Pyotr is the keystone of this plan.

We need him to be strong for when we make our move, but he's Underfed, and that means that half of his Strength and Constitution is gone. As great as it was for blending in, it's bad for taking down guards. We have to get him more food.

So here it is: my first supply line problem.

I'd heard about these from real-life warfare but hadn't paid much attention. Supply lines are nowhere among the strategies required for high-level chess.

However, there are certainly similarities between this and handling a classroom.

Luka, Pyotr, and I walk close together and whisper so that the guards and the other zeks cannot hear us.

"Do you know who the stool pigeons are?" I ask. It's important to know where trouble might come from and be able to shut them down early. I still don't have my full strategy in mind, but the start of it has to be getting Pyotr to full strength without alerting the command structure of the camp. Only then can he be assured of success when taking down that very important first guard.

Luka points at two men in turn. "Those I know to be rats. However, there could be others. They're not always as obvious as you were when you came to camp, and to be honest, almost everyone has been called into Sacha's office at one time or another. They could be anyone."

I think over this information for a while, then Inspect the two men that Luka pointed out.

In a classroom, you have to know what will make each student cooperate. For some it's the regard of their peers. For others it's the far-future hope of a position in the politburo. For many, it's the simple avoidance of pain.

Often these characteristics don't show up on a stats sheet. You have to watch them a while. Fortunately, Luka has been doing just that.

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"Which one of them," I ask, "is doing it for love of Mecha Stalin, and which is doing it for the extra food and privileges?"

Luka looks at me strangely. "Love of Mecha Stalin doesn't last long here. I've only seen it go past a year a couple times."

Well, that threw out the option of appealing to their better nature. There would be no convincing them to sacrifice for the sake of overthrowing these capitalist guards, not when there was warm Borscht waiting for them if they ratted on us.

It would have to be the other way.

"Pyotr," I say, "how would you feel about killing a stool pigeon. If it came to that."

He thinks on it. "It's not as clean-cut as killing a guard, but I would do it if the plan required it."

"Well, let's see how... Luka, which one of them is more easily frightened?"

"Igor."

"Let's see how Igor decides."

I explain my plan, then Luka goes and does his part. I can't tell what Luka is saying, but I can hear the foreboding up and down of his voice, almost a dirge. It is not beautiful. Igor looks at us, frightened.

Luka comes back. "Congratulations, Pyotr. You have three-quarters rations."

"More than that," I say. I feel a little bad about what I'm going to do next, riling up emotions against Mecha Stalin, but it's for the greater good of Mother Russia. "Who here hates the guards enough to sacrifice?"

Luka points out five crew members.

Five!

I'm shocked. There's that much hatred here? Yes the days are long, the rules aren't fair, and even I felt that one brief moment of hatred for Mecha Stalin, but to have a quarter of the crew... no, more, because Luka and Pyotr must also be counted! To have a third of the crew hate Mecha Stalin and the guards that much was simply astounding.

"Luka," I say, "go work your magic. Without the threats this time, just the promise of vengeance. They trust you, right?"

Luka goes.

"Pyotr," I say, "You just might be getting double rations."

A week, by my calculations. A week until Pyotr is no longer Underfed, no longer at half Strength and Constitution.

A week until the violence begins.