Babushka: Shadows of Betrayal (Book 2) - Chapter 3 - Lev
Lev returns to his old lab, haunted by past work and Zakharovna's manipulation. As a dangerous protocol resurfaces, he grapples with moral dilemmas and the unpredictable risks of his creations.
Lev stepped into his old lab, the hum of the machines immediately familiar. The sterile scent of metal and chemicals filled the air—sharp and grounding, cutting through the fatigue of his liberation. For a moment, the world outside had fallen away. He was no longer shackled to the tendrils of the city’s matriarchy. He was no longer just a neurosurgeon—or at least that was his hope.
He scanned the room, taking in the genetic sequencer, the PCR machines that had once amplified minute DNA samples, and the biofeedback monitors still humming faintly in standby. Each piece of equipment carried echoes of countless hours of meticulous labor, a time when his work had been pure, untainted by the politics Zakharovna had injected into their institution.
His attention shifted to the spiraling dance of the illuminated DNA helix projected in the center of the room, and his mind followed. He considered the vast potential of his research. It’s not hers; it never was. She never understood its true purpose, or the sacrifices needed. My work will prepare humanity for the challenges ahead, ensure our survival.
The chime of an incoming message pulled him from his reverie. He let out a sigh of resignation, allowing the promise of the lab’s sanctuary to fade momentarily as he readied himself to face the last of his bureaucratic responsibilities. It was nigh time to reclaim his life’s work.
He stepped toward the hardlight console to activate it and was confronted by a matrix of emotions, decrypted from Director Yelena Petrova’s profile into text through the haptic feedback of his ocular implant. Reckless, preposterous, Lev thought, his frustration rising. How could she possibly think this is ethical? This isn’t what we agreed on. I thought the new regime was supposed to be different, that we were done with all this. The urgency embedded in the message clashed violently with his own convictions. My work was never intended to be used this way. The hum of the machinery, a source of comfort just moments ago, now felt like a mockery, its steady rhythm grating against the tension of her summons.
I hate hardlight communication. Only women would think to encrypt their messages as raw emotions packed into pure data, leaving him to decode and reinterpret the chaos. Say what you mean or don’t say it at all.
Lev exhaled sharply, pushing himself upright and stepping toward the chamber door. No point sitting here like a fool.
He entered the intermediary chamber, the sterile air sharper now, as though it too were trying to cleanse him of the unease lingering from Yelena’s so-called update. He’d assumed it would be just a bit of routine administration before he could get back to his work—unraveling Zakharovna’s mess, and getting closer to solving immortality...
How is she alive? Already here? The thought gnawed at him, and he cursed under his breath. Yelena was no different than Zakharovna—just another puppet master pulling the strings. He had hoped, foolishly, that things might be different. But here he was, walking into another trap. The sterile threshold between the lab and isolation rooms seemed to close in on him, the weight of what was to come pressing down, its cold precision almost suffocating.
He had always been a healer at heart, his passion rooted in designing genetic therapeutics. But the last decade had forced him into something else entirely—something darker. Zakharovna’s ascent had thrown everything into disarray, steering his focus toward neurobiology. The role of interrogator was never what he intended, but it was what he had become. Chief Neurosurgeon, he thought with a bitter edge, the title they’d given him for harvesting memories and violating minds.
As the door hissed shut behind him, sealing off the lab, Lev approached the isolated unit where former Black Wolf Commander Vesna Volkova awaited assessment. She had been a sergeant when they first met, and nothing she had done since their last encounter reflected the person he remembered. She had, apparently, become a ruthless killer.
Through the small porthole, he saw her—the specimen, isolated on the other side, her casual lean against the wall belying the unrest in her gaze. Lev’s hand hovered over the door release, his mind reeling. After all these years, to finally witness the impact of my creations... The rumors of what had been done with his technology while he had been kept in the dark haunted him, whispers of transformations and capabilities far beyond his original vision.
Zakharovna’s exile of him from the academic community had been a harsh sentence, an attempt to bury his revolutionary contributions. Yet here stood this woman, the incarnate proof that despite the silencing, his work had lived on, thrived even in his absence. I’ve got Ms. Poplawski to thank for that, and the other ANGELs who’ve kept my work alive, he thought with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. Lev steeled himself, knowing that what lay beyond would reveal the true reach of his life’s dedication. This would be a reckoning, for better or worse.
His hand pressed against the door release, and he stepped into the containment unit. The woman’s gaze cut through the room to meet his—an intense, searching look that tried to glean his purpose as much as his resolve. For a moment, they simply stared, two old associates in a wordless conversation of eye contact.
“You know, Ms. Volkova,” he finally broke the silence, “if Director Petrova gets her way, you might just be joining me on this side of the table.”
With an air of unsolicited familiarity, Vesna said, “Cut it with the titles and formalities, Lev. You were disbarred, remember? Or has Zakharovna finally died, and now they’re scraping the bottom of the barrel?”
He couldn’t help but let out a restrained sigh—Vesna was every bit the straight-shooter he remembered from her days on security detail at RCMG. “It’s not all bad. With Zakharovna out of the way, things could be…different.”
“Different for you, maybe. For the rest of us, we’ve just replaced one overlord with another. Being a pawn in Yelena’s new game isn’t my idea of a career move, Doctor. But I get it. We do what we must,” Vesna said.
“It’s not about duty, Vesna. Sometimes, circumstances dictate our path. Yelena has plans, and like it or not, you’re a part of them now.”
She leaned back. “I’m no longer a person, Lev. Just a weapon. A tool in the arsenal.”
Lev hesitated, then remembered why he was here. “This isn’t just a courtesy call. There’s a project, one that’s been dormant, one which I’ve been tasked to resurrect. The LAS Protocol.”
Vesna lean forward, her gaze sharpening with impatience. It wasn’t the kind of irritation that bubbled up from a brief inconvenience—this was deeper, the frustration of someone who had been left in the dark for far too long. Days, weeks maybe.
“Does it stand for ‘Ludicrously Ambiguous Scheme’ or will you enlighten me with the details?”
Lev caught her pointed comment, but instead of biting back, he let a brief, resigned smile slip. “Linguistic anti-entropic shields,” he said, feeling that familiar rush in his chest. Vesna wasn’t going to ruin his first few days back in his old lab. Whatever she had been through, Lev had seen trials and tribulations that far eclipsed hers. Over the years of his own diminution, he had almost forgotten to grant himself that basic respect. “It’s about viewing our genes as a complex programming language. The LAS protocol enables us to introduce specific command sentences, influencing the way our genes express themselves, potentially reshaping our very biology.”
“So, it’s like...you’re writing a script? Giving the body...instructions?”
“Exactly. It allows us to guide…behavior, to nudge it in a specific direction.”
“If you can nudge behavior...then, theoretically, you could control someone entirely?”
He hesitated, just long enough for the words to settle between them. He had to be careful here. “In essence, yes. And not just behavior. We could potentially modify, or even erase, certain memories. Especially traumatic ones.”
As soon as he said it, he felt a cold edge in the truth. He wasn’t sure how much of that Vesna wanted to hear. Or how much she would understand without misinterpreting it.
“And you’re planning to use this on me?”
“It’s already been used on you, Vesna.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“The anti-aging treatment Zakharovna gave you...”
“So, you’ve been tampering with my mind under the guise of a treatment?” Vesna’s voice rose, disbelief and anger cutting through each word.
“Not me, Vesna. Zakharovna. She used the early version of the LAS protocol, one I developed, but it was purely physiological. Your mind, your memories, they’re untouched. She didn’t have the means to alter those.”
“So, she used me as a guinea pig for your research then?”
“In Zakharovna’s view, it was the other way around. She saw me as the expendable element. Her ambition often blinded her.”
“Well, maybe Zakharovna wasn’t so bad after all. At least she wasn’t a liar.”
A flicker of doubt cut through him. Had Zakharovna gone further than he knew? Her methods were always about dominance. He dropped his gaze, forcing a steady tone. “We’ve made advancements, Vesna. The process is more precise now. You shouldn’t feel any different.”
In truth, Lev was painfully aware of the underlying risks. The LAS protocol, teetering on the brink of stability, harbored side effects that, while statistically unlikely, could still prove hazardous.
Vesna’s stare bore into him, the hum of the lab growing louder in his ears, a pressure building. He could feel it now—the weight of Yelena’s demands, the relentless pull of scientific discovery, and the grim thought of Vesna enduring something far worse than what either of them expected. There was no clear path forward, just shadows at every turn.
“If you’re going to reprogram me, Lev, at least make it worthwhile. Maybe a newfound love for jazz?”
For the third time, he tried to smile, but the gesture felt empty now. “Vesna, it’s not that easy.”
“It never got easier. The constant fatigue, those sudden mood shifts, the splitting headaches. That’s your early version, isn’t it?”
As Vesna spoke, each symptom she listed landed like a punch to Lev’s gut. These weren’t just theoretical risks anymore, easily dismissed in the safety of lab reports. They were real, voiced with a defeated frustration that cut deeper than he had ever anticipated. The risks he’d once viewed with clinical detachment now had a face.
“I barely survived Zakharovna’s trials, and now I’m your test subject. You really think I’ll make it through this round?”
Lev felt a sharp pang of guilt, one he couldn’t shake. The allure of discovery had always driven him, lighting a path forward through the unknown, but now it felt dimmed by the very real and present danger the woman before him faced. His mind scrambled for words, anything to reassure her, to offer her some truth that didn’t sound hollow.
“I’ll do everything I can to protect you, Vesna.” The words felt inadequate, but they were all he had.
Lev’s hand hovered over the console, the weight of the decision pressing down harder than the keys beneath his fingers. This protocol was his creation—delicate, intricate, but the exo sample Vesna carried in her blood, modifying her genes even now, was an X factor, a variable he hadn’t fully accounted for.
Something like this had never been tested on anyone other than fresh subjects before, and the risk of cumulative medication burden loomed large. The unpredictability ate at him, fueling the hesitation that kept his fingers poised in midair.
Unless...
An old conversation with a colleague floated back to him—something about molecular resonance patterns, the potential to recalibrate within live sequences. A possible workaround. It flickered to life in his mind like the faint outline of a new strategy, half-formed but promising. Could this be the key? The last of Lev’s conscience latched onto the idea, pulling him in.
Vesna moved toward the bed in the center of the room, the same way he recalled her conducting her nightly rounds at the research center—checking blind spots, testing emergency protocols, and coordinating drills with a precision that suggested she knew the place better than its designers. She lay back, draping her arm across her forehead, eyes closed, her lips curling into a familiar, mocking smirk.
“Give it your best shot, doc. No pressure.”
Lev studied her for a moment longer, steeling himself with a steady breath. “Commence,” he said, a faint violet flicker passing through his ocular implant as it relayed the command. On cue, the headset descended from an overhead waldo.
Vesna reached up, her arms grasping the device. The strength she radiated was impossible to ignore, and he wondered how it would shape what came next. The interface glowed faintly, casting a soft blue across her features as she secured it in place.
As Lev turned to retrieve the shimmering vial from the nearby centrifuge, where it had been titrating for the past hour, he heard the quiet whoosh of the waldo behind him, followed by a brief, muted wince from Vesna. He didn’t need to look to know the IV had been connected.
Vial in hand, he turned back toward her and introduced the iridescent solution into the IV. Carefully, he adjusted the flow rate on the drip chamber, making sure it matched the preset levels for her weight and metabolic rate. Everything had to be precise—no room for error with an exo sample this volatile. He double-checked the pressure gauge, ensuring the infusion speed wouldn’t overwhelm her system.
“Lev,” Vesna’s voice cut through his focus, “whatever you’re planning, just know that I’ve faced worse.”
“I’m doing what I believe is best, Vesna. But sometimes, what’s best isn’t always clear.” He took a deep breath. “Every path we choose, every decision, carries its own set of outcomes.”
“And we live with those outcomes, don’t we? Whether we like them or not,” Vesna said.
As the procedure began, uncertainty gripped him, but a buried hope whispered that he’d left a way out, a choice that might yet be undone.
If you enjoyed this chapter, read the next one or head over to the Book & Chapters List, where you can explore previews from each book and upcoming releases in the Babushka universe. Dive in and discover more!
Or, if you’d like to learn more about Lev’s past, read the short story The Price of Water for a deeper look into his journey.
