CROSS-CULTURAL EFFECTS / CH. 5:YELENA'S HISTORY.
ATLANTIS COUNCIL 10AM, WEDNESDAY 19TH DECEMBER.
“Your name is Yelena?”
“Yes.”
“The ambassador of Russia asks if you know you can ask for his services.”
“I know, but cannot think the Tsar will be welcoming me home.”
“Do you actively object to the ambassador's presence here?”
“Actively object? No.”
A warrior opened the door and the ambassador was ushered into the courtroom.
Yelena wasn't entirely surprised that the man from the harbour was the ambassador, but she was when he bowed formally to her and handed her a note, and sat down on the opposite side of the room.
She read, 'Yelena Petrichna, what has happened to us both in these years since school? Know these are good people. Stern, unwavering, unflinching, but forgiving. As always your servant, Mikhail Aleksandrovich.' Mikhail? How could Mikhail become an ambassador? She searched his face, distracted from her own situation. Yes, he'd put on weight — hardly difficult, he'd been a scrawny spotty youth — but it was him. She had been the studious one people said would end up in high office. He, the class comedian people said would come to a bad end. And he had always been the moth to her candle, she remembered. Often trailing smoke as she sent him packing. Oh, how cruel she'd been to him. And yet now he was sending her notes in class once more.
Not class, though. She was on trial for capital crimes. She looked at Mikhail, and mouthed 'sorry' as a tear ran down her cheek.
“Have you reached your decision, Yelena?” the elder of the council asked. “Will you admit to us your crimes?”
“I thank the court for the time it has given me. I freely turn from my past crimes, and recognising my old schoolmate across from me, I regret them more than ever. I am truly tempted to cast myself on the mercy of this court, but I know by your laws I have done things that deserve death.”
“You are not decided then?”
“I am decided. I do not cast myself on this court's mercy, for I deserve none. But I do not run from my fate either. So in front of you all — even in front of this man who, when we were sixteen, often protested his love for me and I rejected with cruel heartless words he did not deserve — in front of you all I declare myself guilty of the death of an innocent baby.”
Having said this, Yelena sat down, bowed her head, and waited.
“Young one,” the elder said, “it is the court's role to declare guilt or innocence, not the prisoner's. So speak, and we will listen, or if, now you know that the imperial ambassador is an old friend perhaps you prefer he not be present?”
“I have no objection to Mikhail Aleksandrovich hearing of my life since I last saw him.”
She told of how she had been frustrated at the imperial university. People with good connections seemed to obtain the best rooms, the best tutors, the best grades. She'd worked hard but achieved only mediocre grades. Mistakes she made cost her dearly, while those same mistakes were overlooked in students with connections. She lodged a challenge against the marking of one paper. That one went up by one percent, but all her other grades were lowered still further as the lecturers ganged up to put her in her place. During practical sessions, her equipment came from the back of the cupboards and she often needed to repair it before it could be used. The other students, who all had connections at court or in the military were given equipment still in its original wrapping. She was classed as a nobody who refused to recognise her place. She made friends with others in the same category. One, Svetlana, introduced her to her lover, Yuri. Yuri was a charismatic figure and Yelena was quickly drawn into his circle, where Yelena's electronics skills were much appreciated. Yuri had contacts of another sort, and she found that her professors with bad habits started to mark her papers more fairly. That became especially true after a certain recording was anonymously posted on the university's recruitment pages. It consisted of a lecturer calling a colleague, and asking about who among the students had contacts where. Yelena's name got mentioned as having no contacts, and a third voice was heard saying 'oh no, none at all, we don't exist do we?', followed by a voice of someone asking to talk to a colonel in the security services.
The response had clearly been edited in, but the fact that the original recording itself was genuine had the lecturer concerned looking worriedly over his shoulders for the next month. Especially when his apartment was broken into but nothing taken apart from marking records, which were later handed in to the university office by someone in smart clothes and mirrored glasses.
Yelena had been amazed how Yuri and his contacts had managed to pull it off, but they had. Suddenly everyone on the university staff was utterly convinced that she had contacts in the secret police. When she was privately asked by the dean of the faculty why she hadn't told them, she depreciatingly replied that she had no desire to be accused of profiting from her contacts. Everyone profited from their contacts, except those who's direct or indirect access to the Tsar meant they needed to stay scrupulously clean. So, it was immediately taken to mean that she had far more influence than they even suspected so far.
Doors opened, her papers were marked as generously as anyone else's, she got the same equipment as everyone else. Soon, she had the pleasure of seeing her name at the top of the class. Except she knew how hollow the victory was, and how hard it was going to be to make progress in the connection-obsessed world beyond university without someone like Yuri doing with smoke and mirrors what others did with real power. When he asked her to work for him, there was no question she would.
Soon after university, Svetlana had become ill. Yelena's false reputation, growing stronger each time she used it, got Svetlana into the best hospital, and seen by the best doctors. It was cancer, and she was pregnant. Svetlana was not likely to live unless she had the operation, but the operation would kill the baby. Yuri hadn't known Svetlana was pregnant, hadn't wanted a child, and didn't want a child. He couldn't imagine himself as a father, but he did want Svetlana to live. He begged Yelena to persuade Svetlana to have the operation, but Svetlana refused, putting the life of the little girl, who she said she'd name Yelena, above her own. At Yuri's request, Yelena forged her friend's signature on the consent forms. The operation was only a partial success. The cancer was too aggressive, and had advanced too far. Three months later, Svetlana was dead.
“She would be ten years old now, little Yelena Yurichna, if I hadn't signed her death warrant. And Yuri is a good father. Svetlana insisted he choose another who would be his lover after she died. She interviewed candidates herself in those last months when she knew she was dying, so when he chose Natasha everyone knew Svetlana approved of her too. And she gave Natasha very explicit instructions to move in immediately she was dead, and about how she wanted to be buried. Then I saw her, tampering with Natasha's contraceptives, a couple of weeks before she died. Svetlana had clear, long-term plans. And she asked me, demanded of me, that I tell Yuri he'd made a mistake in trying to save her life, and he should have thought longer term. That was always Yuri's line: try to think longer term. She was right, being a father has really helped Yuri make longer term plans.”
“Your friend knew you signed?” a woman on the council asked.
“Yes. She saw me do it.”
“But you take the blame yourself?” she pressed.
“Yuri couldn't fake her signature. Svetlana refused to sign.”
“But she knew you could. And that you would, if Yuri asked?”
“Still, she begged me not to,” Yelena said.
“But she could have denied signing it, couldn't she?” Mikhail asked. No one seemed to mind.
“You think the medics didn't know? They knew, they just needed a passable signature.”
“You don't think someone else would have signed?” Mikhail asked.
“No. Not back then, not against my will and Svetlana's. The two of us against Yuri? No contest, they knew their life would be a misery.”
“Yelena?” Mikhail asked, “Are you still so significant in the organisation?”
“I don't get on as well with Natasha as Svetlana, if that's what you mean. Not after she found out why her contraceptive pills tasted like sugar so often. More of Svetlana's long-range plans.”
“But you're second or third in charge?”
“You think an anarchist collective has ranks? No ranks. Yuri is a real anarchist, not the dictator that everyone thinks. He's going to laugh so much at the thought of me and Anastasia turning to Christ. Laughing is good for him.”
“You like Yuri?” Mikhail asked.
“Yuri is a charismatic person who looks after people. He's got a few bad points, but a lot of good ones. For the past twelve years he's been like my big brother. Yes, I like him.”
“You're not planning to give enough information to turn him in then, I presume?” Mikhail said.
“You want his home address, or his children's names? Absolutely not.”
“But he does supply guns and drugs that put children at risk?” the elder asked.
“Without Yuri, the collective would probably go sour and turn into just another gang or fly apart. I don't know. But like I say, Yuri doesn't control what people do. But on the other hand... not many people we work with put children at risk.”
“But people think Yuri is in control?” another council member asked.
“Anastasia told me what she told you, that Yuri doesn't accept failures happily, and said we should fly the flag. I don't know where people get these ideas from. I was there when he said what she interpreted as saying to try flying that flag. His words were 'Oh, that's interesting. Do you think it'll work?' I said 'No, it'll just get people upset', and he asked for any other opinions. He always asks for other opinions. You tell him the sky's blue on a summer day and he'll ask if there are any other opinions. He expects people to take the consequences of their own decisions and not pull others into them unwillingly. He asked me to come along on this crazy jaunt as a voice of reason, and since I wanted to see your lovely city so I said OK. I'm pretty sure he didn't expect them to just go and stick that flag out of the window the moment my back was turned.”
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“Whose idea was the foot-mutilation?”
“Sven, the tall guy who fancied himself a leader. He claimed he knew about where webbing went on feet. It turns out he knew about frogs, not Mer. It took all of one walk towards the swimming pool for me to feel like drowning the guy. I warned him: get it wrong and it's far worse than nothing. The idiot.”
“What were the aims of the trip?”
“Sven's? He really wanted one of your rock-cutters. Or more. I tried to tell him how both you and I'd rather see him slice his own head off than sell one to his normal contacts. Anastasia was thinking how amazingly useful some of your darts might be, especially a regular supply. Mine was to look out for other trade opportunities, preferably something nice and light like information, or favours, and also to try and make sure that what the others came up with wasn't going to destabilise world order and pull the plug if necessary. The other three were late-addition buddies of Sven.”
“When you say, 'pull the plug', what do you mean?” a councilwoman asked.
“I mean deprive Sven of the further opportunity to continue polluting the planet, preferably in a way that kept him quiet too. Arrange an accident, or turn him in.”
“This was your role from Yuri?” she pressed.
“Yes.”
“Did the others know this?” the Elder asked.
“No.”
“Is it a role you've carried out before?” another asked.
“Yes.”
“And you've stopped things before?”
“I've usually been persuasive enough that I didn't need to, but yes. There have been occasions when I needed to take a firm hand.”
“But you've not formally got a rank,” Mikhail confirmed.
“Oh, I have lots of ranks, in various databases. I entered quite a few of them myself. But there are no formal ranks within the collective.”
“But would Yuri tell people to listen to you?”
“He would expect it, and ask them why it didn't happen.”
“For my report to home on their sentencing,” Mikhail said, “would you be willing to give me some genuine information on Sven and the other three? I suspect that none of their various documents are correct.”
“If I'm able to. What will happen to them, may I ask?”
“The taller male will be executed,” the Elder said, “The other three will be left on the Imperial pacific coast, where we hope they will learn to value life more. It strikes me, young one, that perhaps you do not want to list all your crimes for us to tell the authorities of the world.”
“It would certainly take a lot of the council's time,” Yelena said.
“You have killed?”
“I have killed men like Sven, who were planning terrible things for no real purpose except to line their own pockets.”
“Can you give an example?”
“One planned a raid on a weapons factory. He planned to set off a large explosion in a school, which was next door. I posed as a temporary teacher at the school and after I had taught the children their electronics lesson I followed him to the storeroom where he was assembling the bomb. I drove a pair of needle-nosed pliers through his ear and into his brain before he could finish.”
Mikhail looked at his former classmate in awe, “I read of that! They said you were an undercover agent in the secret service and were personally decorated by the Tsar for stopping the attack!”
“I said I had lots of ranks,” Yelena said, shrugging. “Yuri thought it was very funny when I told him the Tsar needs to learn to brush his teeth better.”
“You are an agent of the Imperial Secret Service?” Mikhail asked.
Yelena shrugged, “If the Tsar thinks I am, does that make it true? I was certainly never formally recruited, but Yuri suggested I give myself a rank in their database and ever since then they've given me a salary and promotions too. I wonder sometimes, if Yuri's little collective is an anarchist cell which has managed to infiltrate bits of the secret service, or if it's actually an ultra-deep cover bit of the secret service which has taken over the leadership of an anarchist cell. Yuri laughed and told me not to worry the others about such deep philosophy.”
“It matters,” Mikhail said.
“To you, your excellency Mikhail Aleksandrovich, but does it matter to these good judges about to condemn me to death, or to me, about to die?”
“It matters about what I put in my report, if nothing else.”
“I think, Misha, you are making up excuses. Your report only needs to say that last night I made my peace with God and after sleeping very well I confessed my past involvement in the death of a baby soon after university. And that I thereby earned myself what I hope will be a quick and painless death at the hands of these good people who count the protection of innocent life as the most fundamental value. You may also write that I apologised to you for tormenting you as a teenager, if you like, but it's never wise to write too much about agents in the secret service. I certainly would suggest you make no mention of Yuri in your reports. He is, after all, in the databases as my superior, and I've presently got a rank of colonel.”
“But you say it's a falsification!” Mikhail protested.
“The Tsar bestowed it on me himself, Misha. It's a lovely joke, but I think it's gone on too long to say it's entirely false. Or maybe the only falsehood was when I was told I was starting to work for an anarchist cell. We certainly seem to have a lot of principles we uphold. None of us were impressed when we heard about the plan to blow up the school.”
“Colonel, you have been very frank and open with us, let us be frank and open with you. This court will not condemn you to death for your terrible choice between potentially saving a friend and potentially saving the potential life she carried. Cancer can cross the placenta, although it is rare, so you cannot know the child would have lived. We find that you are guilty of overstaying your visa, of entering our city under false pretenses, and of failure to exercise suitable control of those under your authority. As you have turned to Christ, we no longer believe that your presence in the city is a threat to others. Since we have very limited numbers of holding cells, while we decide on a suitable sentence, we ask that the imperial ambassador confine you within the embassy, and deny you any access to external communications. Is the ambassador willing and able to do these things?”
“I am most willing, but I'm not sure how I can deny her access to information from outside,” the ambassador said.
“We do not want her sending information to the outside. We have no worries about her hearing from the outside,”
“As she is an electronics expert, even that might prove most difficult, Elder,” the ambassador pointed out.
“I will not break the terms of my confinement,” Yelena said, “but for clarity, might I ask exactly what they are? Am I to be locked incommunicado in a cell?”
“We will require your oath that you will not seek to communicate with anyone outside Atlantis in any form or manner, nor respond should someone get a message to you from outside Atlantis. We require that you do not leave the embassy complex. Any further restrictions are a matter for the ambassador.”
“I swear I will keep within these parameters, unless ordered by the high council of Atlantis or other person of authority.” Yelena said.
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EMBASSY OF RUSSIA, 12.30PM, WEDNESDAY 19TH DECEMBER.
“You seem inordinately happy, Misha,” Yelena said as the three of them walked to the embassy.
“Should I not be, Lena? Not only have they not executed you, they've made you my house-guest, so I don't even need to go very far to bore you with my jokes.”
“Your jokes are not boring.”
“No? That's not what you used to think.”
“That's not what I used to say, Misha. I was a heartless immature teenager.”
“And now you are very much a beautiful mature woman.”
“You're not still in love with me, are you Misha? It's been almost half a life-time.”
“I look forward to finding out, if you will allow me.”
“You know very little about me since our childhood, and I even less about you.”
“The council have given us at least a fortnight to solve that.”
“Anastasia is also your house-guest, Misha.”
“What a fortunate man I am, to have two beautiful women as house-guests. The soldiers will be queuing up to bask in the glow of your exotic company.”
“Yes. I was sort of afraid of that,” Anastasia replied.
“I hope you have no need to fear, knife-bearer. If you do feel any of them are scary, tell me. Or Lena, if she's willing to let certain titles she's got drop.”
“Titles?”
“Rank, he means, Nastya,” she said, using the informal version of her name, “I hold a certain rank in a certain organisation. But it's not exactly common knowledge and it's not exactly congruous with me being a prisoner.”
“That's why we're not going to use that word, ladies,” Mikhail said firmly, as they turned the corner to the embassy. “Captain!” he called the captain of the guard over.
“Sir?”
“The High Council of Atlantis asks we give house-room to these two ladies for about two weeks. They've both reached the limit of their tourist visa and have asked the council if they can stay even longer. As Yelena Petrichna here is an old school-friend of mine, and Anastasia is her colleague, I said I had no objection to them using one of the guest rooms. Pass the word among the men not to disturb our guests.”
“Is there any connection to the other matter, sir?” he looked suspiciously at Yelena and Anastasia.
“Yes, Captain. I was at the Council learning of the resolution of that matter when I learned of this one. The ladies are Christians, not anarchists.”
“We also had the misfortune to be staying in the same area as the anarchist gun-runners, captain.” Yelena said, recognising the captain as having been an onlooker during their arrest. "And were detained at the same time, but I assure you the Tsar is not in the habit of handing out stars of gallantry to anarchists.” The star wasn't her highest military honour, but it would do.
“You were awarded a star of gallantry?” It was awarded for bravery under fire.
“Some years ago, but after I had been promoted from captain. You understand of course I'm not in the regular forces.”
“But you still hold rank?”
“I do, captain, but it is not a matter for public discussion. Let us pretend I'm only here because his excellency used to write me bad poetry.”
“I understand, maam.”
“Bad poetry?” Mikhail queried as he led them into the compound.
“I could quote some if you like, Misha, but it might embarrass us both.”
“I didn't think I'd ever written you poetry, Lena” Mikhail said.
“Maybe you need a reminder,” she teased.
“I'm all ears,” Anastasia said.
“That's what I was afraid of.”
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KARELLA AND CHRISTOPH'S HOUSE, ATLANTIS, 12:45PM, WEDNESDAY, 19TH DECEMBER
“So, can you explain to me something, Elder?” Karella asked.
“I can certainly try.”
“Why did you decide that you needed a whole two weeks to decide what to do with them?”
“Oh, we didn't quite say that, your majesty,” the elder explained, “but we did feel that both from the point of view of giving the women time to learn more about God and giving our Ambassador and his old friend time to explore their feelings was the kindest thing to do. I don't know if she realised, but her thoughts during a lot of her confession kept going back to about how badly she'd treated him as a teenager. We're quite convinced — and so is she — that she is a secret services agent, but she is so deep cover that she hardly ever gets real orders.”
“And this Yuri also?”
“Yes, your majesty. He's at least a lieutenant general, quite possibly a full general. Based on her thoughts, he finds it very gratifying when his pet anarchists do good purely for the sake of their consciences, and end up restraining one another — not to mention their contacts — better than anything he could do.”
“Hmmm. What a way to run things! But presumably this great experiment has the approval of the Tsar?”
“It must have, your majesty.”
“Technically, this Yelena's presence ought to break the embargo on military Russians, shouldn't it?”
“She arrived here three months ago, before it was put in place. But, certainly she wouldn't be allowed back in. Unless you wished to grant an exception.”
“I don't think we'd want to do that,” Karella said, “much as we like Mikhail.”
“No, majesty. So, since there were strong emotions involved we felt that giving them some time together would be beneficial.”
“Good call. And what about Anastasia?” Karella asked.
“She is not, as far as we know, aware of her connection to the Russian secret services. But perhaps Yelena has told her by now. My feeling is that there could be good reasons for enlisting her help in dealing with the pharmaceutical industry.”
“I would love to hear them.”
“Firstly, she's independent which brings with it a lack of bias, secondly she's aware of quality issues, and presumably has ways of verifying quality independently. That is quite advantageous, I think. Thirdly, she is aware of reasonable costs.”
“Oh, so you're not actually suggesting we feed money to the Russian secret service's black operations network, but employ her outside it?”
“Exactly. But that does remind me. Yelena's description of Yuri is of someone who might be concerned about her. And there might be strategic reasons for having our ambassador there dropping him a personal message.”
“Letting him know what's happened to his little team, you mean?”
“Not to mention a demonstration of your majesty's power to find people.”
“Hmm. I'll give it some thought.”
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