Kingmaker (33 page)

“Why did you stop?”

“Everyone affiliated with Zarya was watched very closely. We could monitor your parents, but we couldn’t risk any communication with them. All we knew was that they were trying to get us information on Chernobyl, but we didn’t know what information, and we didn’t know how. Then one day, they just disappeared. We watched them walk into the Khrunichev Space Center in the morning as usual, but they never came back out, and we never saw or heard from them again.” The man paused for a moment and watched Alexei carefully. “That is, until about six months ago.”

The boy narrowed his eyes. “That’s not possible,” he said. “My parents have been gone for over two years.”

“Exactly,” the man said. “Which is why we assumed the drop had been blown. We saw someone hanging around it who we figured for an FSB agent, but when we checked him out, we found he has a cousin who works as a guard in a Siberian labor camp—exactly the kind of place your parents would have been taken. We watched the spot for another few days and when nobody else showed up, we went in.”

“What did you find?”

“A note from your father. Addressed to you.”

The boy got back to his feet. “Do you have it?”

The man shook his head. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t risk having it on me. But I know what it said.”

The boy tried hard to appear impassive. “Tell me.”

“It was just one simple phrase,” the man said.
Иди и покажи им
. Make me proud.”

The boy looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up at the man. He passed the back of his hand across his eye, then hardened his expression.

“What does it mean?”

“I think it means that your father wants you to finish what he started, Alexei.”

“He wants me to get information about Chernobyl out of Russia?”

The man shook his head. “It’s too late for that. I think he wants you to find another way.”

“Another way to do what?”

“To get to America. And to try to prevent the most powerful nation on the planet from self-destructing.”

The boy shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not old enough.”

“Old enough for what?”

“For anything. I can’t even leave this place.”

“How do you know your age and the fact that you’re an orphan aren’t actually advantages?” the man said. “Have you thought it through?”

“How could they be?”

“For one thing, the government seems pretty interested in you. My guess is, if you were to play your cards right, you might eventually gain access to some pretty elite and influential circles.”

“That would take years.”

“Exactly. Which is the one thing you
do
have. Alexei, you have to start thinking in four dimensions rather than three. You have to learn to use time to your advantage. Don’t just think about who you are, and what you have, and what you’re able to do
right now
. Think about who you
want
to be, and what you
could
have, and what you
will
be able to do at some point in the future. Then all you have to do is work backwards from there to find the path you have to follow.”

“But one person cannot change an entire country,” the boy said. His jaw was clenched and his lip trembled, but he did not let himself cry.

For the first time, the man smiled at the boy. He picked up the fur cap, gathered his coat, and stood. The woman beside him stood up, as well.

“I happen to know for an absolute fact that’s not true,” he said.

“Then tell me how.”

“Two ways,” the man told the boy. “Gradually, and then all at once.”

© 2013 MICHELLE CANTRELL

Christian Cantrell is a software developer from Northern Virginia. He writes the technology blog
LivingDigitally.net
and takes photographs for
microkosmic.com
. Cantrell is the author of several self-published short stories, including “Brainbox” and “Farmer One.” His first novel,
Containment,
was published by 47North in August 2012, and he is currently working on the sequel. You can follow Cantrell on Twitter at
@cantrell
.