“What was the name of that dump again?”, shouted Frank from the back seat.
“Legatzk! I have already said it many times!”, answered John Throphy annoyedly.
“How far is it?”, asked Wilden
“Maybe three miles!”, muttered the Irishman and accelerated the car.
“Why hasn`t Artur invited me to the meeting? I will ask him that!”, murmured Bäumer with a questioning glance.
“I don`t know. He will probably have a reason”, meant the village boss and fumbled on the collar of his trench coat.
The car jolted over an old cobbled street and turned left. Finally they reached a rundown village. Except for an old woman who was slowly hobbling across the muddy road in front of them, they did not see anybody. After about three hundred meters, the car stopped and a man in a gray shirt waved at them from a side street. They had reached their goal.
Wilden got out first and looked around. Dilapidated houses, some vacant, were on both sides. The men from Ivas followed the Russian.
“Come in!”, said the guardsman, greeting briefly and leading them into a house.
Everything here seemed to crumble and the building looked more like a ruin. Then they went up some stairs and finally entered a large room. About twenty men were waiting here, and Artur Tschistokjow hurried to meet them.
“I greet you, my friends!”, he said with a smile and shook their hands.
The men in front of them sat at a long wooden table and Artur made some remarks in Russian. Frank could not understand everything, because the blond man talked rapidly and indistinctly. Shortly afterwards, he came back to his German friends and the Irishman.
“We are talking today about the new government of Belarus, after the revolution”, he said gravely.
“A new government?”, asked Kohlhaas with surprise.
“Yes, if we make revolution and it works, then we need a new government in this country!”
“Aha?”, Wilden wondered.
“Is this the reason for the meeting?”, asked Bäumer dizzyingly.
“Yes, right!”, answered the Russian rebel. “I want Mr. Wilden and Frank in my government, okay?”
“Well, I understand…”, returned Alf easily offended and took a glass of mineral water.
Artur Tschistokjow told his Russian colleagues again, what Wilden had achieved for the freedom movement with his journey to Japan. The village boss earned admiring glances, while some of the men applauded.
They knew Frank as well. He had saved Artur`s life and was meanwhile the commander of the most important trooper squads of the organization.
The leader of the Rus looked at Wilden and said: “I want you to be the “minister of foreign things” of Belarus in my government!”
“Foreign minister – we say in German”, explained Frank.
“Yes, the foreign minister of Belarus”, stressed Tschistokjow.
The village boss smiled and thanked the Russian for the honorable offer.
“Frank, you will be the commander of the army of Belarus. Do you agree?”
Kohlhaas was initially confused and paused. He briefly looked around and nodded then thoughtfully.
“All right!”, he returned and smiled at Artur.
“Well, I`m happy. You are good fighters”, said the Russian and seemed to be pleased.
“And these are the other members of your cabinet?”, asked Wilden, looking at the men at the table.
“Right! This is Dr. Gugin. Previously he has been at the university in Minsk. He was a lecturer. Dr. Gugin is minister of economy!”
An elderly man with a shrunken face, a bald head and bright gray eyes, rose from his seat and shook their hands.
“Peter Ulljewski is the commander of the new secret service”, explained Artur, pointing at his oldest friend. Frank gave the sturdy street fighter a wink and grinned.
“A good idea!”, meant the village boss.
“Mr. Juri Litschenko from Vitebsk, he will be minister for the interior. Mr. Gregori Lossov will be the minister of defense…”
Two middle-aged men stood up and bowed. Now Tschistokjow introduced also the rest of the men to his German friends. They all should play a major role in the new, revolutionary Belarus, as the leader of the Rus planned.
“Well, congratulations!”, Frank heard from the side. It was Alf.
Bäumer seemed to feel like a fifth wheel in this illustrious round of revolutionaries and Frank felt visibly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he was proud that Tschistokjow had made an offer like this to him.
”If there will ever be a revolution, then I`ll give you an important position”, Kohlhaas appeased his best friend.
“Yes, yes, do what you want, great master!”, grumbled Bäumer and turned round.
“Shall I ask Artur?”
Alf interrupted Frank rudely: “No! Forget it!”
After an hour they left the Russians and drove back to Ivas. Frank was thinking about the future, while Alf stared out the window, and Wilden lectured about his first measures as “theoretical foreign minister” of the new Belarus.
Kohlhaas could feel the boundless enthusiasm of the village boss, because of Artur Tschistokjow`s plans. But he still was sceptical concerning all these revolutionary dreams. Maybe it would be nothing but a figment in the end.
The rebels spent the sunny July of 2035 with ceaseless agitation. Artur Tschistokjow made three smaller demonstrations in the west of the country. It came to no significant conflicts with the local police and Frank grew more and more in the role of the guardsmen`s leader.
Meanwhile, tens of thousands of pamphlets and newspapers flooded the land, and virtually the entire village youth of Ivas and thousands of Russians were active in Belarus and Lithuania day and night. Tschistkjow had preached his men that the revolution still had to come in this year.
A growing number of people had now open sympathies for the Rus, while the state authority was crumbling more and more in many regions of the country. Often, the cops just looked away, left the streets to Tschistokjow`s men and let them distribute their propaganda material. This was already a huge success.
At the same time, the situation in Belarus deteriorated further. In August, the food prices climbed upward again and there were strikes and riots in the bigger cities. Furthermore, the feared increase of the prices for oil and gas was still coming. It was planned for October. During the cold winter months, this hated new measure could finally cause a revolutionary mood. However, Artur Tschistokjow and Wilden believed this, and the rapid growth of the Freedom Movement of the Rus seemed to prove them right. Once, this organization had been nothing but a small group of discontent people, but now thousands of Belarusians poured towards the dragon head banners. In August, the Rus finally planned to return to Gomel.
It was a beautiful autumn day. The bright rays of the sun warmed the city of Gomel, that Belarusian city which had seen a bloody massacre, no Rus would ever forget. Frank, Alf and Artur could not believe their eyes. They stood in the midst of a giant sea of people. The rebel leader told them, that today almost twice as many people as at the last demonstration had gathered in the city center.
“This is incredible. What a crowd! I think between 30000 and 40000 people”, marveled Frank.
“The necessity is driving them to us”, said Wilden soberly, eyeing the crowd.
“If they don`t shoot us down again today, the Medschenko regime will lose its face!”, meant Kohlhaas and stared at some belligerent policemen in the distance.
“Come on!”, said Alf and pulled his friend on the sleeve of his gray shirt.
Then they went to the Russian guardsmen. Frank gave them some orders and the men walked off.
He turned to Bäumer and remarked: “Today we have more than 3000 armed troopers here. This time, the cops will get some really bloody feedback if they attack us again. A few hundred guardsmen are waiting in the side streets, in smaller groups. Now we can encircle them too. But I hope it won`t end in another bloodbath.”
“Good idea
! I hope the same. Meanwhile, both sides have become more cautious and I can`t imagine that the cops will risk another shootout”, speculated Alf.
Shortly afterwards, the mass started to move and headed towards the town hall of the city. Defiant chants resounded through the crowded streets and hundreds of flags and banners were waved.
Today they were more than just a mass of discontented demonstrators. This was a small army that could meanwhile withstand the police forces. All the officers who were stationed in the east of Belarus, had been sent to Gomel by the Medschenko regime today, what showed the importance of this second rally.
The protesters marched about five miles through downtown and finally reached a large square. Here was the town hall.
Artur Tschistokjow delivered a speech which lasted almost two hours and shouted out his usual accusations against the government in Minsk, while he promised the people of Belarus a bright future under his leadership in return. The policemen behaved restrainedly.
“They do nothing. Despite their anti-riot tanks and the whole stuff!” Frank was surprised and pushed up his steel helmet.
“Maybe this all will end in peace today. The cops will also think twice before they start to shoot at us again”, said Alf.
After a while, a police officer came towards them and made his way through the crowd, while many demonstrators yelled insults at him. Nevertheless, the man walked straight to Artur Tschistokjow and started to talk with him.
“What's happening?”, asked Kohlhaas and looked in the direction of Alf. Bäumer came to him.
They pushed some men to the side and could finally see something. The two rebels from Ivas paused and did not trust their eyes anymore. The policeman shook Artur Tschistokjow`s hand, smiled and went back to his men. Then the leader of the Rus shouted something into his megaphone.
“What has he said?”, asked Alf.
“Artur has given the command to march off. The demonstration is over!”, translated Frank.
“What do you mean?”
“We`re going home! Closing time for today!”
“Huh?”, Alf was puzzled.
“No shooting, no killing, just going home, Bäumer!”
The huge crowd peacefully left the inner city with amazing discipline. Some police units followed them and almost looked like companions this time.
Eventually, the crowd dissolved and the protesters went home. Except for some quarrelsome young people, who started some brawls on the way home, everything went smoothly. Finally Artur Tschistokjow departed with a satisfied smile at the end of the day. The second protest march through Gomel had been a triumph.
“Why haven`t the GCF soldiers done anything?”, wondered Bäumer and fetched something to drink.
“Simply because they have been far too few. The Belarusian police has denied to support them anymore. Alone, they wouldn`t have had a chance against 3000 armed guardsmen”, said Wilden.
“On television they have almost hushed up the rally in Gomel”, replied Frank and sat on the old office chair in Wilden`s study like a king.
“About what shall they report this time? About the fact, that they can`t stop us anymore? That they have already lost a part of their power? Ha, ha!”, laughed the village boss, slapped his thighs.
“You`re right!”, remarked Kohlhaas.
The former entrepreneur stood up in front of Frank and Alfred. “This has been our greatest victory ever! The system has capitulated in Gomel. Do you really understand this?”
“Well, I guess you`re right, Thorsten”, answered Alf. “Maybe they have really drawn in their horns in front of such a great mass of people...”
“The most important thing is, that the Belarusian police has ignored Medschenko`s orders. I agree with Artur in that point”, added Frank.
This time, the village boss had assessed the situation perfectly correct. The mass demonstration in Gomel had been an unexpected success. While the last rally had ended in a bloodbath, the second demonstration had been held without bigger problems and with twice as many people.
All this let the rebels hope. Frank, Alf and Wilden discussed and drank until late at night. They implored the success of their revolutionary efforts and gave each other esperance and confidence.
Eventually, Kohlhaas and Bäumer walked back home, totally drunk, loudly singing the hymn of the Rus. They fell blustering into the hallway of their house and crawled babbling into their beds .
“We…we…make it somehow…”, muttered Kohlhaas, while Alf let out a thunderous burp. A moment after they slept.
In the darkness of the night, Frank`s mind showed the young man once more a strange dream vision. Before his inner eye he could see the picture of a giant spaceship. Its body of steel was only weakly illuminated by some starts in the distance, gliding silently through the endless black void.
Suddenly Frank could see the interior of the spacecraft. Hundreds of people huddled there. It were soldiers, wearing futuristic looking suits of armor of a metallic material. The faces of the men were full of fear. Some of them had closed their eyes and seemed to pray, others just looked nervously around, as if something terrible would wait for them. A tall man with a bionic arm, a scarry face and short hair came to the men and said: “Try to calm down! In one hour we will reach the orbit of Ryann III and the ship will start its final descent!“
The soldiers were silent, looking anxiously at him. The tall man, apparently the leader of the unit, remarked: “I see it in your eyes. You are afraid of the things which may expect us on Ryann III. I know, the Rachnids are terrible enemies, but they are not invincible. We must defend the capital of the planet at all costs. There is no other way!”
“Is it true that these Rachnids have creatures, which are bigger than an imperial tank?, asked a young man with a trembling voice.
“Yes, my boy. But even these creatures can be killed!”
The man slapped on the young soldier`s back with his metallic hand and the blond boy nodded. After a while, the spaceship reached the orbit of the planet whose atmosphere was threateningly glowing in a reddish light. The men went into their drop pods and were ejected from the starship. They cut through the blazing red sky like hailstones, and finally hit the planet`s surface.
A steel door opened with a loud rumble and the frightened soldiers stormed across a desert plain. They had landed in the middle of a battlefield. Around them, countless dead soldiers, tank wrecks and alien creatures covered the dusty ground.
The outlines of a vast horde of insect-like creatures were looming on the horizon. Between the smaller aliens, giant monsters with scythe-like claws tramped forward, uttering fearsome screams.
“They are legion! How shall we defend this city against an entire swarm of Rachnids?”, moaned a soldier, clutching to his laser gun, full of worry and fear.
“We will hold the line, together with our comrades from Ryann III. It would be a disaster if these aliens would ever conquer this planet. This is the junction of the whole space sector“, answered the troop leader with a severe look.
The soldiers were waiting, while the veteran stared at them. Horror and fright marked the often youthful faces of his men and it became worse with each passing second. Meanwhile, the fearsome enemy was slowly coming nearer. It were thousands of creatures. Hissing monsters with spiky, gleaming teeth and razor-sharp claws.
„You can always win, if you have a brave heart! Remember our ancestors, soldiers! Remember Artur the Great and Farancu the Brave!”, shouted the veteran and his men looked up at him.
“But Artur the Great had only to fight against humans, not against monsters like these”, replied the blond boy with a cynical smile.
The troop leader walked towards him and looked deeply into his eyes.
„My boy, Artur the Great fought against a much greater number of enemies – many millennia ago. His foes were countless, like the stars of the galaxy. He saved the light-born people from extinction, in a dark age, when all hope seemed to be lost.
Only his st
rong will and his courageous heart gave him the strength to fight on, even in hours of deepest despair. And it was the same with his general Farancu the Brave, who always fought against a superior enemy.”
“But I`m not Artur the Great or Farancu the Brave, I`m just an ordinary man”, answered the young soldier.
„You can become like them, my boy! You all can become like them! If Artur the Great would not have had the courage of a lion, fighting with contempt for death, there would not exsist an empire of mankind today.
Remember him, remember the Holy Kistokov, the savior of the light-born people, the forefather of the Aureanic caste, the Redeemer of the righteous! His successors led us Aureans to the stars, but without him, all light on earth would have been extinct – and the Golden Empire would have never been found.
Today, we rule over many planets and we will never surrender in front of an alien species. The Holy Kistokov has defeated hardship, fear and despair. And will can also defeat them!”, shouted the man at his soldiers at the top of his lungs.
“Remember the heroics of our ancestors, if these beasts come over you. Be fearless and follow me!”, roared the leader of the unit, waving his bionic arm.
“Why hasn`t Artur the Great brought peace?”, asked the young soldier the veteran.
“Peace? In the grim darkness of this present, there is only war. Peace is nothing but an illusion, boy!”, answered the squad leader and activated his laser gun, while the slobbering, snarling horde of alien monstrosities rushed forward.
Frank startled up like stung by a tarantula, jumping out of his bed, confusedly looking around. The strange vision had almost left his head again and only his shabby, dark bedroom was still there.
“General Farancu…Farancu the Brave…”, he muttered quietly to himself. “What a nonsense!”
Then he hid his head under the blanket and tried to sleep, but weird thoughts disturbed him for the next hours and Frank found no more sleep in this night. Finally, dawn was breaking.
Vitali Medschenko, the governor of the sub-sector “Belarus-Baltic” looked out the window of his splendidly equipped office. His strained eyes wandered across the busy main street which was close to the government district of Minsk. Meanwhile, he was waiting for his guest since almost two hours. In a corner, an old, gilded clock ticked loudly and the penetrating noise interrupted the thoughts of the politician again and again. Eventually, he put the clock in a drawer, where he could not hear the annoying ticking anymore.
Outside the government building, a big black limousine appeared now and a well-dressed chauffeur opened a door to let out a middle aged man with shiny, dark curly hair. The visitor had arrived.
Medschenko scratched his broad forehead and stared with his bulging brown eyes at the office door. Then he could hear footsteps in the hall, becoming louder – the guest entered the room.
“Mr. Medschenko, I apologize for the delay”, said the man informally and sat down with a cold smile.
“Yes, no problem, Mr. Jewsonov!”, answered the governor.
“How`s your wife?”, asked the visitor then.
“Well, we have been in Rome three weeks ago. It`s really nice there. My son and my three daughters have also joined our trip”, told Medschenko and offered a juice to his guest.
“No, thank you!”, muttered Jewsonov and looked away.
“Have you been at the lodge meeting in Moscow?”, asked the chubby governor grinning.
“Yes, of course…”, replied his guest soberly.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Jewsonov?”
The black-haired man smiled sardonically. “Well, can`t you imagine, Mr. Medschenko? We demand an explanation concerning some incidents in your sector”, returned Jewsonov and put on a frown.
“You mean the demonstrations of this crazy troublemaker Tschistokjow?”
“Yes, what else? We have heard, that this agitator can lead huge protest marches through the cities of Belarus…”
“Well, that's not true, Mr. Jewsonov…”
The guest folded his hands and interrupted the governor harshly. “No, it is true, Mr. Medschenko! Our GSA agents have told me about Gomel. About 30000 of these so called “freedom fighters” have just marched through the streets and the security forces haven`t done anything!”
Medschenko swallowed. “The behavior of the local police will be inspected. This was a unique occurrence. Such an incident will never happen again.”
“An onetime thing, right?”, Jewsonov gave the polititian a piercing look.
“Yes, there is no reason for any panic!”
“No reason? That`s an odd thing. I have a lot of GSA reports about incidents like that! How can you explain this, Mr. Medschenko?”, hissed the guest.
“The police in Gomel had just been prepared insufficently, the last time”, answered the governor, clutching at the arm of his chair.
“Insufficently prepared? Is it true that the police chief of Gomel has not supported our GCF units, that he has violated the order to fire, and that he has furthermore shaken the hand of that Tschistokjow? Is it true, that he has made arbitrarily agreements with these people, following the motto: “If you behave peacefully, then we do it too?”
Give me an answer that convinces me, Mr. Medschenko. I haven`t come all the way from Moscow to Minsk, to listen to some silly excuses!”
“Thus, it is not easy to smash this freedom movement overnight with our means. We need more support! Moreover, our coffers are empty”, stammered Medschenko.
Jewsonov immediately stood up and pointed his forefinger at the governor like the lance of a tournament`s knight. For several seconds, he just fixed the corpulent politician with his oily, dark eyes, while Medschenko was holding his breath.
“The GCF forces around the world have much more important things to do, than worrying about regions like Belarus. I leave it to you to stop that Tschistokjow by all available means. Clean up in the ranks of the police and put down this Rus scum. Arrest and liquidate anyone, who professes himself publicly to this ridiculous Freedom Movement of the Rus.
You have enough resources, if you just use them with more intelligence. We, the GSA command of the sector “Eastern Europe”, demand results now!”
“I will do my best, Mr. Jewsonov!”, promised the corpulent politician, gasping and falling back in his office chair.
“It will have consequences for you, if you fail! A lot of brothers are very dissatisfied, because of your policy. Think about it, and be happy that the World President or the Council of the Elders haven`t heard about the situation in Belarus so far!”, grumbled Jewsonov and asked now for a glass of juice.
“Rely on me!”, said Medschenko quietly.
“You know, we have a lot to do in Russia and the other regions of the sector. Your little Belarus or even the tiny Baltic countries are not very interesting for our leaders in Moscow.
Put this bunch of rebels down and finally ensure, that larger sums of money can be extracted from this country in the future”, ordered the GSA man with a smug undertone.
“I will give my best!”, promised Medschenko again.
”Do this, if you want to remain governor. My goodness, that ridiculous street preacher Tschistokjow and his rebel friends can`t be stopped by you? I can only laugh about that, Mr. Medschenko!”, smirked Jewsonov and went to the door.
He nodded theatrically, then perked his eyebrows up and left the room without saying goodbye to the governor. The portly politician was left alone in his office, and was staring into space. Shortly afterwards, he grabbed a phone and dialed a number, but he let it ring only once. In a flash, he ended the call again and put the phone on the table. Medschenko stood up, leaned against his desk and drummed with his stubby fingers on the wood.
In the following months, Belarus and the Baltic countries were shaken by a wave of political agitation by Artur Tschistokjow`s movement, while Medschenko and his apparatus of power had more and more problems to impede the rebels. Especially in the rural regions of Belarus, in
the villages and small towns, the Rus attacked the state authority of the sub-sector by all avialable means. Dozens of representatives of Medschenko`s regime were killed during a campaign Tschistokjow called “counterterror”.
Local administrators and officials, journalists, attorneys, judges, a few unteachable policemen, notorious Lodge Brothers and some more fell victim to this bloody operation. All had been organized by Peter Ulljweski and his special unit of troopers. The message behind all this was clear: The Rus were the new power in these regions and anyone standing in their way would be destroyed!
Frank and the others were constantly on the road until the end of August. Tired and exhausted, they finally allowed themselves a short vacation. Frank had found only rarely some freetime in the last months, time to think about his life outside the political struggle.
But today was such a day, and the young man thought that he meanwhile felt much better. Days like this were days of musing for Frank. He cracked his brain about this and that, and came to the solution that he was only successful in one thing – in fighting. Everything else was still some kind of unknown territory for him.
Today, Kohlhaas was once more at Wilden`s house and listened to the village boss in the study. The former businessman talked about new strategies and plans for another massive publicity campaign for the autumn and winter months. Meanwhile, the village boss was more than ever some kind of “PR-manager” for the movement, and his family only noticed him as an always babbling shadow in the background.
“Goodbye, Thorsten! Until tomorrow!”, said Frank quietly and closed the door of the study.
He slowly walked down the steps to the lower floor.
Before he left the house, he went into the kitchen, where Agatha Wilden and Julia were sitting.
Kohlhaas muttered a silent bye and wanted to leave again.
“Wait, Frank!”, he suddenly heard from behind.
Julia followed him and entered the hallway. “How are you? Are you all right?”
“Yes, thanks for asking!”
“What`s wrong with you in the last time, Frank? Why do you treat me like that?”
“Treat you like what?”
“You know, what I mean?”
“No!”
”Yes, you mostly look right through me. Are you still angry?”
Frank frowned. “No, should I?”
“You are angry because of Viktor, aren`t you?”, said Julia, beholding him sadly.
“I give a shit on that guy!”, growled Kohlhaas.
“Me too. You should know, that I am no longer his girlfriend…”, she answered.
“That`s your thing. Currently, I have more important things on my mind than your love affairs”, he replied gruffly.
“Thus, I just wanted you to know…”
“I knew it anyway!”
Julia stroke through her blonde hair and was embarrassed. “It was a mistake. Viktor has behaved like an asshole!”
Frank paused briefly and smiled. “That`s no new information for me. He is an asshole. I knew it from the first moment I saw him.”
“Do you want to go with me to Steffen`s café tomorrow? Just to chat a bit…”, asked Julia.
“Tomorrow? That`s difficult. Probably Artur will come to Ivas and we have to talk with HOK about some political things”, was Kohlhaas` plain answer.
“Well, I would just be happy”, said the daughter of the village boss and returned to the kitchen with a sad face.
Frank looked after her and stood around for a moment. Then he shouted: “If Artur doesn`t come, then we could go to Steffen`s café!”
“All right!”, it resounded out of the next room.
Frank smiled to himself, while his inner self rejoiced mightily. Of course, he would never ignore this offer of the blonde beauty.
“Women are manipulative creatures from hell!”, he thought with a broad smile. Finally he walked home, still chuckling to himself.
The leader of the Rus did not come to Ivas the next day. He was somewhere in Belarus and had also never said, that he would visit them today. Frank had gotten up early and stood now in front of the mirror in the bathroom, washing, combing, perfuming – since over one hour. Outside, he heard Alf ranting.
“You`re pretty enough! Now let me in, I`ve got to go to the loo!”
Bäumer finally stormed the bath, pushed his friend to the side and occupated the room, while Frank left it growling.
“I go now!”, shouted Frank from the hallway and disappeared.
He walked down the dusty street and feasted on the warm sun rays which gently caressed his face. For some minutes he sank deeply into his thoughts, musing about what he would say to Julia today. He turned at the next corner and saw the yellow and red flowers in front of the house of the Wildens. Julia's mother opened the door and greeted him warmly.
“Do you want to visit Thorsten?”, she asked the young man. “He`s traveling with John Thorphy and will come back tomorrow.”
Frank shook his head. “No, I want to visit Julia!”
The pretty blonde appeared in the hallway and smiled at him. “We go to the village, mom!”
Shortly afterwards they left. Mrs. Wilden threw a pensive look after them.
“I`m glad that you have still come”, said Julia, walking beside her shy companion.
“Thus, Artur has suddenly cancelled his visit…”, he muttered quietly.
“I understand! What a coincidence!”, returned Julia with a grin.
They were silent for a while and finally came to the village square. Some children were playing here and tried to climb up the memorial stone, which was overgrown with scrub.
“Let`s go to Steffen!”, suggested the daughter of the village boss.
“Okay!”, was Kohlhaas` short answer and he was still searching for a topic to talk about.
Julia was a true feast for the eye. She wore her blonde hair open and it fell down her wispy shoulders. Frank looked fascinatedly at the full red lips of the beauty, while she slowly walked in front of him.
“What are you waiting for? Come on!”, she said and Frank followed her.
“She is like Loreley – leading the poor Frank against the rocks...”, he thought to himself.
They crossed the square and went to the small patio outside the café of their Belgian friend. Frank sat down on a plastic chair and was silent.
“Ah, some rare guests!”, exclaimed Steffen de Vries and hurried towards them. “What can I do for you?”
Julia smiled. “I would like to have a milkshake!”
“For me too!”, said Frank.
The Fleming nodded and walked off. Kohlhaas looked thoughtfully at the old church, that the villagers had converted into a meeting house. He still did not really know what he should talk about with Wilden`s daughter.
“What`s about your political struggle?”, she asked then.
“Well, anything runs smoothly at the moment”, he answered.
“My father speaks of nothing else anymore. Revolution, revolution, revolution - here and there!”, she remarked annoyedly.
“Has it ever been different?”
“No, to be honest!”
“And what`s about Viktor?”
She hesitated and stroke through her hair. “I don`t know. I haven`t heard anything from him since weeks.”
“And is it really over?”
“So to speak. He didn`t mean it seriously!”
“I`ve always hated the guy!”
Julia opened her eyes. “I`ve already noticed that!”
Steffen de Vries came back with two milk shakes. Frank emptied his glass with a single sip and said nothing for several minutes.
“I thought that you would go to Grodno one day, and I would never see you again”, said Frank then.
“You don`t have to worry about such things anymore”, replied the young woman with a smile.
“Worry? I just have…”, whispered Kohlhaas meekly.
“I understand, what you mean.”
??
?What did he do?”, asked Frank.
“He`s an asshole! Not very honest”, meant the blonde.
“Did he cheat on you?”
“I think so. He just wasn`t the right one!”
“Anyway! That is not my affair…”
“No problem!”, said Julia, smiling again.
“Well, it`s nice, that you`re back in town!”
“I would have never left Ivas. I like our village far too much…”
Frank examined the church again, then he looked at the bottom of his glass which was covered with frothy milk. They chatted about some superficial stuff. After an hour, the two left the cafe and wandered around aimlessly.
“See you later! It was really nice. We should meet more often. What do you think, Frank?”, she asked and gave Kohlhaas a wink. Then she walked down the street.
“Yes, sure!”, answered the young man and went back home too. Soon he had reached his house, opened the door and disappeared inside. He finally went into his bedroom to muse about his life.
A few days later, Kohlhaas drove to Belarus and stayed there for some weeks. He tried to forget Julia and all the other private things, and distributed newspapers and leaflets, together with the other young men from Ivas. At the end of the month, the Rus demonstrated in Bresk in the south of the country. Tschistokjow had mobilized about 15000 people. Before the rally, violent clashes between Belarusians and immigrants from Asia Minor had shaken the city for days. Two men had died and several dozens had been wounded. However, the demonstration itself ran smoothly. The local police did not disturb the Rus and GCF soldiers did not appear on this day.
Obviously, Medschenko and his advisors had meanwhile realized, that pressure and terror were not the right means against Tschistokjow and his followers. In October, the Belarusian government finally announced the increase of the prices for oil and gas. A wave of anger swept across the country and the Freedom Movement of the Rus reached an unknown degree of popularity among the people. Moreover, there were spontaneously organized strikes of steel workers in Minsk and Nowopolozk, and Medschenko had to make concessions for the first time. He finally accepted some minor higher wages for steel workers.
“Wait, until it is really cold. Then the boiler will explode!”, predicted Artur in these days again and again.
And Frank and the others waited. Meanwhile, the young man also believed, that the situation in Belarus might make an uprise possible in the near future.
Abnormal System End