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Oleksandra Volodymyrivna went down the main staircase in her house, her mind churning. Had she and the others thought of everything? What if their parents didn't believe their stories? What if someone backed out? Then she shook her head. They had planned for every contingency. She had spent a lot of time on the emails that were set to go to Uncle Andriy and Maks the next morning. Hopefully they would help calm her father. He wanted to protect her, she knew—but sometimes the protection was stifling. And now that Uncle Zhenya and Aunt Kseniya were always around, (and sleeping with her parents—she still hadn't figured out how that all worked, or when it started) it became downright oppressive.
She went through the house, but didn't see anybody. She knew there was security around—both because of Papa and because the war was still going on. But they were making themselves scarce—thankfully. She wrote a quick note, and put it on the fridge in the kitchen.
Dear Adults,
I am going out with Maria Yehvenivna and Olena Anatolyivna to buy some presents for Gramma Rimma's birthday next month. Then we're going to Olena's house to plan for the upcoming semester. If we're done later than I expect, I'll just stay there during the curfew. Love you!
Sasha.
Thankfully, those friends were among those that were vetted so that security didn't have to accompany her when they were together—and they had agreed to cover for her. She had invited them along, but they had both bowed out.
Then she left the house. Instead of turning right, towards Maria's house, she turned left...towards the Maidan.
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Yegor Dmytrovych was restless. That must be why he had shown up at the meeting point 3 hours early. Yes, that was it. Restless, and eager. Nothing to do with being ready to crawl out of his skin with fear and eagerness and worry and a million other things at once. What if the others didn't show up? He was fairly certain about Zlata Ruslanivna and Oleksandra Volodomyrivna, but not as much about Anna Denysivna. She was the youngest of the four, only just 18. Just a kid he thought, trying to forget that he was only 20 himself, not that much older.
He was trying to count the ways that his mother would yell at him once she found out, when someone tapped his shoulder. He jumped and yelped so loudly some passers-by shot him an annoyed glance. Calm down, Yegor. Everybody's antsy about unexpected noises. They could be missiles after all! He turned around, and saw Anna Denysivna standing there, smiling up at him. “Hello there, Yegor Dmytrovych! I'm glad to see I'm not the first one here.” she said. “He...hello there, Anna Denysivna. Good to see you too. Everything OK on your end?” he asked, rather nervously. “Yes, I believe so” was the response. “Papa's at work, obviously. And Mama thinks I'm heading out to see the new Marvel movie. Have the others shown up yet?” Just as he was about to say no, Zlata Ruslanivna showed up and nodded. She was the oldest of them, at 24—and the most travelled, having studied in Vienna of all places. Finally, Oleksandra Volodomyrivna (two years older than Yegor, and more beautiful every time he saw her) arrived, out of breath from having run to make it on time. Everybody's here. Finally.
“So,” Zlata said. “We all sure about this? We could wake up tomorrow morning with posters out saying we've been kidnapped by the Orcs or something. Or the drill instructors could drag us out of bed in the middle of the night because our fathers decided we're not old enough to decide for ourselves what to do.” The others nodded at her. Surprisingly, it was Anna who spoke next. “I've been ready since February 24th. Just because our father have big jobs, doesn't make it any less our responsibility to do something like this. Besides, getting us discharged once we're in won't look good. You know ZSU has been trying to recruit as many people as possible. The scandal of losing 4 recruits with our names would be bad.” Yegor had to nod at that. Sasha giggled. “Besides, I'm sure we've all heard the rumours about why none of the kids of people like our parents are fighting. We do this right, we'll make them look good.”
Zlata spoke up next. “You do realize what the worst case scenario is, though, don't you?” Yegor gulped a bit, but nodded. “Yes. We turn up dead.” But Sasha shook her head. “No. The worst case scenario is that the Ruscists take us alive. You've all heard the stories. And once they find out who our fathers are....” Her voice trailed off, but she looked determined. Yegor's mind flashed back to all those stories—Bucha, the castrations, the torture, the massacre at Olenivka. He had also overheard some of his father's conversations, once they were allowed to stay with him again. Sasha was right. Dead was dead, but being a POW??
“It's worth it. I mean, other prominent people have fought. Now it's our turn.”
He looked at the others. “Ready to go?” Seeing the nods, he led them out of the square and to the nearest recruiting station.
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Zlata Ruslanivna looked at her companions as they walked. She didn't know them well, as she had been in Vienna until recently. But she knew they were all of the same mind—it was amazing how they had planned the meetup. She and Oleksandra Volodymyrivna knew each other mainly because of how their fathers had to work together so that one of them was always available in case of an accident with the other. They had been commiserating over how they'd never get permission to enlist....and then realized that they really didn't need permission. The planning had gone from there. Sasha knew that Yegor Dmytrovych had been having issues with some of his classmates over the fact that he hadn't served when so many of their friends and families had. So he had been an easy addition to their loose group. The surprise had been Anna Denysivna. She was quieter, younger....and so reserved, like her father. Somehow she had figured out what the other three were planning and inserted herself into the group like she had belonged from the beginning. She will be a force to be reckoned with, once she decides what she wants to do with her life....if she doesn't get herself killed out of a stubborn sense of vengeance. That's why Zlata had decided to make sure that they went to the same place, and the same unit if possible. Yegor and Sasha could take care of themselves...and each other. They had, as a group, decided that 2 would go each direction, if allowed, so as to deter suspicion and to make it harder to stop just one transport.
Then she looked up in surprise as the other stopped. They had arrived. She smiled at the others. “Well, we're here. Let's get started.” Then she started up the stairs. There was a war to fight.
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Anna Denysivna wasn't sure whether to be happy that nobody had blinked at her last name or frustrated at all the paperwork and exams. Sure, she had researched it online, but reality was definitely different from what she had imagined. She looked over at the others; they had managed to stay together so far. Only this one last vision exam to go, she thought. Then we'll take the oath and be recruits. It'll be harder to get out then. Her long held rage at the invaders was now turning into grim determination. Too many people she knew had been injured or died to let her do anything else. She took after her father in that. Hopefully he'll forgive me some day.....
After reading the various eye charts and getting a passing grade, she went into the last room. She sat with her friends and looked at the others. Such a range of ages! Then a grizzled sergeant stalked into the room, and looked the new recruits over.
“So. You all are the new recruits for today. Congratulations, you've completed the recruitment process. After you take the oath, you'll be split into 2 groups. One group will head east to do basic training then join the units in the Donbas. The other group will head south, and end up in Crimea after training. You can choose....but if you don't, we will choose for you. Think about it. Now, stand up and raise your right hand.” Anna and the others stood and did as instructed. “Now repeat after me....”
“I, Anna Denysivna Shmyhal, do solemnly swear....” she recited, and heard the others echoing her. “I, Yehven Dmytrovych Kuleba....”, “I, Zlata Ruslanivna Stefanchuk, do...”, “I, Oleksandra Volodymyrivna Zelenska do solemnly swear that....”
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0500, the next morning
Maks smiled. “Yessss...just like that, don't stop....” His beautiful Maria was there, with him, and he was happy. She smiled at him and then said “If you don't wake up RIGHT NOW, Maks, I swear I'll shoot you in the ass or something.” That doesn't sound like Maria! So he blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, he wasn't facing his wife, but Andriy Borisovych. A twitchy, pissed off, worried, frustrated, yet somehow proud Andriy Borisovych. Oh. Shit. Maks gulped and then smiled at his friend. “Good morning to you too, Borisovych! You should be thankful I was dreaming of my wife and not how to disembowel Putin. Otherwise you'd be in trouble.” Now it was Andriy's turn to blink. Then he shook his head and sighed. “You and I need to talk. Get dressed.”
So he did. Then Andriy Borisovych all but dragged him out of his room and down the hall. “Andriy. What the hell has got you so worked up? We've basically WON the war. Putin is dying. Life is good.” Andriy just glared at him, and pushed him into his office. “Tell me what on earth you said to Sasha Volodymyrivna to make her do this?” Maks glared back. “Sasha Volodymyrivna? Volodymyr Oleksandrovych's daughter? We talk about a lot of things. What happened?” Maks was clueless, but getting worried. Andriy just twitched. And stared. “Check your email. Then think about your answer.”
Frowning, Maks pulled out his phone, and got into his email. There it was, one from Sasha Volodymyrivna. The title was disturbing- -”Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just don't stop me.” He stared at it, then poked the screen to open it, and started to read.
SENT: August 20, 2023, 0335
TO: Yermak, Andriy Borisovych, Donets, Maksym Olehovych
SUBJECT: Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just don't stop me.
Uncle Andriy, Maks....
First off, take a deep breath and calm down. I'm alive and unharmed. But I'm not at home, and I don't know when I'll be back.
If all goes well, right now I'll be on a bus to boot camp with a bunch of other people. That's right, I've gone and signed up with ZSU. I haven't done it alone—Yehor Dmytrovych Kuleba, Zlata Ruslanivna Stefanchuk, and Anna Denysovyh Shmyhal are also new recruits. Two of us are going south, and two are going east—I'm not going to make it easy for you to figure out where I am.
Right now, I bet you're wondering why I would do such a thing. It's quite simple. I'm Ukrainian, I'm the right age, and I'm sick and tired of being told the only way I can serve and protect my country is by going to school. I know the risks. If I die, I die. And yes, Uncle Andriy, I can hear you thinking “Sasha, we've been trying to keep the Russians from finding you for a reason!!!!” I know that. I also know that what they'll do to me if I'm caught won't be any worse than what they've done to any other Ukrainian POW. We've all seen the videos and images, and I know there are ones you haven't released.
The four of us have agreed—we need to do this. You wouldn't believe the crap that Yehor's had to put up with because he's been at university instead of in a uniform. Same with Zlata and I, to a lesser degree. It's like what happened back in World War One with those white feathers, but a lot more intense. People have expectations of our families, and of us. If I didn't go, I would never be able to live with myself. And I know the others feel the same.
Did you know that people like us used to sign up automatically? Some even do! Princess Elisabeth of Belgium is in uniform. Prince Harry Windsor was too, he even went to Afghanistan! Even Stalin's son served during the Great Patriotic War. What makes me and the others so different? We will be careful, but we have the same duty to Ukraine as everybody else in the country.
Please reassure Papa and Mama....and even Uncle Zheka and Aunt Kseniya. And the other parents too, of course. Please let us stay...you should know how bad it would be for Papa if it got out that he had used his position to get me out of this.
Love to all
Sasha!
Maks just stared at the screen. Then stared some more. Oh Sasha..... Then he looked at Andriy. “She asked me a few questions about what basic training was like. Nine months ago. That's it.” Andriy nodded, but didn't look entirely convinced. But at least his left eye stopped twitching.
“Please tell me you haven't tried to bring them back.”
Now it was Andriy's turn to stare. “Why the fuck wouldn't I do what I could to bring them back? They're..”
“No. You can't, not at this point. She's right—it would be bad for the President. And the others. We're at a pivotal point now, with the war all but won. Can you imagine what people would say WHEN it got out that the President didn't trust the ZSU with his daughter? Or that he didn't trust his own daughter enough to let her choose her future? Everybody would be questioning his patriotism. And yours, when they found that you had done it. You've had enough of THAT the last few years, haven't you?” Andriy scowled at that reminder, then reluctantly nodded. “Plus, she's right. Going into uniform should be something more people like her should do, especially in times of war. And getting the 4 of them out after swearing the oath will be tough. Do you want to go head to head with Valerii Feodorovych? Does the President? He might back down. But he might not. Do you want that, really?”
As he took all of that in, Andriy seemed to almost deflate. “But what if she, or the others, get captured? You remember what almost happened at the beginning. What's happened since? How could I forgive myself if I didn't get her back and she was captured? How could Vova and Lena forgive me?”
Maks sighed. “You really don't think she forgot to think about that? She's been living with that for eighteen months, Andriy! At least now, if they try, she'll be able to defend herself! And once they realize who she is, or who the others are, you don't think they'll try to make themselves rich by trying to ransom whoever they've got? If there are 4 soldiers who Putin will give “capture alive at all costs” orders about, it'll be these 4. He might be an insane, paranoid idiot, but he's not quite that stupid. If they die, he's gotta know he's a dead man walking.”
All he got after that was a huge eye-roll. “You're giving the Orcs too much credit. But....I'm not going to win this one am I?” Maks shook his head. “What we need to do now is figure out how to tell our four doting fathers what their kids have done. Shouldn't be hard, right?”
At that, Andriy looked sick. “Oh yeah, a piece of cake. Let's get started. Hopefully St. Javelin can give us some inspiration.”
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0735 am, the same morning
Oleksii Reznikov wasn't used to running late. Yet here he was, stuck in traffic, just 10 minutes away from his final destination. If I hadn't gotten that phone call.... he thought. But then, if I hadn't, I'd be going into this meeting blind, which is never a good idea. He had to get to the meeting before the blood started flowing. Hopefully he'd be able to calm things down.
Finally, the traffic unsnarled, and he zoomed towards Bankova. After the standard security checks, he parked and went inside. Hurrying down the hallway, he heard shouting from the meeting room. Crap. I'd hoped I'd be there before they found out.
He opened the door, slid in, and surveyed the situation. Surprisingly, it wasn't Volodymyr Oleksandrovych that was doing the shouting, or Denys Anatoliyovych Shmyhal. It was Ruslan Oleksiyovych Stefanchuk. Facing him across the table were Andriy Borisovych, Valerii Feodorovych Zaluzhniy, and Maks, the President's bodyguard. The President, Denys, and Dmytro Ivanovych Kuleba were looking on with varying degrees of agreement. “...can't believe you didn't stop them. You should know what sort of battles are ahead. With their luck, they'll be put straight on the front lines. I should really...”
“You should really calm down and listen to me, Ruslan.” Oleksii said. Every head swivelled to him. “Sorry I'm late. It seems the famous Kyiv morning traffic is out in full force.” He walked to the table and looked at the others. “None of this is the fault of the men you're roaring at. You should know that.” Ruslan sputtered at him, but Oleksii calmly continued on. “Your daughter knew what she was doing. All of them did. I don't really know why you didn't expect her to have joined up before now.”
At that, the larger man exploded. “Because she shouldn't have to! She was safe, and ensuring that Ukraine would have educated people to carry on after we've won. That's just as important. Wait a minute. You just got here. How the hell did you know what happened?” Oleksii smiled at that. “I got a couple of phone calls early this morning, letting me know of some unexpected arrivals at training camps. They wanted to know what to do. I told them that they had taken the oath, so treat them like soldiers.”
Denys Anatoliyovych spoke then, as much to let the Speaker relax as to get his questions answered. “Why did you say that? Anna is only 18! Couldn't you have transferred her at least to some staff position?” The worry in his voice was palpable. Valerii Zaluzhniy took that question. “Anna is far from the only 18-year-old I've had to send to the front lines, Denys. You know that. From what I've seen of your daughter, wherever she ends up, she will shine. Trust the training she'll get. My own daughter went through it, and has survived so far. Anna will do fine.” Denys subsided a bit at the mention of Alina Valeriivna. Good job, Valerii. Reminding them that you too have a child fighting means that they aren't alone in being worried parents—but also that they can trust the army to keep them safe. “But why didn't they tell us? What did we do that made our own children not trust enough to tell us?” Ruslan again.
“Yegor tried to tell me, several times. I just didn't want to listen.” That was Dmytro. “We've talked about it, of course. Did you know that he, Zlata, and Sasha have all been harassed because they weren't in uniform? Some of the other students, especially the returned veterans, have not been kind. So, while Yegor didn't tell me before he left—I'm not really surprised.” That earned Dmytro a few hard glares from some of the others. He just shrugged. “They're Ukrainians, through and through. They didn't live through the end of the USSR like we did. They grew up in freedom. And they want to defend it. They don't have the memories of the repression and the shortages like we all do. We gave them this world, and now they want to help us hold onto it. Can we really deny them that?” The others looked a little abashed, and shook their heads. “Am I worried? Yes. But I also trust Valerii Feodorovych and the Army to make sure they're trained right. And I trust Yegor. He won't take crazy risks.”
Then the President spoke up. Oleksii could see that he was almost out of his mind with worry, but was trying to keep calm so that he didn't influence the others too much. “I know you've talked about this a bit, but what if they're captured? You know the stories.” Ah. I can see why he'd bring that up. He must be having flashbacks to the first days. Before Reznikov could answer, Maks spoke up. “Volodomyr, you know your daughter. She's been living with the threat of capture since this whole thing started. You really think she hasn't thought long and hard about what would happen? Especially once the Ruscists realized who she was? She knew, and she still went. It was important for her to do this. For Ukraine, yes, but also to prove that being your daughter carried obligations as well as privileges.” That got some backs up, Oleksii could tell, especially coming from Maks.
“He's right, you know.” That was Andriy. “She mentioned as much in her email to Maks and I.” So that's how they all found out. Smart of Oleksandra to leave some sort of note....and to send it to Andriy. If anybody can calm Volodymyr down, it'd be him. And if he's calm and accepting, then the others will eventually fall in line. “You know people would talk about it if anybody from the government tries to pull them out. Do you really want the press to question why you don't trust the ZSU with your daughter? Why you don't trust Valerii Feodorovych with her safety? Imagine what Petro Oleksiyovych would say!” That got a snort from Volodymyr, and eye-rolls from the others. “OK, OK...just remember that he has proven himself to be at least somewhat useful recently. But the point stands—do you want people to know that Sasha is fighting for her country like so many others are, or that you don't think she should be allowed to fight for her country? If they get captured, you don't think they'd be recognized and held? As Maks pointed out to me earlier, Putin is an arrogant, increasingly senile idiot—but he's not going to let such a valuable hostage get hurt. And the same goes for Yegor, Zlata and Anna. They've shown that they want to fight. We'd only look like fools if we tried to get them out now.” Maks nodded. “Sasha also mentioned that people like Princess Elisabeth in Belgium is in uniform, Prince Harry in the UK actually went to Afghanistan....even Queen Elizabeth is a veteran. And do I have to mention Yakov Iosifivich? Even Hitler wasn't crazy enough to kill him on purpose.” With the hard stares he got, Maks seemed to be reconsidering bringing that particular example up.
There was silence as the rest of the room digested that. Then Ruslan groaned. “I'm still not happy about this. But I think I'd be just wasting my breath if I argued any more.” Then he glared at Oleksii and Valerii. “But you'd better promise me to do your best to win with as few casualties as possible. I want my girl back in one piece.” Zaluzhniy nodded. “So do I, Ruslan Oleksiyovych. So do I. Alina is near Sevastopol, you know. I'd never forgive myself if she came back wounded or....” He couldn't finish that statement. The others seemed to understand.
“Besides,”, Oleksii remarked. “that is another reason I was late. In addition to saying they should be treated as soldiers, I also asked that, if possible, at least Anna could be kept on staff. I don't want to be the one to have to tell you that she's dead or wounded.” Denys smiled at him—a rarity for the reserved, quiet man.
The President sighed. “Well, we've been outmanoeuvred by our kids. Probably won't be the last time. I'm still not happy about it....and telling Lena might just end up with me being in a body bag. But you all are right.” The other fathers gulped, perhaps thinking of how they were going to tell their own wives. “Before I lose my nerve and start calling people in a panic, let's start planning how to win these last battles before too many more of the nations' kids get hurt.” Then he bent over the maps.
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One year later
Sasha and Yegor grinned at each other. Finally, their unit was home! They had needed 9 months to finish off Luhansk—and after that, Sevastopol had surrendered. They got off the trains in Kyiv, and marched to the Maidan with the rest of their unit. There, they met up with a unit from Sevastopol. Sasha saw Zlata and Anna smiling as they marched past each other. Now I know why we came back to Kyiv and weren't dismissed from the train station. Gotta milk the fact that we're in these units. She thought of what she'd say to whoever had decided that, then got into position to listen to the final speeches before they were dismissed. Hopefully they'll be short.
And they were. Before long, the four friends found themselves together again. Anna spoke first. “Well, we made it. I don't know how, but we made it.” Zlata nodded. “Now I know why my parents didn't want me to go. But I'm glad I did.” And then, their parents surrounded them. Sasha fell into her parents arms. Uncle Zheka and Aunt Kseniya were there too. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you before I left, Papa.” The hug got tighter. “It's me who should be sorry, Princess. I should have trusted you enough to make you feel like you could tell me these things. But you're back. That's all that matters.”
Tears pricked her cheeks. She had been in at the death of the last invaders. Now it was time to build the peace.