They talked for two hours. Pogodin returned. He listened attentively, his brow wrinkling when they discussed things that pained him. He interrupted only once, to ask, "Haven't the Americans discovered how corrupt they are?"

Mirsky nodded. "They have always known, or at least as often as their press could uncover the facts."

"Their press is not controlled?"

"Manipulated, yes," Mirsky said. "Never completely controlled. They had thousands of historians, each with his own perspective. Their history was confused, but deliberate distortions were usually found out."

Pogodin looked between Vielgorsky and Mirsky and then turned away to walk to the entrance of the room.

"What we've been told about Stalin, Khrushchev, Brezhnev, Gorbachev—" Vielgorsky let his words trail off with a shake of his head.

"Is different from what our fathers were told," Mirsky finished for him, "and their fathers before them."

And they talked for another hour, this time about life in the army. Mirsky described how he had nearly become a political officer. Vielgorsky outlined the accelerated training courses he and the other Zampolits had been given before being launched with the Space Shock Troops from the Indian Ocean.

"We are not so far apart after all," Vielgorsky said as Mirsky poured him water from a thermos. Mirsky shrugged again and handed him the cup. "You know the responsibilities of a political officer. . . the duty to party, to the revolution. . .”

"What revolution?" Mirsky asked softly.

Vielgorsky's face reddened. "We must still be loyal to the revolution. Our lives, our sanity depends on it."

"The revolution begins here, now," Mirsky said. "We are unloaded of the past."

They regarded each other for an uncomfortably long time. Pogodin returned to find them silent, and sat to one side, gripping the index finger of one hand with thumb and forefinger of the other and tugging it uneasily.

"The power must be shared," Vielgorsky said. "The party must be reestablished."

"Not by murderers and louts," Mirsky said sharply, jaw muscles tensing. "We have had enough of them. Russia has been raped by murderers and louts too long in the name of revolution and the party. No more. I will end it all here rather than bring this back to our children on Earth."

Vielgorsky fumbled at his pocket, pulling out an antique gold watch. "Belozersky and Yazykov will be frantic by now. There's no telling what they will do if they don't hear from me."

"That weakens them," Mirsky said. "Let them sit for a while, or hang themselves."

Vielgorsky grinned wolfishly and shook his finger at Mirsky "You bastard. I know what you are. You're a visionary. A deviationist visionary."

"And I'm the only one you can be comfortable with, sharing the power," Mirsky said. "You know they will come after you eventually. You can no more trust them than you can trust a mad dog."

Vielgorsky did not look convinced.

"Maybe now we understand each other."

Vielgorsky shrugged and turned down the corners of his mouth.