Chapter 27

After waiting in the cold for three hours, Meredith and Kostya went back to the Melnyks’ with stiff muscles and cold seeping into to their bones. Kostya worried about Meredith being in the cold so long, but immediately felt better when Olena welcomed them with a savory chicken soup with little dumplings. Again, there was fresh bread with loads of butter and preserves. The substantial meal not only warmed them, but gave them energy to face what was to come tomorrow.

After dinner Meredith and Kostya again offered to do dishes, but Olena wouldn’t hear of it.

“You both have worked all day,” she said in Ukrainian. “This is my job.” She shooed them out of the kitchen with a bottle of wine and glasses.

Settling down by the fire, Serhiy uncorked the bottle and poured three glasses of a nice Malbec for them.

“I don’t know if you have any interest in local politics, but we are amid interesting times,” he said while handing out the glasses.

“Oh? What is the latest news?” Kostya leaned back into the couch.

“Rumors persist about protests planned for the Day of Dignity and Freedom celebrations on November twenty-first,” Serhiy said.

“I’ve heard of this celebration,” Meredith said. “This is the new holiday that’s like an Independence Day, observing the Ukraine’s freedom from corrupt government.”

“That’s the positive spin the government spits out.” Serhiy snorted. “It actually started a couple years ago as a day of remembrance after more than one-hundred ethnic Ukrainians were killed in an uprising in Kiev at Independence Square. Ukrainians supporting independence were angry when the President refused to sign an agreement with the European Union as he had promised, and instead aligned with Russia. Defenders of Novorossiya and the President’s actions clashed violently with the protesters.”

“I was there. My unit was assigned to monitor the crowd and keep things peaceful.” Kostya’s eyes became distanced as he remembered the group of Ukrainian prisoners he saw locked up in the stables. “My superior, Petro Vlasenko, let his brother, Stas, gun down fifteen Ukrainian protesters, men and women, before he was stopped.”

Before I stopped them.

“And nothing happened to the Vlasenko,” Serhiy stated, frowning.

“Petro was Spetnaz-Alfa, so he was able to rationalize his actions with excuses of a military peacekeeping operation going bad.” Kostya cringed, thinking of the day he testified against Petro, and how the military judge had obviously been influenced outside of court. Kostya had bravely stood against one of his comrades for atrocities, and it was his integrity that was questioned. Fifteen dead bodies couldn’t outweigh the political favors the Vlasenkos wielded.

“And Stas? What do you know of him?” Serhiy’s question made the air thick and Kostya had to force his lungs to breathe. Meredith tilted her head toward him and took his hand.

“Stas was smart enough to run.” Kostya frowned. “We followed his trail leaving the Ukraine and going to South America, but once the military hearing was completed, pursuing him further seemed futile.”

In truth, Kostya, frustrated and angry, had quit and returned home. He left the service that had betrayed his sense of right and wrong. He returned to a life he could control.

“Trouble may be coming around again this year.” Serhiy clicked his tongue.

“Oh?” Kostya raised his brows.

“Peaceful commemorations are planned all over the country, but Novorossiyan factions may be planning something different.” Serhiy stood and used the poker to stir up flames in the burned down logs. Meredith and Kostya exchanged a knowing look. Vlasenko. Fire of Dawn.

“Can’t the Ukrainian government step in?” Meredith asked. “The Ukrainian people are committed to maintaining a democratic country, so they should stop this.”

“Yes, but our government is still corrupt and our poor economy and national debt are crippling our businesses.” Serhiy sat down next to Kostya. He looked into the fire thoughtfully. “It’s no wonder so many are looking for answers elsewhere. The quest for freedom, for liberty, burns so hot in some hearts that many may be scorched by its flame.”

Kostya took the weight of Serhiy’s words onto his own shoulders. How could he fight Novorossiyan terrorists when he was still blistered from his last run-in with the Vlasenkos?

“When many people have competing desires, it is natural that some are winners and others are losers,” Kostya said, deflecting Serhiy’s ideas.

“Winners and losers, eh?” Serhiy scoffed. He took a sip of his wine. “We Ukrainians are different, you know. We know losing. We don’t know life without oppression. Our land—the crossroads that all powers wanted. Our people—the throw-away population to be starved and eliminated. Our government—a joke even to our own people. The Day of Dignity and Freedom is a chance to claim our birthright. It’s a chance to show through oppression we became stronger, through the hard times we got tough. We celebrate both our past corruptions and our future victories. We honor those lost and we nurture the future.”

“Yet the day is still quite controversial, isn’t it?” Meredith asked. “Many believe it honors only those who want to align with Europe and ignores the desires of Novorossiya.”

“Let them suffer,” he said cynically. “We suffered under Russian autocrats. Maybe they’ll find they like democracy if they’d try it.”

“If you force feed people democracy, isn’t it autocratic?” Kostya leaned forward, tracing the edge of his wine glass.

Serhiy sat back down. “Nonetheless, as the curse says, ‘we live in interesting times.’” He leaned forward to put his wine glass on the table and switched to English. “There’s a rumor that a group has been congregating in the area around Poltava. It’s strange because they are Easterners meeting here for political planning.”

Kostya frowned. “Are they Novorossiyan?”

“Not a mainstream group. They are more extreme thinkers. I hear rumors that they desire earning power through killing. They have banners with a bird in flames and a star. Does it sound like anything you’ve heard of?”

“Fire of Dawn,” Meredith whispered to Kostya. “That’s the symbol you described that was painted on the…”

“Do you know anything at all about the group? Why are they meeting here?”

“It is hard to say. Their meetings are secret apparently. It is the dilemma of democracy, isn’t it? ‘The right to peacefully assemble’ applies to you and me as well as to the Ku Klux Klan in America.” He nodded to Meredith.

“If we want to maintain a true democracy, the group in Poltava should have the right to meet, but when do we investigate them? When they are suspect? When they do something illegal? After they kill?” Serhiy slapped the back of his hand into his palm to emphasize the point. “There can be benefits to having a benevolent dictator in charge.”

“Isn’t that an oxymoron?” Meredith asked, inciting a laugh.

Kostya sat thoughtfully. For months, he had rationalized leaving Spetnaz-Alfa after the Euromaiden protests and choosing a simpler life. He had failed to stop the killing, and people had died. But now, he had been given another opportunity to stop the Vlasenkos and to protect his country. How could he not stand against them?

“I need to know everything I can about this group, Serhiy. What they wear, their leaders, their symbols—who do you know in Poltava?”

“I can ask around, but I don’t want to poke the bear, so to speak.” He smiled. “I take it they might have something to do with your mission here.”

“I wouldn’t have the vaguest idea what you are talking about,” Kostya smirked, “but anything you find out would be appreciated.”