Page 73 of Ascendent
Sighing, he grunted out the confrontation at the Krasnoyarsk airport, how he’d run into Grisha Utkin, an old wing mate of his, and how Grisha had threatened him. Threatenedthem. How he’d attacked Sasha.
How Sasha had ended it.
“He’s still working with Moroshkin’s people. They’re moving arms around Russia, taking them from empty bases and collecting them somewhere—”
“Forget about that right now,” Sergey snapped. “You and Grisha fought? Did you touch?” Sergey breathed hard over the phone, almost panicking. “Was he sick? Did he look infected?”
“What?”
“Was hesick, Sasha?”
“I don’t know—”
“Did any of his blood on you?”
He swallowed. “Yes,” he said simply.
Sergey cursed again. “Grisha was the only survivor of an outbreak at Andreapol. He flew out of the base, we think possibly with samples of bioweapons. Strains of a virus GRU scientists were developing in Tver, at Solnechny. The GRU lab there was ransacked. There was a trail of disease and death leading to Andreapol. Everyone on the base is dead. Only one MiG took off, and it was Grisha Utkin’s.”
Sasha exhaled, slumping back. His head hit the train car’s steel wall. He wracked his memories. “He didn’t look sick,” he said softly. “He didn’t seem ill at all. What kind of symptoms?”
“Hemorrhagic fever,” Sergey whispered. “You would know if he was sick. You would know.”
“When was his flight off the base?”
“Five weeks ago.”
Sasha did the math, round numbers combined with his basic military training in biological warfare.Hemorrhagic fever. Incubation phase, twenty-one days. After twenty-eight days with zero symptoms, consider subject free of disease.“Grisha wasn’t infected.”
“Are you sure?” Sergey’s voice wavered. Warbled.
“He was a spineless shithead who preferred to let others take risks. He was my wing mate. I was his flight leader. I know him. If there was a raid on the GRU biolab from Andreapol, he wasn’t on it. And if he escaped, then he ran for his life. He wouldn’t strap himself into a jet with any biological weapon, any petri dish or vial. He was a coward. He’s always been a coward.”
He’d known about Sasha, it seemed, but hadn’t had the guts to talk to him. To confront him to his face. To be a friend, a human being, and ask Sasha about the truth. He’d instead poisoned the minds of his regiment, had turned his entire wing against him. Until they had decided to destroy him.
And Grisha had held him down.
Sergey exhaled. “You think he wouldn’t have flown with the samples?”
“Never. Has there been any outbreak anywhere else?”
“No.I’ve been clinging to hope—”
“You can relax. If Grisha Utkin flew away, then he ran with his tail between his legs from whatever it was. And whatever was there died along with everyone on that base.” Once, he would have felt bad about his former comrades suffering in agony and dying. Once.
“You’re sure? You’re positive?”
“I’m sure. If you send someone to the Krasnoyarsk airport, hangar nineteen, they’ll find his body. They can run tests. But I am sure.”
Sergey sighed, exhaling like he was releasing every worry he’d ever felt, like he was able to breathe again. “I’ve been so worried,” he rasped. “About you, Sasha.”
“I’m all right. I’m…” He didn’t know how to say it. “I’m all right.”I want to be with you more than anything in the world. I love you. I’m bringing back the part of your soul you cast out, yearning for me. I’m coming home to you.
“I don’t want you sitting in the dark on some cargo train. I don’t want you hitchhiking your way home. I want to get you back here, now.” Sergey growled, exasperation leaching over their scratchy cell signal. “Can you figure out where you are?”
“We must be near a city if I’ve got cell service. I’ll call you back when I know.”
“Okay. But, Sasha!”
