Page 31 of White Wolf

God, he hated this assignment.

The station wasn’t as crowded as it would have once been, the disembarking passengers from the back of the train comprised of young, wet-behind-the-ears boys from Siberia come to bolster the front lines that had been cut down during the Battle. Sasha glanced toward them, fleetingly, and then his gaze traveled upward – and stayed there.

He stared up at the painted ceiling, craning his neck, strap of his satchel sliding down his arm. He struck Nikita as hopelessly backward, wrapped in fur and rough brown fabric, his face too-open, enthralled as he stared at the train station like it was the inside of the Kremlin.

To a trapper kid from Tomsk, it probably seemed like a palace.

“Ha!” Ivan laughed. “Look at him.”

Sasha blushed, but grinned, and kept looking. “It’s beautiful.” Wondrous. Exhilarated.

The others laughed.

Monsieur Philippe looked on with a smile that curdled Nikita’s insides.

He said, “Pick up your tongue and come on, pup.”

~*~

Sasha’s neighbor back home, Andrei, had been to Moscow before – it was where he’d learned his stories about the Cheka, which he’d then horrified all the children of Tomsk with – and had described it to Sasha. But no story could have prepared him for the spectacle of the capital.

“This is just the train station,” Nikita said, voice dry. But when Sasha darted a glance toward him, he saw the beginnings of a smile tucked into the corners of his mouth. “Wait until you see the Kremlin.”

“The Kremlin?” Sasha echoed, disbelieving, before the vaulted, painted ceiling drew his gaze again. It wasunbelievable.

“I imagine the major general will want to see his new weapon,” Nikita said, now with distaste in his voice.

“I’m hungry,” Ivan announced.

Feliks said, “You’re always hungry.”

Sasha’s hunger was a dull murmur deep in the pit of his stomach. He’d been so exhausted from the constant swaying of the train, but now, standing on unsteady legs, the thrill of being somewhere new had given him an adrenaline boost. He felt wide-awake now. He wanted toexplore.

“You should see Kazan Station,” Philippe said, appearing at his elbow. “It’s even more impressive.”

Sasha sent him a disbelieving look and he laughed.

“It’s true, I promise. Moscow is a beautiful city.” He made a face. “She’s a bit battered at the moment. But. Beautiful.” He laid a fatherly hand on Sasha’s arm. “Come, Sasha, and we’ll see about supper.”

Around them, disembarking passengers headed for the doors. Young men from Siberia in rough homespun and furs, as dazed and curious as Sasha felt. Soviet officials in heavy coats, faces set in unreadable masks, jowly and red-eyed from vodka. Cheka officers, the badges flashing on their chests, several of them cutting glances toward their small group. One in particular nodded, and Nikita nodded back.

A thought struck Sasha, suddenly. “Why were we alone on the train car?” he murmured, not intending anyone to hear.

But Philippe said, “Those officers were checking in with local GPU officials in the villages.” Collecting grain, and arresting those who tried to hide it under floorboards. “But Captain Baskin and his men were on a special assignment.”

“Me,” Sasha said, belly clenching.

“Quite right,” Philippe said, oblivious to his discomfort. “So we had special accommodations.”

“But…” He turned to face the old man. “Why?”

Philippe smiled at him, eyes dancing. “Because you’re going to save the country, Sasha.”

He gulped.

“Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything in due time.”

~*~

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