Michael had been right. Hitting these cowards from the rear was fun. More fun than Boris had enjoyed in years.

The merc at ‘tail-end Charlie’ sensed something coming up from the back of the group and turned to fire at whatever that was behind him.

In his momentary shock at seeing what looked like a standing bear, Boris grasped the barrel of his rifle in one of his pawed hands and wrenched. Pulling the mercenary toward him. Boris impaled the man with his free hand, slung the rapidly-dying man off to the side, and dropped the gun.

It’s killing time.

Death on two legs advanced with determination. Boris planned to kill the mercenaries attacking the base as they came within his range. His powerful legs propelling him forward, the mercs found that it was difficult to hit him without shooting a teammate since the men were tightly grouped. They were finding out how deceptive the speed of a bear could be, while Boris’s movement was even quicker than that of a normal animal. Most humans who saw Boris had but a few seconds of shock before they had to react or die.

The confusion he was causing must be helping the defenders ahead. Boris was glad to be helping Michael, glad that the svolic he had been working for would get their comeuppance.

Send him to kill children would they? Especially children under Michael’s protection or this woman who had finally captured his attention. If he had time, he’d offer his services to help hunt them down.

His roar of joy reverberated down the narrow confines of the hallways. The pain of his constant headache was overcome with the chemical cocktail that saturated his body in this shape. The fear of those in front of him was a scent that exhilarated his ferocity and crammed him with a wicked cocktail of both rage and relief.

Then, suddenly, his ability to constrain his actions while in this form was lost when a bullet fired from someone in front glanced off his skull and the headache he had been suffering overcame everything.

In his pain, he lost it. Lost control, lost his mind, lost his humanity and ability to think.

The headache flared, and he roared in maddened anger, charging forward through the squad. Sending bodies, arms, heads, and legs flying to bounce against the walls, the blood of the dead splashed high to coat the rock walls with a picture of life passing.

He reached the one that had shot him and ripped his attacker’s head from his body.

Standing on his back feet, he roared in anger at the decapitated head and crushed the skull with his paws in revenge.

There was a cresting wave of pain as he felt himself shifting back to human form. Slowly, he dropped to the ground and fell into unconsciousness surrounded by a bed of bloody body parts.

Eric and a handful of the new Queen’s Guardians were doing a sweep of the corridors to confirm that all the attackers had been killed, and none were hiding.

He and the small team of Guardians turned a corner to see a scene of destruction and death. Walls splashed in blood, bodies torn in half. Flesh, blood, and parts were everywhere.

Eric was impressed. This hallway might qualify as being as bloody a mess as Bethany Anne had left in Costa Rica that time she went berserk.

Eric could hear one Guardian at the back throwing up. Their noses had told them what to expect, but the visual impact was something else. Some stomachs and people would never be the same. Never enough mind bleach to clean up this kind of memory.

Eric noticed one whole body in the mess. It was a large man, bearded and partially nude. He had blood seeping from his eyes and dripping from his ears, clothes torn but no significant wounds. The lead Guardian paused at the body and knelt down to touch the neck, “This one’s alive boss… and he’s a bear!” He turned to look at Eric, a question on his face.

Eric stepped over and looked closer, “Shit. That’s Boris. He helped Michael get the kids back and warned us about the nuke.”

Eric paused for a moment to consider before reaching up to his shoulder and clicking on his radio, “Lance, it’s Eric. Do you think you and TOM can ask Bethany Anne if we can put Boris in the medical pod? It looks like Michael’s support is severely injured, and I’m for giving him whatever it takes to help him all things considered.”

Lance responded immediately. “ADAM is already spoofing the satellites and Bethany Anne agrees. It might be nice to salvage something out of all this shit.”

Back on the Polarus, Bethany Anne had told TOM to shut her feelings down. She was still hurting, deeply, but could not take the time she needed to really feel those emotions now.

Later, later, she would take the time.

They still had to sort out a lot of things on the base and ships. She turned to Stephen and asked, “So what do you know about Boris?”

Stephen paused and then shrugged “I haven’t heard much recently about him. Honestly, I hadn’t considered much about the Russian situation with all of the other issues we have been fighting. I was there when Boris challenged Michael. So was Peter, one of our original brethren.” His vision clouded briefly in grief.

Stephen continued his commentary as he bit down on his own hurt, “He was trying to prove himself to his Pack leader more than anything. I consider him an honorable leader for his people. He leads them and continues to protect those sworn to him. Peter, our late brother, mentioned that he preferred having Boris deal with Nosferatu problems and the younger Forsaken. With Boris, it’s all professional and very little emotion. Some of Peter’s other people would try to do a rush job to impress, and fail to get the little details accomplished.”

Stephen sighed, “He is also the only Pricolici I know of who managed to master the change for more than a century without succumbing to the temptation and madness. I warned him of the danger, and he apparently listened. When I last asked Peter, he admitted ‘that’s why I still need to use others. Four years in five I can call on him’. I suspect that is why he took mercenary work. Staying in his human form may be an asset to controlling the mixed shape for him.”

He shrugged “When he gets out of the pod we should ask him.”

“What about the people, the town, he protects. Do you know what that is all about?” Bethany Anne asked.

Stephen said, “Yes, but it would be better if you can wait and let him tell his own story on that.” Bethany Anne nodded her acceptance.

“I’m going to go pick him up,” she told Stephen, starting to walk toward her suite, “Please ask the captain to announce over the speakers that Ashur needs to meet me there.”

Two hours later in TOM’s spaceship, Bethany Anne regarded the Russian through the glass. She had walked the Etheric from the Polarus to the base, grabbed Boris, and she and Ashur traveled to the ship. She prepped Boris and stuck him in the medical pod, while TOM explained the settings to use.

TOM spoke up, The pod has analyzed the nanites in his blood and found them to be similar to the type found in all Wechselbalg. However, their programming differs significantly from that base, altered beyond what would be required for the different form he can take. I can understand no clear reason for that.

Bethany Anne started pacing in the room, as TOM continued.

It seems that these nanites are more similar in programing to what I had on my ship and injected into Michael. There are two significant differences. The first is that his Etheric draw is stronger than others we have tested. This would probably cause a female so modified to be more fertile rather than less like that of most Weres that we know about so far. The second difference is a form of coercion control that is paused, but still present. The Pod will modify and destroy that programming. His genetic makeup is remarkably close to the original genotype these nanites were designed to support. I posit that this may account for his extended age. It may be that he was born with the nanites in his mother’s system, which would have meant less potential for damage and less need for extensive modifications than if he were already born.

How long until he comes out of the Pod, TOM?

About ten more minutes. He had a significant Etheric balance before he went in that has aided the healing process. However, the pod has still not identified what may have caused the initial damage. After he has come out, may I route the information to ADAM to receive his opinion?

Sure, but how about we ask him? Maybe it has happened before. He would be capable of healing from this damage, right?

Yes, Bethany Anne. His Etheric charge, so to speak, helped significantly reduce the time required.

Boris woke up. He was trapped in a bubble of metal. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm down and remember what had been happening. He had been taking on a group of mercenaries. Playing with them, really. Then the pain in his head had grown terribly, and he had… lost it.

For the first time in a century or more, he had succumbed to blind rage and couldn’t remember anything but bits and pieces of…well, bits and pieces. He cursed at himself in Russian before realizing he was doing it without pain… Pain that had been a constant companion for so long.

He relaxed in the Pod and closed his eyes, reveling in the painless quiet bliss he hadn’t known for at least a year.

The cylinder popped open. He winced as the headache came back. He blinked several times as his eyes fought to focus against bright light. When they focused, he saw a woman he did not know. She was a great beauty. He thought that she must be the one that Michael referred to, this Bethany Anne. She was worthy by poise and grace to be a Czarina.

Boris looked down and realized he was naked, and blushed. “Do you have some clothes I can vear?” He asked as he covered himself with his hands. Bethany Anne smiled and pointed to a bench next to the wall. It was a small, but lovely smile, shadowed by pain and loss.

As he got dressed, Bethany Anne asked “Why did you come to America? And on such a risky enterprise. Surely you knew Michael was awake, and if he found your involvement, he might have killed you.”

Boris zipped the pants up and put on a belt while thinking of his answer. Finally, he shrugged “It was better than losing my control at home and killing my own people, da? Someone would have come after me, and these damned headaches have been getting worse. When I saw what was on the news, it occurred to me that this new technology might be the cause. I needed to find out what was going on! I figured there were three options, and one of them left me alive, so I went vith that plan. I fail to see any stupidity in that.”

“Besides, I have helped. You put me in that cell da? Why you let me out if you tink I a danger to you?”

Bethany Anne was exasperated. “I know your English is better than that Boris. Knock it off. I’ve spoken with Stephen and with Michael’s death, I have little patience for games right now.”

Boris froze, and then two great tears formed in his eyes. He bowed his head, “I am sorry, Czarina. Michael could be a harsh man, could be a dangerous man, but he was a great man. In the short time since I was re-acquainted with him, I saw the joy his love, whom I must assume is you, had brought him.” He said in a polished, nearly accent-less English. Bethany Anne nodded and pursed her lips.

“But,” he paused to massage his temples, “These headaches are wearing on me. I can only assume that they are somewhat related to the new technology you have created?”

Bethany Anne said, “Perhaps we should go down and tell the tale to everyone.”

“Ashur,” she spoke aloud, and Boris raised his eyebrows at the size of the white German Shepherd that walked into the room. “We will get a small team together, Boris. Let me take you back to the Polarus and pull in a few people. We need to stay away from Colorado right now.”

Ashur came up to Bethany Anne, who grabbed him in one hand and put a hand on Boris’s shoulder and then took a small step into the Polarus. Boris collapsed onto her dressing room floor, grabbing his head in pain.

Fucking shit! Bethany Anne yelled, What the hell, TOM?

With a groan of pain, Boris took his hands away from his ears, his right hand filled with blood.

TOM, does this give you an idea of what happened? He seems to react badly to my stepping through the Etheric.

I can posit a theory, that he is sensitive to the Etheric in a different way than Barnabas. I will need ADAM to run through his vital statistics from the medical pod to confirm.

If he is, is there some way you can stop his headaches? He had to be either a gottverdam idiot or desperate to run the risk he did for information. He doesn’t seem stupid, so I’ll go with desperate.

I will have to see what ADAM and I can determine. I have too little data at this time to be assured we can cure his headaches without permanent damage. I’ll get back to you.

It took Bethany Anne and Ashur fifteen minutes to grab those she wanted. John, Frank, Nathan, Ecaterina, Barnabas, and Gabrielle joined them in the conference room as Boris was still muzzily shaking his head, trying to release the lingering pain. Ashur dropped to the floor behind her chair, next to the wall.

The others took seats watching Boris.

Stephen opened the conversation. “Boris, what were you doing in the US? I think we’d all like to know. The real reason, not the mercenary contract. I am satisfied that you didn’t know the target. If you had, you would have tried to contact Michael yourself."

Boris nodded somberly, “That is the problem with secrets, sometimes allies unintentionally act against you. I came to the US to investigate the technology that was sending things into space. I had a theory that it might be related to the constant headaches that are slowly driving me over the edge.” He paused and looked at Bethany Anne. “I have a new theory. Might it be that you stepped closer to Siberia several months ago? In early May?"

Bethany Anne pursed her lips, “Yes, I did."

TOM spoke from one of the speakers in the room, “While you may have exacerbated the problem, Bethany Anne, I doubt that you have been the sole source. Some of it was undoubtedly caused by Kamiko Kana. Plus, Boris may be sensitive enough that the Etheric draw of the engines affects him, according to the data from the medical pod.”

Sending privately to Bethany Anne, TOM added, There is a way to fix the problem. However, it will likely leave him still able to sense changes in the Etheric. The other pathways may permanently change his brain in an unpredictable manner. Removing memories or shifting personality. Further, he has the potential to draw on the Etheric while in human form, possibly to the same extent as Gabrielle.

Of course, we should… oh. Hmm, I guess we don’t really know enough about him do we.

Bethany Anne said, “TOM, get with ADAM and see if you can find a way to cure the headaches."

Frank asked, “I’m curious. Stephen mentioned a town in Siberia where you protect the residents?"

Boris nodded “Da. I am a Pack leader in Siberia. You must understand, with the wide spaces and size of Russia there is no Pack Council, just packs. And it is worth a non-alpha’s life to move across territories without permission."

"But the town and its people?” Boris took a moment to stare while focusing on nothing, tears appeared in his eyes. “I protect them because of an oath I swore to my love before the predatel’skaya negodyay Reds had her executed. I swore I would save as many White Russians from the State as possible. I did, with the help of some Cossacks, I also aid and defend. This is where most of those I shield come from, their descendants.”

Boris stopped staring into nothing and brought his attention back to those around the table, “The rest are pack. I protect them to honor her memory. ’Tis all I have left.” He was silent and contemplative, while Stephen swept the room with his eyes and gave a sharp nod, confirming the story.

Boris continued, “I worked as a mercenary after the war to build up the necessary infrastructure. Also, to send the brightest away for a better education than would be possible in central Russia. Our town is viewed with suspicion by many outside Siberia. Inside Siberia, everyone is descended from prestupniki, criminals of one sort or another, so no-one judges another."

He laid two large hands on the table in front of everyone, “I am bound to them by blood oath and heart oath. I cannot in good conscience swear such an oath to you. I would, to honor Michael and the changes you started in him, swear an oath to aid you in any way I can that is not prevented by my previous promise.” He clasped his fist to his breast. Then he said, “Do you have a knife, Czarina?"

Bethany Anne blinked and then turned to Stephen with a raised eyebrow in question, choosing not to read Boris’ mind at this juncture as it just felt…wrong.

Stephen smiled. “He wants to swear his oath in the way that his mother taught him.” Bethany Anne turned towards the door, “John?”

John stepped into the room and unclasped his Bowie, handing it to Bethany Anne hilt first. As she turned Boris started to stand before going to his knees, eyes shut in pain.

“What the hell?” she asked.

ADAM? TOM?

>>The Ad Aeternitatem just sent up four Pods for an outer defense.<<

“Fucking shit.” Bethany Anne spoke, “Four Pods just lifted from the Ad Aeternitatem. I’ll have them stop that unless an emergency calls for it.”

>>Understood.<<

"Gott Verdamnt!”

TOM, please tell me we can fix that?

Tom replied while Boris recovered, ADAM and I have found a solution to the source of the headaches. It will require around two hours in the medical pod.

Bethany Anne walked around the table holding the Bowie, “Well Boris, I guess after one more trip, we should have a solution for your headaches."

Boris shook his head to clear it and stood up beside her. He held out his hand, palm up and indicated she was to slice his hand with the knife, which she did quickly and without any fanfare.

Boris held a slight grimace from his face, the Bowie was silver. His English was good, but his Russian accent was very pronounced during his oath, “By my blood on your blade, in memory of Michael, I swear service as I am able to you."

Bethany Anne sliced her own palm, “In honor, I keep your vows as mine. In memory of loves lost, I will protect your people as my own."

Boris froze for a moment and looked at Stephen, his incredulous eyes seeking confirmation.

"Yes, Boris. She means it,” was Stephen’s simple response.

He took one knee before Bethany Anne, “On this world, my service is yours."

"Oh knock it off, you big bear.” Bethany Anne said as she nodded to John and tossed him the knife. “Let’s get you back into the Pod so TOM can fix you.” She reached out a hand as Ashur stepped up beside her, “Mind the first step, it hurts like a bitch.”

The three disappeared.

It took a total of three hours for Bethany Anne to bring Boris back. It had taken another thirty minutes before she realized that Nathan and Peter had plans if Boris was up to sparring.

Bethany Anne wanted to roll her eyes at the testosterone bullshit and then realized they were, literally, programmed that way. She left them to their exercises and went to check in with her father.

Nathan and Peter were both itching for a matchup. Here was a Pricolici that had been around a very long time. In some circles, he was considered a rumor, like Michael to vampires in Asia.

How could either one pass up the chance to fight a rumor? Boris had been around Weres a long time, so energized with the fresh release from his pain and feeling good, he was agreeable to the sparring session.

They talked and decided Peter should go first. It was agreed to spar as humans for the first rounds. Peter put up a good fight, but it was obvious that Boris had trained in all the styles that Peter knew. His counters were muscle memory and after about two minutes Peter was on the ground for a three-count.

Peter was disappointed that he hadn’t landed a solid blow, but Boris spoke to him after the round. “You are good, youngling. I have learned many different styles over the centuries. Siberia was the ends of the earth for a long time, you see. People from many different schools of fighting ended up there. I tried for many decades to learn from as many as possible. I would guess that I have at least four centuries on you. Do not take it so hard.”

Boris then indicated to Nathan that he was ready. This opponent obviously had more skill and training than the first so Boris took the time to test his defenses and found them good. After two minutes of sparring back and forth, he found a rhythm to Nathan’s attacks. A weakness in his style that Boris could exploit. He let Nathan get comfortable and suddenly switched gears, which threw Nathan enough for Boris to get him in a full nelson. After trying several methods to break the hold and failing, Nathan muttered, “I yield.”

Boris released him from the grapple and grinned, “You have spent a lot of time training, but you let yourself fall into a rhythm. It is a weakness you need to be careful of. An experienced opponent will find it and exploit it.”

Nathan snorted “And how likely is it that I’ll find someone as experienced as you?”

Boris shrugged “Not the point. If someone does notice it, it is a weakness. I suggest you work on it.”

Nathan turned to the door and saw Gabrielle there, grinning. Nathan looked at her and said “Okay then, you have a go without the tricks BA taught you. Think of it as redeeming our honor.”

Boris shrugged and nodded as Gabrielle stepped forward.

They circled each other, watching how their opponent moved. Gabrielle darted forward under his reach and caught an elbow in her chest for her trouble. She backed off again, and Boris feinted with a kick to the mid-drift that was actually a step forward. He grabbed the arm that reached to grab his foot. Gabriel broke the hold and kneed him in the gut. He folded forward in pain but used the movement to achieve a grapple around her waist. Once her feet were off the ground, Boris asked, “Do you yield or should I throw you?” She took a half minute trying to find the leverage to remove his grip without going to vamp speed, but couldn’t and called the bout.

She glared at him. “Okay. Rematch. This time, I will use some tricks” She flashed a vicious grin at him. Boris shrugged and nodded. It wasn’t like he really expected to beat her if she decided to go all out.

Gabrielle chose to pick up the speed to the first level. She was surprised that he could still follow her and despite her landing more blows he seemed to be coping well. He was able to face Gabrielle despite the step up in speed. He waited, often taking a pounding until she pushed too hard on an attack and left him an opening he could exploit.

Then she realized he was riding most of the blows, robbing them of striking power. After about ten minutes of this, they heard Bethany Anne from the doorway.

“I’d call it a draw at that level, Gabrielle. I need to talk to Boris,” Bethany Anne commented as the two turned in her direction.

They backed off and bowed. Boris raised a questioning eyebrow, but Bethany Anne shook her head and indicated he should follow her. Walking down the hall, Bethany Anne said “Stephen tells me that you have been a Pricolici for four centuries. He also told me of the dangers of the form.”

Boris nodded, “I have noticed that you have three amongst you with that form. They have been warned of the dangers?”

“Yes, Stephen cautioned them,” Bethany Anne replied, “I am hoping you could provide some insight on how you have successfully dealt with this for so long? They’re good friends, and I’m not willing to lose them to a form of madness.”

Boris nodded, “I will teach both methods I know. If I could meet them privately?”

Bethany Anne could almost feel his level of discomfort talking about this subject around non-Weres. She smiled and responded, “Of course.” Her curiosity was acting up. She didn’t have a need to be there at the time it occurred, so she could always ask Ecaterina later.

The four Pricolici met in a conference room on the Ad Aeternitatem later that evening.

Boris started with the simplest means. “One year in five. Stay out of the Pricolici form just one year in five and you won’t lose yourself to it. For most of the first two centuries after I met Stephen this was the method I used.”

Peter looked at him and asked, “But you found another way?”

Boris turned and nodded to him “Da. But I’m not so sure it is one available to most. Perhaps it just differs for others. I have tried and failed to teach it at least twice. But, for me, I found a way to change into the form without rage. With calmness, like a summer pond without a breeze in the air. When you reach a particular state, you will be able to reach for the form. But I cannot guarantee you will find the same path. It is something that has to be found, and can be corrupted if you find rage once changed. Until you are sure, stay as human or wolf for one year in three. If you do not… you will eventually succumb to eternal rage.”

Nathan considered Boris’s statements, “You sound more akin to a Japanese Zen teacher.”

Boris grinned broadly. “Perhaps, Grasshopper, because it was a half-Japanese woman who suggested the solution to me.”

Peter and Ecaterina burst out laughing as Nathan glared at Boris.

Boris continued, “I will think of other circumstances where I have changed and suggest more options if I think they may work. But it is no easy thing. This form is as much a curse as a blessing. Always remember that before you change. Think ‘Do I need this, or would wolf or man be as useful?’ The less you use it, the safer you’ll be. And if you find yourself behaving more aggressively than normal as a man, DON’T change. You are near the madness then.”

The next morning Boris was having breakfast in the ship’s mess with Nathan, talking about moving unobserved. “I think in a city, you would be less likely to be noticed than me, Nathan. A man of my size finds it hard to move unobserved. A bear is more likely seen than a wolf and taken as a bigger threat. In a forest, I think I could best you at being unobserved, more because of the time I’ve had to master it than anything.”

“Sure, sure. But you have more mass to hide. Surely we’d be even there?” Nathan replied.

Boris shrugged, “It is not so big a problem if you learn how to deal with it. It would be interesting to see which of us your pups would find first. Perhaps…“

Both men turned when they heard the quick footsteps coming down the hallway and watched the doorway as Frank entered, looked around to find them and hurried over to their table. He nodded to Nathan but turned to Boris, “Sorry to interrupt you guys. Boris, your town is Romanovka, right? The one in Chelyabinsk Oblast?” Boris nodded, his expression tightening in concern. Frank’s face clouded up, “Dammit. I’ve received information the Russian government is rounding up treasonous dissidents there.”

The entire mess went silent as Boris stood up from the table and loudly spun invectives from five languages. It took him a couple of minutes to calm down. With eyes filled with anger, he turned towards Frank. “Do you know who ordered this?” He held up his hand to stop Frank from answering, “It was straight from the President wasn’t it?” Frank nodded his head. “I keep telling people that all communists who had served in the bureaucracies should have been shot or imprisoned. Instead, they elect one — and a former KGB at that — to the Presidency!” Boris looked around as if he wanted to spit on something, but there were no options on the ship.

He paused, then started walking towards the door. Nathan called out, “Boris, wait! I’m sure Bethany Anne will want to help you!”

Boris turned and shook his head at Nathan, “The politics are such that if a non-Russian attempts to interfere, more of my people will be put in danger. I must go alone. I can make arrangements for a flight. Vassily will regret telling anyone I was dead, the shitehawk arsehole licker.”

That cursing, Frank could understand.

Nathan tried again, “We can at least get you there a lot faster than any plane. Let us do that much — and give you a clean line of communications in case we can help you further.”

Boris was obviously torn between going there his own way and acknowledging the obligation Bethany Anne may feel she had and accepting any help, something he was unused to doing. He eventually nodded, following Nathan and Frank as they quickly left the mess and headed towards the hanger.

Frank and Nathan stood while Bethany Anne eyed them both. Her eyes went from one man to the other, her voice calm, clipped, precise. Too precise.

Like a woman trying mightily to hold back anger.

“So, Boris is back in Russia. The government is rounding up his people and killing them, and you two did what exactly? Supported his effort by getting him to the location as quickly as possible?”

Frank thought he might have preferred to have a discussion with an outwardly angry Bethany Anne, not this calm, cool, and composed woman in front of him. “Well, while I’m good, he is the best on the politics in the region. We tossed it to TOM, and he said you were asleep.”

TOM, you are back on the couch!

<<Analysis of situation confirms Boris’s belief that outside intervention would escalate the situation. 92.3% probability, margin of error +/- 5.3% due to large number of unknown attitudes of personnel below the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the region>>

I gave him my word, ADAM.

<<Analysis of past known actions by Boris indicate that he is not averse to calling in aid if required>>

She continued to stare at both of Frank and Nathan for several moments. “Well he’d better contact us within the week, or I’m sending you two to find him and sort the problem out, with or without his blessing. If the situation seems bad enough to me, I’ll make a personal appearance and if the Russian fucking government wants to play hardball? I’ll drop some rocks on their hard-ass heads.”

The men both nodded and stepped out of the room. Neither would change the decision that they had made, but there wasn’t a reason to stick around to rehash the options with her, either.

Boris walked into town after being dropped on the outskirts by the black flying thing. He had no idea of how it worked, but it had definitely gotten him back home faster than anything else could have. He now had to find out what was going on.

He walked out to Paul’s farm. Paul had been his companion for fifteen years while he had worked as Peter’s enforcer. As he walked up, he noticed that none of the lights were on. He paused to sniff the air and quietly observe the surroundings. Paul was either one of those taken or taken his family to his hide.

Boris continued to look around, noticing that things were worse than they looked. He kept walking, and when the front door came into view, he made a sour face. The door was off its hinges, and the door was broken.

Someone had kicked in the door.

He took five minutes to survey the area around the house. The amount of clutter he found didn’t tell him anything. Neither Paul nor Alecta had been the best of housekeepers. Their sons were more interested in hunting and riding on horseback than cleaning.

Fortunately, there was no blood. If Paul or the boys had been home when the police had arrived there would have been some blood, of that Boris was certain. He could only hope all four of them were in the safe site, a lined cellar out in the forest.

He would find out what was going on from one of them, either his old friend and partner or Paul’s sons. He started to hike to the east, following no path. He knew his lands, and they talked to him of danger, pain, and retribution.

“…and so they just took her. Why did you go this time? Why couldn’t you have been here Boris? They took my wife like they had no fear of retribution. You know they wouldn’t have done that if you were here!” Paul shouted at Boris. At least the headaches were gone now.

Paul had been in the Australian special forces before meeting Alecta. He was also too brave or too stupid to really know fear. Boris wasn’t sure which. Paul knew Boris was a Werebear and just shrugged it off.

Boris replied as soothingly as possible, “It is as well I did Paul. We now have someone who may be able to help us. At least once we know if we are going to leave or stay. Where are they keeping the people they arrested?”

“In the old militia base on the edge of town. At least a company of soldiers from the West ins there. Those in charge couldn’t have trusted local troops.” Paul looked up with a weary smile. “Those closest to us have many family members enlisted with the locals, other soldiers are too afraid.”

“Memories are long here. Our neighbors know about the lost battalions, ghosts of people taken in the night, secret treaties, and other dark secrets. Far-born troops would not.” Boris sighed and looked around. “I will gather the pack. You gather at least one from each family that has had a member taken. We will free our comrades and deal with these interlopers. Tell everyone to prepare for a Meeting of Decision. It is time to decide if Russia is truly home for us now.”

Boris had gathered all of the pack that was local. Siberia was full of wide open spaces, so they numbered about fifty, a far greater number than may have been possible elsewhere.

He looked out over the group, their anger radiating from their eyes, their hurt from their hearts. “I come to you not as your Alpha, demanding your obedience, but as your leader. I’m asking for volunteers. I will free those the government has taken hostage this night. The path has risks, but I will not have those under my protection falsely accused, nor leave them to be abused.”

“Alpha, they have tanks,” Oleg cried out.

Boris snarled, “And we have thermite! I will go in first and remove the threat of the tanks if you are willing to take on the soldiers — with support from the families of those who were taken.” He looked at them one more time, his eyes flashing yellow, “Talk amongst the pack.”

He stepped off the small box and walked away.

When he returned a half hour later, his second, Danislav, stepped forward. “Boris, we are with you. The scum, these communistic fools,” he spat, “should be removed from our lands.”

As Boris reviewed the final preparations to move and attack the reinforced company of soldiers, a runner from town reached them. He went directly to Paul and tried to steel himself from the dread grasping his heart at the sight of the panting messenger.

The runner gasped, “More came, Hetman. This afternoon after you left, a platoon marched through town and picked twenty-five people at random. They dragged them to the central square and shot them as foreign agents. No trial. The town has been declared to be under martial law. The soldier’s commander has imposed a curfew but seems to be leaving it to the police to enforce.”

Those standing around Boris took a step back. The fury on his face was frightening even to those who knew him. He shouted to the gathered force. “We wait only for those who lost blood kin. When we march, my orders are blood and retribution! We will make them pay in blood for our losses, many times over this night. We will teach them fear, the knowledge of what happens when anyone attacks our people! Take the Captains and above ALIVE if at all possible. We need to understand if they have gone rogue or are acting on orders from above. As for curfew, we know the police in our town. They will not enforce it.”

Within the hour Boris’ mixed group of Weres and townspeople started their march toward the old militia base. There was no doubt, all looked forward to bloody vengeance against the murderers. Boris and the pack led the way, with more than five hundred following.

Some of the men who had served with him on mercenary operations had pulled out their support equipment. Whoever these soldiers were, some mortars dropping in on their barracks would likely ruin their night for damned sure. Orders were given to avoid targeting the prison block. Enough people had seen the prisoners being taken and confined to know where they were being kept.

Boris knew he had to get past the sentries and take out the communications building and the APCs. If he could block any call for reinforcements and silence the heavy weapons, then the screams of those who preyed on his people would fill the night.

It was a symphony he would hear, or die trying.

Boris looked over the camp. The soldiers were comfortable, perhaps too comfortable. They had sentries but seemed to have forgone roving patrols. The assumption must have been the twenty-five executions and martial law declaration had cowed the population.

In their arrogance, they had forgotten the power of rage.

This area of Russia was different, and the commanders of these troops did not understand the differences. Apparently, they didn’t understand his group nor that those in this area of Siberia felt no loyalty to the government. Boris’ people had been raised to revere the Czars, even if there were none now.

They had also been raised in the discipline of the Cossack. On Cossack legends, traditions and pride.

Boris nodded and sent his best force of woodsmen and hunters around to the other side of the base under Paul and divided into three troops. The rest of his force was split into four companies, further divided into several platoons each. No soldier was going to be allowed to flee the base. Platoons in each company were tasked with covering their area to prevent any escape from the vengeance that was demanded, required and would be his peoples.

Boris had a demolition pack for the communications building. One of the reinforcing family members had brought a homebrew signal jammer with him. Destroying the soldiers’ communications capability could only help their rescue attempt. At worst, the destruction would at least improve the morale of Boris’ force.

The jammer was to be turned on when the first of the two ‘tanks’ (really APCs) went up in flames. Boris had three packets of explosives set for remote detonation, two with thermite packs attached to their bases. The tanks would be at least crippled, and the communications building would go as well.

The mortar operators with his group were setting up to target the APCs and communications building. The mortar men on the other side were targeting the barracks. Each of the mortar teams had one of Boris’s ex-mercenaries in the group manning the weapons. All companies had four or more ex-mercs for a small command group.

Two of the groups went to either side of the base to envelop it. The third company, composed solely of Weres, including one other Werebear whose sister had been shot, moved forward quickly and silently at the point of the frontal assault. Most of them paused briefly as soon as they were out of the sight of the human militia following them, dumping their clothes and changing to a deadlier form than their human one, before resuming their advance.

The power of the changelings would be released, the animal cravings let loose.

The last company acted as a rearguard, following closely behind the Weres. Acting as both protection against any flanking attacks and insurance that no one escaped the deadly movement of rapid attackers, this force was the final barrier, the closing trap.

Boris crept forward looking for a gap or opening where he could get past the sentries. Neither of the APCs was manned, and a group of sentries on the west side had closed up, leaving a gap in surveillance. He carefully moved through that opening as the guard meant to be watching this sector turned nervously to assure himself that the others were there. Boris almost snorted. These were either green troops or something else masquerading as soldiers.

He carefully placed the thermite and demolition block combos under the turrets of the unmanned APCs. It seemed a waste, but if they managed to man them the attacking force would be in trouble. He looked at the communications building and decided to place the demolitions block on the side with the satellite dish and antenna farm. With luck, that would take out or restrict their communications without the need to trust a home-made jammer that may or may not do anything.

Quickly moving to the prison block on the southern edge of camp, Boris kept to the shadows and avoided the single internal patrol. By the gods, these were more like the SS guards he had fought in the Second World War than real soldiers. They had a veneer of training but were more like thugs in uniform. He approached the prison block from the front and cursed. It was well lit on all sides, and there was a full squad guarding the door. It was possible that they were some kind of political fanatics, and if so, he had to get into the building and protect the prisoners.

He weighed his choices. Option one was to detonate the demolitions charges and go Pricolici. But then he’d have to worry about the prisoners seeing him. The pack would have to deal with that later if they survived. Not a good choice. He quickly went through the other options but was stymied by the fact that these guards were reasonably alert. Weighing all the options, it seemed clear that a couple of bursts from his weapon followed by a bayonet charge after he detonated the demolition combo was the best strategy.

Boris quietly connected the bayonet to his rifle. He lifted his head silently watching for any alert and then nodded as much to himself as to any of his group who might be watching him.

It was time.

He pressed the button and detonated the charges. His face displayed a grim smile as he immediately fired three quick bursts into the shocked and confused squad. Most of them went down. He shook his head at their obvious lack of training.

He charged as he heard the whistle of incoming mortars. The shock on the faces of the two soldiers still standing was evident. He fired a burst into one of them as the man raised his rifle. The other’s surprise lasted long enough for Boris’s bayonet to slice into his throat and through his spine. The blood cascading into the dirt.

Pulling the bayonet out Boris moved to the door and kicked it hard. The door slammed open. Boris found bedlam inside when he heard one of the men in the block shouting. “Get to the prisoners. We will use them as hostages. They will have to let us go or sacrifice those they came to save!”

These beschestiye wouldn’t get the chance.

Boris ran forward, remembering the layout of the base prison from a long-ago exploration after it was decommissioned. The five men in the rear were overtaken in the next instant, as he noticed in passing that one of them had epaulets on the shoulders.

Boris fired a quick burst into the group, hoping he had missed the officer since they needed him for information. Now within fist range, his rifle was dropped unheedingly onto the floor. In a flurry of kicks, blocks and punches the last two were down and unconscious.

Untouched except a nasty knife gash from the officer before the man went down, Boris drew a deep breath. The man showed the skill of serious training and was probably former military of some kind. The other was about as skilled as your average street thug.

He looked at the shoulder patch on the uniform of the closest body. A red field with a white tri-bar cross on it. The initials N.V.G. under the cross. Definitely not regular army.

Boris almost felt sorry for the men about to be swarmed by his people. Street thugs against people trained over many years as a competent militia. His people would take casualties, but if they didn’t surrender VERY quickly, the NVG would be obliterated.

He quickly found the keys to the prisoner section in the officer’s pockets and went to the section. Fifty people were crowded into a space that was meant to hold twenty. Many of them had been beaten. Alecta recognized him and weakly shouted, “Boris.” He nodded his head in recognition and acknowledgment and started giving out orders to those inside as he yanked open the doors.

Within five minutes, those ablest had taken up weapons, looted from the five guards inside the building and supplemented with those of the dead squad members that Boris had mowed down in his assault.

As the former prisoners organized their defenses and armed twenty-five men, Boris kept a wary eye on the perimeter. He threw a grenade into a small group of attackers as they charged the containment area door, timing the throw to the momentary check that happened as they came upon the slaughtered guards and newly-freed prisoners.

With that effort, he was confident the twenty-five defenders could hold without him.

He ran fast and low out to the base. It was mayhem. More than half the NVG were down. There were the obvious signs that the pack had taken out more ‘strategic’ targets. Anyone with the rank of corporal or higher seemed to have had his throat ripped out. Groups of the thugs were either throwing down their arms or throwing away their lives.

Twice as he cleared a path to Paul’s group, he encountered an NVG group showing suicidal defiance. Twice he attacked them from behind, speeding them on their journey to hell. Suddenly he felt a sharp burn across his back and collapsed. As he slipped into unconsciousness, he cursed his own stupidity. He’d gotten into the middle of everything with no-one to cover his back. His last thought before the darkness took him was that at least his people had won.

He awoke to hear a male voice tinged with irony saying, “Boss, we had it handled. You should have stayed with the prisoners, protecting them. We might have taken a few more casualties, but between you and the pack they were broken. All we had left was cleanup. No need for you to take four in the back. If you’d at least worn your body armor, I wouldn’t be saying this. When we finally broke through, the others saw about twenty wolves guarding your body. I think the fact that you are different is not hidden anymore.” Paul looked down at his friend, “You’re gonna have an interesting meeting with the people. I doubt any one of them will stay away now. Gonna have to explain something boss. Well, two somethings. The wolves and how the hell you are up and about again.”

Boris shrugged, “Most of the families already know Paul. The elders and those who have served with me at least.” He felt a twinge in his back as he tried moving his shoulders around.

Paul glared at him “Oh, now you tell me. You made me feel like what I knew was so secret I could be shot if I told anyone. Makes me seem like a bit of a fool.”

Boris eyed him, “With your mouth and how you run it. If I hadn’t told you that you would have mouthed off on a mission. Mouthing off would have gotten you killed.”

Paul shrugged, neither admitting nor denying the accusation. He did have a tendency to be a smart ass, so denying that it might have slipped out was stupid.

“Who’s in charge Paul? You should go and be with your wife. It’s not likely I’ll be lynched. I’ll talk to them and get everything organized.”

“That hunter, Danislav. He is tough enough and rowdy enough that no one will challenge him right now. A couple of the veterans are helping to organize and control. We have the injured heading to town in some of the trucks with the mercs who had medic training. We have thirty-one militia dead, and two wolves down.”

“Go. Be with your wife. I’ll sort out what needs sorting and trust the family elders to keep a lid on things for the time being in town.”

Paul left, concern still clouding his face. His desire to be with his wife and assure himself of her safety was apparent, though.

Boris stretched and looked around the room. The bullet that had hit him had missed everything vital. It also seemed to him that the treatments from Bethany Anne’s machine had accelerated his healing capabilities. He got up and rummaged around the room they had put him in. He found a shirt that would fit him, it was a bit light for the weather or would have been if he was an ordinary human.

When he headed outside, he found it was early afternoon. Boris could see from the flow of people where those who were giving orders were gathered, outside the wrecked communications building. That made sense. It was fairly central to the camp. He sighed. He needed to find out how many were critically injured and should probably call Bethany Anne to see if there was anything she could offer in help.

First things first. Find out the numbers.

He approached Danislav, who grinned and said, “Ahh, our glorious leader graces us with his presence. Only you could lead such a successful action and get shot by the last enemy with any fight left.”

Boris shrugged. “What is the situation on casualties, Danislav? Number of dead, critically injured and severely injured, please.”

“Thirty-three dead. Twelve critical, en route to the hospital in town. We may well lose four of them yet. But the last I heard they were stable. Over fifty with serious, but not life-threatening injuries. Of the assault force, we have three hundred and fifty capable of fighting, although many of them need rest. Over one hundred and twenty dead on the other side. Twenty captured, including a ‘Major’, a commissar and two other officers.”

“Be careful of the one I knocked out in the prison. He has serious military training.” Boris rubbed his side remembering the cut he’d taken. Not that there was a mark of it now, but the memory carried an ache with it.

“Already noticed blood on his knife. He’s got a rotation of two pack members watching him at all times.”

“Have you got all this in hand? I need to go talk to someone who might be able to send aid.”

Danislav smiled and nodded. “No worries. When do you want to schedule the town meeting you called?”

“I don’t know yet. Part of that will be related to the call I make. Which way do you think people are leaning?”

“I think you have a split. Probably two-thirds will go if you have somewhere safe for them to head. At least a quarter, more likely a third, want to take the fight to the bastards. In the pack, it’s probably the reverse, and we have more packmates on their way here. If you can hold off until tomorrow, you’ll have most of the Weres in Siberia in attendance. Joshua is bringing the tundra pack down by buses to the border of the province, then traveling the rest of the way in as wolves. With the stashes you made us maintain, we have enough to clothe everyone coming in that way. We have people arriving by plane and vehicle as well. Vassily is also on his way from Western Russia, by himself.”

Boris spat on the ground at Vassily’s name. “Put him in a room with some vegetables and water. He’s the only person I can think of who might have revealed to the government I might be dead. I don’t need a Were with links to the politicians spying on us.” Danislav only nodded. Personally, he didn’t believe Vassily was stupid enough to talk to his contacts about Boris unless he’d personally seen his body and checked that there was no pulse.

“While you were out, I took the liberty of talking to the Major and his commissar, separately. They are both convinced the army will drop in on us like a ton of bricks when they find out. Their formation is called the Nashi vooruzhennye gruppy. Basically an armed wing of fanatics from the President’s Nashi political movement. Both his captains are ex-military. One of them didn’t need any threats to start talking, though. The one who was outside with the men trying to organize the defense.”

“And what did he have to say? Stop playing games, I obviously need to know this.” Boris said impatiently.

“He said that he thinks, especially if they find out about the shootings in town, that the military is more likely to move in to defend the town or stay in their barracks. Even if the President gave a direct order, no sane officer would follow it. It is too close to the genocide provisions in the Laws of War. He also explicitly states that he protested the Major and Commissar’s order. He asked that if we had a way to get him out of Russia, so he could tell the other powers the truth of the incident. He did, however, state that he would refuse to be quoted for the news. He seems to be genuinely ashamed of what has happened.”

Boris nodded, storing that information in his mind clearly. Bethany Anne may well want to know about this. The entire incident and the captured officers could well give her leverage over the Russian government. Or she might just kill them. Either way, he was happy to hand that decision off to her.

Boris pulled out the device he’d been given by Frank. He stepped away from the command group and walked towards the burned out carcasses of the two APCs. The area was fairly clear with no real traffic, so he turned on the mobile-like device and punched in the number Frank had provided. He’d been assured it would work nearly anywhere and would be secure.

“Carol speaking. How may I help you?” asked a female voice over the line.

“This is Boris. I was wondering if I could speak to either Frank or Nathan.”

There was a pause. “If you can wait for a couple of moments, Bethany Anne wants a conversation with you.” There was almost a slightly malicious smile in the voice that came across the phone.

Boris sighed. It seemed that even her assistant knew something he didn’t. Surely he hadn’t pissed her off that much. Thinking about what Michael had said about her tendency to violence, he sure as hell hoped that she was not that pissed off.

He waited, sweating at the thought of how angry Bethany Anne might be. Boris hadn’t thought about that aspect before, even though Stephen had said that she knew what her oath committed her. He was too used to being the sole person that his people had for protection to have even momentarily considered anyone else and their thoughts or sense of obligation.

An icy cold voice came across the line. “Boris. I saw much of your assault. Why are you calling? Do you have more information? Or have you decided you need assistance after all, now that you have your fucking macho bullshit out of the way?”

“Czarina. I apologize for any accidental insult I may have given. I am simply used to being the senior protector of my people. I only realized as I was waiting now that there may have been aid you could have offered without compromising your relationship with Russia. However…“ He went on to brief her on what was happening. A suggestion that she come to the town meeting so that he could pronounce her a fitting Czarina to receive the oaths of allegiance from his people carried with it a reminder that their oaths effectively were life-long.

“But I’m not a queen or Czarina or whatever you are talking about,” She replied, her voice not nearly as ice-cold as it had been when she first answered.

“You were the woman who Michael chose to love. That makes you as close to a Queen that the UnknownWorld has ever known. You have power and such a title generally comes with power. Finally, my people have spent almost a century in the wilderness waiting for their prophesied Czar or Czarina. Would you deny them someone to take their oaths and loyalty?”

“What about the fact that I’m a Vampire? Will that cause any serious problems?”

There was silence for a time, then Boris sighed. “No, Czarina. Many of them already know some of the UnknownWorld. I was… inventive in my interpretation of the Strictures, though word never reached Michael or Peter. I think David may have known. He once tried to dump a plane full of Nosferatu on the town, but I foiled the operation. He definitely knew that my human support had such knowledge after that. Peter already had that knowledge, so it wasn’t a real problem. It really was a mistake for them to have joint responsibility for Russia, but political and geographical boundaries were such that it was considered the best solution.”

“At least two-thirds of the town and surrounding population knows about Weres. I doubt that finding out vampires are real will be a problem unless you make a frightening appearance. Besides, if you can send something to help heal the critically and seriously injured they won’t care. At all. They will owe you.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and finally, Bethany Anne sighed, “So I suppose this makes you the prophet whose predictions become real. Get back to me with a time. For the doses I’m giving you, I want you to personally take them to a site.”

Boris interrupted, “Here in town. As soon as possible. I assume the vehicle you send with them will be similar to those you will arrive in. It will create a stronger sense that you were responsible. If you can go into orbit, you can drop from the sky also.”

There was a tapping on the other end. “I suppose I should listen to the advice of the man on the ground. Anything else I should know?” Boris gave her a summation of the information Danislav had given him. She finished the call with “I have to go. People to kill, politicians to terrify. You know how it is.”

Boris waved down a vehicle heading to town as it was leaving the base. He’d left Danislav and the group assisting with the organization while his injuries had required healing. They seemed to have everything under control so he left them to finish after telling them to organize the meeting for the next afternoon.

By then all Weres who were in transit would have arrived. It amounted to less than a fifth of the Weres in Siberia, but if that many came from as far as the Tundra Pack, he’d have a good feel for the overall opinions of the majority. Besides, he was going to give either Peter or Nathan permission to travel through the entire area and supply them with the locations of most of the packs and lone wolves. Not that he really knew all of the lone wolves. Siberia was just too large to keep under a heavy thumb. His style was more relaxed, requiring rare intervention unless someone fucked up.

It took Boris about a half an hour to get into town. When the vehicle stopped near the town square, he got out and headed straight to the center. Just as he approached the area, a black shape plummeted from the sky. As it visually resolved into one of the Pods, he moved back a little from where it was to land. Once it came to a halt, Boris stepped quickly to the vehicle.

The door slid open on his approach. With the doors open, he could see the seat inside had a white case with a red cross emblazed across the front. Boris grabbed it, turned around and ran straight to the hospital, hoping the use and dosage of any medications would be obvious to those inside.

He burst through the doors and went straight to the nurse’s station. He placed the case on the counter and opened it to discover the aid had come in the form of one hundred and fifty syringes with what looked to be blood or some other red viscous liquid in them.

He grinned widely but turned in alarm when he heard a patient monitor start to shrill. Reaching into the case, he quickly grabbed one of the syringes. Running to the room with the loud noise resounded out into the hall, he stripped the cover off the needle. Without hesitation, he stabbed the needle into the dying militia man’s chest.

Following him into the room was the doctor who glared as he pushed him aside, the needle Boris used still in the chest of the patient. Before the doctor could even start resuscitation, the alarms suddenly stilled.

The doctor turned frustration and stress evident on his face, “What did you give him, Boris? Adrenaline? We need to know! You may have saved him only to have him die of complications you fool!”

Boris shook his head, “Nyet, Andre. I was sent some experimental medications that stabilize and heal. My contact and friend sent enough for our people. She will be at the meeting if you really want to ask her about its contents. I was assured it will not complicate other medications, beyond reducing the time they are present in the bloodstream,” Boris responded, extrapolating from his own condition.

Unfortunately, the doctor wasn’t satisfied, “And do you have numbers on that? This is an immense complication, you idiot!”

“Doctor, pretend that you are treating Danislav or me, and that is your answer. They have found a way to replicate the healing of people like us without the other effects.”

The doctor stared at him, then back to the obviously improved patient and then shook his head. “But it is still experimental?”

Boris stood there, thinking of a response. “Neyt. It has been tested, but not registered. The group that makes it does not want to be swamped beyond their production capabilities at this point. Though they were happy to give me some in this time of need. This information, and how effective the treatment is, will need to stay here.”

The doctor continued grumping as the two of them walked to the nurses’ station. When they reached it, the doctor started organizing the distribution to critical cases. After the triage had been finished, he began organizing the schedule for the most severe cases. He chewed on a pen thinking about next steps. Well, next steps provided that there were no adverse reactions with the unknown medicine.

After all, Boris would never deliberately harm the people he protected.

Boris stood in front of a crowded square full of people whose scents told him of anger, grief, resolve. As he suspected, the crowd was large and included everyone from the surrounding area that could make it. While he could speak loudly, he couldn’t possibly shout for all of these to hear him.

At least ten thousand people were in the square, nearby public buildings and streets. So, Boris stepped up and made sure the microphone was on before speaking to those in front of him.

He started with praising the courage of those who had taken part in the attack on the NVG. He continued, explaining the danger that he felt the shift in policy, represented, official or otherwise. Finally, he announced “I called you all here for a Meeting of Decision, as I promised your ancestors. I have found someone worthy of taking up the mantle of Czarina of our people. She is not Russian. But challenging times need a change in our perspective. She was loved by the only person to defeat me in combat and has shown a capacity for both ruthlessness when necessary and yet compassion when possible.”

He looked around and over the heads of those in front to register the effect of his words.

There was confusion and turmoil in the crowd. Although many knew he was different, few had actually seen his other form. One loudmouth near the front was disputing Boris’ right to call such without a meeting of the town council, half of whom had been shot. The loudmouth was punched completely out by one of the pack.

“Halt!” He got the crowd to stop for a second and look to him. He took off his cap and tossed it behind him where Paul guarded his back. “I will put an end to all concerns about my authority!”

Boris looked and his eyes furrowed.

There was a sound of shredding cloth as he altered as the crowds gasped and the comments flew to the back as fast as people could pass the story to those who could not see. In the background, Paul grabbed a bag and start pulling clothes from it.

His bear form roared, “Silence!” in a voice that seemed to shake the ground and the surrounding buildings.

“I did not protect yourrr people so you could become a rrrabble. I protected you, your fatherrs and your fatherrs fatherrs in faith for the future Czarr or Czarrrina. I promised to search and have done so. Now, in the time of greatest need for such one has been found!” His voice was rough but clear. Werebear Pricolici, for whatever reason, had always had better control over their speech than werewolf Pricolici.

There were some isolated shrieks in the crowd at his appearance. The family and friends of those timid ones shushed them. Some in the crowd showed fear, but many showed a mixture of awe and rapture bordering on worship.

This was what they had been raised on. That among them some people were also ‘other’, protecting them from the worst of the outside world. Standing before them was the proof of their legends. Their stories had come to life and was standing in front of them, speaking to them, leading them.

Boris changed back, the shreds of his former clothing dropping to the ground and accepted a pair of pants from Paul. He put them on with no show or haste. Glaring out at the crowd when dressed, he stated, “Many of you knew about me. I give you the decision meeting. Although the person I found is… different, as I am. She is of this time and has no small amount of resources. She offered to take you in and swore an oath to protect you when I gave her a personal promise of aid. She did this without my asking and has already sent us aid.”

He gestured to the more than a hundred people who had been injured but were instead now out of the hospital and clearly healthy. “I now ask for you to hear her offer.”

As if they had been watching and waiting for him to finish, five black pods dropped from the sky to the area behind the podium that had been kept clear. First out were John Grimes, Akio, and Erik, followed by Ashur jumping down then Bethany Anne. Following this group was two of the Queen’s Elite. Nathan and Peter exited the last pod.

As they approached the stage, Boris turned to Danislav and said. “Tie that loudmouth up and dump him at the edge of town. We’ll move him outside of our area after we finish this. He has shown a level of stupidity we don’t need.” Danislav nodded, picked the man up, slung him over a shoulder, and then headed off to take care of Boris’ request.

Bethany Anne looked at what Danislav was doing and raised an eyebrow to Boris. He shrugged at her and said quietly, “In any group, there is always ONE idiot.” She nodded in wry acceptance. Boris continued, “Please, your speech and then we will head off to a distance. They have a right under the protection agreement to discuss their opinions amongst themselves without me or the candidate present if the candidate is not a Romanov.”

Bethany Anne thought on that and decided that it was actually a surprisingly wise provision. She smiled at him and waited for what would come next.

Boris, along with the town elders and troop commanders who stood on the stage, exited it to the left while Bethany Anne entered the newly-vacated space from the right. John, Erik, and Aiko took positions on the stage front while the two Elites took silent positions to the side, guarding the steps to the podium.

Bethany Anne smiled as she spoke to the microphone, “Hello, my name is Bethany Anne, and if you do not realize it, I’m a Kurtherian-changed human, like some of you. The difference? I have been changed by one group, and those changes make me what folklore has called a Vampire. Some of you have been altered by another group, and those changes turn you into a Wechselbalg, a changeling. In a few cases, like Boris, the changeling is able to take an additional form, called a Pricolici.”

She stopped a moment to let the information sink in. “I don’t give a flying fuck what group changed you, what your parents did or the color of your skin. We care about two things. The first is protecting this Earth so that the people here can make their own choices for the future, even if those are bad ones. And, our other focus is taking the fight to the Kurtherians trying to subjugate other races in outer space.”

She looked down to the microphone.

ADAM, can you and TOM come up with a way to jack me into the system?

>>Yes, one second.<<

Bethany Anne smiled to the group.

>>Done.<<

Bethany Anne started walking slightly back and forth on the stage, the distance from the microphone not causing a problem. “It won’t be easy, it won’t always be fun, but it will be the future. We are going to space, we are taking the fight out there,” she said, as she pointed to the sky, “and we need people. People who aren’t afraid of the future, people who can bring skills, intelligence and passion. People who understand family, because that is what my group is, a family. One of my closest female friends is a Pricolici, a werewolf, another is a vampire, and the third is a human.”

She looked at the assembled people stand a few feet from the podium, yet her words clearly heard through the speakers everywhere, “To me, we are all people. Not Americans, South Americans, Russians, or Chinese. For most people on this earth, it will be a challenge they cannot comprehend or accept. They can’t handle the savage frontier of space, but for those who have tamed Siberia?” She smiled looking around to the hardy people in front of her, “I doubt outer space holds much of a challenge for you!”

The roar of the crowd confirmed their agreement. The gathered people knew their own worth, their resilience, backbone, even stubbornness. They were the ones who beat the savage weather and knew how to stick together to make a future happen.

Bethany Anne’s kind of people.

She walked to the other side of the stage, the Bitch’s stepping out of her way, “Our challenge now is to keep you as protected as we can without causing a major event. Once you hit the border, well, Russia can kiss my ass. We will have containers to get you to our base in Australia and are building our first space station to provide you with temporary quarters.”

She held her head up, throwing her arms wide pointing to the crowd, “It will be YOUR job to help design the next space station, your home. I would suggest learning well and learning quickly.” She pulled her arms back down, “Pull your best people for each area and work with our teams to gain knowledge of what is available and possible. We have to use manufacturing and trading capabilities from Earth to build our space facilities right now, but we are learning quickly how to procure our own resources out there. You can be assured, unlike this country, I want you to join my team! You are needed to help protect the earth and we want you to be a part of the future, a new future!”

The clustered mass of people exploded into cheers and loud calls for action. The combined excitement of what they had just heard and the relief from the previous day’s acute danger had left the crowd in a flammable state, and Bethany Anne’s speech had provided the fire for the fuse. Small groups of people were talking excitedly, with expansive gestures and loud exclamations.

Bethany Anne let them vent. She waited in silence as the yelling started to die down, as the crowd’s attention returned to her. She spoke calmly, with passion, “Know this from the bottom of your feet to the top of your Russian heads, while I don’t want to start a war with Russia, If they bring in too much, I’ll bomb them to the fucking stone age! You have my promise. I don’t forsake my own, ever.” Her eyes flashed red at the end, bringing the fact home to everyone there that this was a Czarina that wouldn’t leave them to freeze out in the tundra.

Standing for a moment in contemplation, looking over the crowd, Bethany Anne presented an impressive figure to people that hungered for a leader. She walked down from the stage and her guards formed up around her and headed to an alleyway that Boris had kept clear for them. They continued over to a building that was being guarded by members of Boris’s pack.

“I checked the building personally before the meeting and set guards on it once we knew it was clear. If you feel that your people need to check as well, please feel free to do so,” Boris said, waving a hand in invitation.

Nathan snorted when John seemed about to pick up his pace. “If Boris’s pack can’t be trusted to follow his orders I’ll jump in front of a train, John. They have either accepted his authority or left. It’s how we are.” Turning to Boris, Nathan asked, “How long has it been since someone has challenged for leadership of the pack?”

Boris looked at him and grinned, responding, “About a hundred and seventy years. And that time I was the challenger.” Nathan turned to John “Let me put it this way, John. He probably knows as many or more possible ‘hazards’ as you do. If I were a member of his pack, I wouldn’t cross him. Hell, before I was a Pricolici I wouldn’t have purposefully crossed his second. That guy is… strong. So how about we just head in? Boris has sworn an oath to Bethany Anne. He won’t break it.”

John looked at Nathan, then glanced in apology at Boris. “It’s just…” Boris smiled and continued “Professional paranoia, I know. I have done bodyguard work from time to time when the pay was right.”

Boris checked the group that was following Bethany Anne and nodded when he saw that all of them had followed. “Thank you for following the spirit, not just the letter, of my agreement. I assure you no harm will come to your craft.” Bethany Anne just smiled and said. “No, it won’t. If someone approaches them, the Pods will go up to two-hundred feet and hover there.”

Boris nodded. He knew his people. Any such approach would be more a part of a passionate discussion rather than an intent to damage or steal.

While they waited, Bethany Anne picked his brains for whatever he knew about the UnknownWorld situation in Russia. Nathan nodded on certain details, and frowned on others, depending on whether the information matched or conflicted with what he already knew.

After about an hour, a runner came from the crowds. He knocked on the door and waited until John opened it. The messenger looked up to the tall man and explained, “We have reached a consensus. All agree that someone willing to be that open with her goals, and the challenges to achieving them, is worthy. However, there is disagreement with how best we might serve. A significant number wish to remain behind, to disperse and serve as your eyes and ears in Russia. If necessary to serve as your fist. Some feel that we cannot simply leave. They wish to remain to crush the force that was used against us so that other groups not so fortunate in protectors and friends are not so ill-used.”

Boris commented before Bethany Anne could respond, “This is not loyalty to the government but instead a statement of faithfulness to you and your goals. There is some love for the concept of Russia and the land that we have cared about for so long. But a Russia that is under an iron fist is more likely to look elsewhere for blame and will cause trouble. Keeping a presence here will help to keep Russia from being crushed under the weight of the political agenda, stupidity, and greed. It will contribute some control over the troublemakers.”

She looked at him, considering. “Are you volunteering to stay and lead them?” she asked. “If they swear an oath to me, they are welcome to come and damn the other consequences. But if some wish to stay I won’t stop them if you honestly believe it will help and they are working under a leader they, and I, can both trust. Otherwise, the consequences can go fuck themselves. I could care less.”

Boris shrugged, “I swore to serve you as best I could here, on this world. If some of my people wish to stay and aid me in that, then I would welcome their assistance. Especially if we can have additional medicine before the combat is joined this time.” He said the last with a grin. Bethany Anne looked at him carefully and sensed the truth, or at least his belief in that truth, behind his words.

Bethany Anne started pacing, “Okay. I have two other conditions, though. Everyone under the age of sixteen is going. Anyone too old to assist you is going. Those are not negotiable. I won’t leave people to be slaughtered.” She stopped to get a nod from Boris that he heard, “The second is that you are now responsible for Russia. If there is an UnknownWorld problem you need to find it, you need to take care of it. Ask for help if you even might need it.”

Boris looked at her thoughtfully. It was evident to him that she had some reason to trust him so much. Then he remembered the aura of fear that Michael had given off the night that they fought. The other abilities that Michael was rumored to have.

Boris nodded “I accept. I suspect if I did not, and Russia became a… problem you might resort to extreme measures. That might not be the best solution.” He said it with a smile, but Aiko and the two Elites tensed. John waved them down. It wasn’t disrespect, it was a statement that the best solution wasn’t always a hammer — or a rain of Pucks.

She returned his smile and shook her head. “I doubt I’d do anything too extreme — at least across a large area. The government might find itself losing a few obstreperous members, though.”

Boris shook his head. “Unfortunately, here in Russia, that would only focus anger on the West. Perhaps with catastrophic results. The reflex reaction of most Russians would be to decide that the West was assassinating our leaders. Whoever took over would likely ride the emotional wave of anger to advance their control and agenda. Even if the new leaders tried to resist, the popular pressure might become such that there was no choice.”

Bethany Anne pointed to him and said, “See — I knew you were the right person to be in charge of this area.”

Boris looked at her concern evident on his face and put up a hand, “As long as someone else looks after China. I want nothing to do with that ratfuck.”

Captain Janna Dmitrievna was really pissed off. Her mission for Russian military intelligence had started simply enough. Infiltrate Nashi, find out any armed or militant formations that might be recruiting. Report back. When her reports indicated that radical factions were developing in the Nashi, it earned her a promotion and orders to organize and lead a more comprehensive infiltration of those groups.

That was when she found out that military-grade equipment was being diverted to the factions and that they were training on company and battalion-sized operations.

Then Janna learned that a reinforced company was being sent on an ‘internal removal’ operation against a town known to be populated by White Russian descendants. It was the Nashi’s political rhetoric that there were only Russians. No Reds, Whites, Greens or other factions. That for Russia to be strong, unity was needed.

Nashi in and of itself wasn’t an issue. It was the fanatics that joined this armed wing, the NVG, that were a concern. They were careful in their recruitment. It had taken three months to get a single person inside, out of the thirty people she had assigned to the operation. But something had leaked to destroy her information sources. She’d been told a week ago that the agents’ covers were blown, that they were in the cold.

Within hours of Janna’s finding out about the problem, the NVG were moving against a small town in Siberia. She had no contact with half her operatives since then, not even on tertiary channels. Her only hope was they had scattered to their individual safe sites. She set up a rallying point for the remaining operatives that could be contacted since her first duty was to them.

She also felt a responsibility to do what she could for the town under attack. They were Russians. They had been loyal. There was no reason to attack them purely because of their ancestry.

For three days she’d been traveling, knowing the NVG would beat her to the town. Bracing herself for a massacre. When she passed an abandoned militia base, it was apparent that combat had taken place there. She pulled off the road, got off her motorcycle and looked around. She recognized at least two destroyed APCs and a couple of wrecked military trucks. It looked like mortar fire damage.

Which side had mortars?

She needed to go into town and gather more intel. Getting back on her motorcycle, she rode forward into town. As she approached the edge of town, she was waved to halt by one of the local police.

Shit.

Things did not look good if the police had sided with the NVG. She slowed down, thinking to turn her bike around and head back. Maybe try to infiltrate after it got dark, or go back to her team and see what they could do as a group. As she slowed down, three men rose from concealment pointing their rifles at her.

Shit on a stick. She was screwed.

One of them shouted, “Turn off your engine, get off your vehicle and keep your hands in sight.” She quickly estimated the odds in her head and decided that her best option was to comply and attempt an escape later on. They were not likely to know that she was in intelligence since she carried nothing that was distinctly military. There was definitely a better chance of escape than dodging bullets from three assault rifles. Following their instructions, she got off the bike and waited.

Deciding to be as non-threatening as possible, she started to shaking slightly, as if in fear. One of the men slung his rifle and approached cautiously, keeping clear of the other’s line of fire. He gave her a professional pat down, and she was glad that her sidearm was hidden in the bike saddlebags. That would have been a giveaway to what she was and caused her more difficulties. Then she was handcuffed.

The man who had waved her down had been talking to someone on the radio, and a police car was quickly approaching from town. It looked like the NVG had lost whatever disagreement had occurred between them and the townspeople. That meant, logically, that the NVG had been staying at the old military base that she had passed. It also meant that the mortars had been used by the townspeople. Shit, again.

Talk about your intelligence fuckups.

What information she had been able to access before being dumped in the cold had shown maybe forty or fifty active mercenaries living in the town, supplemented by an equivalent number of retired mercs. At least half of the active ones could have been away on operations. So seventy-five professionals, and maybe another hundred or so former recent conscripts had been her estimation. Not the battalion with indirect fire that she estimated would have been needed to attack the base without suffering massive casualties. And from the looks of the base, there was a well-armed, well-trained militia here that the local military intelligence had not picked up on.

The police car pulled up, and she was put in the back with a uniformed police officer next to her. “Take her to Boris,” was all that was said as she was put in the car. She wondered who this Boris was. The Chief of Police was not named Boris. The only person of note by that name in the town was a mercenary. Well, THE mercenary she supposed, although the file was somewhat confusing. It had a history going back to the fifties, but the photo of him dated only a couple of years in the past showed a man in his thirties. He was known to have trained all the other mercenaries currently active from this region, but the file included no details on where he had received his own training.

As the car drove off, she saw one of the four there take her bike towards a nearby barn. It was evident to her they were manning a rather subtle checkpoint.

At least her clothes and equipment wouldn’t get wet.

There was a knock on the door. Boris looked towards Bethany Anne and spoke, “They would only interrupt now if they felt it was something I — I mean we — should look into.” He turned to the runner. “Inform the meeting of the proposed Czarina’s conditions. If they agree, get the elders to organize the volunteers. Make it clear I have final approval on any who volunteer, and they will have to be fit in order to serve. The Czarina would have my head if I accepted anyone who could not provide a contribution with a good chance of survival.” Bethany Anne nodded at his last comment. “Enter,” he said more loudly, as the runner headed to the door.

A police officer, one of the retired mercenaries, entered the room. He said “We brought in a woman approaching the town. Considering the timing, I felt it was suspicious enough to bring her to you. No one else unexpected or from outside the locality has arrived today.” He saluted.

“Let’s see her. It’s probably nothing, but the timing is odd. I can make sure she can’t hurt you in any way,” Bethany Anne said.

The woman entered the room. She was tall, about five feet eleven inches tall. With long blond hair and pale skin, her face was strong with Tartar features, displaying an exotic beauty. Bethany Anne felt Boris tense beside her. She looked at him and saw his face, never normally very tan, was whiter than usual. His expression wasn’t giving anything away. In fact, he seemed to have frozen it into one of non-expression.

Boris, what is it? Do you know this woman? Bethany Anne spoke directly into his mind. She couldn’t hear or feel anything from Boris. It was as if he’d locked down his thoughts and emotions.

Then she heard a soft whisper from his mind. Still like a calm pond. Repeated continuously, a mantra of desperation.

Gott Verdamnt! Boris tell me what the problem is, or I will find myself ripping off your arm. I am not made of glass. I need to know what the problem is so we can solve it! She practically shouted in his head.

Boris glanced at her and sighed. Then, responding with his thoughts, She could be the sister of the woman I loved a century ago. The one that was executed by the Reds. It took me by surprise is all. Especially since she even smells the same.

Bethany Anne felt intrigued by this. Boris’s devotion to his old lover’s memory was apparent in the effort he had taken to keep his oath to her. His reluctance to explain was reasonable. He didn’t want to poke Bethany Anne’s recent wounds and was trying not to be overcome by his older ones.

Luckily, TOM had a handle on her grief, which Boris had no way of knowing. She had too much to do right now, although she still spent at least an hour a day alone in a pod dealing with all of the unfiltered emotions of agony, frustration, and grief.

Forcing Boris to explain caused him to lose the grip he had held his emotions in. Standing motionless next to her, he was a roiling mess behind the stony facade. It even seemed to affect his etheric signature. I’ve got this.

Bethany Anne turned towards the woman and asked, “And you would be?”

Janna’s mouth opened and then quickly shut before she could speak. She felt a need to answer with the truth. Had they somehow injected her with some truth drug while she was on the way here?

Bethany Anne was intrigued. This woman was trying to resist her command, so this person was someone out of the ordinary. Possibly, she supposed, up to no good. Giving the strange woman the benefit of doubt suggested that she simply had no one here known or trusted. Even with that explanation, there was something strange about the resistance to Bethany Anne’s mental pressure. Anti-interrogation training maybe.

Bethany Anne sighed and issued the command harder, “Look, if you don’t answer me, we are in for a very long afternoon. So you may as well answer. My name is Bethany Anne. Who are you and what is your job?” She supplied maybe fifty-percent more force than she used for Silvens-Werner.

Without realizing she would speak, Janna answered, “Janna Dimitrievna. Captain, Russian Military Intelligence. At least until a week ago.” Externally she managed to keep her composure. Internally she was cursing up a storm.

What had she been dosed with? Fuck. She’d scored high in interrogation resistance, even when drugged. But whatever they were using was cutting right through it. Then she thought she saw a slight red glow from the interrogator’s eyes and felt an involuntary shiver go through her spine.

“And what were you doing here?” Bethany Anne continued.

“I was coming to see if there was anything I could do to help the people of the town against the Nashi vooruzhennye gruppy. They were the group I was investigating before my team and I were disavowed. The last piece of information I received from inside the group regarded this attack. And it may have cost as many as fifteen lives to get. I would not want those lives wasted!”

Bethany Anne’s face softened. “Ah. So you aren’t here to support the attack, and you have, effectively, been fired and left to survive or die on your own?”

“Yes,” Jana replied through a grimace, “though I hope to link up with some of my team. I doubt any of us would make it through a regular border crossing, though. I’m sure our faces are now flagged.”

Boris finally spoke. “My name is Boris. I wonder, are you a patriot, Janna?”

She looked over to the man, trying to put the face she saw in front of her, to the face in the folder, “Explain. That’s a question with many meanings.”

Boris glanced at Bethany Anne with a twinkle in his eyes, “Are you loyal to the people of Russia, or the government?”

Janna glanced between the two and settled back to Boris, “People are more important than politics.”

Bethany Anne laughed, “A humanist who worked in intelligence. I would have sworn we would find an alien out here before that would ever happen.”

Bethany Anne asked the Russian intelligence officer, “What if I told you we are facing a bigger problem for the entire human race? That if you were willing, you could help your country and the people of Russia by helping the world? I not expect you to believe my word without proof, I’ll show you.”

At that point, Janna eyes opened, and she started cursing herself again. Damn, she had seen this woman before. Her brain must be sludge for her to have taken so long to put two and two together. This was the CEO of the company that had sent people into space.