AN: Pleased with the reception and discussion this chapter's gotten so far. Keep it up. I'll probably put out a couple of interlude chapters with the US perspective over the next month or so, but don't expect anything substantive till at least the new year.

-x-

After the day's proceedings were over the senior staff gathered in Ambramovich's office.

The general was fiddling with the straps for his false leg. Although he'd been sitting down for almost all of the day he'd kept the prosthetic on in case he needed to go somewhere during the day.

Durov regarded his superior. He'd been with Abramovich for most of his life since the Civil War and then later through Spain, Finland to the ruins of Stalingrad. He could remember when Abramovich, then a captain, had handed over his much-thumbed copy of the ABCs to politically educate the younger Durov. He'd learnt all he knew from the older man and considered him almost a father, and Durov had always found Abramovich's injuries saddening. The general had been too close to a mortar strike after Stalingrad and it had taken off his leg and crippled most of his right side, cutting short any activity more strenuous than a bureaucratic role. When Durov went into the Baltic in the months before Bagration Abramovich had been their coordinator, a morose voice on the radio whenever Durov reported some heroic battle.

But the Stargate Program was a good retirement for him. A worthy retirement, not like the governorship of some far-flung backwater republic that most old generals could look forward to.

"These are good." Remarked Basin, taking a drag from his cigar, "Are they the ones from Moscow sir?"

"No they're that new, that plant I picked up from 56." Replied Reniv. "The science boys cooked 'em up."

"Hm." Said Basin, "They're good."

The Program had naturally furnished the scientific division with a plethora of alien plants and animals, many of which were essentially variations on those found on Earth. Some were useful, like rubber trees that apparently weren't actually rubber trees yet still produced something that you could make into car tyres, while others they'd yet to find a use for.

There was a clunk and Abramovich leant back in his chair with a sigh. "Today went well." He said to the room at large, "Let's have a drink shall we? Do the honours would you Vladimir?"

Durov retrieved the glasses and alcohol from a cabinet and poured, passing the glasses around.

"The Union and the Program!" went the toast and they fell the easy discussions of familiars, the small issues that passed between them unable to break the general good feeling of the room.

Durov too, was content. The Program's pace of progress was within all acceptable limits, they'd had no major losses beyond what would be usual for such a large organisation, and Zhukov's visit, and indeed the conference had gone well. Even the feedback from the working groups, which were occasionally fractious due to the different interests involved, had been almost universally good and the colonel had seen the mounds of notes and suggestions at the end of the day. While most of the department heads had gone back to the respective divisions the delegates remained and would for the next two days of further discussions on all manner of topics.

"I was talking to Dimitri earlier." Abramovich said to him quietly, the old man keeping an ear open to the rest of the conversations. "Just a debriefing, but he's really grown into his rank. You should be proud."

Dimitri had joined them shortly before Stalingrad and been Durov's faithful sergeant ever since. In the recent staffing squeeze they'd promoted a number of the Program's more experience NCOs to officer positions and Dimitri had been one of the names put forward. Durov had wanted Ilya as well but the taciturn Ukrainian had begged off. Dimitri had almost followed his friend's example but Durov had put his foot down. While Ilya had the tactical experience but perhaps not the temperament, Dimitri had both in spades, and had frequently served in advance of his official rank, leading partisans or similar activities when they'd been behind enemy lines. Durov considered the big man his protégé and now Dimitri had attained his captaincy he felt confident that the promotion had been the right decision.

Chaya was listening in. She'd come to them shortly after Dimitri had, Abramovich's company hiding out in the ruins of the university buildings, textbooks in hand and determined to continue her chemical studies even with the war on. It had been quite ridiculous early on but she'd proved her worth, they all had. The woman had gone from civilian to solider, from making satchel charges and improvised mines to building their first Soviet-Goa'uld weaponry.

Durov knew he probably shouldn't have allowed the resumption of their relationship during the war now that she was an officer. An officer of Chernov's engineers, so not a direct subordinate, but if Abramovich died everyone knew it would be Durov to take command, even though he was only technically in command of the SG teams and didn't have the seniority of several of the other Colonels. He'd recommended her, just like a hundred others who'd been under Abramovich's command during the war and later joined the SGC, but with the intimacy of the Elysium base and particularly the greater discretion that was unavailable back on Earth it had perhaps been unwise to bring her along.

The discussions had unified into one effectively covering gossip, which perhaps the favourite subject of wives and soldiers. The Program had only a few Navy officers and one was holding forth regarding the recent developments to that arm of the service, as well as the politics of Zhukov's tenure as Minister of Defence.

"There's a great deal of effort being expended in bringing the different allies under the same command structure, talk of divisional liaisons for the Poles, Hungarians and so on, but no one seems to quite know how it'll turn out." Said the officer. "General, you were in Manchuria before weren't you? What do you think of this new 'International Army' they've started up?"

"Zhukov's in command isn't he?" asked another officer.

Durov had known this, and it was no wonder the man had complained regarding his busy schedule earlier in the day. "Yes the Boss sent him". He put in.

Abramovich cleared his throat, "So to address the motivation first, our foreign policy is effective one of spoiling attacks till we can get our hands on a Goa'uld fleet or defence fields strong enough to protect from nuclear attack. It's more complex than that but I'm only a general. Anyway, Comrade Malik's been doing that sort think in New York so I think the idea was essentially to build on that and claim the moral high ground. To backtrack a bit, when I was over there a couple of years ago Moscow wanted ideas for involving ourselves in different events. At that time there were two 'visions'. First, essentially what we were doing in Spain, the idea of 'volunteer' units to help out anyone who needed it. Comparably the other idea was supporting the Koreans or the Chinese with attachments, anti-air regiments, artillery, training, that sort of thing. I didn't think much of either so I told them so, and as had others apparently, so before the war started they got all the parties together and made what's now got the Americans pinned in Pusan."

The cigars and alcohol had begun to have an effect and Abramovich had started to ramble. He gestured effusively with his good arm as he did, but in the middle of his speech the phone rang, surprising him enough that he spilled his glass, swearing as he did so.

"Yes?" Abramovich demanded rather angrily as he picked up the receiver. Then he passed it to Durov.

"Ilya and Diakonoff reporting in." he told the listening room, then spoke into the receiver, "Run it through E5… Ilya! Go on the line's been secured."

"They'll be closer perhaps he can tell us what's going on over there." Quipped Chaya to the general's amusement.

"Yes go on Ilya, I'm listening." Said Durov and he started to repeat what he heard, covering the microphone as to not confuse Ilya's explanation with his repetition. "Success in China as we knew." He said briefly, "Confusion due to the fighting there and so on, but they followed the trail of the sacked museum artefacts north up to Beijing. The Nationalists sent some but it was captured by the Japanese and sent by rail away from the fighting as trophies apparently- Yes go on Ilya then what- Ah, some of the larger stuff went to Japan from Port Arthur, stuff we're not interested in apparently like a gold boat, but the smaller things went in boxes down through Korea, to be sent from Seoul by sea like the rest. It got stuck there at some port, there seems to have been some confusion about who owned it and a university took charge of it and had paid for the storage at this port."

"We should be able to get a look at it relatively easily." Said Basin, "I can send a cable-."

Durov interrupted him, sitting up in surprise, "What do you mean you're there now and so are the Americans!?"