Sidorov, Morozov, Bojarski

Werner was tired; he'd drunken far too much with Nikolai and the Lagerführer the night before. He made sure to wash his face with cold water in the morning, to hopefully dim the dark circles under his eyes. He didn't want the Russian and Polish scientists to think he was a drunk who didn't sleep. He shouldn't have worried; the three men were in a much worse state, it almost hurt to look at them. But Werner didn't know that and he tried to look his best. 

The three fresh doctors were already in the lab with Wojciechowski. They all looked at Werner when he entered, and Werner had to force himself to surpress a cry. It was easy to tell who was Russian and who wasn't; the Russians looked twice as bad as the Pole. The taller, blonde Russian had a thin face, the skin on his cheeks fell inwards, and you could see the lines of his teeth through his lips. If it weren't for the loud moustache he had over his lip you could have seen his skull. His hand was just bones; and the skin on his fingers was trusclucent. But his eyes were thoughtfull and when Werner stretched his hand out to shake the poor man's hand, his eyes sparked. They shook; and Werner was surprised by the firm grip. "Werner." He said to introduce himself. 

"Sidorov." 

Werner reached out to shake the next Russians hand. This man wasn't as freightfully skinny, but he had black and blue spots everywhere. The entire left-half of his neck was beaten black. Werner repeated his name and the man answered with his; "Morozov." 

Lastly Werner shook the hand of a still-plump but thinning Pole who's hairline had retreated to purely the back of his head. "Bojarski." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you all." Werner said, he smiled at them. He was on his best and friendliest behaviour. Wojciechowski clapped him on the shoulders and started to explain who these men were. 

"Bojarski and I worked together in Warsaw for a while. We split ways once he got a better job, I haven't seen him in years. The other two I never met in person but I'd heard an awefull lot about Sirdorov. He wrote a famous essay in university. And Morozov I've just met this morning, he's a good friend of Sidorov, they spent a year and a half in Gulag together."

"Forcefull friendship." Sidorov said with a smile. His english was flawless but with a strong accent. Morozovs english was more primitive, so he talked with his hands like an italian. Wojciechowski and Werner laughed. Morozov didn't understand the quip, Sidorov explained in Russian, and then Morozov too smiled. 

"We're going to do the eyedropper test with every component of yesterdays solution. Morozov, Bojarski and I will work alone, you'll work with Sidorov." Wojciechowski ordered. He continued to translate into Russian for Morozov, and added that he'd be able to read the labels for they were in Russian too. Wojciechowski had spent the morning relabelling the jars. 

Bojarski, Morozov and Wojciechowski bustled off to get their props, choosing which substances they wanted to test. Werner approached Sidorov. "I'm usually Wojciechowskis assistant, don't expect too much from me." 

"I'm sure you'll be helpfull." He responded. "Let's get the things we need." So they headed over to the table to grab three little containers, a small box with an ugly tumor, and a few eyedroppers. The microscope was already at their work space. "Can you put the tumor on the tray and slide it under the microscope?"

"Da, konechno." Werner answered in Russian. The Soviet doctor laughed and smiled, his eyes brighter than ever. He was happy to hear Russian, espiecially coming from a German. It made him hopefull; some people still made an effort to understand others and to connect with them, that's what you need in War. Werner carefully prepared the set. In the meantime, Sidorov prepped the glasses of liquids. 

Werner didn't have time to look around, he was focused on his work. Wojciechowski glanced in his direction to see if he was holding up alright and was proud to see how disciplined the young man worked. He should really become a doctor, or at least a chemist, Wojciechowski thought. 

"Can I?" Sidorov moved in front of the microscope. "Thank you...you see, it always takes a while to set it to the right magfinication. Is that a word? I don't know. Anyway the scale has to be correct." He explained everything to Werner as he did it. Good doctors do this, it relieves the patients of stress and makes them feel included. He'd worked as a doctor in the Gulag, he'd saved a few men and watched many more go. "Eventually you just have to let go..." He whispered as he let go of the scroll that adjusted the lenses and the scoped. "This is perfect. Hand me the blue one, Werner." 

Werner dutifully handed him the blue liquid. "Will you write protocol?"

"Sure." Werner grabbed the lab journal and flipped it open to the next empty page. He scribbled the date, the name of the Russian scientisct and his own name and of course Dr. Zieglers. In case anyone read it who shouldn't they had to think that Ziegler was supervising them. He scribbled the name of the substance, one he soon forgot. "Has anything changed?" He asked. The Russian shook his head. 

"Hand me the scalpel..."

"Here you go." 

Sidorov began to cut tiny slits into the tumor. There was no change in movement, he zoomed in further. No change in the cells either. "Alright, we can forget this. Let's wash the tumor off, then we'll try one of the other Alkali." He straightened himself up, slid the tray out from it's holder and handed it to Werner. Werner took it even though he had no gloves on. Sidorov saw this and smiled. "It's not poisonous, but put gloves on if you want. I do, but more to keep my mind in place. I hate it when I'm constantly thinking I might get something."

"Okay." Werner said with a nodd. They headed to the only sink, an old metal basin. Werner washed his hands first, then put on some white gloves, ones like Wojciechowski liked to wear. Sidorov gently rinsed the tumor. Werner felt sick to the stomache. Something like that ugly deformation was living in his skull, feeding on his brain...