did not wish to enter war. He believed that the goodness of humanity was still existent, and that if America did not react, nuclear war could be avoided. He nourished fate, and fate complied. For today. Concerning Bedny, he was wrong. Politically, Bedny had spend his life to get where he was. Emotionally, he always had been there. As a small child, when he had run up the Dwina river near his hometown Archangelsk waving after the frigates, he already had taken the decision: he would lead this country into world domination. Phase Two was part of this image. The invasion of Afghanistan, great parts of Europe and America, where the climax of his little, bloody charade. He was so proud of himself. The Czars would have been too, he fancied. Lenin would have. Yet life is a pulse of time that has the tendency to shift its path whenever it choose to do so. Sometimes one rode favorably on it. Sometimes one did not. Today, fate yawed into the direction least auspicious to Bedny, supporting peace. As he walked down the hallway to his private study after returning from a meeting with the commanders of the Soviet forces, a shadow moved out of a corner. "Comrade Bedny. Do you know you are out of your mind?" Bedny glanced confound at the graying KGB colonel. "Who are you? How did you get here?" "I am Pasha Checheyev. Does this name mean anything to you?" It did. Bedny glimpsed anxiously. "You are the traitor. One of the Streltzy. How did you get past the guards?" "The Streltzy always have been the guards. We have been living in the shadows, observing. When we see the need to interfere, we do. Now it is time to interfere." with the last words Pasha drew from his pocket the American gun. "You are insane!" Bedny whined as he saw the muzzle point at him. "Am I? Aren't you the one who is trying to destroy millions of lives? The one who had been feeding terrorists with nuclear material so they would attack America? No, the maniac are you." The gun coughed. Bedny staggered backwards against the wall across from the mirror, a gash in his chest. He whimpered and slid to the floor, glancing at his reflection. He saw himself die. "No ..." he bawled as the statue crumbled, as the the real father of communism was defeated. He gaped like in a chant at his fantasy image. It was the last thing he perceived. He was not able to execute Phase Two. "It is done." Pasha muttered under his breath. He heard voices and footsteps approaching. It didn't matter. It was accomplished. Good had triumphed. And Smith? His fate, after a parade of disillusions, looked up. The black waters of the Barent Sea vanished from underneath the Russian plane and where replaced by the Norwegian side of the Kola Peninsula. Norway. Neutral ground. Convincing the pilot to change course had been the easy part. The muzzle held against the Russians temple helped. Landing was going to get tricky. Soon the Antonow's contours where recognized by Norwegian radar and the plane was hailed on an international frequency by Norway Air Traffic Control. Smith picked up the earphones to reply. "I am having a technical emergency and request permission to land on the next air strip!" Smith fibbed. After a short pause Norway ATC came back, giving him clearance to land on the Vardö air strip, ten miles to the east. "Thank you guys. And would you mind to contact the American embassy in Oslo? I have an American citizen on board." A few minutes later the Antonow settled on the pavement of the Vardö airport and the Norwegians where quite surprised to find an American, a Russian and two dead bodies on the plane. Smith and the Russian where locked up until it was decided what to do with them and when a few hours later an attache from the American embassy arrived, he found Smith in a cell anxious to get out. Smith knew he had not won, nor had he accomplished anything. But when the attache explained to him that the bomb's would not fall and that a nuclear attack did not seem to stand near after all, Smith settled into an ease he had not felt since before that fateful night on the bridge in Moscow. He thought of Jadzia. "W Porzadku?" he heard her say in his memory. Smith smiled. Yes. Now it was. |