A good deed

[nafanielkhostov.livejournal.com]

Who: Khostov, Snake and whoever wants to be in the back of the truck.
Where: A village not too far from Groznyj Grad.


The freight truck bumped and jarred it's occupants as it sped on the gravel road. A pot hole caused the small crated vials to stir and the doctor to speak up. "If even one of the vials are broken, soldier, I will consider you personally responsible" he said. Whoever was near the crates put his arm back on the stack. Khostov was absorbed in writing off forms and documents, he didn't look up. He even had to borrow another flashlight which he cradled between his head and neck. His own had died out an hour ago.

Khostov looked out, sitting up in front beside the driver's cab. He could see the passing pine and the few autumn maple. He looked at his watch, he seemed to remember the days getting longer last time he had taken the time to look, now they were getting shorter. If he looked for it, he could see the orange glare of the Groznyj industrial complex. 'It should be raining' he thought. 'It would better suit the mood' he thought. There were several people with him mostly nameless soldiers but others who had attached themselves to this little trip. Some outranked him but he was in charge, of that no one had any doubt.

The crates were full of vaccine. The crates were were lettered in English, not Cyrillic. Some of the soldiers eyed them with distrust as any good communist should. Khostov smiled wryly. He rapped on the driver's window. "How far are we?" he said.

"Fifteen minutes" the driver said.

Khostov nodded and straightened his glasses. He finished writing his letter.

Blood profiling of the American suggests no direct relation to Voyevoda. However as requested, I have made the necessary papers and results to suggest otherwise. Both the original and modified results are available for your review. Allergen genesis on both The Joy and the American seems unlikely however with additional samples, I may be able to revise this. Viable samples. Further progress is stalled until these samples can be provided.

- Pélérin

Khostov stopped writing. It was obvious that 'The Boss' had some kind of relationship with the American. It seemed motherly but watching the cobra unit had made Khostov notice the same kind of relationship with all of them. He signed off the letter with his pen name. He looked at the forged documents again and again. He did not underestimate the Joy, there was a chance she could follow this. If she ever saw it. Amid the signs of A, B and O, Rhesus Plus and Minus he wondered idly what would happen. He opened his briefcase and took out the limited file he had been provided. His own notes, hidden away, were now more complete then this. The list of surgeries was long and even then incomplete. In his mind he could imagine each one. He translated blunt force trauma to the lower mandible to a pistol whip. Dislocated shoulder and exposure to parachuting on a cold day in November, slamming the ground rock first. He continued to imagine each wound and probable cause. 'How would she react? How would a mother wolf react' he thought to himself. He shut the file.

The devil was in the details. His own forgery would merely suggest. Probabilities, statistics nothing so final as an answer. There was an old saying, 'You could lead a horse to water but you cannot make her drink.' If she wanted to believe it, she would. This was enough.

The truck stopped. "Unload the crates" he said immediately. "Prepare the medical tent" he said. He checked his watch. "I want this vaccination finished in two hours" he said. He patted the crates. Still there were several more villages to go. He pulled out his map. The second truck full of soldiers so green they needed mowing. The truck came up and stopped in front of him. He nodded at the driver signaling him to stop. Marco nodded back to him.

"How is this said? Cha-Cha-Chakovskoe" he said out loud. The soldiers laughed around him. It took ten very long seconds before they realised that Nafaniel was not laughing with them. It took longer for Khostov to look up from the map. He stood silently and very still before folding the map and putting it away in his white overcoat.

He took out his sidearm and shot three times into the air in quick succession. "Establish a perimeter of no less then a hundred meters of this bled. I want at least two patrols of no less then three people circling this little hamlet. MOVE people. I want everyone vaccinated in this damn village including the imbeciles who ARE RUNNING across that hill" he swung on his heel to face the Cuban quartermaster who had gotten out from driving the second truck. "Take at least one of the Ocelots and catch them. Don't let them kill the rabbits. The're just frightened" he said. He had no idea why they'd been attached to do this little job and frankly right now he didn't care. He could use them right now.

He straightened his glassed and pointed at the closest soldier marching. "You. Set up two tables, you write ya? No pencil? Here take one of mine" he said, pulling out a pencil like a knife. He flipped it handing it over eraser first. He stood toe to toe with the larger Russian and waited, staring, until the other man turned his head away.

Soldiers started running around him shouting and the people started getting out from their beds. He looked to the left and saw soldiers running, sprinting towards the serfs. He looked to his right and saw the American. The thorn in his side, the odd note, the outsider standing alone where no one paid any mind to him. They just didn't notice him there, leaning against the truck.

He said in English, "Feel free to look around. If you aren't here when we move out. The Major's strays will be more then happy to hunt you down and let me assure you the distance is negligible for the Cosmonauts chariots and who knows even if the rest of the sons of the Warlord sleep" he said.

He paused. Threatening this man probably did little good. "If you run then the Colonel will probably let this rot" he nodded towards the crates. "Polio vaccine, hard to obtain in Russia but these were not paid for. You understand?" he said. He didn't even bother for an answer. "I do not think it would reflect well on the Boss either. I don't think the Colonel likes her very much" he said to Snake turning his back on him.

"Set up the tent" he said rolling up his sleeves. He already had his first patients. He snapped on a pair surgical gloves from his pocket. He started explaining to an ill educated mother woken up in the middle of the night cellular mitosis and viral theory. It didn't take him long to see that his efforts were wasted.