Operation In Secula Seculorum

[Lanakov]

TWO WEEKS AGO.

Two men of roughly equal size, wearing the traditional Coalition officer suits, are on their way to the famous Kalashnikov's bar.

"Say, Aleksei, about that wedding of yours..." the one on the left said.
The other one shrugged.
"I did tell you about it. And no, you were not drunk. Not this time."
"I blame Liberty."
"Most likely, Lanakov."

Aleksei Stroganov and Nitchiev Lanakov spent much time together, from daring ventures into enemy territory, broadcasting propaganda to stimulate the oppressed, to off-duty conversations like this one, most of which Lanakov did remember. The next few hours were expected to be spent casually at the bar, mostly revolving around Stroganov's spouse. But things were to turn out differently.

As the two officers turned to enter a new corridor, Lanakov's radio went on.
"Major Lanakov, you are expected in the Premier's office at once."
Quick sentence, heavy meaning. Being directly summoned to the Premier's headquarters was not a frequent occurrence, nor really a good sign for your immediate future.
The Major looked at his friend.

"Guess duty calls again. Will you be okay without me ?
Stroganov, used to Lanakov's antics, just nodded.
"Don't worry about me, we'll get that drink later. You'd better go."
"Indeed. I will see you later. Commissar-Major".

He saluted his friend, and hurried towards Premier Katz's office.





LATER THAT DAY.

A dark room. Posters of Coalition spaceships and female officers on the walls. A postcard of Jiangxi. A scaled-down replica of a Nova torpedo, signed by the comrades from the Fighter Corps. Two men sitting at a table, smoking cigars.

"For how long ?"
"As long as it will take, Aleksei. The Premier insisted on that point."
"Does he expect you to survive ?"
"I'm not convinced he even wondered about that."
"I see".

Lanakov had been tasked with a special mission.
No more novaclysms, no more desperate raids against unsurmountable odds, no more brash taunting of fleeing opponents. This one would require more finesse, and a good knowledge of Gallic customs. Lanakov possessed at least the latter, having operated close to the Gallic borders shortly after the Reunion.
He was to become a Gallic citizen himself, gathering as much information as possible, regarding most aspects of the newly-discovered House. It had literally erupted on the Sirius political map, and its entrance had been a loud one - Hence the need for the Coalition to gather intelligence on what could quickly become a serious competitor for the conquest of Sirius.

"Will someone replace you ?" said Stroganov.
"Actually yes. Someone will. Major Artyom Novikov. A real jar-head, enjoys explosive ordinance and women. You'll love him."
"I already do".

A moment passed, during which none of them talked, instead enjoying their cigars. The light consuming the stick reminded Lanakov of time passing and getting him closer and closer to his next, and possibly final assignment.

"Aleksei, before I forget it, I need you to do me a favor."
Before waiting for Stroganov's anwser, he rummaged in his pockets and produced a hand-written letter.
"If you could give this to Katya Vaschenko for me. Don't bother with an explanation, she'll understand."
The Commissar-Major shrugged.
"I'd have picked another last wish than ask me to deliver a letter, no matter how pretty the receiver is."
They both laughed and returned to the delights of fine tobacco.



Dear Katya,


Fate can be hard to decipher sometimes.
You can't have forgotten the past, how we both grew up and learnt our way through the Coalition ranks, raid after raid, from hard-won skirmishes to glorious victories. How many times did we cheat death, how many comrades did Death take... How close we used to be.
Then you disappeared. I was never really informed of what took you away. Secrecy around it was well kept.
There was no knowing when or even if you'd come back. So I just lived on, and kept contributing to the glory and success of the Coalition to the best of my abilities.

I've been tasked to disappear. I can't tell you where, why or how long. I can only say it's an important mission, and a dangerous one. The kind of assignment we all dream about at least once in our careers.
I find it odd that destiny had to push me away just as you suddenly returned from the dead, or god knows where you were. I guess no matter what choices we make, there is always something else to decide for us.
I'm confused, dear Katya. I wished I had more time to explain you what crosses my mind at the moment, but it all came so fast. I wish we had more time.
But time is short.

I hope I will see you again, not at your funeral that is.
Stay safe,

N.

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Feedback, insults, marriage proposals and declarations of fealty

If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.