Under the Ice

While the Admiral of the Fleet expertly prepared the drinks, his three guests gathered around the serving cart. It proved to be General Zarusk who got the ball rolling by picking up a china plate and a serving spoon, and digging into the mound of caviar.

“It’s been much too long since I’ve tasted the roe of a real Baikal sturgeon,” revealed the Minister of Defense.

“If neither one of you have ever had this pleasure before, my, are you in for the treat of a lifetime.

For such caviar simply melts in your mouth!”

Following his enthusiastic lead, both Dmitri Tichvin and Yuri Kasimov picked up plates of their own.

As the three men proceeded to fill them, their white-haired host finished filling the last of the cups, and ambled over to see how his guests were doing.

“Ah, excellent,” reflected Mikhail.

“It seems that this afternoon everyone has an appetite as ravenous as my own.”

After choosing several slices of smoked salmon, some crab meat, and a good-sized spoonful of caviar, Mikhail tore off a heel of crusty pumpernickel and then joined his three colleagues on the large sofa that sat in front of the fireplace. A moment of silence followed us they dug into their food. Yet this quiet was all too soon broken by the spirited voice of Ivan Zarusk.

“Didn’t I tell you that this particular caviar is the finest to grace the earth? Why its flavor is as delicate as any I’ve ever tasted. So tell me. Admiral, since this species of sturgeon is on the official endangered species list, were you forced to go to a poacher to purchase it?”

An angry scowl suddenly tightened Mikhail’s brow.

“General Zarusk, are you accusing me of abetting a known criminal act?” The angry look was all too soon replaced by a warm smile.

“No, comrades. You can enjoy your caviar knowing that it wasn’t obtained on the black market. In actuality, the Baikal sturgeon has been making somewhat of a remarkable comeback as of late. So healthy is its present population, the conservationists have opened portions of the lake to limited fishing.”

“How very fortunate for us,” added the Defense Minister, as he prepared to bite into a piece of caviar-coated black bread.

Waiting until he had thoroughly chewed and swallowed the tongue sandwich he had prepared for himself, Dmitri Tichvin matter-of-factly observed.

“The Baikal sturgeon is only one of the many success stories in this field. All over the Soviet Union, species that were once on the brink of extinction are thriving once again. This is truly something that each citizen of the Rodina can be proud of, because to lose the last of a species is to lose it for all time.”

Suddenly inspired, Mikhail picked up his cup in a toast.

“To the citizens of the Motherland. Long may they live in peace and prosperity.”

As his guests responded to this toast by also lifting their cups to their lips, Mikhail added.

“And to the Motherland itself. From its parched deserts to its frozen tundras; from the vast grain fields of the steppes to the thick, resource-rich taiga — surely we live in the greatest, most diverse nation ever to grace the face of this earth!”

“Here, here!” added Ivan Zarusk, who drained his cup. As his colleagues did likewise, Mikhail made the rounds to refill the cups this time only utilizing the deep golden liquid that was stored inside the cut-crystal decanter.

Their appetites further stimulated by the powerful cognac, the four Politburo members cleaned their plates. Only the Defense Minister returned for seconds, quickly polishing off the remainder of the caviar.

With filled bellies, the men sat around the crackling fireplace. Once again their host refilled their cups, yet this time instead of reseating himself he remained standing.

TUrning to briefly poke the burning logs, Mikhail slowly pivoted to address his guests, the roaring fire now directly behind him.

“We’ve refreshed ourselves with the by-products of our land’s natural bounty, and now it’s time to get to the heart of the matter that prompted this gathering. For today we face a threat just as dangerous as the crazed hordes of Fascist Germany. Like the Nazis, this foe will not rest until the entire Rodina is under its greedy control.

“Capitalism is this opponent’s name. It’s a subtle evil, that works its way slowly into our people’s souls until they ultimately lose sight of their socialistic direction.

Like a cancer, it has only one cure — cut it out completely before a malignancy develops for which there is no cure.

“Unfortunately, it has taken the loss of one of the Motherland’s most beloved sons to present us with an unprecedented opportunity to strike the proponents of capitalism a fatal blow. All of us knew Alexander Suratov to be a compassionate man, who wanted peace and plenty for his people above all else. Our beloved Premier was in the process of conveying his message to the leaders of Canada and the United States when the hand of fate intervened to abruptly cut his mission short.