My Father the Czar Copyright 1998 Library of Congress number: 98-96138 by AUTHOR22@aol.com All rights reserved Chapter Sixteen + + + + + Slovokia + + + + + In the last week of March 1915 several Russian army companies were moved from their quiet sector to a bulge in the front lines on the northern slopes of the Carpathian Mountains. Here, on March 28th, an Austrian/German contingent sought to break the rapid Russian advance by testing a new weapon: poison gas. Following an intense artillery bombardment, they released 10 tons of chlorine gas into a light northeast wind. As thick clouds of yellow-green chlorine drifted over their trenches, the Russian attack crumbled. The troops, unprotected, their lungs seared, died or broke ranks and fled, leaving a gaping mile-wide hole in the Russian line. Austrian troops pressed forward threatening to sweep behind the Russian lines and put the entire regiment in deadly jeopardy. Fortunately the Austrian/German high command had planned only a limited offensive and, without adequate reserves, they were unable to exploit the gap the gas had created. After advancing only a half-mile, they stopped and dug in. All through the night the Russian troops fought to close the gap. In addition, they mounted a counter-attack to drive the enemy out of the forest and into the open. In the morning two more disastrous attacks were made against enemy positions. Little ground was gained and casualties were extremely heavy, but these attacks bought some precious time allowing the Russians to close their flanks. On March 30th the Austrians attacked in an attempt to drive the small Russian force out of Slovakia once and for all. Another violent bombardment was followed by another gas attack in the same pattern as before. This time the target was the eastern end of the front line. Terrible fighting permeated with shrapnel and machine-gun fire, hampered by rifles which jammed was underway. Violently ill and gasping for air through mud-soaked handkerchiefs, the Russian troops held on until reinforcements arrived. The cost was high. In just forty-eight hours 15,000 Russians, one man in every three, were lost from the force of hastily trained peasants - a grim forerunner of what was still to come. The basic strategy had been to break through and win the war quickly. Few of the commanders, enemy or Russian, understood the nature of the war they fought. Although the great advantage of trench warfare lay on the side of the defense, both sides faithfully adhered to outdated army traditions relying on massive, head-on, infantry assaults. A gruesome pattern soon developed. As attacking troops advanced over the shell-torn ground and tangled barbed wire of No Man's Land, they were cut down by enemy machine-gun fire in the first advance, falling in tragic, ordered ranks. When the planned breakthrough did not come, the uniform pace of the advance broke down and the attack deteriorated into costly local battles which dragged on for weeks. The casualty lists rose steadily into the thousands proving again and again the futility of head-on attacks in the treacherous peaks and ravines of the Carpathian Mountains. It was into this atmosphere of victory followed by defeat that the Czar and his young son arrived at Gizycko on the southeastern shore of the Masurian Lakes. Each time the Imperial Train had stopped for fuel and water, there was a new message from Mikhail which described the current situation followed by his predictions. His commanders were convinced that success was merely a matter of persistence - more men, more guns and more ammunition. When one great attack failed, another was planned and undertaken. The conflict was quickly becoming a "war of attrition" - a grinding struggle to see which side could hold out longer against death and destruction. Then came a surprising, uplifting message from the front. Mikhail's forces had the Huns on the run. The Austrian fortress at Przmysl had surrendered. All was secure. + + + + + Gdov + + + + + "Psst. Psst. Alex are you awake?" Yarslov's voice interrupted the Tsarevich's thoughts. "It is almost midnight. I would like to be at the beach before the girls get there." "I haven't been asleep. Should we get dressed, or what?" "No need. The girls know Camp Sunshine is a nudist camp... but try to keep your chlen down; we don't want to scare the girls off." "With that monster of yours Yars, if they could be scared off it would have already happened." The two boys quietly walked along the back wall of the compound to where it met the water, then waded around to the other side. There was a full moon, which cast a pleasant yellow/green light around the surrounding area. By contrast, the water looked black --topped by white froth. Alex's chlen was standing tall, spotlighted by the lunar satellite. "We'd better move further into the water." Yars led the way. Impatiently they waited, then engaged in a game of catch-can tag. "Hey guys! Can we play too?" The two girls had arrived and had, undetected, waded out into the water. Yars grabbed Alex by his hair and yanked him up. "Alex, this is Sarah and that's Rachel." The Tsarevich was trying to rub the water from his eyes so that he could see to whom he was being introduced. He squinted and wiped, then squinted again. He knew that Sarah was Yars' favorite, so Rachel was to be his. Between the two, Rachel was by far the most interesting... at least to Alex. She had short red hair and a bright round face. Her small breasts were highlighted in the moon light. "Hi." She smiled at him. "So, can we play too?" Yars answered: "We'd better not. Voices carry much further over the water. We don't want to wake my folks." Yars moved the few feet between him and Sarah and kissed her ear. She giggled and said, "Keep your tongue to yourself, you nasty boy." Even though the water was high on Alex's body, he feared his chlen was going to hit his chin. "So Rachel, how long have you lived in Gdov?" "Oh I don't live here. I've just been visiting my cousin during the summer. My home is in Ekaterinburg. That's east of the Ural's." There was something about the way the girl stood and moved that appealed to Alex. It was almost as though she were a boy, yet clearly she was a girl. This combined picture somehow made her more appealing to Alex. Yars was already leading the way out of the water. Embarrassed, Alex attempted to hold his rigid penis between his legs as he followed. This was no mean feat and gave Alex a rather unusual 'walk'. Rachel asked: "Did you hurt your foot or something. You seem to be limping." Alex was silent, but Sarah jibed: "Don't be silly Rachel. Alex men-ya vstal (has a hard-on)." Rather boldly, Rachel moved her hand under the water till she touched it, then proclaimed: "You are so right. And it's a nice one too." Alex almost ejaculated at her touch. Even in the pale moonlight they could see his complexion change as he blushed. Not knowing what to say next, Alex asked: "Do you play tennis?" "Yes. It is my favorite sport. Do you?" "Yes, but I'm not very good." "Don't you believe him." Interjected Yars. "He and I skunked my mother and sister when they were here last." Rachel was shaking the water out of her hair. "Speaking of your last visit. Why did you stand us up?" "My uncle had to return unexpectedly to St. Petersburg. Peter and I had no choicebut to go with him." "Hmmmm. And where is Peter? I understand you both look alike." Then Rachel asked, "In every way?" Alex jokingly replied. "Yep. In EVERY WAY." The four had separated into couples and lay side by side. It wasn't many minutes before Rachel and Alex heard the unmistakable sounds of the other two making love. Rachel giggled and snuggled closer to Alex, her hand wrapped around his tool. His fingers were alternately tickling her nipples and massaging her vagina. Several times, he moved his leg over hers, starting a movement to get on top, but each time she created a barrier by raising her leg. Nevertheless she seemed to be encouraging him, as she continued to pump his tool. Strangely, it was the sound of Yars and Sarah obviously reaching their climax that triggered Alex's tool to pump out it's load. Very unobtrusively, Rachel had directed the spouting instrument toward the sand. Alex laid back, relaxing. The passion had, at last, been drained from his body. Contentedly, Rachel nuzzled her mouth against his ear and said, "That was nice." After the girls had left, Alex said to Yars: "There is something about Rachel that I really like." Seriously Yars replied: "I don't understand why she wouldn't fuck you. I've been getting into her pants ever since you were here last." "I don't really care. She took care of me in her own fashion; but, sex is not the reason I like her. Tomorrow, can we go into town and invite them for a soda or ice cream?" + + + + + Nearby... + + + + + The train was late passing through Gdov. More than once they had been side-tracked while military freight trains were routed past them. Piotr and Paul had passed several hours in pleasant conversation, but both were looking forward to their visit to the sea shore. It was early afternoon when the two walked the short distance from the depot to the Benckendorff home. The structure was much larger than Piotr had imagined it. Not a mansion or anything like that, but neither was it a simple seaside cottage. The two story building was constructed of wood and painted a light gray. A screened-in porch surrounded the first floor. Simple, white-painted wood scrollwork outlined the doorways and windows. The house was set back in the center of a large fenced-in area, providing a yard between the front fence and the house which measured about a hundred feet. The brown lawn was already beginning to sprout green with an early announcement of spring. They passed through the gate, climbed three steps and knocked at the front door. Not waiting for a reply, Paul opened the door shouting: "Any one at home?" A heavy set, red-haired woman stuck her head out of a doorway. "Ah! Cousin Paul, it is nice to see you again." She paused when she saw Piotr standing just behind him. "And who is this?" "I would like for you to meet my friend Piotr Veliky from St. Petersburg. He is a student at the Imperial Naval Academy. Piotr, this is my aunt Nadia. Where are Sarah and Rachel?" "They've gone into town with two boys from down the road. They should be back soon. They just went for ice cream." "Well, if you don't mind, I'll put our things in Ernst's old room. We'll just be staying the night. The wife doesn't like me to be gone too long and Piotr has classes on Monday." "Hardly seems to be worth the effort. If you two intend to do any swimming, then you'd better do it now. The evenings are a little chilly once the sun goes down." Paul extracted two towels from a hallway closet, threw one to Piotr, and said: "Come on let's go." As they exited through the back door Paul yelled at his Cousin: "Tell Sarah and Rachel that we'll be back soon. Don't let them come after us, we'll probably be on the beach near Camp Sunshine." The laughter from the woman's voice trailed after them, as they climbed over the back fence and headed down a path that would take them directly to the beach. The two were hardly out of sight when the front door opened and Sarah announced: "Mom. We are back." The woman looked out from the kitchen and saw the two boys. "Yars, how are you? Wish your folks would drop by sometime. I like your Mom. But, I'd feel uncomfortable visiting them at the Camp. If anyone saw me naked they'd run the other way. "Sarah, you and Rachel just missed your Cousin Paul. He and a friend came down from St. Petersburg, but they are going back tomorrow. They've gone down to the beach. Paul says for you not to follow them, they're going swimming without clothes." Sarah giggled, "Well then, seems to me that's all the more reason for us to go after them." Her mother joked... "Yes, and I'll tan that little bottom of yours." Addressing Yars she asked: "Would you and your friend like to stay for dinner? It's not fancy, but there's more than enough." "Thanks just the same Mrs. Benckendorff but Mom will already have dinner waiting for us. Maybe some other time." "Sarah, would you and Rachel go out to the barn and milk the cow? It's almost time. If you do it now, then you won't have to when Paul and his friend come back. Sarah turned to Yars, "You guys might just as well come along. --Might even let you pull a teat or two." Her mother looked up and started to say something. Then she thought better of it and remained silent. She hoped that there was safety in numbers. The four youngsters entered the barn. Momentarily, the change from out door light to shadowed interior blinded them. The odor of crushed hay mixed with cow manure filled their nostrils, and somehow brought them closer to nature. Alex moved closer to Rachel, put his arm around her waist, and tugged her against him. Sarah and Yars were walking ahead, then stopped at a stall. "Yars, see if you can find that milk stool. I need to rinse out the pail. Alex pulled Rachel back into the shadows, then embraced her. His lips sought hers, then moved along her right cheek until his hot breath was tickling her ear. His tongue flicked out, touching the lobe, then wormed its way into the canal. A shudder of passion, accompanied by a low moan racked her body. She pressed her pelvis tightly against his. Her hands fell from his shoulders to his buttocks cupping each cheek, pulling him hard against her. His chlen was pulsating, conveying a need that was a mere fraction of an inch from her vulva. She pulled even tighter as though, through wish and imagination, the separating cloth would disappear. Sarah and Yars had left the pail and stool in the stall and were now watching the passion being played out. In response Sarah reached around Yars neck, pulling him down. Then both watched the other couple and mimicked the play. Yars was about to suggest that all four of them should seek the privacy of the loft when an angry shout split the silence. "What the hell is going on here? Rachel, are you out of your mind?" Paul and Piotr had entered the barn from the opposite end and had crept up on the lovers. Alex spun away from Rachel. His chlen was clearly visible as it tented his trousers, the head highlighted by a dark spot of oozing pre-cum. Piotr was standing just a few steps behind. His face went pale as he recognized Alex. He stuttered and started to say "My... My Tsa.. " but he was interrupted by Paul Benkendorff who shouted at the two boys. "Ice Cream indeed. Get the hell out of here before I thrash you." With that he grabbed the two girls by their arms dragging them toward the house. "Please Paul! Please don't tell mama. She will ground us for life. Please..?" Quietly Piotr asked: "Paul, don't you remember when you were that age? Don't you think being caught is enough punishment?" The older man released the two girls and came to a stop. "Perhaps you are right. But I've known Rachel since she was a mere baby." "From where I stand she isn't a child anymore." The two girls looked at Piotr, with grateful, hopeful eyes. "All right. You two girls go in the house and find out how soon before dinner." As he said that, he saw the two boys hop over the back fence and disappear into the trees. While the two men were walking toward a picnic table, Alex and Yars were high tailing it toward the beach. "Man, oh man... that was close," Yars panted out. "Good thing she didn't have your tool out." He looked down at the still dark spot on Alex's trousers and asked: "Did you pop your load?" Alex was in a panic. Piotr knew. Piotr had to know. He must buy Piotr's silence at all costs. Only Rasputin, Alex-P and himself knew that there were two Tsarevich's. Yars slowed his pace. "Don't be so upset. The guy was just pissed off because you were trying to fuck his cousin. What the hell; when he was our age he probably was trying the same thing. Don't worry about it. Once he has cooled down, everything will be OK." Alex told him: "It's not just about being caught. I know the other guy and he knows my parents. If they find out, I'll be in deep trouble." They walked a little further in silence, then Yars said: "If I know Sarah, she and Rachel will be at the beach tonight. I can tell that Rachel wants you inside of her. Besides Sarah is not about to give up this play toy." The older boy grasped his own crotch suggestively. The dinner gong was sounding as the two boys waded around the wall that separated Camp Sunshine from the rest of the beach. Yars' father was already seated and talking with several other guests. "Have you seen the St. Petersburg News? The Czar and the Tsarevich are enroute to the front lines to see how we are doing. That should make our soldiers fight even harder." Alex asked if he could see the article. The camp director pointed to a newspaper laying on top of a counter. Even from where he stood, Alex could see a photograph of the Czar with his arm around his son's shoulder; both in an army uniform, standing alongside the Imperial Train. There was no way of avoiding it. He had to talk with Piotr. He had to make him understand how important it was that he keep his silence. Alex ate sparsely. Yars tried to cheer him up, believing Alex was simply worried about being caught with Rachel. Meanwhile, at the Benkendorff home, Piotr was fairing no better. He couldn't understand what the Tsarevich was doing in Gdov; also, where were the security police who should have been protecting him? It wasn't just that Aleksey had been found in a compromising situation with the girl. At his age it should have been expected. Obviously Paul Benkendorff didn't know whom he had been dressing down; had he, he should have feared for his life. Disrespect to the Tsarevich is a fearsome thing. Dinner was a quiet affair. The girls were unusually silent. They were not flirting with their cousin as they usually did. Their mother wondered what had happened. Immediately after eating, the girls excused themselves: "We have had a hectic day and want to get some sleep." Having said that, they retired to the bedroom they shared. Paul told Piotr that if he would rather, he could sleep on the screened porch. There were several long divans. Piotr did not feel comfortable sleeping with Paul, so he readily accepted the alternative. "What time must we leave tomorrow?" "Not 'till about noon. The northbound train comes through about then. We must get to the station a little earlier though. The station master must signal the train to stop." Everyone had retired by 10:00 PM. Piotr was usually a heavy sleeper, but not this night. His mind would not leave the puzzle alone. What was the Tsarevich doing in Gdov; and where were his protectors? He was certain that he was not mistaken... but then doubts began to creep into his thoughts. It was a little after 11:30 when he heard steps coming from the house and onto the screened porch. He lay quietly, wondering who it might be. After a moment had elapsed he got out of bed and looked into the yard. It was the two girls. They were dressed and walking towards the rear of the property. Piotr quickly slipped into his trousers and shoes, then followed from a distance. They climbed over the rear fence and followed the beach trail that he and Paul had used. If they stayed on the trail, he wouldn't need to keep them in sight. Through the trees, he could see both the ocean, and the girls as they walked along the sand. Then he heard two male voices; it had to be Aleksey and the other boy. He stayed hidden among the trees and watched. The two boys waded around the wall. They were both naked. To Piotr's surprise, when the girls saw them, they too removed their dresses... they wore nothing beneath them. The four walked further into the water till it was waist high, then passionately embraced. Alex and Rachel were the first to walk back to the beach. Alex's chlen was huge as it emerged from the water. They were still knee-deep when they turned toward each other and again embraced. They were so close to eachother that Alex's chlen was either sandwiched between them, or it was in her. As they came out of the water, they walked toward where Piotr was hidden and laid down on a make-shift bed. The girl had spread her legs and the boy was laying on top of her. The way they were humping suggested that they had not consummated the act. Sarah and Yars joined them. Then lay down. Unlike Alex, Yars spread Sarah's legs and, unlike Rachel, Sarah grasped his penis and guided him in. Alex and Rachel were still engaged in foreplay when Sarah and Yars triumphantly leaped off of the cliff. Yars rolled off her, laid his head on her breasts and sighed. Sarah looked at Rachel, then at Yars, and said: "Well I'm tired and want to go to bed." Yars nodded: "Me too." Sarah slipped on her dress and whispered: "Rachel I'm going home. You come along when you are finished." "Hmmmmm." Was the reply. Yars disappeared around the wall and Sarah slipped away into the darkness. Alex and Rachel were rapidly approaching climax. Alex pulled out and said: "I don't want to finish yet. Let's make this last." Rachel's response was to grab Alex's chlen and guide it back into her. Alex tried to delay the inevitable, but the feelings in his penis were beyond his ability to control. His gentle thrusts became fast and furious lunges. Her hands held on to his buttocks, adding power to the inward thrusts, then reluctantly relaxed, allowing him to withdraw a little after each thrust. Her groans became louder. Soon Alex's voice joined hers in a duet of passion as they reached for climax, then hurtled over it. Quietly, they lay in each other's arms. "Alex, I must go home." "Uhhhhmmmm. I'm too lazy to get up. Stay with me for awhile." "Can't". The girl slipped on her dress and disappeared into the darkness of the trees. A moment turned into a minute, then into two as Alex continued to recuperate from his adventure. "Pssst. Pssst. Alex." The boy looked toward Camp Sunshine and whispered: "Yars, is that you?" "No Alex. It's Piotr. I need to talk with you." "How long have you been out here?" "Long enough." There was a long silence during which Alex's mind was racing with possibilities, then Alex said: "Well come out here so that I can see you." Piotr had to admit to himself that the sight of Alex laying nakedly on his back in the full light of the pale moon was quite a beautiful sight. Then he kind of chuckled as his eyes focused on the now limp organ which lay over the boy's testicles. "How can you be here by yourself. Where is Derevenko?" "Piotr it is a long story: but, I must swear you to absolute secrecy, for what I am about to tell you could bring down Mother Russia as we know her today." Alex was suddenly struck by the sight of Piotr emerging from the trees into the moonlight with only his pants and shoes on. He was truly a striking man and, with less immediate worries than were on his mind just now, Alex would have happily taken advantage of this private moonlight meeting with Piotr. "Of course My Tsarevich. My lips are sealed. But I don't understand. I saw a newspaper on the train this afternoon with a picture of you and your father. It said you were enroute to the front lines in Slovokia." "Piotr... There are two of us. There are two Tsarevich's, not just one." The cadet looked confused, shook his head, then asked: "How long has this been true; how long have there been two of you? --And why?" Alex replied: "For more than three years now." "That cannot be. We were all onboard the Standart... there is no way that there could have been two of you." "You are wrong. Had you not wondered why Catherine Rasputin was so close to me?" "I had supposed that you were sleeping with her. Most of the crew had side bets that you were more than just good friends." "Catherine, without the wig, is my double. He could be my twin." "You mean Catherine is really --a boy?" Alex nodded his head. Piotr was silent for a very long time, as the implications of Alex's words began to sink in; then, rather timidly he asked: "Do you remember that first time, on board the Standart when you asked me to rinse the dark coloring from your hair. --Was it you or was it Catherine?" "It was me." "And the second time, just before I was transferred to the Naval Academy?" "There was no second time." Alex said somewhat sadly. Piotr blushed as he remembered the boy who had wrapped his hand around his chlen and brought him to climax. They continued to talk throughout the night. The first hint of sunrise now shown in the eastern sky as small clouds reflected the golden rays. "Alex, it is important to me that I graduate from the Academy. The war effort has been draining the school. I have worked very hard to keep my grades high and, above that, the Admiral's secretary has been keeping my name off of the draft list." The Tsarevich chuckled, "I hope she's not too ugly. She keeps you out of the war so she can have you in her bed?" Piotr protested quickly. "Oh no, my Tsarevich. The Admiral's secretary is a senior enlisted man." He then realized what images Alex might draw from that statement --and held his breath. Silence permeated the air for several moments. Alex wondered 'what then could be the secretary's motivation?' Piotr hoped Alex wouldn't ask that question. Piotr thought of both times he had been 'physical' with the Tsarevich, he thought of his growing feelings for what was happening between him and Adrien. Alex thought of his little street Arab and their special evening together; also of Nijinsky and of that evening when Piotr had been so close while washing the dye from Alex's hair. All these myriad thoughts came rushing through the seconds of silence. Both young men thought about the attraction which each felt for the other --both thought about the 'perfect conditions' which existed here while they were really alone together for the first time; however, both also realized the gravity of the information which Piotr had just discovered this evening and both were content with the closeness which they were now sharing. Alex was first to break through their silent musings. "Well, Piotr. As soon as I return to the capital I will write an official letter to the Admiralty which asks them to not interfere with your schooling, saying that it is the wish of both the Czar as well as myself." "Thank you. But I do not wish to attract that kind of attention to myself." "Oh, I won't send it to the Admiralty. I will give it to you to use in the event that you are drafted. Mama read us the letter you sent and Tatiana asked if she could invite you to dinner, but papa said 'no'." He hesitated before he continued: "He said that the war was taking too much time. Nevertheless, knowing Tatiana, she will have her way and we will be seeing you at Tsarskoye Selo in the near future." + + + + + Petrograde Naval Base + + + + + Adrian was thoroughly pissed off. The officer in charge of quarters had informed him of Cadet Veliky's most recent inquiry. He had waited expectantly in his quarters for Piotr's almost nightly visit. But it had not come. He queried the master at arms at the cadet barracks and learned that Piotr was on a weekend pass. He knew the boy seldom left the base on his own and he, Adrian, was his only friend... unless one counted the Imperial Family. He telephoned both the Winter Palace and the Alexandria Palace. He couldn't get past the switchboard operator at either place, but he was assured that the Imperial Family had no visitors and in fact the Czar and the Tsarevich were both enroute to Slovokia. His duty roster had been crowded. The Admiralty had been on full time alert for the entire weekend. But he had managed to return to his quarters before midnight on both Friday and Saturday. Now it was Sunday and Adrian had become more than just curious. He chided himself for his inattention to the boy during the previous week. He did not equate the cadet's weekend pass to his own passing affair with Lockhart. It was a combination of ego and jealousy which now resulted in his visiting The Embers. Lockhart was sitting at his usual corner table when Adrian arrived late Sunday Evening. "I see your friend has flown the coup," was the Englishman's greeting as Adrian sat himself down. "What do you mean --'flown the coup'?" "Oh, didn't you know? He and Paul went to the seashore together." Lockhart's report was calculated to upset the sailor. The inference being that the two were having an affair. Adrian's face flushed with anger. "Well, so be it. He's made his bed, he damned well can lie in it." "Calm down. It isn't as though we haven't had something going since our return from Peter's cottage. You know the old adage, --'if the cat's away the mice will play'." "Fuck him. Who needs the little tramp anyway? When it comes right down to it, I prefer a real man." With that Adrian reached under the table and grabbed Lockhart's penis and began to massage it. The secret agent looked around the room, assuring himself that they had not been observed, then said: "Be a little more discreet will you?" "Maybe Iveren will let us use his office." Lockhart was not really interested in accommodating the sailor's desire. In fact, from the beginning, he had used Adrian's lust as a tool to ingratiate himself. It was like money in the bank, a reserve of possible information when he needed it; but, there was no denying the fact that this kid was a great cocksucker. He reflected back to that first accommodation at the mountain cabin. His chlen began to swell, as he recreated the memories of the past week, and the sailor's subsequent nightly visits to his apartment. "No. I don't want to give the bastard any leverage over us. We'll go to my place as usual. I'll leave first. The front door will be locked, but the key will be on the sill." Lockhart left, not paying his bill. Adrian looked at the check, signed his name to it and left it for the waiter. In a sudden fit of anger, the sailor hailed a Taxi and ordered it to take him to the Admiralty. The guard was surprised to see the secretary to CNOP at this late hour, but passed him through. Adrian marched up the wide stair case, unlocked the door labeled "CNOP" and entered the office. In his 'out' basket lay this coming week's draft list from the Academy. He added "Piotr Veliky" as number 50, blotted the wet ink of this addition and returned the list to his 'out' basket. Still angry and having forgotten his initial agreement to go to Lockhart's appartment, Adrien smugly stalked from the building and went directly to his own quarters. It was a little past midnight when there was a tapping at his door. He knew from the rhythm of the knock that it was Piotr. Quietly, and a little confused, he opened the door. His guest slipped through the opening, then he closed and locked the door. "I thought you were at the sea shore." Adrian spoke a bit abruptly. Piotr had rapidly removed his clothing. His chlen stood at full attention, as he lay in the middle of Adrian's bed. "Your CQ told me you would be on duty for the entire weekend, so I went to Gdov with Paul Benkendorff to visit his cousins." "Did you enjoy yourself?" "It was Okay, I guess. --Did a little swimming. One of his cousins is his ward; a girl by the name of Rachel. She's at that age that everyone is worrying about keeping her virginity intact." He kind of laughed before adding: "But I suspect it's already too late for that. "Now stop the questioning and come here. --Petooshock has missed you. Come over here and suck." Somewhat guiltily, Adrian removed his clothing and lay alongside his "guest". He looked in the boy's sparkling emerald green eyes. His heart fluttered, then pounded in his chest, as his earlier rage now faded completely. The first time was urgently rapid. The second time allowed Adrian to display the full range of his talents. He declined the third; rather, he needed to return to CNOP. He had to re-pen the entire draft list with only the original 49 names. + + + + + Slovokia + + + + + "Aleksey! Come here." The Czar was standing alongside the wall map of the Carpathian Mountains. "Look here. This is the Masurian Lakes; and this is where we are right now." His finger was over-shadowing the circled spot entitled 'Gizycko'. "I have asked to interview officers returning from the front; both ours and the enemy." "May I be present?" "Well, I don't know. If they are back from the front, they are probably wounded. It might be an unpleasant experience." Alex-P was eager to "play the mind game"; to watch, listen, observe and then draw his own conclusions. "But papa, how am I to learn if I am protected from the realities of life, --and especially the war?" Nicholas glanced out of the window. Many of those who were walking past the train were hobbling, or had limbs held in slings. Dark, crusted stains indicated that their bandages should have been changed long ago but hadn't been. The ability to give adequate medical treatment to the wounded was sorely lacking. The expressions on their faces were those of despair; as though no one cared whether they lived or died. "Of course you are right." The father placed his arm around his son's shoulders, tugging him against his hip. "Life is too short. It seems just yesterday I heard your first cry as the doctor slapped your bottom." A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. "In". The Czar's voice carried across the room. The door opened. One of the Czar's military aides stepped into the room and saluted: "Your Imperial Highness, I have an officer you might like to speak with. He has just returned from the front." Nicholas waved permission. The aide turned and beckoned a young man into the room, then turned and closed the door behind him. If it had not been for the insignia the man wore on his collar, he could have been mistaken for a schoolboy. His age could not have been more than 16. At first glance it looked like he had a ruddy, windblown complexion, but a closer inspection revealed that the redness was produced by some sort of rash which covered his body from hair line to neck line. Even his eyes were red. The boy stood there inhaling and exhaling in shallow breaths. He saluted then began to cough. His hand went to his mouth as the racking shook his youthful frame. "Sit. Sit my boy. Can I get you a glass of water?" The man had a strangled look. Eventually his body calmed and he was able to speak. "Your Imperial Highness. The Major said you wished to talk to me. I will try, but it will be difficult." The boy began to gasp for air, then again experienced a coughing spasm. "What has happened to you Lieutenant?" "It's the Germans... they seem to have a new weapon." He stopped speaking, forcing himself to breath in shallow gasps. "One of our men recognized the smell. It was chlorine." The Czar reached for a bell cord and summoned one of his aides. "Do we have a chemical engineer on board. I need to speak to someone who knows about something called Chlorine." In short sentences, spaced by long periods of silence, the boy explained that his company had been entrenched along the northern slopes of the Carpathian Mountains. The entire regiment had been making great advances, pushing the enemy troops up into the valleys. Night had fallen, so he had ordered his company to dig trenches in which they could sleep during the night. A pleasant breeze was coming from the mountain slopes. Most of his troops were asleep; just a few on guard. Quite unexpectedly some of the sentries began to cough. Others hushed them. The sound might give their position away. Within minutes everyone was coughing. Not just muffled coughs, but deep bone shaking hacks. It felt like their lungs were on fire. Then their eyes began to burn. Nothing they could do seemed to alleviate the pain. He saw one man cough until blood came rushing out of his nose and mouth. There must have been others who were also bleeding because, as though a giant wave swept the front lines, the men began running toward the rear, blindly stumbling into trenches behind them, trying to get away from whatever was causing them to hemorrhage. Again there was a knock on the door. A much older officer said that he was a chemical engineer and asked how he could be of service. The Czar told his aide to find a doctor. The young Lieutenant needed attention. If possible he would like the boy to stay in the Imperial Car. Directing his attention to the older officer he ordered: "Please tell us all you know about Chlorine. Can it be used as a weapon? If so, how?" "Well, Chlorine is a very reactive element. In its elemental form it is a gas that is heavier than air; but, because it is so reactive, it usually combines with other things. Table salt is an example. Table salt is a compound created by the reaction of chlorine with sodium. As a pure gas it is quite dangerous. Breathing the stuff has killed people. If chlorine reacts with hydrogen it creates hydrochloric acid; of course that's what happens when someone breathes it. "As a weapon? I don't know. I never heard of it being used that way... but it could, I suppose." The Czar interrupted and repeated the Lieutenants story. The chemical engineer said, "Well, then I can see the Huns are still trying to find ways to make war even more dangerous. "The biggest disadvantage that I see in using Chlorine as a weapon is that no one can control the wind. If it shifts, the dispensers might well find themselves becoming the target. I sure as hell wouldn't want to be one of those releasing the gas." The monarch raised his hand to interrupt, "If you were to build something to use chlorine as a weapon how would you do it?" "That would be the easiest thing in the world. Just load pressurized chlorine cylinders on to a truck or wagon. Equip each one with a spray like-nozzle. Position the vehicle so that nature's own wind will carry the gas toward the enemy. "In the daytime you could see it as a light green cloud, hugging the ground, drifting with the wind. At nighttime it would be an almost invisible weapon." "And if the wind should change?" "Run like the dogs of hell were on your tail." The chemical expert had departed. The doctor was still examining the young Lieutenant. The Czar was looking out the window at the passing wounded, wondering what burden would next find its way to his shoulders. "Papa I have an idea. When we were sailing from London to Lisbon, I had asked Captain Prokoshov why we were sailing so far away from the Portuguese shore line. He explained that when the wind came out of the mountains, its direction was controlled by the valley which it was passing through. The wind could suddenly shift by as much as ninety to a hundred degrees within a short distance. The closer you were to the canyons, the more rapid were the wind shifts. "Something else I remember; something about drawing fire. The natural instinct of someone who is holding a weapon is to direct it toward a point of danger. So, if you had a cannon, and I was firing at you with a rifle, your natural instinct would be to fire your cannon at me. The more fire from me, the more likely you would direct your weapon toward me, even if it is an overkill. "I would think that if the Germans were using gas, and we shifted our fire so that it was concentrated at a different point, they would turn their wagons to let the gas go in the direction of the increased fire. Now, if you did that close to the mountain valleys, you might be able to bait them into making a big mistake; releasing the gas so that one of those canyon drafts could lift the chlorine back and above the gas truck. Then, when it settled to a lower level, it would drift back over the enemy." Nicholas was astonished by his son. He had no idea that the boy was that capable of applying logic to a battle situation. "Well, now Aleksey, I must say you have surprised me. Of course success could only be achieved if all of the conditions were just right. But I do think we should pass your idea on to Mikhail; it could be a valuable, alternate battle plan." Alex-P had been watching the face of the young Lieutenant as he outlined his plan. The reaction had been a surprised agreement; a positive nodding of the head. The doctor turned toward Nicholas: "Your Imperial Majesty, it is urgent that I move this boy to a hospital. I'm not quite sure what we can do for him, but it is urgent that we do something so that he can get more oxygen. I'll find someone to help me move him. He shouldn't exercise any more than possible." "Papa, can I help the doctor?" Nicholas, at first, was inclined to say "no" but changed his mind. It would be good for Aleksey to see that side of the war. It had been the Czar's intent to continue on to the front lines, but now he worried about the danger that Aleksey might face. During the course of the next several days they ate, slept and worked aboard the train. Finally it was Alex-P who asked when they would continue their journey. "I'm afraid we won't. The use of gas has put a different complexion on the matter. I must return to the capitol to seek more expert advice." What the Czar did not tell his son was that he feared for the boy's life. If gas could cause bleeding in the lungs and chest of a healthy soldier, then what might it do to someone with hemophilia? + + + + + On route to the Capitol + + + + + An odd thunderstorm had found it's way to Petrograd. Gregori Rasputin sat in the most luxurious class on board the north bound train. The journey had been lengthy and tiring. He had rested very little during the past four days. The political situation had been bothering him. He could see that mother Russia was already on a path to destruction unless he could intercede. For the past several months he had been desperately ill, recovering from a knife attack by an old admirer. His wife had always been patient with him, letting him live his own life, ignoring the fact that he shunned his responsibilities as both husband and father. All during the recovery process his daughter Maria had been by his side, attending to his every need. Eventhough he had fully recovered she insisted on accompanying him to Petrograd. His telegrams to the Czar had gone unanswered. A telephone call to the Czarina did not comfort him. It seemed that the Monarch had taken his son to the front. His inquiry regarding Catherine was equally unsettling; she seemed to have gone to Gdov. He could not be certain, as the telephone line had been extremely noisy and then simply faded completely away. At the last stop, some 6 hours earlier, he had purchased a copy of the newspaper Pravda. A front page article had put a lump in his stomach. There had been a case several years earlier which had involved the murder of a 13 year old boy. The community had been outraged and demanded justice. The village police had stumbled around and, as a result of local political pressure, finally had accused a Jewish caretaker, Mendel Beilis. The man had been working near where the body was found and he was also a Jew. Like Gypsies, the Jews had for centuries been used as scapegoats, absorbing community discontent. In this instance; however, the most commonly used technique had back fired. In the beginning, the old rote method of scapegoating had mis-directed public attention away from the real guilty parties; but the family of the accused would not be quiet. The War had intervened; public attention had been drawn elsewhere. Eventually the State Police took over the investigation. They discovered that the victim had, on the day of his death, visited a friend whose mother, Vera Cheberyak, was a known associate of criminals and a receiver of stolen goods. Under intensive interrogation she had named certain of her associates; one Mifle and four other persons, as the murderers; their motive was their fear that the boy might have discovered the gang's criminal activities. Cheberyak herself was suspected of playing a central role in the killing. The chief of the ministry of the district police, J.P. Scheglovitch appeared to have some relationship with the Cheberyak's. Despite the prolonged investigation, and despite the confession of the Cheberyak's, Shcheglovitch pressed forward and indicted Bellis. Now it appeared that justice was about to be done. Many in the Duma were outraged by the obvious conspiracy. The newspaper had reported that, at the trial before the Sudebnaya Palata, the prosecution's evidence was limited to inconclusive allegations and assertions by extremely disreputable "experts". The prosecution's case was contradicted by the Chief Rabbi of Moscow. The defense team pointed out the absence of any credible case against Beilis; further underlining the defense case was the fact that the evidence against the Cheberyak gang was linked to an extraordinary act of misconduct by the Ministry of Justice. In his closing argument, the defense Counsel addressed the central issue squarely in his plea to the jury: "If 'till now there was ever an institution which did not yield to outside influences, it is this court with its jury. You are protecting something sacred. Gentlemen of the jury, I beseech you, keep it so ... by your verdict." The jury heeded the plea and Beilis was acquitted. The article concluded: "The extreme racism manifested by the Ministry of Justice shocked this reporter. This case has done much to discredit the extreme right wing faction of today's Russian politics." Rasputin leaned back in his seat and heaved a long sigh. "Could there be no end to all of this political infighting? Can't even a world war bring our people together?" The train began to slow, then jerked in short stops. The hiss of releasing steam sounded harshly, then mellowed as it echoed between other cars and other trains. Even before the train came to its final abrupt stop, Rasputin had removed his two bags from the overhead rack. A porter took them away and led him out of the carriage. "Are you switching trains?" "No. I live here in St. Petersburg... he caught himself and said: "Petrograd that is. I don't think I'll ever get used to calling it Petrograd." He relieved the porter of the two bags, carried them outside into the rain, and, lifting his arm, hailed a cab. Despite his anxiety, rest was the only thing he wanted just now as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. He was neither surprised nor concerned that there was an Okhrana agent sitting on his landing. He waved at the man while he was putting his key into his door. The agent did not acknowledge the wave. He simply sat there, making a note on his pad. "Rasputin with unknown female entered the building at 20:30 hours." 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