Chapter Text
Boris Shcherbina knew how to exert his influence at the right moments, just as he knew how to accept the influence and convictions of others under the given circumstances. A quality that seemed to distinguish him completely from Valery Legasov.
As one of the first people in Moscow who were informed about the accident at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant, Shcherbina was prepared to receive the lengthy assurances about the harmlessness and complete control of its impact, not convinced that he had learnt the complete truth, but satisfied with any information that could help to ease the situation after the initial confusion.He would arrange whatever was necessary to combat the consequences of the incident and restore operations without causing hysteria or raising doubts about Soviet energy supplies.
He would have preferred expert assistance directly from his ministry, but as far as nuclear energy in the Soviet Union and this reactor in particular were concerned, no member of the Ministry of Energy was qualified; the founders and scientific leaders of Soviet nuclear energy gathered in their own institute and kept their secrets there. Even under normal circumstances, the Kurchatov Institute was reluctant to cooperate with representatives of the civil sector for energy, which included his ministry, and Shcherbina expected this secretiveness to continue, which nuclear research in its special position could afford even towards high-ranking party representatives. He had therefore expected some difficulties, but nothing had prepared him for the disaster that was Valery Legasov. With surprisingly few sentences, Legasov had managed to accuse the leadership of the Soviet Union of complete ignorance and disregard for obvious physical-technical facts and corrected the Deputy Chairman of the Council of Minister, Boris Shcherbina, in front of Gorbachev as if Shcherbina was one of Legasovs students. As if Shcherbina had not tried to protect Legasov and his institute too from premature criticism and accusations. The arrogance and presumptuousness of high-ranking scientists towards him was one thing, but this one had taken neither Shcherbina nor himself and his own responsibility into consideration when lecturing the Soviet leadership; Legasov’s institute could not be interested in a rash exaggeration of the situation any more than Shcherbina's ministry.
Whatever was going through the mind of the deputy director of the Kurchatov Institute, neither Shcherbina nor Legasov seemed willing to engage in any further dialogue once Gorbachev had given his order. After the meeting was dissolved, the two men exchanged glances of barely suppressed hostility, and it took the politician decades of practised self-control not to immediately and vocally confront the scientist about his impertinence.
"I'll arrange the flight to Chernobyl and let you know when we take off. Comrade Legasov."
"I have to," Legasov turned back to the report under Shcherbina's persistent scowl and rubbed his forehead tensely as he slumped behind his propped-up hand, "I have to speak to a few colleagues. I'm not an expert on this type of reactor."
"I'm sure you'll know who to consult on this matter. And who not.”
Under a raised eyebrow, Legasov looked uncomprehendingly back up at Shcherbina. They continued their hostile eye contact for a few seconds until Legsaov gave up with a stiff nod.
"Then I'll have you picked up at the institute in a few hours," added Shcherbina, who could only guess what further problems Legsaov would cause there, thankfully outside Shcherbina's direct sphere of influence.
Once again, the professor nodded barely noticeably, turning his attention back to his documents as he stood up somewhat awkwardly and, ignoring his previous tendency to talk back, disappeared into the corridor without further ado. The experienced politician would contain the accident at Chernobyl just as well as Valery Legasov.
To Shcherbina's surprise, Legasov seemed to have lost some of his rebelliousness when they made their way to their flight to Pripyat together a few hours later. Slumped and silent, the scientist remained at his side, avoiding any eye contact. Perhaps Legasov had just needed some time to reflect and adjust his behaviour to the circumstances. But from the little he had so far been able to learn about Legasov, he thought it more likely that the scientist had been put in his place by his more pragmatic colleagues. Whatever the reason for his newfound restraint, it certainly facilitated Shcherbina's involuntary supervision of his new personal scientific advisor. For now.
Even on the short walk across the landing pad to the helicopter, the younger man barely kept pace with the seasoned politician and immediately collapsed back into his seat between the soldiers escorting them. While the dull thumping of the rotor blades rumbled through the cabin and Shcherbina was glad to have escaped any further experts and advice from Moscow for the time being, the flight only seemed to increase Legasov's discomfort. Every gust that caught and shook the helicopter also shook the academic out of his melancholic daze and made him glance nervously through the porthole-like windows before leaning forwards again, resting his forehead on both thumbs and staring at the ground. From his own position and without two guard dogs pressing against his shoulders, the politician registered the other's vulnerability with his usual satisfaction. And yet the insecurity of his companion began to irritate him. If Legasov had been able to use his position as an expert to expose Shcherbina before Gorbachev without being asked, now was the time to use this expert knowledge for more constructive purposes. But the academic remained silent.
"How does a nuclear reactor work?"
This time Legasov did not raise his head in fear, but as if one of his students had interrupted him with a completely pointless question.
"What?"
Shcherbina was almost amused by the arrogance that reflexively overcame Legasov when someone dared to set foot on his professional turf. As if there, in the ivory tower of his science, he was safe from accidents and political bloodhounds who made no distinction between the guilty and those who spoke about this guilt too loudly.
"Of course. You presume I'm too stupid to understand. So I’ll restate: Tell me how a nuclear reactor works or I'll have one of these soldiers throw you out of a helicopter."
Shcherbina dryly reminded the scientist of the Soviet reality and Legasov's helpless look at the two unmoved soldiers confirmed that his words had not missed their mark.
Defeated, Legasov turned back to Shcherbina and began his explanation, putting all his reluctance and obvious compulsion into it, just in case there had been any doubt in his bothersome new student's mind. But his own nature quickly caught up with the absent-minded professor and he paused, fumbling unsuccessfully in his jacket for something, upon which Shcherbina pulled the pen he was looking for out of his own pocket with a simple flick of the wrist and shoved it in Legasov's direction along with the copy of the report to which they owed their shared flight. Shcherbina maintained eye contact with the evasive scientist, who gave a brief, grateful nod. As if the politician wanted to add: See how easy it can be to work together?
This thought seemed alien to Legasov, who preferred contempt to cooperation and did not hide the fact that he regarded the other as little more than a deluded politician who had not earned his approval.
But the formula "Boris Shcherbina" contained too many variables for even a brilliant mind like Legasov's to figure out easily, and thus the bureaucrat actually managed to surprise the suspicious natural philosopher who was focussed on his atoms: An unstable element, Legasov explained, like uranium, a fitting foundation for their relationship, that much even Shcherbina understood, and recalled the vivid, admonishing description the man of science had chosen to make himself heard before the leadership of the Soviet Union.
"The bullet."
Like the neutron described, Shcherbina's words penetrated Legasov's reservations and suddenly astonishment and a hint of appreciation replaced the disdain in his expression. Shcherbina had to correct his judgement, arrogance was not the only thing Legasov in his devotion to science had left for outsiders. The politician's little remark was enough to put the scientist in a more favourable mood; the hope of being understood and sharing his devotion obviously outweighed his prejudice. Not with arrogance, but with the zeal and creativity of a teacher who values his students as much as his own research, the professor found an appropriate explanation even for an annoying apparatchik. Shcherbina was almost impressed by this side of the stubborn scientist, but Boris Yevdokimovich Shcherbina was not one of Legasov's students, he listened, learnt and then had the last word.
"Good. I know how a nuclear reactor works. Now I don’t need you."
With his glasses in his hand and the strand of hair that had fallen into his face, Legasov looked up in dismay and did the politician the favour of presenting an utterly miserable and defeated picture.
Satisfied, Shcherbina leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Let the institute's snappish lapdog think about the fact that he was on his own here. A knowledgeable man like Legasov would certainly learn quickly not to antagonise Boris Shcherbina any further under these circumstances.
"Boris..."
How dared he?
He was wrong, Legasov was no better than the rest of the useless specialists at his institute who looked down on the politician. Just as ignorant, just as arrogant.
He could perhaps overlook the fact that Legasov did not respect the Kremlin's rules and had the audacity to bang the table in front of Gorbachev in order to make himself heard. But now the scientist proved how little he understood and respected Boris Shcherbina
Shcherbina's wrath was feared and was unleashed upon the scientist with a force that Valery Legasov had brought upon himself with the mention of the name 'Boris' and his open and utterly irreverent look. While an open provocation hardly upset the veteran politician any more, the recklessness with which Legasov had stumbled across any personal boundaries hit him particularly hard. Something about Legasov had made him soft. He himself had allowed this disrespect from the all-knowing academic, had been too quick to trust that Legasov would understand how to work together with Boris Shcherbina. But however much the professor knew about nuclear reactors, he understood very little about men like Boris Shcherbina.
But Shcherbina didn't have much time to rage, their pilot decided to take Legasov's threat more seriously than the loud politician, and Shcherbina wasn't stubborn enough not to have at least some appreciation for the younger scientist's persistence. And despite the fierceness of Shcherbina's temper, as soon as the helicopter had veered off course with equal vehemence and slammed Legasov roughly into the side of the disgruntled head of their joint commission, the latter showed surprising care, holding Legasov by the waist and keeping him away from greater harm and manoeuvring him back into place. Legasov rubbed his bruised thigh before looking back up at Shcherbina and returning his grim gaze in obvious surprise. He quickly lowered his eyes again, returning to his insecure self, who preferred to avoid Shcherbina's turbulent temperament rather than stand in its way. Even if the storm had subsided as quickly as it had risen.
Shcherbina did not turn away from Valery Legasov. An open reactor core awaited him. Perhaps more than even a man like Boris Shcherbina, who had created a new foundation for his country's energy industry from inhospitable taiga and tundra with his own hands, could fix for the Soviet Union.
And the only person who understood enough about all of this put himself unerringly in every line of fire and put not only their task as representatives of the Soviet state, but also himself, in danger.
Shcherbina cared more about both than Legasov would probably have given him credit for. And about one thing more than the old apparatchik gave himself credit for.