SPASIBA, MY LOVELY

“Spasiba, my lovely.”                

Breath puffing in                 

Cartoonish balloons               

He reaches up               

With gloved hands               

To caress her sleek flanks.  

Does she tremble 

At his touch?

Addressing the fires               

Soon to awaken within,               

Serkin croons a lullaby               

Only she understands —                

Of sudden flight,               

36 shuddering climaxes,               

A West at last abandoning  

Its most dangerous delusion.

Towering above him                

In the “Cabbage Ravine”               

Of the 4^th Missile Test Range, 

Floodlit like a Kosmotras celebrity                

Made imperious by dutiful technicians               

Attending her every need,               

Gleaming Oreshnik 

Offers no reply.

Footsteps crunch permafrost,               

Doppler nearer…                

Stop close behind.               

“Alexander, stop molesting                

My rocket.”               

Without turning —                 

“She is my creation, too,  Sergey.”

With an enabler’s exuberance, 

Ignoring his absent youth,                

Alexander Serkin jumps                

From the six-axle                

TEL launcher,               

Lands slips flailing wildly —                

Just time to self-remonstrate,                

Durak!

Quicker than six light               

Spears lancing down               

Through Dubrovnik’s                

Overcast,                

Sergey Karakayev grabs steadies               

The grateful Director General,                

Nods towards their Supreme Commander’s                

Newest surprise.    

“So it’s time to share 

Her considerable charms               

With Grigoryevich,               

Degtyar,                

All the others.”               

“Da,” Sergey agrees.               

“And that cocaine clown,                

besides.

“Perhaps Washington and London 

Will stow their impotent toys               

And think hard before               

Holidaying in Kursk,                

Bothering the 67^th GRAU, 

Or indulging atomic suicide.                

Now that we have Oreshnik.  

Now that they’re at war.”

Sirens shriek —               

Three short distant cries.                

Attack alert?               

More Ukronazi drones?               

Will another 20 scorch marks               

Mark this Cold War                

Test site  

In Astrakhan Oblast?

No, the realization is immediate:               

Not with newly installed                 

High-energy beams                

Blinding inquisitive satellites               

To tonight’s debut                

Of a chess Grandmaster &                

7th Dan Judoka’s               

Latest combat mistress.

The pre-launch warning 

Reverberates like               

Ram’s horn blasts                

Blown by fierce Khazars,               

Cumanian nomads,  

Mongol-Tatar’s 

Golden Hordes racing across 

These windblown steppes.

Serkin is first to recover 

 From these echoes of the past.               

“Come, tovarisch.               

It is time to sip  

Hot sweet tea 

And observe her magnificent paroxysms 

From a warmer vantage 

Than this.”

“Da, Alexander.                

“If solid propellent               

Even ignites at -6C!”                

Both men laugh,                

As if Altai does not know                

Its business.               

“Snow by the 7^th,” 

The Kosmotras CEO observes.

“Then let us bless the Virgin 

That we are this night spared                

Nedelin's restless ghost.”               

“Or FPV strikes,” Serkin supplies.               

“Have the warnings been given?”               

“Thirty-minutes ago. 

Hopefully,  

The final evacuation is complete.”

"More than hope will be required,               

Commander,               

To spare those who seek to destroy                

Our thousand-year-old motherland                

Of poets and tsars.”               

“May we be blessed, as well, Serkin.  

The West will never forgive us 

This success.”

“If it is even acknowledged!” 

The commander of Russia's  

Strategic Rocket Forces 

Gestures towards the indifferent stars. 

“Think of it, Sergey! 

800 kilometers, 

15 minutes to Dnipro, 

Where history begins anew.”

Before Mach 11 

3 km/second                

Superheated shockwaves               

Cloak a hurtling “Hazel Tree”               

From two-dozen questing                

NATO radars,  

Both men turn 

At transmission's whine.

The covered jeep                

Approaches fast,               

Headlights jouncing crazily                

Over uneven tundra shortcut.               

Brakes skids stops with squall                

Of frozen discs.               

The distorted driver salutes  

From behind frosted glass.

“Come,” bades the design chief. 

Doors slam gears 

Clash. 

Lurching forward,                

The vehicle turns,               

Accelerating  

Towards a low coy bunker 

Respectfully distant.

Shouting,                

Bumping shoulders,               

Holding fast…                

“After this, Sergey,               

Nothing will be the same.”              

 Behind them,               

The silent rocket               

Breathes.

Glossary

Spasiba:  thank you

Da:  yes

Oreshnik:  Russia's latest hypersonic missile with 36 kinetic warheads in six separately maneuvering clusters 

Nedelin:  Marshal Nedelin orders launch of janky R-16 rocket 10 months early, in time for Bolshevik Revolution’s 43rd anniversary. Hundreds die in the fireball.

Alexander Serkin:  Director General, Kosmotras 

Kosmotras:  International Space Company, Aerospace & Defense Manufacturing 

Altai:  leading research/production center for high-energy solid fuels powering strategic missile engines

Sergey Karakayev:  commander, Russia's Strategic Rocket Forces

(V.) Grigoryevich: former Soviet weapons designer 

(V.) Degtyar, "On Problems of Analyzing Aerodynamic Properties of Blunted Rotary Bodies"

tovarisch:  friend