REDEMPTION

— by Jeff Karamales

Chapter 1
Choices
 

NIKOLI TALOVA entered the small house with a sigh of relief, relishing the warmth after walking in the cold rain from the trolley stop a few blocks away. He smiled at the feeling of being home as he placed his hat on the hook next to the door, another sigh escaping his mouth as he regarded the chipped and faded paint. He’d simply let things slide in the years since his wife’s passing, not even keeping up with the little things that needed doing when it came to maintaining the little house. Most times it was all he could do to go to work at the communications center and deal with customers, repair crews and people complaining about problems with their Net connections or phones. It wasn’t his fault that the storms that winter had been so intense.

“Sofiya? I’m home, kokhanyy,” the man called, tripping the release for his leg.

  It felt good to pull his thigh out of the cup of the prosthetic appendage. Yet another souvenir from the short war when Russia tried to re-annex Ukraine.While the replacement was fit as well as could be to the stump that was left after a grenade blast took the rest, it still ached, especially in inclement weather, and his relief at taking it off was always one of the small pleasures of the day.

  He noticed the newspaper was untouched on the side table in the little foyer and still folded to display the most noteworthy articles. In bold Cyrillic, the headline focused on the most sensational event in the world at the moment. A judge was quoted saying an American, Brian Barrett, had been found guilty of murdering one of the people that had joined the Furmankind project. Apparently the decision regarding the young man was to be a death sentence, his execution to be carried out by another of what were being called Furs, one that hadn’t been able to deal with the changes put upon him and gone quite mad. Shrugging in dismissal of the fate of the murderer, Nikoli hung up his coat thinking a nice cup of tea was in order after the chill rain outside.

  “Sofiya?” he called again.

  Grabbing his crutch, Nikoli moved further into the house. It was in the living room he found his daughter. She’d not even been back half a year and while he was glad to have the most precious thing in his life returned to him, the grizzled veteran wished it had been under happier circumstances. She sat on the little sofa, a small silver picture frame in her hands of her wedding to Aleksandr Orisov, the man she’d met while still in school. The tracks of earlier tears were clear on her cheeks, as were the spots on the glass pane of the picture frame that was always kept pristinely clean.

  On the cushion next to her right leg was her pistol. Even from a distance of several feet the man could tell the little Walther P99QA was loaded with the magazine in the well of the grip with the hammer cocked. Nikoli swallowed hard and moved slowly towards the young woman. “Kokhanyy,” he whispered, “are you all right?”

  Sofiya looked up at her father, absently brushing her honey blonde hair back. She silently shook her head before burying her face in her hand as she held the picture to her breast, silent sobs wracking her small frame. Without any hesitation, Nikoli stepped forward with the aid of the crutch and sat down, casually picking up the pistol as he would a book or other mundane item, de-cocking it easily and setting it on the end table next to the sofa before pulling his daughter to him. His heart broke as she grabbed hold of him and cried like she did when as a little girl she’d been told of her mother’s death.

  “Why, Poppa? Why does everyone I love get taken from me?”

  The man sat rocking the woman that would always be his little girl, one arm around her shoulders, the other stroking her long hair. “I don’t know, kokhanyy. I suppose it is our lot in life. Maybe it is because God knows that we are strong enough to carry this burden where others are not.”

  “I don’t feel very strong right now,” she mumbled where her face was pressed into her father’s coarse wool sweater. Sofiya lifted her face a little and looked at the picture again.

  The image was only three years old, but it seemed like it had been taken so much longer, almost a lifetime, ago. Aleksi was so handsome in his tuxedo and he looked at her with such adoration and affection. They had gotten married in the summer, both just out of school before taking their postings with the United Nations as investigators for the section that looked into Human Rights violations.

  They were going to work together to make the world a better place.

  “I miss him and Mamma so much,” she whispered.

  “I know you do,” Nikoli told her as his own tears began to fall. “You know that if I could exchange places with him, I would, just to see you happy again.”

  The house grew dark with the setting of the sun, yet neither moved as they continued to hold each other, father and daughter drawing and giving strength to the other. When they finally let each other go, Nikoli took the young woman’s hands.

  “Why don’t you and I go to Yalta. We can go boating like when you were little,” he suggested.

  Sofiya wiped at her intense blue eyes. “But what of your work?”

  “After twelve years of not missing a single day? I think I am entitled to a little rest!”

  With a small smile, the woman nodded, returning to the embrace of her father’s arms.

***

THOUGH chilly, with the beginning of summer still officially two months away, the days were pleasant enough for the pair to enjoy time on the water. Her father might be missing most of one leg, but that didn’t diminish his steady hand with the tiller or lines of the little sailboat they’d rented. After spending hours chasing the wind, they would put into one of the little marinas that surrounded the coastal city of Yalta and return to their hotel for supper before retiring for the evening.

  On the last night of their holiday, sipping hot cocoa doctored with generous portions of peppermint schnapps, Sofiya got out of her chair and sat before her father, leaning against his good leg as she had when still a child. Even though his hair had gone grey, Nikoli seemed like he’d always been this age, a timeless edifice for the young woman to depend on. She rested her head on the knee of his whole leg and smiled as his strong hand began to stroke the back of her head.

  “So, there is something that you want to tell me,” the man observed, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. The only times that she had ever sat at his knee like this since turning ten was to talk about something serious. He didn’t think that his daughter realized that there would always be things that told him of her state of mind, with Sofiya chalking it up to the almost mystical nature of him simply being her Poppa.

  “How do you know that I wish to talk?”

  Nikoli chuckled easily. “Because I am your Poppa, that is how. And I also know that this is very important to you and you are not sure how to say what is on your mind or in your heart, so I will tell you to just be truthful.”

  Sofiya nodded slowly. “That is the hard part. I do not know how you will take what I have to say, and I don’t want you to think that this is because of you.”

  “Just say it, kokhanyy. I will not be angry.”

  Sofiya sighed heavily. “Something happened to me after Ale…Aleksi was killed.” She swallowed at the lump that started to form in her throat. “Poppa? I…I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  “We can go home if you-”

  “No,” the young woman said with a shake of her head. “Not Yalta. Here. This world. I…I don’t want to be here anymore. But there’s more. I don’t think I like people anymore, either.” Sofiya heaved a sigh. “W-when Aleksandr and I first went to work with the UN, we saw terrible things, but we thought that we could make the world a better place. The things that we saw people doing to each other…” There was no helping the tear that rolled down her cheek. “Then…then when I saw him killed…Poppa, I just don’t care about those people anymore. I don’t care if they kill each other in their stupid wars. I really wouldn’t care if everyone on Earth died. They…they mean nothing to me. It is like something inside of me has died as well.

  “For a year now I have been thinking upon something, but I do not know how to tell you.”

  Nikoli sat silently, knowing that saying nothing was the best course of action. Sofiya never had done anything without thinking it through, and whatever it was she had to say would have been given serious consideration. He let her know to continue with a gentle and reassuring squeeze to her shoulder.

  Sofiya reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a pamphlet of some sort and unfolded it before handing it to her father without meeting his eyes. The man took the pamphlet and read the heading in Ukrainian, though there was also Russian, Czech and Romanian on the glossy red paper.

Do you seek adventure?

Does the thought of life on another world appeal to you?

Do you crave a new beginning?

The Anthro Human Colonization Project

May have the answers you seek. 

  Nikoli read through the entire contents of the brochure and slowly closed the pages. His eyes squeezed shut against the sudden stinging feeling in them as he handed the pamphlet back.

  “You know that once you begin the changes, there is no turning back? It will be forever.”

  “I know, Poppa.”

  Nikoli sighed, his hand returning to stroking her soft hair. “If you feel that this is what you need to do, I understand. You, out of all the people that I know, deserve this new beginning. You have endured much, and I think I can understand why you would wish to do this thing.”

  Sofiya jerked around, her eyes wide. “You…you aren’t angry?”

  Nikoli looked at his daughter, his eyes misting over and took her hands in his. “My Sofiya, how can I be angry? While you will look very different when all of the changes that you will go through are over, you will still be my daughter. I do not care that you will look different, or that you will have fur…it will not make me love you, or wish the best for you, any less.”

  The young woman got to her knees so that she could throw her arms around her father’s neck. “Thank you, Poppa!”

  When they separated, Nikoli smiled warmly. “You know, if I could get a new leg, I would be tempted to go with you, but that is not to be.” His heart warmed at the slightly amused look from his child. “Now, do you know what type of Fur you wish to be? And of course you will have to let me know when it is alright to visit. I would very much like to see what you will become.”

  Sofiya nodded. “Do you remember when we went to Uncle Oskar’s farm the first time?”

  Nikoli laughed. “Ah, yes! That was when you saw your first wild fox! I thought you were going to spend the entire summer out in the field just to see it again!” He had to wipe his eyes at the memory. “Then when the fox showed back up with its mate. I thought you were going to burst with excitement. I won’t forget my brother’s reaction when you let all his chickens out so the foxes could eat well!”

“I thought Uncle Oskar was going to take a strap to me,” Sofiya told her father earnestly. “He seemed so angry!”

  “Feh, your Uncle hated raising chickens,” Nikoli told his daughter with another chuckle. “The only reason he had them was your Aunt Elena insisted as they were the only animals she wasn’t afraid of!”  The man sighed as the laughter left, though he still regarded his daughter with affection. “Just do me a favor and do not to forget how to write to your Poppa.”

  “Never,” Sofiya said with another hug for her father.

— NEXT CHAPTER —

Unless otherwise noted, all material © Ted R. Blasingame. All rights reserved.