I do not own Irina Spalko. Irina Spalko and related Indiana Jones characters and media are property of Lucasfilm and Paramount Pictures.

Chapter 17: The Finale

Two armed grunts carried Spalko, chair and all, through a series of interconnecting tunnels. They plopped her down in front of Petrov, who'd decided to run a comb through his hair for the occasion, and of course, the ramshackle altar where the Ark stood, silently, awaiting a trespasser.

Opposite the Ark was a thick half cylinder sheet of metal jutting out of the ground. It was a small lead lined shield built to accommodate at most two people wishing to avoid any radiation. Behind it, on a raised platform, were a few monitoring devices, a desk with her gun belt sprawled on it accompanied by a two-knob radio.

"Welcome, former Agent Col. Dr. Spalko." Petrov's open armed greeting was mired by the compact conditions. She imagined that when the caves had first been fitted with a staff, most of whom now blackened the floor, there would have been standing room only, like a crowded town hall ready to spill out into the streets to alleviate capacity. When Spalko had been locked up in the dark, the vague impressions had been intriguing and inspiring, enough to make her mind wander endlessly. Now that her locale had been bathed in a handful of spotlights, surrounding her like an amphitheatre, she could see it's true crudity all around her. They were in a dirty rabbit hole.

The Soviets had burrowed themselves deep into the bowels of the cave, further than Spalko had suspected. Though a clever place to hide out, the true significance of the caves still escaped her. She suspected with all of Petrov's gloating, she'd find out before long. Not that it mattered. Her life was over. Petrov had stripped her of everything but her clothes. Hope had been ripped from her chest like a disease-ridden heart. She didn't give a damn. She looked dead, sulking forward, her wrists tied up around the back of the chair the only thing holding her up.

"Perk up!" Petrov smacked her in the face. Her body moved absently with the slap and nearly sent her over. Carefully steadying himself on one foot he crammed his boot into her chest, mashing her back up against the chair. One of the grunts that had carted her into the murky hole stood behind her to brace it from falling. Petrov mashed on her diaphragm while the grunt pulled her by the hair to get her head up. She finally gasped for air and struggled against them. If only she could get free, she'd shown him the true meaning of hopelessness. He'd beg for death's cold embrace. Her violent rocking nearly took the chair off its legs. Petrov nearly tripped over himself getting back to two feet. The grunt slapped his hands over either shoulder and started crushing down on the bone, forcing a yelp to escape her mouth.

Petrov wanted to gloat and damn it if she was going to mope through it. He wanted her alert and focused. It would probably be the last time she would be. The effects of transmitting would likely permanently damage her brain. She should have been thanking him for the privilege of knowing beforehand how appreciated her sacrifice would be.

Once she was settled down, he wallowed in self-satisfaction. The grunt released her and took a few steps back making sure he was still within an arms length of Spalko if she decided to exercise her right to futility.

"Have you any idea what this will mean?" Petrov Asked. "We wont need microchips or crystal skulls to think thoughts for everyone else. Fear is the best mind control device there is. One dose of the Ark onto the world will turn supermen into ashes and countries into cowards."

No response. Her eyes wandered past Petrov to her gun belt and the strange monitoring equipment no doubt there to test and quantify her every interaction with the Covenant. Every passing moment she became more a variable of an equation to be balanced and solved. An object. A thing.

"Come now, Irina," He'd never before used her first name and the use of it was intended to be insulting, "you aren't even the least bit interested in knowing how we managed it? The technology is years away. I'd thought you'd still be dutifully a student of science and ask the question most obvious, with an answer most intriguing. I couldn't have driven your curiosity from you?"

Still nothing.

"I have imagined this moment for months," Petrov admitted, "and you can't muster yourself enough to ponder out loud the one question that's eating away at you."

Spalko finally looked him in the eye. Still, she said nothing, content to stare him down. She wouldn't satisfy him any further. Her eyes narrowed. Petrov stared back in curious anticipation, waiting impatiently.

"Ask!"

The grunt took a step forward ready to squeeze it out of her if necessary.

Nothing.

Ask the question, he thought to himself.

"Let's begin," Petrov said quietly. "A Soviet future starts tonight, even if I have blow this planet back into the dirt where it began to do it."

Petrov retreated behind his shield platform and donned a pair of protective goggles while the grunt drug Spalko's chair onto altar of the Ark. A jarring sensation came over her. She could feel the heat of it warm her skin while at the same time freeze and constrict her veins and arteries. Her pulse began to slow as her blood became thicker and clotted. Meanwhile, her forehead already had a thin layer of sweat glazed on it. Her head wound throbbed under the direct heat.

Irina turned her head franticly, not wanting to lose track of Petrov. She peered into the tiny window on the lead lined shield, only getting brief looks at him fidgeting around behind it.

Ivan giggled as began twisted and turning the knobs on his 'radio' that was in fact the carrier of his signal.

Like aboard the submarine, a shock ran through Irina's body and she began convulsing, throwing her back in the chair, shattering the weakened wood to bits.

The void she'd become so distant from since regaining her hearing and sight returned to her. There was only blackness.

GET UP, the familiarly cold voice spoke to her.

She obeyed. She had no choice. Her body responded with immediate precision. She no longer had control over it. Irina was a puppet on strings. For the moment she still had cognitive function, however, even then, she felt it slipping farther and farther away like a light at the end of a hallway.

TO THE CHEST

Her body moved through a space she couldn't see. She felt her hands press down onto a smooth surface. What was it?

LIFT THE LID

The Ark.

The instant she pulled off the lid it felt as if she'd opened a window inside a boiling pot as a gust of wind enveloped her.

CONCENTRATE

The electric charges popped and surged through her brain, broadening her psychic energy. She could feel it swell up around her.

In an instant she was bathed in a white light.

She looked all around her, the light traveling in every direction forever. In it she saw a few patches of darkness. There were others inside the light with her. She walked without caution toward them, somehow already knowing who they were. The one closest to her was the grunt that had dragged her around. He was staring off into nothingness. She wasn't interested in him and approached the other. Petrov. He couldn't see her. He was turning invisible knobs and pressing imaginary buttons in open space. She laid a single finger on his shoulder and turned to face her only then aware of her.

"Come with me," she whispered.

"What the—," he began before being cut off by the void.

Together, they glimpsed a world without time.

They traveled his thoughts one by one. Her powers came more naturally than ever before.

Petrov had lied to her when he said the project was developed around her. His predecessor had in fact initiated it years ago when the crashes in the Union first started occurring. Unlike the crystal beings, the bodies onboard were of flesh and bone, albeit alien. However, by studying data on the ships it was hypothesized that like the crystal aliens, it appeared they were a part of a collective consciousness. While the crystal aliens were of biochemical design to be of one sound mind, the aliens in the early Soviet crashes were discovered via autopsy to have microchip implants in the base of their skulls that sent signals that modified behavior and in general made them obey commands.

The aliens were, by definition to many in Soviet circles, communists. Comrades from another world it seemed.

It was quickly assigned by upper command as a task to modify and adapt the technology for Soviet use.

Subjects for the experiment varied along a wide range of factors and, to mark the chain of experiments, were scared just below the navel with a number to mark the order.

Results were difficult to come by and in the end, one thousand one hundred and sixteen people died. Because of that, the project was put on hiatus until Petrov came along and perfected it in order to bring Spalko back into the world of the living, who became the only survivor…number one thousand one hundred and seventeen.

So you are not as much of a genius as you claim, dear Petrov. You merely wish to stand on the shoulders of geniuses that came before you.

Time moved on.

She saw a Petrov under review for early retirement. She saw him in his offices in Moscow begging for a reprieve and rambling about what they could manage with the Ark in their hands. And his superiors caved. They gave him the time and the staff, not out of respect or love of his past service…out of pity toward a scientist lost in a time where people believed in legends about magic rocks, flying men, and the cup of Christ. A time where there was a key to the future buried in some lost temple, awaiting discovery.

The only key to the future was a new kind of contest. A race…

…the space race…

…the peace race…

…the arms race…

The era had changed around Petrov. This race was about the path in front of you not the one behind you. Digging in the dirt meant going back to it. You don't find the answer in an ancient trashcan. You make it from scratch. No place in the shinny Russian satellite, Sputnik, for the old way of thinking. "But, hey," they all said, "give the old man a break. Let him chase his goose and when he comes back with his tail between his legs he'll understand and he'll go home. Times have changed. He'll learn."

Petrov knew what they thought of him. The chip on his shoulder was a mile wide. He was bound and determined to prove them wrong no matter what.

Irina flashed forward and saw defeat after defeat as Petrov's ranks got smaller and smaller. Petrov, wearing his protective goggles cursing behind his lead shield as the Ark's lid crashed closed after turning flesh and bone to ash. Time and time again, they melted into the living rock, pieces of their bodies blowing around like torn paper.

Maslov stood by, wisely averting his eyes while ark's magic ran wild, retching at the smell of boiling organs. He shared the opinion of his comrades all too well. A goose chase…pure and simple. He was a damned old fool.

Pathetic. You had to wag every bit of your dimming reputation in their faces to get to them to take notice. This kind of science lingers in the dust of the future. The Ark is old news just like you…and me. Maybe I'm not the only one being outdated. However, I have the honor knowing it was fear that turned them against me and not idiotic dreams that only a crackpot could concoct.

I'll show them all, Spalko.

This is for Michael.

In the realm of the world as she still knew it, her eyes alit with fire. She could feel her essence degenerating, returning to the nothingness she'd danced with at Akator. She could see the remaining members of Petrov's staff disintegrating sharing her fate. She collapsed in agony, unable to stand upright. In the base of her skull, the microchip popped and shattered, evaporating into empty space along with the rest of her body.

The chip would not return to the physical realm with her.

…………………………………………………..

Petrov rose from his battered and corroded shield, pistol drawn. The spotlights had been destroyed in the wake. However, bits of sunlight poured in from the surface above guiding his eyes among the debris. Before him lay the ashes of his final chance back into the Union's graces with his head held high. The entire project was in ruins. The Ark, once again undisturbed sat peacefully on its altar. He moved among the refuse dashed and hopeless.

Then in his overwhelming despair he heard the sweet sound of the last laugh beckoning him. Breathing. Covered it ash and soot, the barely conscious Irina Spalko rolled over onto her stomach. A stiff chuckle escaped his throat. He sauntered toward her, the barrel pointed at her. As he pressed it against her forehead her eyes opened slightly.

"The Ark still has a surprise for you," was her hoarse greeting.

"How do you know?" He scoffed.

"It told me so."

As if on cue, Petrov's trigger hand broke off, landing on Irina's neckline, giving way to a flood of sand out of his arm. Aghast he stumbled backward. A deep indention in his hip appeared after a loud snap and began working its way up through his chest. He opened his mouth to scream and only hunks of dust, rock, and gravel seeped out. His knees gave way, crumbling into coal and dirt. Chip after chip, bits of the Soviet Colonel joined the earth. Painfully gasping for what air he could, sensing the end, the half-man scraped and clawed around on his good hand, losing more and more of his person.

It took about an hour for what was left of his body to stop moaning. Irina spent that time listening to it...savoring it.

"Back into the dirt."

After she was sure Petrov was gone, Irina propped herself up against a cave wall and started getting her bearings. She was no worse for wear it seemed. Of course she hadn't even dared to consider what lied ahead. She was in the middle of nowhere with no transportation. And she didn't care either. She still hadn't been able to even begin to cope with the fact that she'd been lied to and used as a pawn in some pitiful little scheme.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the overwhelming sense of a nearby presence in the dark.

"I can sense you." She said.

"I know."

The Ark had told her something else…concerning a certain British double agent.

She stared off into a far corner of the cavern and made out the pudgy khaki clad archeologist. "Mac…went up too…he didn't come back though did he?"

"No."

"You're one...of them."

"Yes."

Irina struggled to her feet. "Then why?"

Stirred by her sudden movement, Mac took a step further into the darkness. "Why what?"

"Why did you put me back on the Earth? Why did you allow me to walk straight into a lie?"

"Sometimes there are lies in truth and some truth in a lie."

"Don't play semantics. Answer me. You're the ones who plagued me with those other dreams without the Ark?"

He shook his head. "Sometimes things like that come from the inside."

"I'm not looking for redemption."

"I'm not offering any."

"You also didn't answer my question."

"Because there is nothing to answer. You were put back on the earth because as cruel and heinous as you are, you united the thirteen, and concordantly, you couldn't be killed or held captive. It is not our way."

Spalko buried her face into her hands and let out an exacerbated sigh.

"I know you were looking for something with a little more weight," the fake Mac said, "but, that's all there is. If indeed you felt compelled toward a different life path by an unseen force…perhaps you'd best look inside for the answers you seek."

"God damn it. Talk, talk, talk. That's all you do."

"Come now. You really think an alien can tell you who you are? Don't be foolish."

"Stuff it."

"Be well angry one."

…………………………………………..

Outside, the sun was setting on the horizon. A subtle wind carried over the sands. Irina emerged from the cave empty and alone. She felt hollow. She'd been stripped of everything. Every time she found something to believe in, someone came along and spit on it and showed her ugliness in herself, her ignorance. There was nothing, she was nothing. It was as if she was still particles of dust in another dimension.

She clipped on her leather belt, .45 and all.

Her alien company departed from her as it had come, through the shadows, with no advice how to get back to civilization or how to lug a golden death box with her. That was the least of her cares. How she managed to keep going on so little initiative was beyond her.

Just outside the cave entrance she spotted a small row of jeeps, the only means of transportation for the small-alienated staff, dug into in a makeshift embankment. As she came upon them a familiar feeling of dread enveloped her intuition. From around the embankment wall stepped a black wide brim fedora she'd seen before.

"Porky."

"You did good, Spalko," his flat tone came as a welcoming token surprisingly. "I trust the Ark is down in the…dungeon?"

She stared a moment into the black pools that covered his eyes. "Yes." She hopped into the jeep. "Pass the word to Katanga. I'm going on my own now."

"Why?"

"Never you mind."

"Russia will think you're dead now. You're a woman without a country. Moving around will be tough."

"I'll manage."

"Not well enough."

"Yes, I know…and when it gets hard enough I expect I'll be hearing from you."

"You'll get used to it."

"I've made enough deals with the devil." Despite her steadfastness she knew better. Sooner or later down the line…X would call on her again…and she'd have no choice.

"Do me a favor, Porky."

"Yes?"

She plucked from her pocked the picture of the wife and kid. "Find out who they are. I doubt it'll be a challenge for a spook of your caliber."

"Once I've located them?" He asked as if it were already a sure thing that he'd find them easily.

"I want you to tell them daddy's not ever coming home." She started the engine.

"How did he die?"

"Saving my life."

He nodded, not completely understanding her reasoning.

Without the pleasantries of goodbyes, Irina was on her way back to the Old City, empty-handed. But, for some reason or another, the hole inside her was already filling up. In a certain sense she was free. Perhaps at the moment no path lay before her but she would create one whether good or bad. Didn't matter which as long as she stayed true to one thing…

…to be more than a banner on a flag.

Thanks Pierce.

Fin.

Stay tuned. A Sequel is Comming...