Homesick

“She is mad, Comrade South!” Vladimir said, mopping his brow. “Mad like a mad dog who leaps from the chain! She is foaming at the mouth mad!”

Commissioner Snouth peered at him from behind his reading glasses. His desk was large and ornate, making him appear far away. The room itself was colossal to the point of being cavernous. Its dark wood paneled walls were covered with framed documents, awards, and original artwork intended to resemble that which might adorn a palace. Snouth sat on a red velvet antique chair that mimicked a throne. For this reason some people called him “Czar Snouth” behind his back. He had a long beard, which he dyed black to appear younger, but his face betrayed his age. His bright blue eyes were his most distinctive feature, though they were always half-closed under wrinkled lids. This almost made him look like a wise and benevolent grandfather, but too many knew a different side of Snouth, and few would wish to oppose him.

“Coronov, we send you on this mission to avoid an incident. Now you want to start one?” he asked with an ambiguous expression. “Just because their space commissioner is known to you and somehow you make him think you are wise, that does not mean we would have sent you ourselves or that we would risk much for you now.”

“I do all I could do, Comrade, Sir,” Vladimir continued. “She is flipped, warped, off deep end!”

“Then you would be surprised to learn that our government approved her plan.”

He gasped. “They couldn’t have! They couldn’t know what that plan is or they would not approve it!”

“The American, Anderson, is a playing piece. A pawn in the game! We give him away to our new opponent easily, maybe they take more. Maybe one day they take all! But we sacrifice now, we win later. You know that, I think. Why do you complain? You were not sacrificed. What do you care of Buds? You just called her mad. Maybe she will do good. When did she leave? Yesterday?” He shrugged. “She’s not dead yet.”

“But she locked the controls! If I don’t leave here I too will be dead!”

Snouth sighed and leaned his jowls on his fist. “You are resourceful. You tell me you can’t make do? How many weeks until official launch window? Six? Or, when she is reported dead, space commission can release, correct?”

“Or they could order me down to find her!”

He shrugged. “You do not go. Is it not your right under . . . constitution? But, of course, that would disgrace us. Would you disgrace your homeland?”

Vladimir stammered.

Snouth stretched his face into a smile, his subtle trap having sprung. “I don’t make you answer this yet,” he said, his eyes opened wider than usual. “We will see in time if you are worth anything to us. For now, don’t worry. Take comfort that many in our space ministry are more spineless than you. You will probably not be ordered to rescue Buds.”

“But they could refuse to help me get home,” Vladimir said, still sounding concerned.

“Coronov, I grow tired,” he said, closing his eyes down to normal, as if Vladimir’s babbling had been amusing at first but was now becoming old. “You’ve not heard a word I have said, so I say no more. This is your problem! You want to come home, you find a way! You have degree, you have training, you have brain, I think.” He then focused his eyes into a condescending stare. “And I tell you something else. You are not important! You die, so what? The game goes on! But I will make a deal with you! You want to come home early? Fine! You take ship home at next window? Fine! But you will play the game first and you will win! Do you not see the whole picture? Do you not see?”

Vlad squinted at the fearsome man.

“I have new orders for you! You do, you live and come back here. You don’t, you are on your own! Are you ready to hear?”

He swallowed hard. “Yes.”