I recognized the code word sequence that Stalin was using immediately. This was the sequence that would have frozen my whole body in place before I broke that compulsion. Now, there wasn't even the faintest tingle in my brain. But what the hell, I figured I'd play along with it. I stiffened theatrically and then held myself very still.

Stalin finished his sequence and then studied me impassively. He stalked closer. I didn't move. Then, without warning, he slapped me open-handed across the cheek. It turned my head ever so slightly; it didn't even hurt that much. I kept my expression blank. Stalin didn't smile but nodded in approval. “Good.” Then he turned to the guard at the door.

There was a moment there where I thought he might be in reach of my chained arms, but I wasn't sure. The chains were strong enough to hold me, so I had to be sure. I let him walk away. "Bring them in," he commanded.

The guard responded, "Yes, Comrade," and scurried to obey. A moment later, I had to resist reacting as in walked Colonel Mazur and Tsar Alexander. A guard accompanied them. They weren't bound, so it was difficult to determine if they were here as guests or prisoners. My guess was a bit of both.

"Ah, I see you found the wayward golem," the Tsar remarked. "Good."

"He killed Comrade Lenin," Stalin said.

"I heard that," the Tsar said, shaking his head. He looked at Mazur. "This monstrosity you brought into our city has had quite a little reign of terror."

Mazur was studying me with an expression that was impossible to read. "It has been loyal up to this point. I suspect Frankenstein did something to him."

The Tsar took one very small step closer, studying me. "Is it still working? What did you do to it?"

"Whatever his very many faults," Stalin interjected, "Frankenstein was wise enough to put fail-safes in his creatures. I have frozen it in place. It won't speak."

"Can it be useful to us?" the Tsar asked, still studying me. The Tsar glanced at Colonel Mazur. "If he's not functional, we'll have to change the plan."

"Perhaps we could use more of Stalin's men."

"No," Stalin snapped. "My men will do what we agreed, and no more. We will use this construct to breach the barrier around Moscow, then my men will do what I agreed to for the assault.”

“And do you think it will be able to breach Rasputin’s defenses? Even Baba Yaga, it seems, cannot. Our scouts report her hut is prowling around the outskirts."

Stalin shrugged. "We have done experiments using a golem we captured some time ago. All indications were that their magical resistance should allow them to penetrate the barrier."

"You sent one in before? That will have warned Rasputin."

Stalin shook his head. "This was before I learned of Frankenstein's methods of control. We tested various magic that we had available on the golem to learn the extent of its resistances. But that is all."

"So," Colonel Mazur spoke up. He took a step forward. He was looking at me intently, and I thought he might be trying to convey some meaning behind the look. "My rogue sergeant will lead your assault through Rasputin's barrier around Rasputin's stronghold." He turned to look at Stalin. "Then he and your men will make their way past whatever forces Rasputin has there. They will find and destroy the source of barrier around Moscow.

"Yes, of course, that's the plan we agreed to." The Tsar seemed bored by the recap. It was clear all of them had already discussed this, and I realized Mazur meant this for my benefit. Interesting. Perhaps he hadn't written me off after all.

Mazur pressed on. "Do you know what sort of forces they may encounter once they're inside the barrier?"

Stalin made a dismissive motion. "They will be heavily armed and given talismans to protect against the occult. We know where the anchor of undeath is, so there should be no difficulty."

"Then Rasputin will be without his ability to control the undead," Mazur continued.

The Tsar made an exasperated noise. "We've already gone over this.”

Mazur went on anyway. “Our second force, which the Tsar will provide, will move in and defeat Rasputin himself.'"

"Yes, yes," the Tsar said, fed up with discussing something he already knew. "And we must make this attempt count. It has taken me some time and many connections to assemble even a small force that are untainted by Rasputin's magics. We can't afford to waste them unless we are assured of success." The Tsar glared at Mazur. "You were supposed to provide me with additional forces.”

Mazur made a palms-up, empty-hand motion. He turned slightly, appearing to shift uncomfortably. The movement allowed him to lock eyes with me. "It appears my other forces have left for Poland. They must have misunderstood my instructions." With his head turned away from the others, Mazur gave me the barest of a wink. "So unfortunately, the sergeant is all I can spare," he said as he turned back to look at Stalin and the Tsar.

Stalin folded his arms. "Your sergeant is now my asset." He held up a hand as Mazur opened his mouth to speak. "And if you wish to claim him as property of Poland, you will no doubt be taking responsibility for his murderous rampage through the streets of St. Petersburg."

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Mazur glanced at me. He seemed to consider his options, but didn't answer.

Stalin's mouth tightened in a not-quite smile. "As I expected. So now, the golem, who is my asset, will serve this purpose before being disposed of," he emphasized the last few words while looking at Mazur for a reaction. I held my expression carefully blank.

"I suppose," Mazur said as he met my eyes. His expression was hard. "If that's what serves the cause of peace." Then he addressed the Tsar. "We will hold you to your word for that treaty."

"Of course, of course," Alexander was clearly impatient with the proceedings. "Can we be done with this? We've already worked out all these details, and we're wasting time.”

Stalin's guards opened the door, and the group of them trooped out. I was left alone for an intolerable length of time. With no one in the room, I was able to stretch my neck and roll my shoulders a bit, but I had to hold still lest I jostled the chains.

As soon as the door creaked again, re-admitting Stalin and a pair of guards, I resumed my frozen posture. "Now we will discuss your real mission," Stalin murmured, apparently more to himself than to me. He started rattling off another set of keywords, the ones were intended to plant new compulsions or orders into me. “Pineapple. Three. Fifty-seven…” But I had heard them before and had broken that compulsion as well.

What followed was a series of instructions that read more like excerpts from the Communist Manifesto. Not that I’d ever actually read the Manifesto. It was hard to keep my attention focused. I needed to know what act to keep up, so I did try. The gist of it was that I was to follow the orders of the working class, but mainly just his orders, and to be ready to murder anyone that he asked me to. I would also follow any orders of the Tsar.

I was trying to follow the reasoning behind his directives. Was he planning a double cross? Why did he insist on my following his orders if they conflicted with others? Suddenly, Stalin broke off.

"Now, repeat your programming back to me."

Oh shit. There was no way I could remember all that mumbo-jumbo he had spewed at me. I decided to play dumb. "Protect workers. Follow your orders. Follow other orders if they don't conflict with your orders." I broke off and stared blankly ahead.

He glared at me and mumbled a curse. "Close enough," he snapped before turning away, muttering something about a worthless construct.

After that, he was gone, and I had to wait, still chained, for an extremely long time. I saw the Tsar and Mazur again as we were preparing to leave. They took the chains off me with an entire squad of armed communist thugs keeping guns trained on me. When I didn't react, they let their guard down a little. I idly considered whether I could take them all. I didn't like my odds, and it didn't fit in my plan anyway. Instead, I went docilely along.

I didn’t like playing along with these thugs, but Rasputin was the primary threat right now. Anything that helped me get to him was good.

Outside, it was cool and dark, pre-dawn. They were preparing several trucks. More communists milled about. It was hard to think of them as anything but troops, even though they didn't wear uniforms.

Whatever they calling the NCOs, the behavior was familiar. Moving between the troops, inspecting them, and shouting various orders. Someone bumped into me from behind, and I fought hard not to react.

"Oh, excuse me," Mazur mumbled. Now there was a hard lump under my jacket in the back. He had slipped a gun or something of similar weight into my waistband.

"Your spare," he mumbled quietly.

"Thanks," I muttered back. It was hard to put sarcasm into a mumble.

He started to turn away, and I caught his sleeve. With a quick glance, I saw no one else watching us. The light was poor, anyway. I pulled him back and hissed in his ear. "When you get back, see to it that you file me for an honorable discharge from His Majesty's service."

Mazur met my gaze and for a moment held it. "I will."

I let go of his sleeve. "And tell the girls thanks for everything," I added as he moved away. I didn't hear his response as Russian soldiers reappeared around the trucks.

"Everyone load up and get that thing aboard," the bossy thug said, stabbing a finger at me.

He made no move to do it himself, and I had to resist an intimidating grin in his direction. Several Russian troops, several communist troops were staring at me, hesitating to speak. So, I decided to take a cue from the NCO. "Get aboard," I mumbled in a monotone voice and turned to climb into the truck. Just to be a dick, I climbed into the driver's seat.

"Hey, you! What are you doing there? Get down from there!"

"Get aboard," I repeated. Would they buy that I was just taking orders? Hopefully, Stalin wouldn't come back to countermand things.

The man who was apparently the driver yelled indignantly from outside the vehicle before finally going to get an NCO, who also hesitated to confront me.

“Can he drive?” the NCO asked.

“What difference does that make?”

“I can drive,” I said in my best robot impersonation.

“Then I don’t see the problem. Get moving.”

“But –”

“Do you want to remove a giant angry golem from your truck? No? Then leave him alone.”

The man strode off, the driver following and continuing to yell protests, but the matter was apparently settled. Communist troops were being loaded into the back of my truck as well as the truck in front and presumably the one behind. There was a vigorous discussion from the back. Sounded like many of them didn't want to ride in a vehicle driven by a golem. On these rickety old 19-teens trucks, there was very little separation between the cargo area and the driver's seat. The closest man on a bench in the back was almost against my spine. I could hear every word. I barely fit behind the steering wheel as it was.

Ahead, they were loading fuel into another truck, lit by lanterns to supplement the poor light. Along the side of the convoy was a concrete block wall, probably yet another factory. Were we still in St. Petersburg? I wasn't sure, but I guess I would find out soon enough.

Stalin moved up and down the line of trucks, barking orders. Mazur and the Tsar stood off to one side, conversing amongst themselves, and occasionally he stopped by to talk with them. Finally, loading was complete. Mazur and the Tsar had vanished at some point. Stalin himself got into the lead truck of the convoy and the engine fired to life. I took that as my cue and started mine.

The sky was starting to lighten as the trucks rumbled to life. We moved out onto the dark streets of the city. There were still debris piles and smoldering ruins from the fighting the day before. Had it been only a day? I wasn't sure. Maybe I had been out longer than that. I was glad to know the Poles had gotten away. I hoped Mazur would hold the Tsar to his treaty. They’d been my friends, the closest thing I had to a family in this new world.

Finally, we reached the outskirts of St. Petersburg. As the sun came up, we were trundling through the Russian countryside, headed towards an unknown fate.

I didn’t much like my chances. Surrounded by enemies, heading to take out a magician so infamous Baba Yaga was scared of him… an old Bible story from my childhood Sunday School lessons came to mind. Sampson, the strongest man, captured and enslaved, praying for just one last taste of his old power. Bringing the temple down on his enemies – and himself.

If I could take out this whole nest of snakes, I’d leave this world a better place.