Zach Powers - First Cosmic Velocity

WHEN LEONID FOUND HER inside the house, Nadya was standing alone in the corner of an otherwise unoccupied room, humming the same simple melody as always. The room was small, crowded by a dining table too large for the space. No chairs. Nadya held a drink in her hand, but it did not look like she had taken a sip. Several blond strands had slipped free from the bun on her head and draped over one eye. The rest of the guests could be heard in other parts of the house, sharing stories about Giorgi, Leonid assumed. What would the people from Star City say? What lies had been prepared for them to tell Giorgi’s family? The honorable death of a soldier. The facts scrubbed smooth to nothing. Ignatius had briefed them before they came, but Leonid paid no attention. If anyone were to ask, he would tell the truth. Not the whole of it, but much of who Giorgi was had nothing to do with his training. The games and songs and paintings. Leonid felt he owed Giorgi’s family whatever honesty he could manage. Perhaps he should say nothing, silence the only assurance that what he said was true.

“Nadya,” he said. “Have you ever thought about what you would do if you weren’t a part of all this?”

“This? This is an actual home.” Nadya pointed to each corner of the ceiling in turn. “ This already feels like it’s far away from everything we know.”

“It’s not our home, though.”

“And that’s always the problem.”

“I know a place we could go. A place where not even Ignatius could follow.”

“I expect Ignatius to crawl out from underneath my bed each morning.”

“She’s not as bad as that.”

Nadya eyed him. “You want to leave?”

“Yes. Right now. Both of us.”

“Where would we go?”

He stepped closer to her. “In London, I met two Americans. Ignatius said they were spies, but I don’t care. They gave me an address. Right here in Ukraine. If we go there I think they’ll find us. They’ll take us to America.”

“America? I don’t remember much from my visit. Yuri said he would have stayed there if he could have, but what do any of us really know about the place?”

“I know that there I would still have a brother and you a sister. I don’t need to know anything more than that.”

Nadya pushed herself from the wall. “Did she ever tell you her real name? My sister.”

“No, none of us ever shared much that was personal. It was easier that way, to forget the past rather than hide it. What was her name?”

“If she didn’t tell you, it’s not my place.” Nadya rounded the table toward the door. “Let’s go, already. I can’t stand any more time spent in this home. I thought I might learn something of Giorgi, but he’s not here. If he once was, then he took all of himself when he left.”

Leonid lingered after Nadya exited. He took in the ceiling, the floor, the strip of wood along the base of the wall, beveled across the top into a quarter-arc with a semicircular lip below that. Leonid had never known a home like this one. He was unsure how such a strip of wood was even crafted. The work of machines or a patient hand? What was its purpose? He tapped the baseboard with the toe of his shoe, leaving a small black smudge, and then followed Nadya outside.

She waited on the narrow sidewalk, a recent addition to the neighborhood, the poured concrete like pure snow compared to the old stone architecture. The line of black cars a streak of midnight. All the drivers waited inside their vehicles, except for Leonid’s, who sat on his hood smoking a cigarette, and another who held Kasha’s leash as the dog poked her snout through an iron fence to sniff at the wilted plants on the other side.

Leonid whistled and Kasha’s head, ears perked to perfect triangles, jerked in his direction. She strained against the leash, hacking as the collar dug into her neck.

“It’s okay,” said Leonid. He crouched, holding out his arms.

The driver released the leash, and in a white flash Kasha was in Leonid’s embrace. The metal fastener on the leash clattered against the sidewalk. Leonid unhooked the leash from the collar and hung it from the fence.

“We’re taking her for a walk,” said Leonid, explaining it to the driver who had been tasked with dog-watching. And then to his own driver, “I think I’m ready to try my hand at driving.”

THE CAR SPUTTERED forward, and then the engine turned over once and fell silent. Leonid had been trying to master the clutch for twenty minutes, but all he had accomplished so far was to grind the gears down near to nothing. The driver, who had proved to be a patient teacher, could no longer hide his grimace at every incorrect sound the car made. Beads of nervous sweat dotted his brow.

In the backseat, Nadya sat with Kasha. The dog scampered back and forth, from window to window, as if the car was moving and the scenery changed with every moment. Her claws tapped the glass each time she jumped up for a better view.

Leonid restarted the engine, slipped the clutch, and the car lurched another half-meter forward. He could see the other drivers, still in their cars parked ahead of him, watching in their mirrors. At first, there had been laughter, but now their faces, what he could see of them, looked almost bored. His incompetence, it seemed, was only entertaining for so long.

“Would you like if I drove?” asked the driver.

“It would be best if I drove myself,” answered Leonid.

The car lurched forward again.

Leonid rested his head on the steering wheel. Much longer and their escape would fail before it even began. The contingent from Star City would be exiting Giorgi’s family home at any time. The car’s back door unlatched, thunking shut immediately after. The driver’s side door opened. Leonid raised his head. Nadya stood outside, arm extended as a silent instruction for him to exit the car.

“What?” he asked.

“I’ll drive,” said Nadya.

“Do you know how?”

“I know I’m at least as skilled as you. Get out.”

The driver, who could not have understood the conversation in Russian, still laughed. He understood enough.

“That’s why she was the first and you the fifth?” he said. He pointed both fingers up and wiggled them. “To fly to outer space?” The laugh that followed rocked the whole car, and the driver was still shaking with the aftershocks as Leonid, now chuckling himself, ceded the driver’s seat to Nadya. Before Leonid could get back into the car, she started the engine, shifted into gear, and pulled the car away from the curb and several meters forward. She revved the engine and waved out the window for Leonid to catch up. He went to the passenger side and opened the door on the surprised driver.

“Friend, we must borrow your car,” said Leonid. “You can retrieve it at the train station south of the city.” Without counting them, he pulled bills from the stack of rubles Ignatius had provided and gave them to the driver.

The driver did not get out right away, as if he believed Leonid’s Ukrainian had somehow been flawed. He looked at Leonid and then at Nadya, and then a coy grin grew under his mustache. “I see, I see,” he said. He held up the money. “This is too much.”

“For a taxi,” said Leonid. “Or you can ask the woman in the leather jacket for assistance. She’ll return at some point, I’m sure, and will have no trouble getting you to your car.”

“She’s a scary one! I think I’d rather walk.”

“Before, I’d have agreed with you. But I’ve learned that what I think I know is often not the truth. You can trust that woman, maybe more than anyone else.”

The driver glanced at Nadya and then back at Leonid. This time, he did not grin. “Yes, yes. I see what you mean.”