A Man from U.N.C.L.E. Story
by Darklady
Chapter Forty-Nine: Promises, Promises
Rated: PG-13
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Four a.m. by the clock. I am officially napping on the fold-out couch in the ready room. It is not that uncomfortable, and someone has found both a quilt and a pair of 'sweats' to use as pajamas. I am an experienced field agent. I have long been familiar with worse. So why can't I sleep?
There have been the usual quiet visits as updates come in. Target tracking and and radar updates from Azerbaijan Two. Back in New York Waverly would have handled such, but Napoleon is Chief here. And I am lead. So... we get the reports.
Napoleon is restless, but he always is before an operation. I am the one who sleeps.
I try to lay still. Nervous energy is wasted energy, and tomorrow may be rough. But as I roll over into the pillow Napasha looks up from his latest list, and our eyes meet.
"You're not sleeping."
"Da?" I slap the pillow and lay back. "You never sleep well before a mission."
"I don't have to, you do it for me."
"Napas...Napoleon." I pull the quilt up and close my eyes.
"What bothers you?" I feel the slow give as Napasha sits on the cushion beside me. "Something about the operation?"
"No." I drop the quilt and scoot back to lean against the upholstery. "Smith's plan looks solid." Which is true. And we have often gone in with less.
"Then....." He drops one hand on my shoulder. "Give, Illyusha."
I hesitate. It is foolish, and nothing to do with our mission. I have no *obligation* to report such matters to my Chief. Not even to my partner. But if he is also my *partner*? I had not before considered that the liberties of this new world would carry their own constraints.
"You know I spoke to Demitri Kronsteen?" It is not a question, but I make it one.
"To back up our resume," Napasha nods. "Very smart."
I carefully inspect the ceiling. "That is... not all we spoke of."
"Kronsteen's one of your...old friends?"
"That, too, although we were never in the same operational units." I also check out the wall moldings. "Still, technicals do tend to know each other."
"He wants you back." Napoleons's voice is completely neutral. Which means, of course, that he is not.
"Yes." I change my focus to his face; his eyes. There is something there...but I do not know quite what.
After a pause he says, "Makes sense. Gossip was Hemispheric Europe had to damn near use nitro to get you from them in the first place."
"Do not be ridiculous," I answer automatically. "I was a volunteer. It says so in my files."
"Who wasn't," Napoleon snorts. "My little tour of Korea taught me the definition of 'volunteer.'" Then his eyes darken. "What did the man say to upset you?"
"Very likely what Marie Dumont said to you. Demitri Ivanovich went from the MDI to the RASA, and is now in charge of the heavy lifter program. That is not only the commercial satellite program, but also a major part of the support for manned space flight. And lately...he had had a few... unexpected aborts. He lost a Proton. Also an SS-18. And he does not always trust the post-analysis. Especially he has troubles with the Ukrainians."
"More Ukrainians? I thought they were April's problem."
I ignore that last remark."He thinks we could..handle matters."
"It's possible." Napoleon rests back against the cushions beside me. "He'd have to make one hell of an offer to trump France, but....I said I would listen."
"You would not have a problem with...different loyalties?"
Napoleon waves in dismissal. "I can't imagine he's blaming NASA for his misfires?" He eases a bit closer. "What's the real problem?"
"I never told anyone this but... I tried for....that program. I just... was not accepted."
"Illya." He reaches out to wrap one arm about my shoulder. "Illyusha. Every kid on the planet wanted to be an astronaut at one time or another."
"Yes, but.... Demitri Ivanovich has a ...very ambitious launch schedule. And the crews are much larger now. He...implied..."
"You want to go up." Napasha eyes are lighter now, and there is the first hint of a laugh in his voice.
"To be a cosmonaut..." I look away, unable to finish. " Do you think...?"
He pulls me closer. "You could ask."
I rest my head on his shoulder. "The last time they offered flight time to an engineer, it was a pure bribe."
"Did it work?" The question is casual, but truly curious.
"Well, yes." I nod against his neck. "The Voskhod launched two years ahead of schedule, but...."
"I guess this Kronsteen likes to go with a plan that works."
"Do you really think?" I look up, searching his eyes.
"Who knows?" Napasha brushes my hair and pulls me back down. "But you've got about twenty years left to find out."
"Napoleon.."
"Illya Nickovetch." He drops a light kiss on my hair. "I love you. And I'd go with you anywhere. Even Siberia. At least ... in the summer."
"Kazakstan."
"Gezuntite."
"They launch from Kazakstan. The weather is not so bad there."
"Where ever." Rising, he tucks the quilt back around me before he returns to his own chair. "Now. Get some sleep."
END CHAPTER FORTY-NINE