Chapter 4: Victor Bergman

The first thing he became aware of was the bitter cold. Rubbing his arms, Victor turned in circles, surveying his strange surroundings. There was snow everywhere and the soft burble of a river somewhere. He couldn't spot the golden pyramid anywhere.

"Alan! Alan?" he called, then grabbed his commlock. "John? Paul? Do you read me? Come in, Berg?" The instrument remained dead in his hand. Stomping his feet in one spot to get warm, he looked around at the wild, snow covered landscape around him: tall snow-sprinkled trees and pristine flat white snow… but then he saw it. Not far from him in the snow he could see what looked like footprints.

He rushed over, knowing that he needed to find shelter from the cold. Footprints meant people and possible safety even if he was in a strange place. Squatting beside the depressions in the snow he tried to determine in which direction the person had been traveling before heading off in the same direction. He could hear the sound of the water getting louder, so he realized he was heading to a river or stream. That was good too, for water often meant settlements.

Coming out from between the trees he suddenly saw the river in front of him. Despite the snow it was still flowing and there were bare spots along the banks where snow had melted. Spring, perhaps, or autumn, he hoped. As he drew closer to the river he suddenly noticed the man sitting on the bank. Victor looked around but saw no one else and carefully approached the lone figure draped in layers of thick, drab clothes. The man had his head in his hands and as Victor stopped behind him, he realized that the man was crying bitterly.

Not knowing what else to do, Victor gently placed his hand on the man's fur-clad shoulder. It did not startle man; he merely looked up and Victor found himself staring into the broad face of a man with a dark beard, small round glasses and a simple fur hat. There were sprinklings of grey in the beard but the man looked no older than his mid-forties perhaps. His eyes were filled with pain and his mouth a hard line and he didn't even seem to notice Victor's lack of warm clothes.

"Any way I can help?" Victor asked softly. That caused a brief flash of surprise in the eyes, and the man held up his hands in a gesture of resignation. Victor smiled encouragingly, but he was beginning to feel very cold.

"Do you live nearby?" he asked. The man had now begun to study him and finally shook his head with a click of his tongue, obviously realizing the foolishness of Victor's clothes under the circumstances.

"Ty durak!" the man exclaimed, but he did remove his loose outer coat and offer it to Victor, who accepted it gratefully when he saw the man still had several more layers of clothing. He nodded his thanks with another encouraging smile and felt immediate relief as he wrapped the garment around himself.

"Where am I?" Victor tried again.

"Ya ne ponimayu," the man said, shrugging, but Victor's mind was already working. He had figured out that the man was speaking a Slavic language so he tried his luck.

"Russkiy?"

"Da! Da!" The man nodded enthusiastically, but Victor shook his head sadly. Except for a few words here and there while working and studying all over Europe as a young man, it was a language he could not speak. The sadness returned to the man's eyes and he sat down on his rock again.

Victor thought for a moment, then tapped the man lightly on the shoulder. When he had his attention, he pointed at the man, then at his own face, drawing traces like those of tears before raising his hands palms up, like a question. "What's wrong?" he asked at the same time.

The man sunk his head in his hands again, his shoulders shaking, so Victor just waited silently beside him. Eventually the man whispered: "Moy syn." That Victor recognized, so he asked again:

"Tvoy syn?"

"Mertv," the man sighed, then repeated: "Mertv."

Victor recognized that one too and just placed his hand gently on the man's shoulder. Losing a son… he could understand, and he thought of Thor, and Helena, and Berg, considering his strange predicament again while just staying beside the man in solidarity. Eventually the man looked up again and the two of them just gazed out over the river for a while. Then Victor turned back to the man and placed his hand on his chest. "Menya zovut Victor," he offered.

The man nodded, pointing to himself. "Konstantin," he replied.

Now Victor pointed around them and tried to look puzzled, indicating his confusion with his hands again.

"Kaluga," the man replied.

Victor's mouth dropped open in surprise. Any student of space exploration worth his salt knew the significance of that name, and the motto of the Russian town of Kaluga: The Cradle of Space Exploration. He looked at the man again, searching his mind through the myriads of information he had accumulated while being a student, but it was evading him for the moment. He had to know more so he simply had to somehow get the man to take him to his village or settlement. He mimicked shivering, pointed to himself and then mimicked eating and drinking.

"Da." The man nodded and got up, looking Victor up and down again. Then he pointed at Victor in return, swept his hand around the landscape and made the same questioning gesture with his hands.

That was a hard one. After thinking for a minute, Victor pointed at the sky; then used his other hand to mimic a flying craft of some kind. He pointed at himself, then at his hand mimicking the craft, and then at the ground, trying to indicate someone who had exited such a craft in the sky.

The man looked at him uncomprehendingly for a while, so Victor repeated the gesture. "Angliya," he added. Finally the man nodded and gestured with his arm for Victor to follow. They set off along the bank of the river in silence. Every now and then the man would glance over his shoulder and nod at himself as if ascertaining Victor was still not a threat. Finally Victor started seeing buildings in the distance. He could already make out the onion dome of a cathedral shining dully in the weak sunlight. The man made his way up a snow-covered street where a few carts were moving about; and pedestrians dressed in thick, warm clothes. A few of those who passed them greeted Konstantin and glanced at his strange, bare headed companion but then went on their way. Victor wondered if there was anyone in this town who could speak English.

Finally the man pushed open the door of a modest house. The furniture was wooden and well worn, but the room was tidy and warm. Victor spotted a wood stove in one corner and gratefully went over to warm his hands. The man called out something, so Victor turned. A woman came out of an adjoining room, her eyes red from crying, her face drawn.

"Varvara," the man said, pointing to the woman.

Victor pointed at himself. "Victor," he said and nodded politely to her. She looked from the stranger to her husband and said something in Russian.

"Net," he said, and then uttered a long sentence Victor could not make head or tail of. But she nodded and turned to the section of the room that looked like a kitchen/dining area with a big wooden table, several chairs, wooden cabinets and shelves, another type of wood stove with a flat surface and what looked like a sink without the faucets.

She started taking things out of a cabinet, and Konstantin indicated to Victor that he should sit by the table. The woman placed a plate in front of him, an obviously home-baked chunk of bread and a block of cheese. Victor nodded his thanks, awaiting the utensils, but she turned away again towards the stove. The Russian man came to sit opposite Victor at the table and pointed at the food, showing his hands. Victor took it that it meant he was to eat with his hands so he broke off a piece of bread, then cheese and nodded gratefully to the man. His mind had unearthed the long-lost information on the history of space exploration and after chewing for a while he pointed at the man in a non-threatening way and said: "Konstantin Tsiolkovsky?"

The man nodded. "Da!" He seemed pleased.

Victor busied himself with the food to hide his astonishment. If this was truly Konstantin Tsiolkovsky, he realized that the golden pyramid must have been some sort of portal that had transported him to early 20th century Russia. It was the only thing that made sense. He could not remember much about the man, Konstantin Tsiolkovsky, because he had never become famous in his own time, but he knew the man was regarded as one of the fathers of rocketry and astronautics. Victor smiled to himself: what an incredible coincidence! Or perhaps it was not. He became aware of the man watching him and gave the universal sign that everything was OK: a thumbs up.

The woman placed a mug of warm liquid beside his plate and Victor tried: "Spasibo." But her face remained sad. The man spoke to her in rapid Russian again and she disappeared back into the room she had first emerged from. Taking a sip of the hot liquid that turned out to be some kind of tea, Victor concluded that he simply had to let Konstantin understand who he was. He looked up at the man, pointed at himself and then mimicked writing on the table. The man understood immediately and disappeared into a side room to emerge a few minutes later with a book and a pencil which he held out to Victor.

Victor opened it and was surprised to see drawings that looked like spaceships. There were also diagrams and equations that made perfect sense to him, and he smiled broadly. Then he turned to a blank page and pulled out the chair closer to him. Konstantin understood and sat at the corner from Victor.

Victor pointed at himself and then wrote on the page: 1999. The man's eyes grew huge and he shook his head in disbelief, but Victor nodded and drew a triangle on the page. He followed it with a little stick figure on one side, pointed to himself again and wrote beside the little figure: 1999. Then he drew an arrow from the figure through the triangle and put a question mark on the other side. He reached under the coat Konstantin had given him, took out his commlock and placed it on the table in front of the man.

Tsiolkovsky picked up the instrument and studied it for a long time. He pressed the various buttons, looked from Victor to the picture on the side of the device, turned it over in his hands and then looked back at Victor's simple drawing. Then he drew the book to himself, picked up the pencil and wrote by the question mark: 1902. The two men suddenly found themselves smiling at each other, but they were interrupted by the woman's return. She was carrying a bundle of clothes which she held out to Victor. He took the bundle with another: "Spasibo." She looked at the book in front of her husband, placed her hand over her mouth and fled the room.

For the first time Konstantin laughed, a deep rumble that filled the room. Victor just stared at the man, who pushed the book back towards him. Pensively Victor scratched his chin, the pencil hovering above the page and then he went to work.

He first drew a circle, drew smaller circles inside it and shaded it grey. Then he pointed at the roof and the sky beyond and said: "Moon."

"Luna," Konstantin added, and Victor nodded. Of course he should have known that! Then, from memory, Victor drew a rough sketch of Moonbase Alpha and drew an arrow to one of the craters represented by his circles on the moon. The man was mesmerized but Victor realized he needed to backtrack, so he drew a rough representation of earth to one side. Then he drew an arrow from earth to the moon, a simple representation of an eagle and wrote 1980. Then he pointed to himself again and placed his finger firmly on Moonbase Alpha in his drawing.

Konstantin looked at him and shook his head, but not from disbelief. His eyes were filled with wonder. "Da! Da!" he said again and turned to a next blank page, obviously eager for Victor to go on. But Victor turned back to some of the previous pages, carefully studying the diagrams and formulas. He found what appeared to be a diagram for a reaction thrust motor as well as some calculations, then turned to a blank page, indicating through gestures that he wanted to tear the page out. The man nodded so Victor tore out the empty page; turned back to the one he had been studying and proceeded to draw an improved version of the man's design. He accompanied that by copying the calculations but making the necessary improvements to accompany his own drawing before pushing both the book and his new page towards Tsiolkovsky.

The Russian studied the page for a long, long time before looking up at Victor. The sadness had left his eyes to be replaced with wonder and awe. The he hastily turned to another page, holding it in front of Victor who clearly understood the chemical symbols. There was yet another diagram, this time of something that looked like a rocket. Taking his time going through the equation, Victor jotted notes to himself on another page he had torn from the book so he could clean it up and present it to the man in a way he could better understand.

So engrossed were the two men in their work that neither heard the door open and only became aware of a presence when a girl stood beside the table. Konstantin looked up and then took the girl's arm. He pointed at the stranger at their table: "Victor," he said to her, then to Victor: "Doch'."

"Lyubov," she said, trying to see what was on the papers before asking her father something in Russian. He pointed at the door where the older women had disappeared and the girl went that way.

Konstantin jumped up and went to one of the cabinets. He returned with a bottle of clear liquid and two small glasses. Victor laughed: that he knew: "Vodka!" he said and the man patted him on the shoulder as he came to sit down again. He poured for both of them and raised his glass.

"Nasdarovya!" Victor said.

"Za Zdorovje!" Konstantin replied and the men tossed back their vodka. Victor tried his best not to grimace but come up smiling, but it had taken his breath away. He busied himself with the formula again, hoping to distract the man from drinking, and it did appear as if it was not going to turn into a bout of drinking but that it had merely been a gesture of friendship.

Victor completed the formula for the fuel they used for space travel in 1999 and proceeded to draw an eagle propulsion system as best he could before handing the paper to Konstantin. Then, as the man studied it, he started on a drawing of the first lunar module and wrote the date: 20 July 1969. Then he drew the space shuttle in its cradle before takeoff and wrote: 12 April 1981.

Konstantin devoured everything enthusiastically. The two women had returned to the room and busied themselves at the stove. His wife said something to him and Tsiolkovsky grabbed the book, the papers and Victor's arm and propelled him towards the side room from where he had fetched the writing materials, closing the door firmly behind him.

This time it was Victor's turn to be amazed. The room was large and obviously some kind of laboratory. In one corner Victor recognized a wind tunnel: very primitive by his standards but definitely a wind tunnel. There were models of simple shapes: cones, cylinders, a sphere and some flat shapes and Victor rushed over. He glanced at the calculations scattered about and realized that what the man was doing was experimenting with drag coefficient. Victor rubbed his hands with excitement. He snatched up a paper on which he had immediately recognized Tsiolkovsky's famous rocket equation and laughed. The man joined him, and the two scientists impulsively shook hands and then exchanged a brief Russian hug.

"I will help you get this right," Victor smiled, pointing at himself and then at the papers filled with diagrams and calculations. He knew the man did not understand, but he hoped the tone of the message was sufficient. He pointed at the wind tunnel, hoping Konstantin would get it going so they could experiment together and the man understood.

For the next two hours the men played with the wind tunnel, the shapes and the formulas. Words were not needed: where Tsiolkovsky was on the right track Victor merely flashed him a thumbs up and a smile, where he needed help Victor scribbled the correct formula. Mathematics was the universal language and the man was obviously highly intelligent and well ahead of his time. Victor had not had as much fun in a long time. Finally there came a timid knock on the door. Konstantin shouted: "Da?" and his daughter appeared in the doorway and said something. "Uzhin," he said to Victor and mimicked eating.

The men joined the women at the table. There was a rich stew that smelled delicious, more home-made bread and a thick, milky liquid that smelled slightly fermented. Victor had no idea what he was eating but it was pretty good. He also had no idea what the conversation was about, so he used the time to think about his strange experience. Helena and Thor were uppermost in his mind: he wondered what they were doing, wondered if he could ever get back to Berg, wondered what had happened to Alan Carter and wished for a moment he could somehow get a message to them to tell them he was OK and actually enjoying himself.

He became aware of the two women studying him intently and concluded that Konstantin must have told them the incredible story of his time travel. He smiled at the wife, pointed at his plate and gave her a huge smile and thumbs up. She seemed pleased and blushed slightly, looking down. He held out his plate again and she complied by scooping in some more of the rich beef stew. Then she told her husband several things in rapid Russian and he laughed. But it all seemed good natured, so Victor didn't mind at all.

Outside it was getting dark, so the girl got up and lit a few lanterns scattered around the room. "Poydem so mnoy," Tsiolkovsky said to Victor, indicating with his arm that the scientist from the future should follow. Konstantin showed him a simple bathroom and then took him to another room where there was a bed and some basic furniture. It appeared to be the girl's room and Victor wanted to protest, but the man shook his head and pointed at the bed again. Victor nodded, thinking that this was probably a Russian gesture of hospitality, returned to the living area and collected his bundle of clothes. It appeared bedtime was early, and he realized that he was actually quite tired.

"Victor!" Konstantin called him back to the table while the women cleared the dinner stuff and the bottle of vodka appeared yet again. So as not to give offense Victor downed his second shot before trying his best to smile at the man again. He hoped it was the last for the night; any more and he might not make it to the bed.

Konstantin pointed to himself, then to Victor, and with a big smile said: "Drug!" Victor had no idea what it meant, but he presumed the man was not pushing mind-altering substances. Tsiolkovsky patted his chest again, held out his arms towards Victor and said again: "Moy drug!" Victor had deduced that "moy" meant something like "my" or "mine", so he replayed the gesture in his head and came to a conclusion.

He repeated the actions and said: "My friend! Moy drug!" It didn't sound quite like the Russian but it was good enough because his new friend gave him yet another Russian hug while the women looked on. Victor nodded to them before pointing back to the laboratory room, mimicking writing. He wanted to do some more work before bed. Konstantin took a lantern from the wall and stood in the doorway while Victor gathered paper and a pencil. Then the Russian handed him the lantern.

"Dobroy nochi," he said and Victor repeated it slowly to amused smiles from all three. Then he retired to his bedroom for the night.


When Victor entered the living area the next morning, dressed in his warm new Russian clothes, Konstantin was already at the table and there was a stranger: a stocky red-faced man with a thick mop of hair and a bushy beard. Victor nodded politely and Tsiolkovsky smiled at him. "Angliyskiy," he said proudly, pointing at the stranger.

Victor held out his hand: "Victor Bergman," he said to the stranger.

The man stood up: "Aleksei," he introduced himself. "I speak little English," he added proudly and Victor smiled broadly as they shook hands. Victor then nodded and smiled at the women, who had been busy at the stove but had turned as he approached.

"Konsti say you come from moon," the man said, disbelief in his voice.

Victor laughed. "I know it sounds incredible, but actually, I do. I'm also from the future and through some fluke ended up here through a kind of portal."

The man looked puzzled and Victor concluded that some of the words were beyond his understanding. Konstantin said something in Russian and held up the papers they had worked on the previous night. Victor had more papers in his hand, the diagrams and formulae he had worked on by the dim light of the lantern the previous night, and he held them out to Tsiolkovsky, who studied them silently for a while before exclaiming: "Bravo!"

"I want to help him," Victor said, indicating Konstantin. "His work is good, but I know things that will make them extraordinary for his time." He waited while the man translated.

Tsiolkovsky nodded and replied. "He want have your help," Aleksei translated. "He belief in your story."

Victor took the commlock out of his pocket and handed it to the translator. "It is what we communicate with in the future," he said, pointing to the screen and the buttons; wishing he could show them how it worked.

Konstantin uttered a long string of Russian again, waving the papers around. "We eat," came the translation. "Then I take you in Kaluga and you see village."

Victor nodded. "That would be great!"

"He work on papers," Aleksei said, pointing at Konstantin.

The older woman shooed the men away from the table so she could place down the breakfast things and before long they were enjoying sliced sausage, rye bread and cheese. There was also more strong tea. There was plenty of Russian conversation while they ate, but Victor didn't mind. He liked the sound of the Russian and enjoyed the time just listening and studying his hosts. His mind drifted to Helena, Thor and Berg again: while out on his trip today he needed to figure out a way to get back if it was even possible.

The morning was bright but chilly and he was glad for the flapped woolen cap, gloves and thick clothes. "What month is it?" he asked his companion.

"April," Aleksei replied. "Snow melt."

They spent the rest of the morning strolling through the village. Aleksei was happy to answer Victor's many questions and took him to see some of the buildings: the church, the school, the library and some of the shops, but even though many people greeted Aleksei he never once stopped to introduce Victor. It was understandable, Victor reflected. How do you explain a man from the future to these people?

By the afternoon they returned to Tsiolkovsky's house and found him in the laboratory poring over the papers. "I need to explain something to him," Victor said to Aleksei. "Can you help?

"I no understand," he replied, pointing at the calculations.

"No, you don't have to," Victor said. "You can just tell him what it is about."

"I try." The man nodded. Victor grabbed a piece of paper and started working. He drew his diagram of a rocket while Konstantin watched.

"Rocket," Victor said, demonstrating with his hand, "stationary in space. Motor started…" He wrote the corresponding formula on a piece of paper while Aleksei tried to translate. "Rocket motor expels gas… constant mass flow rate and at exhaust velocity relative to the rocket." He jotted down some more formulas, seeing that the translator was having problems with some of the words, but Konstantin nodded, obviously understanding the math and symbols. "Constant force propels rocket," Victor jotted down yet another formula. "Mass of fuel the rocket has on board initially…" another addition to the formula. "The mass flow rate is defined as the total wet mass of the rocket…" Victor was now talking more to himself as he continued adding to the calculations, "…over the combustion time of the rocket so it will therefore take a time equal to…" He jotted another formula, "…burn all this fuel. The rocket is subject to a constant force but at the same time is burning fuel and expelling gas, so its weight is decreasing. This can have only one consequence: increased acceleration…"

"Da," Konstantin exclaimed. "Newton!"

"Yes! Da!" Victor shouted too, clapping the man on the back. "Newton's second law of motion!" He could see that they had both lost Aleksei, who just stared at them with big eyes. "So to obtain the acceleration you divide the propelling force by the rocket's mass therefore the acceleration at any given time until the fuel runs out is given by…" and Victor completed the formula.

Konstantin's face had lit up as he understood. He looked from Victor to Aleksei with a big smile before rattling of a string of Russian.

"Very happy," Aleksei translated. "He say you work with him more, stay night."

"I would like to," Victor said. "I will be honored. But tomorrow I must find a way to get back to my people. I must see if I can find the portal."

After listening to Victor's words, Tsiolkovsky's face fell.

"My people… my wife… will be worried," Victor explained. "And I have a son…"

The sadness returned to Konstantin's face again, and this time it was Aleksei who explained. "His son die… kill self." Victor shook his head and looked down.

"Tell him I am sorry and I feel for him."

Konstantin nodded and then replied again in Russian. "He say you work with him tonight, he help you find place to return to son and wife tomorrow."

"Thank you. Spasibo," Victor replied.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was a strange assortment of experiments with the wind tunnel and some of the other models Tsiolkovsky had and Victor filled many pages with diagrams and more calculations for the man. Aleksei eventually left and the daughter brought in some lanterns and called them yet again for dinner. The voices around the table were filled with excitement even though Victor couldn't understand. But he smiled to himself. This man would publish some of the work they had been doing together and would go on to become known as one of the founding fathers of modern rocketry and astronautics. No one would believe his story about a man from the future visiting him and helping him with his research, but it didn't matter. The work they had done over the past few days would break the ground for man's space exploration and would eventually lead to the building of Moonbase Alpha and all that came after that.

As the women were cleaning up after dinner the vodka came out again and Victor had to knock back two shots as the excited man toasted their work. Konstantin offered again, but Victor put his hand over his glass and shook his head. Two shots would help him sleep, three would make him sick.


Then next morning Victor dressed in his Alpha clothes; the khaki uniform pants and a loose shirt he was fond of wearing. He hoped it was not too cold outside. He folded the clothes that had been given to him, made sure the room looked tidy and went through to the living area. Konstantin was at the table drinking tea and shook his head when he saw Victor and pointed to the window. Outside a light snow was falling. Tsiolkovsky mimicked putting on clothes, pointing at the bundle in Victor's hands.

At that moment there was a knock on the door and Aleksei pushed inside. Konstantin immediately said something and the interpreter turned to Victor. "Cold," he said. "Konsti say you keep clothes. Gift. Thank you."

Victor nodded gratefully and returned to the bedroom where he pulled the rough Russian clothes over his regular clothes. When he returned to the table he noticed a bottle of vodka and his heart sank. This early in the morning…? But Konstantin just held it out to him. "Spasibo," and then a Russian sentence.

"He say thank you. He will not forget." Then Aleksei looked at Victor and added of his own: "He not have many friend. Village think he strange."

Victor nodded. "How do you say 'friend' in Russian?"

"Drug," Aleksei replied, and Victor nodded. His conclusion from two nights ago had been correct.

"Tell him I am honored to have met him, and count him as my friend," Victor asked and waited while Aleksei conveyed his message. The bespectacled scientist got up, came over to Victor and enveloped him in a hug.

"Drug," he said, "Moy drug."

Victor nodded. "Moy drug," he replied.

Breakfast was a thin pancake with sweet jam and cream, fried potato and more tea. Aleksei ate with them, but did not translate the conversation as not much was said. Tsiolkovsky looked sad again. Victor felt somewhat sad too, but he wanted to spend the morning trying to find out if he could get back to Berg. He felt he had done all he could here in Kaluga. He asked Aleksei to convey his thanks to the women who both looked very pleased. Then he stood and thanked Aleksei for helping with the Russian and English. The coat he was wearing had huge pockets, so he slipped the bottle of vodka inside one.

He set off with Konstantin in the direction of the river. Snow was coming down lightly and he looked around at the still landscape, enjoying it. Berg had a wonderful, mild climate, but it was exhilarating to enjoy a bit of weather again. At the same time he was scanning, trying to see if he could spot something that could be a portal similar to the space pyramid. Konstantin stopped suddenly, placing his finger over his lips and pointed. Between the trees Victor could see shapes moving; they looked like a large species of bison. The two men stood absolutely still as the animals slowly moved away. Konstantin pointed in a different direction and they headed off again.

They wandered the wilderness along the river for what seemed to Victor like hours. He was getting discouraged and felt bad for dragging this man around with him, but every time he looked at Tsiolkovsky, the man smiled broadly and clapped him on the back. Eventually, tired and getting cold, Victor sat on a rock beside the river and sighed. Konstantin took a wrapped bundle from his coat and offered Victor some bread and cheese. They sat eating in silence.

Suddenly the man put his hand on Victor's shoulder and motioned for him to be quiet again. Victor looked around but could see nothing, yet the man looked slightly alarmed, staring intently at the trees some distance away. Then he saw them: grey-white shapes moving stealthily around the trunks, sniffing. Wolves! He wished he had his stun gun, but the man just kept pressing on his shoulder, shaking his head slowly. Then, with his finger on his lips, the man tugged Victor by the sleeve and pointed to a large tree overhanging the river. It had many thick branches, the kind of tree all children would love to have in a yard.

Konstantin suddenly jumped up and darted the few meters to the base of the tree, tugging Victor after him. He pushed the man from Alpha up onto the leaning trunk urgently and Victor climbed. Tsiolkovsky followed, glancing back at the pack of wolves, but they did not seem to have spotted the men yet. They climbed nevertheless, clinging to the branches, until they were perched several meters above the river, breathless.

Victor looked back at the wolves, heading slowly in their direction. Then he looked at his companion who once again indicated with his finger for them to be quiet. Finally he looked down at the river and that's when he saw it just to the side of the tree, faintly shining in the weak sunlight: the golden pyramid! He looked at Konstantin one more time, then at the wolves and back at the portal. He gently tugged Konstantin's sleeve, pointed at the faint golden shape and then at himself.

The Russian stared at the golden shape, incredulous, shaking his head, because it was directly over the river. But Victor pointed to himself again, nodded firmly before pointing at the pyramid. He knew he had to go. Konstantin finally nodded, whispering: "Da," and Victor stood up slowly on the thick branch, balancing himself by grabbing on to other limbs. When he felt that he was properly stable and balanced; he closed his eyes and leapt into the golden pyramid.

He found himself tumbling onto very familiar terrain, the soft, moss-like ground vegetation on Berg. To the side he saw the space pyramid that had started it all and then he heard a voice: "Professor!"

He sat up and saw Tony Allen hurrying to him, followed by two more men.

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" he cried, getting up. He was still in the warm Russian clothes and could even feel the weight of the bottle of Vodka in his pocket. He smiled as the men caught up to him and stared at him and his strange clothes in surprise. "I had the most incredible adventure," he said, "but boy, am I glad to be back!"

Tony Allen was already on his commlock. "We found him, Commander!" he exclaimed. "The Professor just got back, the same way Alan did!"

"Bring him in Tony," Koenig replied, relief and joy in his voice. Victor followed the men to the ATVs and as he climbed on behind Tony Allen he smiled: it would be incredible to tell his story to John, but he would have an extra treat: they would do it over a glass of century old vodka.

(To be continued...)