КНИГИ КИРИЛЛА ПОТЁМКИНА

7. THE AUDIENCE

(Location: Novo-Ogaryovo. Residence of the President of the Russian Federation)

Silence hung in the reception room, dense as a vacuum. Defense Minister Voronov had been waiting for forty minutes. The phantom pain in his casted arm returned, a reminder: every miracle has its price. The folder with the «Aegis» project burned his knees. Finally, the stained oak doors opened silently.

— «Please, Andrey Nikolaevich.»

The President sat at the head of a long table. He didn’t stand up. He looked tired — drawn, with deep shadows under his eyes — but the Supreme Commander’s gaze remained the same: piercing, cold, x-ray.

— «Sit down, Andrey.»

Voronov sank into a chair.

— «Comrade Supreme Commander-in-Chief, the situation is critical. The Fog…»

— «I know the situation,» — the President interrupted softly. Too softly. — «I know. We are losing kilometers. We are losing people. But I called you here to talk not about the country. I want to talk about you.»

He touched a sensor on the tabletop. The wall panel came to life. A black-and-white recording. A grainy picture. Voronov’s office.

That very night.

The blood drained from Andrey Voronov’s face. On the screen, he — the Defense Minister of a nuclear power — was crawling on his knees before an empty chair. Stroking it, kissing the upholstery, whispering into the void, smiling at the air. It didn’t look like grief. It was grotesque. Pitiful, terrifying, incomprehensible madness. An old man embracing an invisible ghost. Or even worse — a drunk old man trying to make love to a piece of furniture, crying and laughing at the same time.

The video paused on the frame where General of the Army Voronov kisses the emptiness.

— «Andrey,» — the President’s voice was full of fake sympathy. — «We all mourn Katya. But… But this?» — A nod at the screen. — «You have the ‘nuclear briefcase’ at your fingertips, and you… And you are having conversations with furniture. Gromov reported to me. The doctors say — acute reactive psychosis. Alcohol, stress, PTSD.»

Voronov was silent. Everything inside him went numb. The folder with the blueprints for saving the world in his hands turned into a madman’s wastepaper.

— «I will sign the decree for your resignation. My friend. Due to health reasons.» — The President pulled a form with a gold crest toward himself. — «Right now. You’ll go to ‘Barvikha’. You need rest, Andrey. Treatment.»

It was the end. Not of his career. The end of Russia. The end of «Aegis». The end of hope.

«Don’t be afraid, Dad.»

The voice didn’t sound in his ears — but right in his cerebellum. Clear, ringing, familiar. Voronov flinched.

«He’s lying to you. Look at his left hand. Under the table. He’s hiding a tremor.»

The general cast a sideways glance. The President’s left hand, resting on his knee, lived a life of its own, tapping out a fine, nervous drumroll.

«He’s sick, Dad. Parkinson’s. Onset of the disease. But that’s a minor detail. Ask him about ‘Ark-2’. Ask about the aircraft at Chkalovsky. Tail number 001-Alpha.»

— «What?..» — Voronov exhaled.

— «What do you mean ‘what’?» — the President frowned, hovering his pen over the paper. — «Don’t complicate things, Andrey. Sign the report.»

Voronov raised his head. The fear was gone. The shame had evaporated. Icy clarity reigned in his cranium. The Sowers saw everything. They knew everything.

— «I… I will not sign it, Vladimir Alexandrovich.»

The President slowly set down his «Parker». His eyes turned into slits. — «You don’t understand your position, Andrey.»

— «I understand your position,» — Voronov’s voice grew stronger, filled with metal. That very iron voice that made the General Staff turn pale. — «How is your health? Does the tremor in your left hand not interfere with signing secret protocols?»

The President’s face turned to stone. The mask of sympathy cracked, revealing the predator. — «How do you…»

— «And what about aircraft 001-Alpha at Chkalovsky?» — Voronov stood up abruptly. He now loomed over the table, suppressing with his mass. — «‘Ark-2’. The evacuation plan for the top leadership to a bunker in the Altai. The list was approved yesterday at 04:00 AM. I am not on it. The army is not on it. And the people are not on it.»

The Supreme Commander turned pale. For the first time in many years. He looked at Voronov not as a psychopath, but as a ghost. This was «Absolute» level information. Three people in the entire country had access to it.

Him. The Director of the FSB and the Prime Minister.

— «Who leaked it?» — he whispered. — «FSB? GRU?»

— «Allies,» — Voronov threw the «Kitenok» folder onto the polished tabletop. It slid right to the President’s hands. — «Those who actually want to save Russia, not run away to the mountains.»

— «Allies?..»

— «You call it the ‘Fog Zone’. They call it the ‘Disease’. And they gave the cure.» — Voronov nodded at the folder. — «Open it. These are the blueprints for ‘Aegis’. The technology of non-human genius.» — The President touched the cover but didn’t open it. He looked at Voronov. — «You can send me to a psych ward, Vladimir Alexandrovich,» — the general continued quietly. — «And safely fly away to the Altai. But, believe me, the fog will get there too. In a month. In a year. But it will find you everywhere. Or… Or you give me carte blanche. Resources. People. And together we will build the Shield. We will protect Russia. We will save the people.»

Silence hung in the office, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock. Vladimir Alexandrovich looked at the folder, then at his trembling hand. He was a politician to the bone. He smelled power. And he understood: Voronov right now is not just a general. Behind him stands Power. Unknown, frightening, but Power.

— «Uh… Alright, Andrey Nikolaevich,» — the President leaned back in his chair and tried to smile. The smile came out crooked.

— «Let’s do this without ultimatums, Andrey. We’ve known each other for a long time. Better tell me about these… friends of yours.»

Voronov spoke for about ten minutes. Clearly, in military fashion. About the contact. About the blueprints. About the «Gift»:

— «…They are flying to us. They are ready to share technologies in exchange for cooperation. They believe in us, and I believe in them, Vladimir Alexandrovich. They need volunteers.»

— «And only you can hear them?» — the President inquired smoothly. — «The voice of your daughter? The one who died in the crash.»

— «Yes.» — Voronov nodded.

— «Alright then. Ask them something. Right now.»

Andrey Voronov tensed up and mentally called for Katya. But… He failed.

The silence dragged on.

— «No connection.» — He muttered in embarrassment. — «They… Well, usually they initiate contact themselves.»

— «I see.» — The President scratched his chin. — «So, they know our secrets, but remain silent themselves when it’s inconvenient for them. Convenient.»

— «They gifted us a technology centuries ahead of our science! Aronov confirmed it. This is our chance!»

— «Chance…» — the President echoed. — «Yes, yes. But there’s always a ‘but’. This ‘cure’ requires people, right? Did I understand correctly? And time. And scientists… Well, scientists love fairy tales. And sometimes they believe in them themselves. Trust me, I’ve worked with them…»

— «Professor Aronov…»

— «Don’t interrupt. No one has seen your Sowers. And I need guarantees. You understand, Andrey. Material guarantees. Physical ones.»

The pause stretched out. The President drummed his fingers on the table, calculating the options. Altai — well yes, that’s rats surviving. «Aegis» — what the general just brought in, that is… that is a chance to retain power over the entire country. To preserve the state. The risk is enormous. But if it works out… If Voronov… Might be right?..

— «Alright. What do you need?» — he asked coldly.

The general perked up, his face taking on a resolute expression. And he began to speak:

— «A decree creating a Special Volunteer Corps. Full funding for ‘Aegis’. A status of ‘special importance’.»

— «And if it’s a bluff?» — the Supreme Commander said quietly. — «If it’s a trap? And you’ve already fallen into it.»

— «Then we die,» — Voronov smiled sadly. A smile that made the President uncomfortable. — «But we will die fighting, Vladimir Alexandrovich. We will die as heroes. On TV… If you want…»

The President winced.

— «Don’t push it, Andrey.» — He picked up his pen. His hand trembled almost imperceptibly, he scribbled something on a piece of paper and said: — «Well then… Let’s agree on this. Everything you ask for, we will provide, I’ll sign the Decree in a few days… After studying your documents. We will open the funding, of course. Build your Shield. But remember: your head is on the line.»

Voronov walked out, flew out of the office, not feeling his legs. A victor. It felt as if wings had sprouted behind his back.

— «Thank you, Katya. We did it…» — he said quietly.

«Well done, Dad,» — the voice whispered inside his head. — «Now we will definitely build our home.»

— «You meant, embassy?» — Voronov muttered.

«Yes, Dad, you are right. The embassy will be our home on earth. On Terra.»

The door closed. Vladimir Alexandrovich Kubarev sat motionless for a minute, looking at the closed door. His face smoothed out, the fatigue disappeared, replaced by cold calculation. He pressed the intercom button:

— «Viktor Nikolaevich. Come in.»

Shortly after, the Director of the FSB glided silently into the office.

— «Did you hear that?» — the President asked without turning around.

— «Every word, Vladimir Alexandrovich.»

— «And what do you think?»

— «The general is compromised. Acute mental disorder, external influence. He is clearly under control. The only question is — whose. These so-called ‘Allies’… their awareness of flight 001 is more frightening than this weird Fog.»

The President nodded.

— «You know, ‘Aegis’ really might be our chance. Or it could be a weapon against us. Against our country. But there is no choice. I think, let him build it.»

— «Permission to establish surveillance?»

— «Aim higher, Viktor. Total surveillance. Every step he takes, every word, every contact. Implant bugs in his entourage. In his office. In his… that cast of his, if you have to. And prepare the ‘Liquidation Protocol’.»

— «In case of failure?»

The President turned to the window, outside of which clouds were gathering.

— «No. In case of success. If these ‘guests’ really do show up — Voronov will become useless to them. Believe me. And to us — he will become dangerous. Go.»

Scene: Residence Corridor / FSB Vehicle

The doors of the president’s office closed behind Andrey Voronov. The corridor was empty. The guards stood like statues. The general walked past them, marching briskly. He felt wings behind his back. He had won.

He didn’t notice how one of the «statues» — an inconspicuous officer in the far corner — slightly turned his head, following him with an attentive, piercing gaze. The officer touched the earpiece in his ear.

— «The target has exited. Getting into his car.»

(At the same time. Inside a black FSB minivan in the parking lot)

Viktor Nikolaevich, Director of the FSB, was looking at the tablet screen. The image from the camera on Voronov’s lapel (the bug was implanted in his coat button back in the cloakroom while the general waited for his audience) bobbed in time with his steps. The Director put on his headphones.

The sound of footsteps. Voronov’s heavy breathing. Then his quiet voice:

«Thank you, Katya. We did it.»

Footsteps again, then Andrey Voronov speaks nonsense again:

«You meant, embassy?»

The FSB Director rewound the recording. Amplified the sound. Cleaned up the noise. Silence. Andrey Voronov was talking to emptiness. There was no answer on the recording. No daughter’s voice. Or anyone else’s. No interference. Just the monologue of a schizophrenic.

Viktor Nikolaevich smiled coldly: — «Schizo,» — he concluded. — «But a dangerous schizo.»

He dialed the number of the special surveillance team: — «Listen carefully. Order ‘Shadow’. Voronov is starting to recruit people. I need dossiers on everyone he selects. On every ‘volunteer’. And also… Prepare a liquidation team. A sniper pair. Target codename… ‘Gardener’. Have them track him 24/7. And wait for my command.»

He disconnected and looked out the window, where General Voronov was getting into his official «Aurus»:

— «Build your shield, Andrey,» — the Director whispered. — «And we’ll see who will hold the sword…»