Siberia

His name was Mikhail Orance, the fifth son of a Vernalan agrarian worker turned General. Vladimyr Orance was legend on the world of Vernala, because he had almost won the war for them. But now Mikail Orance, the Colonel who had been so distinguished during his war service was being called again into active duty and Mikhail detested it. His father would have never stood for it. When Vlad had left the military he left the military, there was no question about it. Orance, the younger one, arrived at the military base fifteen minutes late. The transport carrier he had been on had to stop mid-flight because of engine problems. However, the call had not been an urgent one, although Orance had been significantly vexed when he got the gist of what they had been telling him. After he had left his home plantation once to serve in the military originally he had thought when he retired from active duty (everyone on Vernala not in active duty was considered on reserve duty) he would never leave the plantation his father had built.

But then if that were true he wouldn’t be on his way into a city, where the base he had been summoned to was. The transport liner leaned to one side and then banked through the clouds. Below the green world of Vernala stretched out before him. Endless fields after fields and emerald green tree groves and orchards and stately stands of thin wispy cypress trees blanketed the rich soil as a warm carpet of vibrant life.

And then the city of Verdan came into view. It was like a huge gloved hand of many fingers reaching out of the landscape around it which abounded with foliation. The city’s steel fingers reached upward, upward into a sky with towering monoliths. Down in the streets and squares the people swarmed like ants. A million tiny people all living a million lives below them.

And past the great towering spires of the gleaming city was a huge flat compound very unlike the rest of the city. Dominating the northern end of Verdan was the central command of an entire military machine. The huge Vernalan Military Complex spread out below the transport. Beyond its long flat buildings and rows of office buildings was another paved field, with rows of circular pads. The Verdan Interstellar Spaceport. The transport descended onto the landing pad below, which was in the heart of the military center.

Soon Colonel Orance was walking into the lobby of the General Korenski’s office. Korenski was one of the Generals chiefly in charge of the war effort, and was one of Vlad Orance’s old companions. He was one of the old guard of the military and had a reputation for ruthlessness, but Mikhail knew he was near retirement, and relished the fact of it. The old butcher would finally get out of command so that he couldn’t call up young reservists back into active duty. Orance knew this and was very disappointed that his military career hadn’t ended where he expected it to. Korenski had always been his father’s partner in disaster and he lead many hopeless offensives to their graves, while Korenski was a brilliant tactician, his overall strategy was flawed. He didn’t know when to wait, and at his age, which was advanced, he still was over-anxious, and it cost the Alliance, cost it bitterly in the lives of young Vernalans.

Mikhail himself had seen the effects of the General’s leadership during his service of five years and knew how the General worked. Korenski was a believer in pyrrhic victory. He gambled everything, withdrew nothing, and never retreated without his victory. But he always came back with empty promises and empty condolences for the families of those he had led to their death. He always came back with only his victory, only empty handed. He was an old bastard, thought Orance.

The General’s receptionist, a most annoying looking woman that seemed like she looked too old for her actual age motioned for him to enter the General’s office. She didn’t even say a word, quickly returning to some papers that made no sense to Orance, seeming like she was busy. But of course, Orance knew she was only pretending to be busy. He knew she was only putting up a façade, waiting for him to walk through the door and then she would pull out a cup of some breakfast drink and relax.

The General’s office was sparsely furnished, but what he did have was cluttered with papers and old memorials, most petty and frivolous in nature. It seems the General was one of those people who had never matured out of adolescence. There was the General at his desk, and standing behind him was a young General of lower, ascending rank who looked sternly at Orance. They exchanged salutes. Korenski then proceeded to keep on writing, as if oblivious to his guest. Finally he said, “Be seated,” in a hushed tome. Then he looked up and sat back. When he looked up at first he had not relaxed, half seeming to expect someone else instead of Orance. But satisfied that it was indeed the younger Orance he relaxed and sat back in his chair.

“I’m glad you could come at such short notice. I trust your trip was enjoyable.” He smiled at the young man. “You remind me so much of your father, but you have your mother’s looks to you, though. Your father did not have green eyes, his were black.” He closed his mouth momentarily. “How are you these days, Mikail?”

“I’m fine. Why did you call me here? If you wanted to discuss old times and my father you should have invited me to dinner.”

“You have your mother’s way of doing things- all business, your father was always fooling around. But that is old times. There is a definite reason why you are here. We need you to perform a specific service. This will be a great service to your world, Mikail, or I should say Colonel Mikail Orance, your service has been appreciated, you were valiant during your active days,”

“So I’m not being re-activated.”

“In a manner of speaking you are. Let me explain with you, we need you to go to Siberia.” His voice fell flat with the last word. “We need you, the Siberians remember you from your service, you’ll be looked better upon than others…(he paused). You worked with them during your term of service.”

“That was two years ago, anyway why don’t you get somebody else to go to deep freeze. My term of service was up two years ago. I served my five years, I commanded a special duties division and earned Colonel, and then I wanted to go back to my plantation and live out a life my father was much too busy to live. And now you want to send me to Siberia?”

“I know this is sudden, but we need you. The war has taken a bad turn for us and Trankor. We need help if we are going to maintain our position…..” Orance knew with the words “maintain our position” that there was no turning back. The General would never give up something he had won, and now he had nailed just the person to get him out of his problem. So the Coalition was winning, so he gets somebody to run for help for him. And he had found just the person to do it for him. The son of his General buddy. The son of his long time friend. There was only one conclusion he could draw, he was going to Siberia.

Until then the younger General had remained silent when he finally uttered, “Colonel Orance, if you succeed in your mission you could mean a decisive turning point for the war. You

could mean a real victory, and when you got back there would be certain opportunities waiting for you, ones that you wouldn’t even have considered before. I have connections in the World Council. This could mean great opportunities for you.”

“I’ll go, never mind the bribing… when does my flight leave? I need time to prepare for what lies ahead.”

“My secretary will give you all the information you need. Inside is an extensive briefing. I am very glad to be working again with another Orance, your vitality for this mission gives me new hope.” After saluting Orance left, knowing that hope had already been stolen from the side of Korenski.

The receptionist handed over a thick package of papers and she sighed of annoyance. Orance conspicuously frowned in front of her, and left for the lift. But as the doors closed he could just hear the woman picking up the phone and calling her friends, probably telling them what a rude man she had met just earlier.

Mikail Orance sighed himself as the elevator door opened onto the warm moist air of Vernala. He was going to a place that didn’t know spring or the perpetual basking in the warm sun that Vernala enjoyed. The warm yellow star gleamed down, filling the air with life on Vernala. Orance was going to a place some had only heard of, a place where the sun afforded no warmth to those below. He was going to a barren, virtually life-less world, cold and sterile. Where the world hungered for energy and life-giving warmth. He would be leaving his comfortable womb of life and be commended onto a planet devoid of any heat or sunshine. He was going to a place that was lonely and cold, freezing. “Deep freeze” they called it. He was going to Siberia.