Turkey in the Straw

Elliot D'Blanca was a career diplomat in the United State Department.  Like his father and his father before him, serving his country in a diplomatic capacity was what he was born to do. Educated in the terms and meanings of the diplomaticese  language, Elliot moved in the elite inner social circles reserved for ambassadors and heads of state.

Involved with the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) at the Hague in Brussels, Elliot was hosting a gala for some of the top brass who occupied offices at the NATO Headquarters, strictly a Black-tie affair when Boris Batinovich entered the roomful of some of the most influential people in Europe.

"This is awkward." Dean Moncrief, Elliot's Chief of Staff remarked under his breath.

"What do you suppose he wants?" Elliot whispered to Dean, but he just shrugged and wore an expression of complete befuddlement.

Boris was not known to crash these types of the social events of his enemies, but there was something blowing in the wind from the Steppes that had everyone one edge.  The appearance of Boris confirmed the suspicions and rumors.

"Comrade!" Boris put several extra syllables into his expressive greeting, walking directly to Elliot with a bottle of the finest Russian vodka as a gift of his best intentions.

After receiving a spine crushing hug and a peck on each cheek, Elliot smiled and inquired, "What do you want, Comrade Batinovich?"

"What?" His bushy eyebrows arched near his ample forehead in mock astonishment, "Can't a comrade pay a visit to an old friend."

"No, not with motive." Elliot shook his head as Diedra, his wife, joined him at his side.  Elliot immediately put his arm around his wife, dressed in an exquisite sequined gown, armed with a glass of bubbly champagne.

"Elliot, dear, who is this man gracing us with his presence?" She flashed her gracious fake smile.

"This my dear, is Boris Batinovich." Elliot, in turn, flashed the false smile the had taught him at the academy.

"My pleasure." Boris clicked his boot heels as he seized Diedra's white gloved hand, bowed and kissed it, "So good to meet you."   

“How do you know each other?” Diedra asked as Boris claimed a drink off the server’s tray who was passing by.  

"We met in Germany shortly after the wall came down.” Elliot sniffed after putting a finger to his lip.

“I was coming out of Afghanistan a few years before the Americans rushed in and got the same result we did, but only it took twice as long.” He glanced over at Elliot whose face began turning red. Seeing Elliot in social distress made him smile.  Moving his eyebrows up and down as he took a sip of his drink, gave Boris a sense of smug satisfaction.  

“How long have you been friends?” Diedra asked as Dean nearly choked on a mouthful of shrimp.  Both Elliot and Boris glanced at each other, both instantly knew what the other was thinking.

“Friends is a little generous, dear.” Elliot rolled his eyes.       

“But you both are in the same line of work.” She was confused at the innuendos they shared unabashedly with each other. 

“Madam, I assure you, we worked on different sides of the fence.” Boris explained before downing the rest of his drink. 

“You seem nice.” She observed as her husband let out a loud laugh.  

“Your wife is an intelligent woman, no?” Boris winked at Elliot. “So, is the conference room empty?”

“Yeah, everyone is in the ballroom.  There is no one is in there.”  Elliot shook his head and led Boris out of the ballroom.  A few doors down from the loud music was an empty unlit room until Elliot flicked the lights on.  Two of the invited guests, Elliot did not recognize, unwrapped themselves from each other.

“Sorry.” The woman ran her hand through her hair as her partner took her hand and led her from the room.

“Now we are alone at last.” Boris shook his head trying to conceal his amusement. 

“So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” Elliot put his hands on his hips and sighed.

“We have a problem.” Boris messaged the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“How so?” 

“As you are aware, I have an office in Vladivostok.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Elliot shook his head.

“We have established a connection.” He sat in one of the chairs near a large round table.

“Alright, with who?” Elliot hated the way Boris expressed himself in a diplomatic conversation. 

He took a deep breath before answering his comrades' question, “We have been in contact with a civilization on another planet. This is a top-secret bit of information I am sharing with you.  You must keep this to yourself.”

“You are giving me the biggest story since the terrorist attack in New York, and I’ve got to keep it to myself?”

“Da, you must swear.”  Boris pointed a stubby finger at Elliot. 

“Why?” Elliot worked up the nerve to ask.

“They want to take over this planet.  We have a list of some of their targets.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a list written on a sticky note, handing it to Elliot, “Here we do not want to see this take place.”

“I see Moscow is on this list.” Elliot paced around the table.  “And the Pentagon…again.” 

“We are not entirely sure what kind of weaponry they have, but we know they are advanced enough to travel the speed of light. Or faster.” Boris appeared alarmed for the first time as Elliot continued to read the note. He dropped his head in between his shoulders. “I fear that this will happen soon.  We are processing this communication at my base and moving out military defenses to the places named.”

“Until they get here, we will have no clue about their capacity, right?” Elliot threw his arms up.

“Da.” Boris was unable to say anymore. After a deep breath, “You keep the list, so you can prepare for the invasion.”

“How, if I’m supposed to keep this hush-hush?” Elliot waved the paper in front of Boris’ face. 

“You must know who you can trust.” Boris shrugged.

“What if there is no one I can trust?” 

“That is your problem, comrade.” He stood up patting Elliot on the back before walking out of the room.  He turned before exiting and looked at Elliot who was slumped in a chair. “I will be in touch.  Code word, ‘Turkey in the Straw.’” 

“Turkey in the straw?  How come?” Elliot looked up.

“It’s an old saying from your history when they would play this game.” Boris smiled knowingly, “A reminder of the Jim Crow days when people would paint their faces and act like fools."

Elliot's face immediately registered his disapproval, born and raised a Brahmin New England Yankee, he found Boris' moniker for such an important secret, insulting and degrading, but this was how he justified his perspective of the world that held its own evil historical records of pogroms and Gulags in Siberia.  

Maybe these aliens would bring a sense of justice and hope that had eluded humanity throughout its bloody history.  Elliot pondered what could be.  He had been jaded over his time in his career when diplomacy had failed miserably, and millions of innocent people fell victim to horrendous genocides.  Maybe these people from a distant galaxy could bring what mankind could not.  Was it wrong to root for the aliens?

Boris had left as Elliot pondered the impending dilemma.  Closing his eyes, he could only envision the destruction of the planet, but wasn't that already forecast even without taking into account these cosmic invaders?  His stomach had gone sour. He reached into his jacket pocket for his antacid.

Turkey in the straw, indeed.

"Where did you slip off to with that Boris gentleman?" Diedra asked as they got ready for bed.

Turkey in the straw.  A fitting vestige of our racist past.  As we hurdle toward a possible catastrophic oblivion that must remain an enigma, because even the slightest hint of what lies ahead of us, would send civilization into a panic, the likes of which has never been known before is to be referred to by such a stain from our past.  How about the pogrom polka, Boris?

"Nothing too concerning, dear." He kissed her on her forehead glad that she could not read his thoughts even after thirty years of marital bliss.

"Well he seemed nice." She nodded as she removed her earrings.  She had been around him long enough to know her husband was unable to speak about whatever it was they had discussed in secret.

Dean and the rest of Elliot's staff had assembled in the conference room the next morning with many of them nursing hangovers from the champagne. It took Elliot ten minutes to expound on Operation Turkey in the Straw followed by several minutes of stunned silence.

“So, what you are saying boss, is that we should prepare for an invasion from another planet?” Dean’s face had a curve of doubt.  

“Yes.” Elliot answered robotically.  

“So, what are we supposed to do?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know.” Elliot glanced at each of the twelve advisors sitting around the table. 

Turkey in the straw.  

Dean and the others did not like how he appeared sitting there as if he was being tortured.

“I know what he said.” Elliot forced each word out of his mouth.

“Who?” Dean asked.

“Boris Batinovich.” He struggled to say the name out loud. 

“He is not listed in our current data banks.” Royce Medford reported as he typed in the name.

Upon hearing this, Elliot sat up straight. He looked down at his hand as if they were suddenly alien to him.

He was just ten years old. The sun was warm.  It was an early summer day.   The first day of summer break from school.  

He and his sister wanted to play this new game she learned at school during recess called “Turkey in the Straw.”  It was fun, but then his memory could not recall the object of this game.  Blood began to ooze out his nose and ears.

“Turkey in the straw!” His sister Megan called out. “Now it’s your turn. I will run and you must come find me.  I will create a distraction which will make it harder to catch me.” 

The rules were so simple, like hide and seek, but with this added twist that added a nuance to the game.

“What is it you wish to see me about?” Boris met Elliot at the Sheremetyevo International Airport in Moscow.

“I just wanted to clarify a few things.” Elliot grabbed his small bag on the luggage carousel.

“What?  You could have called me or sent a text?” Boris shook his head as they walked to Boris’ car.

“You told me that this was a top-secret operation.” Elliot put his bag into the open trunk of Boris’ car. 

“True, true.” He nodded as he closed the trunk of his car. “There is more information that has been communicated to us.” 

“Bullshit.” Elliot put his hands on his hips.

“What?  You do not believe me?” Boris seemed hurt by the insinuation.  

“You have been stringing me along like a fish on a hook.” Elliot got into the passenger seat as his host held the door for him.

“I do not see what you are talking about.” Boris closed the door.

“There was no communication.  I have had my technicians go over the recording you sent me and there is nothing but space garble.” Elliot ranted as Boris calmly slid behind the steering wheel. 

“You are correct.” Boris sighed.  His admission silenced Elliot for a moment, “How long have we known each other?”

“Quite a while.” Elliot nodded.

“We met in a summit at the Hague not far from where your office is presently located.” Boris pulled into the heavy traffic of Moscow. “What do you really know about me?”

“You are the son of a Cossack.  You were top of your class at the academy.  You were a decorated soldier and you have led many covert operations in your career.” Elliot replied.

“Very good.” Boris turned his head and smiled at his passenger. “And in all that time, have I misled you?” 

“Frequently.” Elliot shook his head and smiled.

“All my life I have played this game with you.” He laughed.

“What game?” Elliot glared at Boris.

“Turkey in the straw.” He laughed again, “So easy it would have been if I told you what was really going on.” 

“Why not now.” Elliot insisted, “I came all the way here because you promised to tell me the whole story.”

“I did.” He inhaled, “But like the last story, it sounds like fiction.”

“C’mon Boris, don’t bullshit a bullshitter.” Elliot shook his as a horn sounded when Boris cut off another vehicle on the square.  

“I am not from this lousy planet.” Boris declared.

“What do you mean?” 

“I was born on another planet in what you call a Goldilocks system of K Stars that are able to support life like this planet.” Boris calmly explained as he pulled into a parking lot of cheap cookie cutter apartments.  Boris got out and then opened the passenger door, “We will leave your bags in the trunk for now.”

“Alright.” Elliot agreed as he stepped out into the cold damp of a Moscow late autumn morning.  

“Follow me.” Boris urged and Elliot obeyed.

Inside the cramp dwelling, Elliot could see all sorts of electronic devices as the smell of mold and tea hung in the thick air.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Boris held out his arms, “It’s not much but it’s comfortable for me.

There was a very disturbing sound of ripping flesh that turned Elliot’s head.  When his eyes saw Boris, he had removed his skin from his head to his chest revealing a strange form hidden beneath the skin.  

There was just one eye in the middle of a mass of purplish scaly covering that seemed to exude a foul-smelling oil.

“What do you think of me now?” His voice buzzed as it was being transmitted through a voice synthesizer. “While I may not look appealing, I’m totally functional.  In less than an hour, I will be leaving this dreadful place.” 

Elliot was too astounded to say anything in return. 

“Turkey in the straw creates a distraction so he may slip away unnoticed.” The creature that was Boris stood up. Standing on his short legs, the creature was barely three feet tall glistening in the dim light of the apartment. His breathing was shallow and raspy. “I will do much better once I am in my hydrogen atmosphere.”

Do you need any assistance?” Elliot offered as the creature struggled to breath.

“Perhaps you can carry me.  I assure you I do not weigh that much.”  The creature smiled or at least made an attempt.  Elliot lifted the creature, cradling him safely in his arms. “The shed out back.” 

Inside the dark unheated shed was a glimmering ship awaiting his departure.

“I appreciate the lift.” The creature said as Elliot placed him in the pilot’s seat.  His digits were long, supple and purple as he deftly punched in the code for takeoff. “You’d better clear the area.  Things are going to get fragmented.” 

Elliot nodded and walked away just as the shed disintegrated and the spaceship disappeared in a couple of seconds before Elliot could even say “Bon Voyage.” 

“NASA, we are picking up a signal from an unidentified ship” A controller at the consul in Houston reported to his superiors at the Pentagon.  

“Track this spaceship.” The voice commanded over the intercom.

“Negative that, sir.  Spaceship is already off the grid.” The controller shook his head.  

Elliot was crestfallen on the ride to the airport.  Why didn’t he stay and finish his mission?  Looking out the window, the raindrops streaking the passenger window on the plane came to the same conclusion that with all the problems and disagreements, this planet was not worthy of conquest after all.  The stewardess came down the aisle checking to make sure all of the passengers of the half-filled plane were buckled in and ready for take-off.  He would be back to the Hague in just three hours depending on the air current. The headrest provided a pillow and Elliot was asleep before the plane left the ground.

He managed to sleep through the flight.  When they landed in Holland, he stood up, got his bag from the overhead bin and followed the rest of the passengers off the plane.  After a short cab ride, he walked into his quarters.

In the bedroom he found Diedra’s skin neatly folded on the canopied king size bed they had shared for his six-year assignment at the Hague. He was sad that he could not have been here for her departure, but some things just weren’t meant to be.

Elliot knew there were others waiting for the word to leave.  

Turkey in the Straw.  The mask you wear today may not match the one you put on tomorrow. The secrets you keep today may become front page news tomorrow.  

With that thought running through his mind, Elliot began to peel his skin off.

NASA, this is Houston again…you are not going to believe this…