THE EVOLUTION AFFAIR

                                   

 

 

NEW YORK SUBURBS

 

Returning to the residence after trying unsuccessfully to see Illya Nickovetch at Command Headquarters, Kier found Nikita in a state of extreme agitation.  She pounced on him as soon as he opened the door to the kitchen.  She radiated concern.

“Kier, what is going on please.  Enough of this secrecy.  I can’t..”  She didn’t know how to express what she wanted to say.  The confusing fact was that she couldn’t feel Illya anymore.  Since last night, she’d pretty much sorted out some of what was happening between her and this extraordinary man called Illya Nickovetch.  They had a psychic bond.

When he’d needed rescuing in Section One, she attempted to rescue him without a second thought.  When he needed help, ah, when he needed help with whatever had occurred in Command Headquarters that horrible night, she’d gone to help, compelled by undeniable forces, she had, ah, damn that’s still not restored to memory.  And finally last night, when something had made Illya so gut-wrenchingly sad, she’d awakened in tears also.

She’d longed to help there too, but was sidetracked by Alexis’s distress and her own compulsion to comfort the child.  All along, there had been this presence in her mind; welcome but unknown in origin, and it had been HIM all along.  Was he the light, which had saved her from the unknown pursuer?  Was that he in the next dream by the fire?   Not the chanter, no, that was someone else entirely.  But the eyes she’d looked into at the last, surely they’d been Illya’s?  And if that benign presence had been him all along, where was it (and Illya) now?

“KIER, DON’T YOU SHAKE YOUR HANDSOME HEAD AND WALK AWAY!  DON’T YOU DARE.”  She shouted at him in towering frustration. 

“I’m sorry Nikita,” quiet, humbled.  Kier sat and prepared to give her what he felt he could.  He was not the one to begin though.  She filled him in on her guesses and feelings quite completely. 

“Now, where is he?”

“At Command Headquarters.”

“Then why on earth can’t I feel him there?  He isn’t dead is he?”

“Oh, no, Nikita.  He’s in a shielded part of Headquarters, that’s all. Can you guess what that might mean?  I can’t go into it here and now.  Security, you know.  Ah, is Alexis sleeping?”

“Yes, finally.  I read to her for almost two hours before she drifted off.  I’m glad her room is far enough away so she’d not hear me losing my temper.  And yes I pretty much guess what you mean by shielded.  I’m getting the picture now; bare in mind it’s a pretty scary picture, but I’m getting it.”

“OK my Dear, then it’s about time we got you back to Headquarters and had a long talk about all this.”

“Not yet, my dear man.  Illya will be returning here soon, right?  I have little intention of leaving just yet, thank you.”

Listening to her, looking at her, Kier realized he was seeing a completely healthy aura.  Nothing like a fierce protective instinct activating to banish depression.  Though I can hardly take the final credit, he thought wryly. 

“Nikita, what about Michael?”

“What about him?”

“Doesn’t he fit in here somewhere?”

“You know what, friend Doctor, I don’t know yet.  Maybe not.  I’ve spent a good deal of the last five years trying to fit Michael into my life one way or another.  His square corners don’t fit into my ….”

She smiled, realizing that she’d been about to complete a very sexual metaphor.  Kier appreciated the humor, but was so staid and proper, he couldn’t let on.

“Anyway, Kier, I think I’ll be of much more use to you, Alexis and Illya.  Umm, if he’ll let me.  Please comment on this Kier.  Don’t give me your stoic psychiatrist’s face.”

“Listen well, young Nikita, and never forget.  Never break Illya’s trust in you.  If you do by word or deed, you’ll have the devil’s own time restoring the break.  If he asks you to hold something in confidence, never share it.  If you are even the least bit unsure that what he’s told you is a confidence, never share it.  That is the number one rule.  He will return the favor, of course.”

“And?”

“And having said that, dear, all I can do is tell you what I think would help him out of this dark space he’s apparently fallen into.  Be here.  Cook for him.  Offer to talk, but never push.  Go on interacting with Alexis just as you have.  When he returns here and sees you two together, barriers will fall.  This is practically guaranteed.  He won’t be working so hard at the Command for a while, I think.  That’s about all I can suggest.  Just between you and me, Alexis thinks the world of you.”

“That’s enough, thank you Kier.  I can improvise from there.”

He was about to get up and go to bed when she brought up the next subject.

“Kier, what about Mr. Alexander Waverly.  What does he think of my living with two bachelors and a little girl.  And further more, I am ready to give what assistance I can to him with any technical aspect as regards Section that he requires.”

“Nikita, I can’t honestly answer the first question.  As for the second, I shall inquire of Mr. Waverly what his needs and wishes are.  I am sure he’ll be glad you are ready to offer full cooperation.”

 

            **************************************

 

Two long, frustrating days later, Illya returned home.  Drained physically, and emotionally, thinking of little except how ravenous he was, he walked in the kitchen entrance.

Waverly had alerted Kier, so the house was in readiness for the return of the “master”.  Nikita and Kier had had two hours to prepare food, procure wine, set the table and arrange appropriate lighting.

Nikita sat alone at the table, heart pounding, trying to relax for this first sojourn into unknown territory.  She told herself it was ridiculous.  She had been in many difficult situations.  So why the extreme case of nerves?  She’d checked her appearance in the mirror a dozen times. 

In a form fitting black sheath dress, her figure was displayed to its best advantage.  A simple black pearl choker her only jewelry. She looked splendid.  Scrumptious, one might say.  She was under no illusion about her affect on men.  But this man presented problems she’d never encountered.  What did he feel, what did he know about her? 

Oh Hell, play it by ear, Nikita, that’s what you excel at, she firmly told herself as the green light on the security panel on the wall reacted to the lights of an approaching vehicle and the automatic gate opening.

Therefore, when Illya walked in, the sights and aromas that met his senses were pleasing in the extreme.  His annoyance at being expected vanished as he took in the beautiful woman sitting before an exquisitely appointed table in soft candlelight.

“Good evening, Nikita.  How kind of you to wait up for me.  And how very lovely you look tonight.”  So saying he strode to her and kissed her proffered hand.  Both tried to ignore the instant flash of fire this small kiss ignited.  To distract himself from her, he turned and sniffed the enticing aromas wafting about the kitchen. 

“I must confess, I didn’t prepare the meal in its entirety,” she began.

He turned to her with a warm smile that threatened to melt her where she stood.  “You cook, too?  A most lethal combination.”

“Mmmm, perhaps, but I think you’ll survive somehow.”

  “You cook too?  A most lethal combination.”                                                        

 

Illya wondered, privately, if he would survive with all intentions intact.  His firm resolve to hold her at arm’s length until he felt ready to take the next step had to be savagely recalled. 

He tried to remember the last time a woman had prepared a meal for him….waited up for him, dressed this beautifully for him.  Ah, yes Tatiana.  In the years before the pregnancy which had produced his beautiful daughter.  Their beautiful daughter.  She hadn’t lived long enough to return home from the hospital.  Shake that, he thought.  Pay attention, this is critical.  Look at her.  So radiant, so inviting.  God, was there anywhere his mind could rest?  With great effort, he forced his mind into a calm place, and spent the late-night dinner with his charming companion half in this world, half in another.

For her part, Nikita took in the drawn, exhausted features, thought about what he’d been through in the past months, and did her best to put him at ease.  She served, poured, and made light conversation requiring little response.  By the time a light dessert and coffee were on the table, he was sitting with his head relaxed against the back of the chair, twirling his wine glass in his hand and talking quietly to her of some recent goings on at Headquarters involving Walter and Birkoff and himself.  She was deeply touched by this effort on his part to amuse her, but decided he’d had enough when the empty wineglass he held hit the cushioned floor and bounced harmlessly under the table. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next morning Alexis came rushing into Illya’s room first.  Face split in a beautiful smile, she shouted from the doorway of the suite, “DADDY’S HOME!”  Before he could recall her, she ran down the hall and  directly to Nikita’s guest suite.  A still slumbering Nikita woke up to the same joyous shout.  Followed by a nearly irresistible, “Come on Nikita, let’s go watch Pokeman in Daddy’s room.  COME ON!  It’s almost time for it to start.  HURRY UP NIKITA!”  Just out of sight the little imp waited to see if indeed her beloved Nikita would truly come join her Daddy and her for the Show of Shows. 

No movement was detected.  Alexis couldn’t stand it.  She peeked back around the open doorway.  “Nikita please?”

“Sweet Love, I don’t think your Daddy would appreciate…uh, I mean, go watch your show Love.”

The pixie face fell.

It was too much for Nikita.  At least, she thought, I can go with her to the door.  No way am I going in though.  No way.

“Alright, you little Beastie, I’m coming.”

“HURRY UP!”  The child made it plain she wouldn’t budge until Nikita actually went with her.  So without bothering to do more than throw a wrap over her powder-blue silk sleep shirt and dragging a quick brush through her hair, she took Alexis’ hand for a  run down the hallway.

Nikita stopped in the entrance to the Master suite and stared.  Done in dark hunter green with deep gold and burgundy accents, the room was masculine, elegant and very inviting.  The furniture was cherry wood, simple, massive and also elegant.  The man whose room this was had retired into the bathroom for the moment.  He heard the voices through the heavy door though.

“Come on Nikita.  Here, I’ll open the cabinet and turn on the TV.  This is a new episode this morning.  Me and Daddy always watch this when he’s home on Saturday.”  This was intoned in a voice that brooked no denial.  Illya knew that voice well.  He then heard Nikita say something quietly.  Probably an attempt to thwart Alexis’ wishes.  He’d better get out there before this escalated. 

What he said when he saw them together was not what he’d planned at all.

“Come Nikita.  It’s time you witnessed the magic that is Pokemon.”

“Sure.”  A smile.  Play it by ear, Nikita remember?

But no playacting was necessary.  Alexis saw to that.  Illya watched her manipulate both of them without effort and was proud as well as chagrinned.  He soon forgot the chagrin and settled down to watch, and tickle and be tickled and hold his daughter. 

Nikita forgot to be wary when Alexis, from her father’s arms, reached out to hold her hand.  They watched three full episodes of the beloved cartoon.  Nikita saw the first episode when the young boy gets his first Pokeball from Professor Oak, and was treated to the endearing episode where the young boy is joined by a Charmander by its own choice.  She found the series charming and instructive for little ones (and big ones, too).  It said much to her.  About changes.  How they are inevitable; how one should treat with a powerful thing that wishes to be your friend.  Yes, she could see what Alexis and her father saw in this series.  Charming.  

Four days sped by.  The doors to the solarium remained firmly shut.

IT NEVER RAINS, BUT IT POURS

 

 

 

BENEATH THE HIMALAYAN MASSIF

 

            “Are we ready now?” 

            “We are.”

            “Success probability?

            “Ninety five per cent, Sir.  Increasing to ninety-nine point five, if the opposition has not yet formed a workable group.”

            “Very well, Schoenfeld, power it up, and let’s wreak some havoc.”

            “First target,Sir?”

            “Waverly at Headquarters.”  Why not start at the top of the chain?

 

 

*************************************** 

 

                                    HEADQUARTERS, NEW YORK

 

            The first tendril of fear made itself felt.  A low unease settled over every living being in U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters working the late shift.  No one cringed visibly, but everyone shivered internally.  The fine hairs on the back of the neck stood up, and the fight or flight urge of extreme anxiety kicked in.  Chaos ensued.  People ran here and there in the halls of the Command.  Voices were raised and weapons were drawn.  It developed very quickly into mass hysteria. 

            They missed their main target though.  Alexander remained in his Command and Control room for the full time that madness stalked the halls. 

 

                        ***********************************

 

BENEATH THE MASSIF

 

            “Assessment, Mr. Schoenfeld?”

            “I can only turn on the current.  Your group will have to tell you how successful the effects were.  We proceeded before the unit was perfected, as you well know.  The maximum operating time is approximately one hour.  Long enough to cull those weak in body and mind.  Our satellite positioning was precise enough to target one city block.  We will not be able to apply this weapon to any point on earth for the next twenty-four hours Mr. Enfield.  But then, once a day should be sufficient to strike terror and uncertainty, not to mention kill those people ill equipped to handle such terror.”

            “Very good Ernst.  Please continue to work on the variation under construction.   And I will let you know precisely how well this first application went, when the body count is complete and reported.”

 

                        ***************************************** 

 

HEADQUARTERS PARIS

 

            Napoleon Solo wearily reached for the enabling touchpad on his main communication console as it warbled for his attention.  Operating conditions had continued quiet in his arena, but he could not shake a growing unease these past two days.  He’d always trusted his intuition in the past.  He trusted it now.  This call was it.  The beginning of the next phase in the saga was at hand.   Here it comes boy, hold on to your sanity.

            “Solo here.”  He said simply.

             “Waverly here, Mr. Solo.  I have to declare a Code Five.”

            “I understand Sir.  I will be there within three days.”

 

                        ***********************************************

 

                                    HEADQUARTERS LONDON

 

            “April, Luv, did you get the call?”

            “I did indeed.  Looks like we’re headed back to New York yet again Slate.  Race you.”

 

                        ************************************************

 

 

 NEW YORK SUBURBS

 

            Kier stayed with Alexis the next morning while Illya Kuryakin and Nikita rushed to Headquarters in response to Waverly’s call.  One thing delayed their departure.  Illya knew he must speak with Kier before leaving.

            “Kier is she stable enough to have contact with Michael?”

            “Her realignment is proceeding, but it may not be strong enough to defeat the pull of his presence, no.  I’d advise against it.  Why?”

            “I think we’re out of time Kier.  I wish she hadn’t been so twisted by her involvement in such an ugly situation.  Still, she’s very young, and her humanity is intact, despite the massive assaults on her sensibilities.  You’ve done wonders with her, but I’ve hardly had the time or presence of mind to help her.”

            Kier bit back the knowledge of her feelings for Illya.  She hadn’t confessed them.  Illya hadn’t discussed them.  Confidence goes both ways.  Surely Illya was aware of how she felt.  But her mental condition was still too shaky to meet the man who had hurt and confused her to a great degree for the past five years, and whom she would still love, in a manner of speaking, for a long time to come, if he didn’t miss his guess.

            “Illya, Nikita has a will of iron.  The positive re-enforcement of being here and around Alexis, myself and you may have been enough, but I wouldn’t push this yet.”

            “You’ve repeated the warning twice, Ki.  I’m sorry I have to ignore it.”    

            “Then why did you ask?”

            Illya turned to leave. 

            “Don’t lose her.”  There was enough pain and longing in the words to stop Illya cold. But although he stopped, he couldn’t say the words Kier needed to hear.

 

 

           

                                    HEADQUARTERS NEW YORK

 

A soft knock came at Walter’s door.  He got up off the bed and went to deactivate the lock.  “Come on in,” Walter said wearily.  It seemed he could get no uninterrupted time today.  Everybody and his brother had come into his space to ask questions, get advice, or offer him options on what he could do next.  This visitor, however, was a welcome surprise.

“Hello Walter,” Illya greeted him in a voice which betrayed his own weariness.  “Got a few minutes? I know it’s late, but I have an issue I must discuss with you privately.  It concerns Nikita. ”

“If it’s about Nikita, fire away, I’m never too tired to help her.”

Illya walked into the room and seated himself at the desk.  The lamplight threw his high-planed face into sharp contrasts.  Deep set eyes disappeared in shadow.  Walter

studied his new “friend” intently.  Since Illya had said it was personal and about Nikita, Walter had a pretty good idea what he intended to ask.

“Walter, I’m going to upgrade your clearance.  This is within my authority.  I have a lot to tell you in a short time, so I’ll try and be brief.”

“Don’t be formal, Illya, just lay it on me.  I’m not tickled about the upgrade in my clearance, though.  Usually that means I’m going to find out things I don’t want to know.”

 “These are things you need to know,” Illya began.  “Things I need you to know so you can give me an honest, informed opinion.”  Illya grinned.  “You know, this may not be so brief after all.”

“OK, but I want to sleep-in in the morning.  Do you want some coffee?”

“Of course, and yes.  Walter, I don’t usually trust anyone this much on such short notice.”

“You know, you don’t need to go through this bit.  I assure you, I can take anything you and this organization throw at me.  This place is a walk in the park after Section ya know.  Since we’re about to spill secrets, let me tell you mine.  I want to stay here.  I like this place.  I like the people and the job.  I like the fact that everyday I pretty much know when I wake up, that I’ll live through ‘till dawn of the next.  And, I like you, personally.  Now lay it on me.”

“Alright, Walter, but I’m warning you, it’s a lot to pack into one night.  You’ll have access tomorrow to some very special files.  Uh, make that sometime tomorrow night.”  The door buzzed, and Illya went to take possession of the ordered coffee with all the trimmings.  When the door closed again, he resumed his seat.

 

            “Nikita has been living at my place for the past several weeks,” Illya began.  “My friend Kier took her in while I was away on a sort of sabbatical.  She is suffering from post-traumatic stress.  Kier has a wonderful way of seeing through people, and treating them in the manner they most require.  He saw her on and off here at the Command for almost three weeks, teaching her his special relaxation techniques, letting her talk through her problems as much as she was willing.  He is a licensed psychoanalyst as well as a GP.  He’s very skilled in many related disciplines as well.  He’s been my personal physician for many years now.  I tell you all this to reassure you that she’s getting excellent help. Anyway, two months ago, he saw fit to bring her into my home, for many reasons.  Not all of which I can relate. 

No, you can lower that raised eyebrow.  There is nothing of that sort going on, Walter.  However,” and here Illya shifted in his chair, as if uncomfortable, “since I’ve been home for the last two weeks, Nikita and I are around each other rather a lot.  And I have noticed a marked change in her demeanor lately, ah, towards me.”

“Whoa, now.  I hardly think I’m the one to ask what you’re going to ask.”

“There isn’t anyone else I can ask, Walter.  Who else knows her as well as you?  Michael?  Michael and I aren’t easy with one another.  And I am not asking your permission.  I am asking your opinion.  She’s been under too much pressure for too long.”

Walter laughed outright.  “Damn man, I don’t know how anyone could resist that gray-eyed, blonde-haired Siren, once she’s decided to bestow “the ultimate gift”, as it were.”  He slid his chair closer to Illya and looked directly into his eyes.  “If she’s decided to get personal with you, and you know she really means it, why the hesitation?  She’s a big girl.  She’s been through a lot, but seems to have come out of it as sane as possible.”

“You haven’t seen a lot of her in the past months, though.  I want to do the best thing for her.  I’m certainly not sure that a personal relationship with me is what she needs right now. ”  Illya couldn’t bring himself to confess the whole truth to Walter just yet.  The truth was, his relationships never turned out to be casual.  When and if he ended an affair, the lady involved seemed drastically motivated to either win him back or kill him.  It had been a central truth of his life for the past fifteen years or so.  He bestowed his sexual favors carefully, rarely, and with tremendous feeling.  The only one aware of this state of affairs, other than the direct participants, was Napoleon Solo. 

“How ‘bout for you, friend?” Walter asked seriously.  “I don’t know much about you at all, so I can’t presume to guess what would be right in the personal department.”

“I am not the issue right now.”  Illya said rather stiffly. 

“Well, last time I checked a “relationship” includes more than one individual.  Look, Illya, I have to get a little personal here.  Don’t freeze up so quick, OK?  Tell you what.  I’d have to see the way she looks at you.  I haven’t even seen you two in the same room since the infamous interrogation, what, four months ago?”

Illya pressed his fingers against his forehead.

“What, still bugged Illya?  That was a long time ago, as things go.”

“Da, but if I may digress a bit….”

Walter noted the little slip into Russian, and the return of extreme formality in speech.  ‘This must be a sensitive issue.’  He told himself.  ‘Tread carefully.’  “Digress away.  I’m wide awake.”

Illya sat silent for several minutes, lost in thought.  The silence was comfortable, at least for Walter.  ‘I like this guy.’  Walter thought, rather surprised.  ‘He’d be better for her than Michael in the long run.’

“Sorry Walter, I got lost there.  Here are the problems that have arisen since that day eons ago in Section’s interrogation room.  There was more in that interrogation “cocktail” than we realized.  Not only a nerve-induction enhancer, but something that is tearing down my mind’s memory blocks.  These blocks were put there for my benefit following a long, intense interrogation by an organization known as THRUSH, and as if that wasn’t enough, following my four-month stay with THRUSH, they turned me over to the KGB, and I spent two happy months locked away in Lubayanka.  A great deal of physical damage was done during these.  Some of it was considered too much for me to handle psychologically.  So these details were quite effectively blocked from my conscious memory.  I bet you know a bit about the process, so I won’t elaborate.  Now, however, these memories are surfacing. 

This is a serious impediment to me, especially right now.  I am having a difficult time, to put it mildly.  Nikita is having a difficult time also.  Everything is off kilter and it couldn’t happen at a less opportune time.”  Illya paused, rubbed his forehead, then clasped his hands together in his lap, sat forward and resumed.

“I have a lot to do, and may not have much time to accomplish the prerequisites.  Basically, I need to establish a strong base of support, personal, mental and if necessary, physical support, in order to do what I have to do and be successful.”

“You’re losing me, Illya.”

Illya snorted.  “I’m rather lost myself these days.  OK.  Let me try to put this across in some clear way.  I am …..oh Hell.  I am ….ah, supposed to be this world’s defense against a rather insidious evil approaching from….well, it would be impossible for me to explain the source really.  No wait, no questions now.  This is hard enough to get out.  In order to be this Defense, I must have help from a specialized group of people.  I am trying to gather as many of this type of individual as I can.  Wait, please, I’ll get to that.  These people are gifted mentally.  They have to be able to interact with me, to meld with me, if you will, in order to give the strength needed to defeat this….this…Threat.

I have not only to identify these people and gather them, I must be comfortable with each, and they must be the same with me.  Now, Nikita is one of these people.  We are able to communicate on several levels.  In fact there is only one other person in my group, with whom I am able to connect in the same manner.

 Nikita may be absolutely crucial to this effort.  Her stability becomes not just a question of interest to her friends and herself, but to all mankind.  Now I’ve laid the main point on you.  This is strictly on a need-to-know basis, Walter; I cannot stress this enough.  No matter how crazy or improbable these circumstances sound, I assure you I am giving you the truth here.”

Walter sat quietly, still trying to look into his friend’s eyes; trying not to judge the veracity of the words just uttered; trying merely to read this man before him.  Before Walter had a chance to comment, Illya continued.

“Perhaps I should have had you order a bottle of Glenfiddich and two tall glasses instead of this coffee.”  Illya looked directly into Walter’s eyes.  He let down his guard, and looked with all his formidable senses.

What Walter experienced then, he’d never be able to express clearly, to himself or anyone.  The room seemed to expand.  The figure before him grew huge.  A great sense of power emanated from him.  The eyes he looked into became a deep blue; a pool to drown in, perhaps.  A shimmer surrounded Kuryakin.  Not a halo, Walter thought to himself bemusedly, but a visible aura.  He’d read of such things, knew they did exist, but never expected to actually view one.  The colors were beautiful; blue, green, violet and a stunning white, difficult to look at.  He felt…..love.  He felt cradled in the warmth of that regard; he felt awe.

Kuryakin lowered his gaze and cloaked himself once again.

“What did you see?” he asked gently.

Walter sat before him, a stunned look on his face.  “I…..uh…..”

“Never mind that just now,” Illya said.  “We’ll speak again of this later.  For now, let me ask you for your help.  Suspend your disbelief, Walter.  Take what I say as truth.”

Silence reigned again. 

“You, ah, really know how to get your point across,” Walter finally broke the silence in a hushed voice. 

“Sometimes, time is of the essence.”

“How can I help you, Illya?  There isn’t much I wouldn’t do now, ya know.  For you or Nikita.  Not much at all.”

“What you can do is both simple, and most complicated.  I need your friendship, your help in understanding the dynamics between people you probably know better than anyone else.  I need you to advise me when I ask for it, and when you know I need it.  Are you willing or no?”

“That’s a mighty tall order there.  I’m chuck full of advice.  Sure you want it?  No, I’m sorry, Illya.  The answer is straight-up yes.  That offer of scotch still stand?”

“Now more than ever.  It’s on me.”

 

The next morning, no one bothered Walter. 

About two that afternoon, another visitor requested entry. 

“Jesus, Sugar, it’s good to see you!  What you been up to?  I was beginning to think you’d forgotten your old friend Walter!”

 

 

 

                        ********************************************

 

 

 

            “Hello Michael.”  She stood gazing coolly at him from the doorway of his new office in the Command.  “Feeling better?”

            “Hello Nikita.  You’re looking well.”  Michael was busy.  Too busy to be interrupted by her now.  Waverly had spoken at length with him, outlining the plan for controlling Section One operations briefly and offering Michael the secondary seat of power.  It appealed to Michael very much.  He would not have considered staying if such a position had not been offered.  He’d stated as much to the gnarled old man who presumed to have control over his activities.  It had been a difficult decision to stay.  If he returned to Section, he’d be reinstated in his old position, at least, perhaps he’d be able to wrest control of the entire Section from Paul.  However, Waverly had allowed him to be shown the new capabilities of the recently installed molecular computer.  With this tool, Michael could take control, anyway.  He’d be part of Oversight.  Without a struggle.  Michael had never been one to waste effort.

Now here was Nikita.  For the first two years of her presence in Section One, he’d trained her thoroughly.  Then he’d mentored her first three years in the field.  These had been extremely rough years for him.  His emotions buried under a mountain of pain and conscious suppression, he’d resisted her pull on him quite successfully until the final year.  Then he’d made the ultimate mistake of letting his love for her drive his actions.  It had almost led to ruin for both of them countless times.  In order to take control of his life again, he’d decided to put her off for a while once more.  If her love for him were strong enough, they would work back into the relationship he craved deeply, but was too brittle to handle at this time.  He could not afford her at this junction.

Her instability threatened him.  The beauty of her spirit pulled him. 

“I understand we’re going to be working together, Nikita.  I’d hoped you would come back soon.  What have you been doing the past three months?”

            A thousand things passed through her mind.  She answered simply,

            “Recovering.”

            “From what?”

            How could she answer that?  He’d never credit what she’d been through as real.  He’d barely noticed her depressed condition when she’d come to him for help.

She understood so much about him, that she forgave him this.  But would never share her recent experiences, never.  It created a wall between the two of them.  It was no longer Nikita and Michael against the world.  As childish as that sounded to her internally, she knew it had been the truth.  Now what was the truth?

            “Recovering from a loss of balance, I suppose.  Michael, you said we’d be working together, what is it we’ll be working on?  Are we going to destroy Section?”

            “No, we’re going to control it.”

            Oh really? 

            Something changed.  Her view of him changed.  Her view of the next few weeks, months and years changed.  Michael pushed and demanded that she be one way.  Her nature rebelled at the strict dichotomy required by his view of the world.  Rasheed Kier (and Illya?) pushed her another way.  She needed to find her own way. 

            Michael watched her closely.  Seeing the struggle going on, he pushed again.

            “Where have you been, Nikita?   

            “Staying with a friend, outside the Command.  A lovely place really.”  She smiled at him.

            “Yes, I’d heard.”

            Heard what?

            “They’re using you, Nikita.  Be careful.” 

            “Michael, I have to go.  I’ll be back soon.”

 

            She fled the room.  She fled the attitude. 

 

She found herself in the deepest subterranean level of the U.N.C.L.E. complex.  Alexander Waverly had explained that she could go wherever she pleased today.  The building was in an uproar, but Illya Nickovetch had thoroughly vouched for her.  She heard two operatives quietly discussing the pounding they’d just been through.  Something about the room through the huge double doors with the coded entrance keypad now firmly closed with red beacon flashing on top.  She used her identification marker to gain entrance. 

Nikita stopped transfixed.  She stood just outside the huge gymnasium, currently being used by a group of youngish people with Illya Kuryakin as their instructor.

            “Ah Miss, don’t go any closer.” Came a voice right behind her.  She turned quickly to face a young oriental girl.  The girl gave a brief bow, and Nikita followed suit.

            “You see the way he moves?” the girl continued.  His name on the floor is Blue-White.  It signifies the speed with which he can move and his level of mastery.  It has been far too long since Blue-White graced us with his presence.  This pleases my father very much.  He is hoping to convince Mr. Kuryakin to teach once more.”

            “Your father?”

            “Yes, that is him over there observing.”

Nikita looked up and right, seeing a small oriental man, standing in a raised dais, very old, very frail in appearance.

            “My father, Master Khee, is the only one to whom Mr. Kuryakin must answer on or off The Floor.  My father is master of many disciplines.”

            “The floor?” Nikita inquired.

            “Ah, you are quite new then,” said the girl.  “It is The Floor, capitalized.  You would know why if you were to step upon it.  Allow me to explain briefly.  Beneath this ordinary looking surface is a device spinning at tremendous speed.  This increases the gravity applied to the floor.  Students train on this floor and perfect their movements and speed.  It is like wearing between 15 and 20 pounds on each limb.  Of course it can be toned down for beginners, or turned off.  When you are done training on The Floor you feel like you can almost fly.  It is marvelous for strength and endurance.”

            “You mean those students are laboring under an extra weight of twenty pounds with those moves?”

            “Oh no, Miss, not now.  Due to the inexperience of the students The Floor only carries about 7 pounds.”

            Nikita introduced herself formally, deciding she liked this girl very much.  The young lady gave her name as Khee Mon Chai.  The name gave her nationality away.  Not that this was kept secret.  All nationalities worked here.  You just don’t meet that many Chinese that aren’t at least second generation American born.  Nikita bowed again, then turned to watch the man center stage on The Floor.

            She observed his lean muscular body; never having seen him so much as bare armed before.  Where does he find time to work out? she wondered.  It was obvious he had been, and heavily.  None of the vein popping styles of the muscle magazines, though.  Here was an elegant strength, aesthetically pleasing.  Moving as if to internal music, Illya alternately flowed gracefully then struck with frightening power.  Nikita looked around her at the observers.  They also were riveted to the “dance” being performed.  There were only a few observers, though, and she asked the girl why.

            “This is because this level of training must be kept as quiet as possible.  Without giving offense, may I inquire why you are allowed to approach The Floor with the red security beacon activated?”

            “Of course.  I am temporarily given the run of the place, as it were.”

            Chai looked askance.

            “I’m sorry.  That means I may go anywhere I wish right now.  Until I make up my mind, that is, whether to stay or go.”  Nikita lifted the lapel of her jacket to reveal the special marker that enabled her to do as she’d just said.

            Chai made no reply, though Nikita suspected she knew much more about the Section One escapee that she was willing to admit to.

 

            “Excuse me, I don’t think we’ve met and I consider that at least a minor crime,” came a voice low and honey-smooth.  Napoleon Solo had been observing the tall, stunning blonde with more than his customary interest.  Even now, seven years after coming “out of the cold” and settling down (ha, ha) to a desk job, Napoleon Solo looked the part of a youngish James Bond.  His hair, gray at the temples, and a few delightful laugh lines surrounding his eyes and mouth, the only clues that he might be past prime field agent age.  “Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Napoleon Solo, Number Two, Section I, Western Europe.”  Napoleon was quite sure this young woman was cleared for this intelligence being where she was and when.  He took her right hand in his and gave it the continental kiss.  With a twist of course.

            “Nikita.”  She found herself short of breath.  What an impact this man made!  Not the absolute fire of Illya, but a hot glow.  

             “Just Nikita, like a professional name?”

            “For now, yes.”

            “Are you enjoying the floor show?”

            Although she found this mildly insulting, for reasons she wasn’t sure of, she made no rejoinder, but turned her attention back to the Floor.

            The “show” was over.  The participants, sheened with sweat and breathing hard, bowed formally to the Master watching above, then moved off the surface of their proving ground.  Illya, dressed in a sleeveless form fitting black top and roomy long black pants, came directly to where the three were standing.  

            “Napoleon!  Good to see you again!”

            “Good to see you too, Illya.  But it looks like you’ve had a little rough handling lately.”  Napoleon eyed Illya’s pallor under the flush of exercise and the black smudges under his eyes.

            “Nothing spectacular, so don’t feel left out.”

            “After that last, ah, action, I’d really prefer to be left out.”

            “Nonsense Napoleon, I can’t continue to have all this fun and not share some with you.  Where’s your sense of adventure?”

            “Common sense has temporarily taken it over.  I’m getting too old for all this ‘fun’ of yours.”

            “Again, nonsense.  And besides I can’t save the world without your help.”

            “So, you finally admit you need help, eh?”

            Napoleon got the familiar glare, but not the familiar rejoinder.

            “We have much to discuss, Napoleon.  I hope your replacement is more than adequate.”

            “He’ll do.  I needed a break from gay Paree.  Too much wine, too many women, same old song.”

            “Ha! I never thought I hear that from you!  Too many women?  You do need a vacation Napoleon.  Too bad this won’t be it.”

 

Nikita watched the interchange with fascination.  Looking from one face to the other she could see these two were more than friends.  She had never seen this look in Illya’s eyes before.  She struggled to place what she was feeling.  Jealousy?    Stop it Nikita!  She probed her memory for facts.  Ah, yes, Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin!  The unbeatable team; partners for almost fifteen years.  Section’s dossiers didn’t have the full span of the partnership covered, but enough to impress upon the reader that these two were wildly successful.  Year after year they had completed their assignments in the field and, yes indeed, saved the world as a duo several well documented times.  She’d been so caught up in her own woes that she hadn’t stopped to think this aspect through. 

Seeing Illya now, with his former partner, and obviously still close friend, Napoleon Solo, she felt suddenly awe-struck.  Silly jealousies were put aside as she prepared to make a bid to enter into their world in any capacity they would allow.  She’d made her choice.

 

Solo and Kuryakin headed down the hall toward the private quarters section.  Nikita tagged along.  She was glad she had when Illya turned to her once he reached his own suite and bowed her through the door along with Napoleon Solo.

Napoleon’s surprise was evident.

Illya noted it and said, “I have to assume you two have met.  Napoleon, despite his recent disclaimer, would not let the chance to introduce himself to a beautiful woman slip by.  Therefore forgive any faux paux, Nikita.  Please both of you make yourselves comfortable while I rid myself of the sweat and grime.  Ah, Napoleon, you may speak freely in Nikita’s presence.  Her clearance has been upgraded sufficiently.”

It was Nikita’s turn to show surprise.

“I do apologize, Nikita.  With all the excitement of the last two days, I’ve forgotten to mention the fact.  Relax please.”

For the first time, he reached out to touch her casually.  The usual fire was

 banked this time, and a calm sense of peace flowed between the two bodies.  Also for the first time, she heard his “voice” in her head.

 (Nikita, we will talk at length together as soon as events slow down sufficiently please forgive me)

  Far from producing alarm, this silent communication felt quite the most natural thing in the world.  If she’d let go right then, she would have hugged him fiercely in return for this gift he’d finally seen fit to bestow.  However it hardly seemed appropriate with the presence of Mr. Solo.  She tried “sending” a reply, and by his look of absolute pleasure, she guessed she was successful.

 A minor miracle ensued.  The joy of her untutored response sprang from Illya’s mind to envelop both Napoleon and Nikita.  It was echoed and magnified and fed back.  It was more than he’d hoped to accomplish in such a short time.

 

The three in the room stood with various silly grins pasted to their features. If “silly” could be applied to three such handsome and elegant personages.  Illya finally broke it up by erecting a shield around himself.  Long intakes of breath all around. 

            “We are well begun,” was Illya’s only comment before he shut the door and turned on the shower.

 

                        ************************************** 

 

            “Napoleon, did Alexander fill you in on what happened here a day and a half ago?”

            “Some sort of new weapon, Illya?  What could generate that fear?”

            “I don’t have a concrete answer ready yet.  However, the fact is, it was most effective.  Eighteen dead, twenty-two wounded, five critically; three in our Medical ward suffering severe nervous breakdowns.  Only those in the currently fully shielded spaces here were spared the outrage.  Efforts are underway now to expand the use of the special generators throughout our various Headquarters as soon as humanly possible.  Once again they have us on the defensive.”

            “Waverly mentioned the possibility of a large task force to storm the fort, as it were.  Just between us, what do you think the chances of success would be?”

            “Slim to none, Napoleon.  All they’d have to do is direct that new weapon of theirs at us.  At short range, I doubt satellite-assisted precise aim is necessary.”

            “When you say “us” do you mean..”

            “I mean, you and me, yes.  Who else could lead such a task force against such an enemy?  It may be our only recourse.”

            “Wouldn’t they know we were coming, Illya?  Somehow I can’t see how they could miss us, heavy shielding or no.  In any case, they could move before we arrived.”

            Or destroy us where we stood

            “A sticky problem isn’t it my friend?”  Illya stood stock still as the one solution occurred to him.

            “Isn’t it possible to counter this probable electronic source of theirs at a safe distance?”  Nikita finally spoke up. 

            “That solution is being worked up too, Nikita.  It would be far preferable to an open challenge at close range.  That is, therefore, my first priority.  The Floor session was a mind clearing exercise.”  The simply wired phone on the wall rang then.  Illya went to answer it and was pleased to announce to Nikita and Napoleon, that Mr. Slate and Miss Dancer had arrived in the building.

            “Alexander requests our presence in the Command and Control room.  After you.”

 

                                    ******************************************    

 

 

 

 

 

 

                       

 

 

 

 

 

UNITED, WE  MAY WELL STAND

 

Here they are, all in one room for the first time in history, Alexander thought as the final three walked through the door.

Illya Nickovetch did something he very rarely did.  He sent an internal message to Waverly, accompanied by great joy.  Waverly acknowledged without a flicker.

“Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, glad you could join us.”

Waverly had a way of saying just the right thing at precisely the right time.  The four veteran enforcement operatives had heard those words countless times in the past.  Those words invoked a sense of their past so palpable they were transported back to the time when, from this very office, they had been sent, over and over, to prove themselves in this man’s eyes.  It was a great leveler.  It relaxed and focused all of them.

To Nikita, it seemed all four stiffened slightly, then relaxed into natural postures of alertness.   She’d seen Mr. Slate.  She’d seen Miss Dancer.  She’d only once seen them together.  Much like finally seeing Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin together, a sense of complete parity was suddenly evident.  Why am I here?   

“Do sit down, gentlemen.  Oh, excuse me young lady.  Please by all means have a seat.”  Alexander Waverly chuckled out loud.  His magic had worked on him also. 

Nikita thought with amusement.  Damned if this isn’t Gandalf with Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippen!!  Well, all the personae don’t fit exactly.  Let’s see; who is who?  Well Waverly is definitely Gandalf.  Maybe the rest are members of the great council of Wizards.  Maybe…..  This was a concept she would play with often.  And often wonder – Who am I?  She had read Tolkkein’s Trilogy “The Lord of the Rings” many times.  She never tired of it. 

No, no, Waverly is Yoda…

(nikita, pay attention)

professor oak then?

This last was too much for Illya, who collapsed into helpless laughter.  All he’d caught of her former musings was the name Yoda.  Her reading of Waverly was so comical and mirrored his own so well, that he absolutely lost control.  He managed to send (pay attention, he’s about to let us out of our pokeballs), then threw his head back and howled. 

Instead of halting, or rather trying to halt the wave of merriment sweeping the normally staid Command and Control room, Waverly let the laughter run its course.  Illya and Nikita finally regained some composure. 

“Sorry Sir,” Illya managed.  “Won’t happen again.”

“Yes, well,…”  Much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Waverly was pleased to see Illya laugh like that, even here, even now.  As a matter of fact, Waverly had never seen Illya laugh like that.  He rather wished they’d seen fit to share the joke.  Then realized with a start that the two had formed a very closed circle.  Certainly Miss Dancer and Mr. Slate were sitting with puzzled, concerned faces.  Mr. Solo was smiling broadly.  Perhaps at the spectacle of the serious Mr. Kuryakin brought down by mirth.  Extraordinary.

 

 

 

Before they could even begin their interrupted conference, it was interrupted yet again.

Once more the EWI had struck.  Toronto had been the target.  The death toll was staggering.  April felt her mind close into a fist.  A full one third of those on duty had been killed.  They had struck in the middle of the day. 

“Well, people, we must now take drastic action.  The task force I mentioned to all but Mr. Kuryakin and Miss Nikita will be sent.  This threat must be destroyed.  Because of the nature of the enemy we must have some of you, or all of you lead the way.  Give me your thoughts.”

Illya spoke first.

“Sir, forgive me, but this will fail.  May I suggest a very small task force, say one person?  One with a chance to penetrate the defenses and return with the device and the developer either destroyed or in tow?”

“You are suggesting yourself as the force.  This is unacceptable.”

“Sir, I am the only one who just might make it.”

Waverly sat and thought this through for a full five minutes.  The group sat tensely awaiting his next words.

“You are correct, Mr. Kuryakin.  Prepare immediately for departure.”  And God go with you, he added silently.

Illya stood and looked each of his companions in the eye.  “Be there if I call, will you?”

                        ***************************************  

 

Following his departure. Waverly eyed the remaining four.  Naked dismay darkened two of them.  Determination, the other two.

“Mr. Solo and Miss Nikita,….”

“Dane, Sir, please address me as Miss Dane.”

“Very well.  Miss Dane.  You will not, under any circumstances disobey me and try to accompany him.  The support you can give him can best be given from a safe distance.  Mr. Solo, do you understand?”

“Of course Sir.”

“Miss Dane?”

“I should go Sir.  I am in condition to make the journey, Mr. Waverly.   No matter where the group is, I guarantee I can get there and assist in the penetration.  Please reconsider.”

Another long pause. 

“You will have to convince Mr. Kuryakin of this, and it must be done quickly My Dear.  Go now and try.  You will find him in weapons.”

She fled.

 

                        ************************************  

“Please, Illya.”

“No Nikita.”

“Alexander Waverly said he thought it was a good idea.   Which means I will go whether I accompany you directly or not.  I am going.”

“You don’t grasp the full danger, Nikita.  I do.  Your presence will be noted, mine will not.  You haven’t had the mental training to do this.  Please don’t push me any further.”

(napoleon, get down here now please)

Illya continued to draw the gear he would need for an assault on the distant fortress of EWI, and Nikita continued to argue.  When Napoleon arrived, he saw a very angry young woman battering his partner with words and looking likely to batter with whatever came to hand next. 

Waverly had already set up transportation.  The three people went to the roof of the building to the helipad there.  At the very last, Illya had to strongly “suggest” Nikita sleep off this insane compulsion.  Helplessly she fell into the waiting arms of Solo as the helicopter lifted off.

Napoleon stood cradling Nikita in his arms looking after the disappearing speck. 

 

            ******************************************** 

 

                                    NEPAL

 

Because of the special nature of his trip, Kuryakin had to pilot each vehicle himself.  When they traveled, the Talents were extremely vulnerable. Pilots and drivers transporting EWI’s intended victims were very easily controlled.  It had taken two minor car wrecks with Kier driving for Illya to figure this out.   Holding a shield about his mind with savage strength, he reached the border of Nepal within two days.  They never felt him coming. 

Landing his small plane at the airport at Kathmandu, he quickly arranged for transport to Dhunche.  From there he would have to trek, alone up into the snow and melting ice fields of Ganesh Himal. He thanked the gods for his physical readiness, and that the month was late April.  He knew exactly where to go.  He knew exactly what to take with him.  Very little, in fact could be carried.  Warm clothes, freeze dried rations, and a NASA developed wrap guaranteed by Section Six to keep out the cold and wet even in these climes.  Illya was no stranger to mountain climbing.  Thin unbreakable cord and light strong hooks completed his ensemble.  Getting where he needed to go would take at least three days.  He made it in two and a half.  He could not contact Headquarters in any way, shape or form.  He hated the necessity of sleep, for then he was somewhat vulnerable.  But one must sleep in unaccustomed high climbs; the reduced oxygen makes it very necessary.  

By the middle of the third day, his goal was in sight.  Camouflaged cleverly on a broad shelf of rock at about 10,000 feet an entrance was visible if one knew what to look for.  And he did, because it had been pinpointed by satellite and photographed at the Command’s request long ago. 

Now comes the difficult part, he thought.  How to get in. 

Uncertainty was the enemy.  No communication devices were on his person.  No one of his group of friends could contact him.  He didn’t know if the weapon had been used again.  He couldn’t feel for the thoughts of those within.  If the powerful group within became aware of his presence, they would kill or capture him, this he was sure of.  He wasn’t powerful enough to fight all of them.  Stealth was his best weapon.  It always had been.

The next day he got his break.  Deliveries of food had to be brought once a week.  A helicopter landed on the pad carved into the face of the mountain a few hundred feet above the entrance.  Quickly he covered the distance between his watching post and the entrance.  Seen by ordinary eyes, he might have appeared a hazy distortion of the background behind him.  He carried one piece of electronic equipment, developed years ago by a scientist now long dead.  This was an invisibility device, or energy damper.  Within its field, he could see tolerably well. 

He accompanied the last bundle of foodstuffs into the fortress.  Once in, he had to deactivate the device quickly.  No one knew what sensors were installed in here. 

Fortunately, EWI employed well-paid locals for these deliveries.  Illya fit right in with the elaborate disguise provided in the small plane in which he’d arrived in Kathmandu.

U.N.C.L.E. also had a fair guess at the size of the place through highly penetrating infrared imaging.  Rock was cold.  The people who likely surrounded the equipment were warm.  He wouldn’t have much time though.  Shielding his mind at this level was exhausting.     He couldn’t tell if the cabal was present.  Any attempt to determine such would be fatal.  No, just do what you must and try and get out.  The getting out part would be difficult.  They would be aware that someone was here, after the equipment and mind that developed it was destroyed.  He had no illusion that he could actually take those responsible with him.  It was ridiculous.  He’d have to kill in cold blood.  There was no choice.

 His group of locals continued down the stone corridor to a juncture of ways.  They turned right.  Illya took the opposite way.

  Drop the shield, reach hard, feel the minds clustered about the machinery.  There!! Two doors down.  A judicious plastique placement.  Whump.  The door is down.  The people surrounding the huge transmitter turning to stare at the intruder.  Quick, who are the ones?  There!! A lethal weapon coughs seven times.  A terrible pressure behind his eyes tells him he is perceived.  He affixes a tremendous charge at the base of the transmitter, and times it for one minute.  Now a few rounds to destroy the panels of devices he’s sure link to the machine.  And out you go Illya before they get any closer and stronger.  God that hurts!!  Run!!  While you still possess the facility.  RUN!!  Out the way you came, not far.  Door’s still open.  Time? Thirty seconds.  I’m going to make it.  Yes.  There’s the egress.  Ten seconds.  Five seconds.  Doors closing quickly.  One second to explosion. 

The door caught Illya halfway through.  The explosion blew door and man out and over the ledge. 

 

            ******************************************