The news came six months after their visit. Prison chaplain appeared at Ral's cell with expression suggesting he'd delivered this message too many times before.
"Dmitri Sokolov died yesterday," chaplain stated simply. "Cancer complications. Prison medical facility couldn't provide adequate treatment. He requested I inform you personally rather than through official channels."
Ral absorbed the information without visible reaction, having learned that displaying emotion in prison invited exploitation. But internally something collapsed—final link to their fifteen-year campaign severed, leaving only Maya and memories of operations that felt increasingly unreal as years of imprisonment accumulated.
"Did he suffer?" Ral asked.
"Prison death is always suffering," chaplain replied honestly. "
