Who Is Building a Cosmodrome in Guria? – The Empire of Lies by Russian “Exiles”

In western Georgia’s Guria region, the village of Shukhuti begins with an unmarked turnoff that leads to a rough, winding road. At the end lies a fenced-off plot of land, guarded by Russian security personnel, protecting the site of what is slated to become a cosmodrome.

On this site, plans are underway to build the checkpoint for the “Kolkhida” cosmodrome—an initiative spearheaded by two Russian women, Yulia and Maria Arkhipova. The pair arrived in Georgia from Russia around the onset of the war in Ukraine. By February, they had established two companies, acquired land, and begun using part of it, drawing on their background in aerospace.

Both Yulia and Maria have roots in space technology. Maria holds a master’s degree in public administration with a concentration in the space industry, earned at Moscow State University’s Faculty of Space Research. Her career includes coordinating the construction of the orbital station “Mir-2” and serving as a legal advisor to the Space Technologies Consortium.

Yulia serves as chairwoman of the Russian “Consortium of Space Technologies,” a private space initiative launched in 2016 to advance commercial aerospace efforts.

Maria, 46, and Yulia, 45, are known in Guria as sisters, though public records hint otherwise. Maria’s father is listed as Sergei, and Yulia’s as Ali. In truth, the two are long-time partners and were previously a married couple, even during the period when Maria was known as Evgeni and identified as male.

Maria later transitioned and began speaking publicly about her identity. In one interview, she recounted how her wife had known from the start that she was a woman and had supported her throughout her gender transition.

But the couple has kept more than just their personal history from the locals. Leaked documents reveal their regular communication with Russian state institutions. Among the trove: hundreds of emails and formal letters exchanged with Pravfond dating back to 2014. The correspondence, which leaked from the foundation, was obtained by OCCRP. iFact, as a member of the OCCRP network, joined the investigation through that discovery.

Blueprints for the Stars, Roots in Uncertainty

“Consortium of Space Technologies.” These platforms showcase videos promoting the “Kolkhida” cosmodrome, revealing plans for a spacecraft launchpad and a facility for manufacturing drones and satellites—all to be built on fenced land in Lanchkhuti. The videos even hint at ambitions to send people into space.

To realize these goals, the Arkhipovs’ company, Serviuk Agro, purchased three land parcels in Guria’s Lanchkhuti municipality—altogether covering nearly 14,000 square meters. These plots are intended as launch sites for orbital missions.

According to documents filed in 2023 with Georgia’s Public Registry by Yulia Arkhipova, the couple began laying the foundational infrastructure. Electrical systems were installed, meters mounted, the doors and windows of an existing structure were repaired, sewer and water lines were extended, and vegetation was cleared from the site. Yet, a close examination of the available photos and videos raises questions about the extent to which this infrastructure exists.

It may all sound improbable, but the Arkhipovs’ cosmodrome project is part of a broader, more complex story.

On August 27, 2023, Maria Arkhipova sent a letter to Aleksandr Udaltsev, executive director of “Pravfond,” outlining the couple’s intention to build a space facility in Georgia and establish a new-generation cosmodrome.

“Russian citizens are employed in leading roles, highly qualified specialists have been invited, and all work is being carried out by project documentation,” Maria wrote. “The planned facilities and cosmodrome may be used by Russia for launches and equipment assembly, offering benefits to all sides.”

She also alleged that Yulia was facing harassment and discrimination due to her nationality, including threats to her life and health from nationalist-leaning citizens in western Georgia. Their appeals to the Russian consulate, the Georgian Ombudsman, the prosecutor’s office, and the police, she claimed, had brought no results.

A day later, on August 28, Yulia followed up with a second letter to “Pravfond,” including video links showing the cosmodrome’s proposed site. The note detailed initial development plans: connecting electricity, paving access roads, and preparing supporting infrastructure.

On August 30, the Arkhipovs sent yet another message to the foundation. Thanking them for their response, they described the situation as “direct persecution” based on Russian citizenship. “When a Russian citizen is openly called a ‘Russian fascist’ or an ‘occupier’—if that’s not enough for the Russian Federation to defend its citizen, then I don’t know what is,” they wrote.

As of now, the cosmodrome project remains stalled. We asked the Arkhipovs why and what their next steps might be. When we followed up with the Arkhipovs via WhatsApp, they responded: “The cosmodrome’s construction is paused at the project agreement stage. Once we get the green light, we are ready to begin. If your government grants the permit, we’ll start building. From groundbreaking to full operation, we estimate one year.”

We also contacted the Lanchkhuti Municipality to ask whether the Arkhipovs had submitted any permit requests or project documentation. As of publication, we’ve received no written reply, and the legally mandated response period has expired. When we called to follow up, a representative told us that whether we publish without their comment is “our decision.”

What is “Pravfond”?

The “Foundation for the Protection and Support of Compatriots” (“Pravfond”) was founded in 2012 by decree of then-Russian President Dmitry Medvedev. Established by the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs in coordination with other state bodies, the fund’s official mission is to provide legal assistance to Russian citizens and diaspora communities abroad. In practice, however, Pravfond functions as a Kremlin instrument—an extension of Russian soft power and geopolitical strategy in Europe, Georgia, Moldova, Ukraine, and Central Asia. The organization was sanctioned by both the United States and the European Union in 2023.

Pravfond finances legal defense for Russians abroad, runs informational campaigns, and offers diplomatic support, often through Russian embassies and cultural centers. But according to the intelligence services of Estonia and Latvia, it also serves as a tool of Russian intelligence, channeling funds into so-called “legal aid centers” and pro-Russian Telegram channels in the region.

Among its high-profile actions, Pravfond covered over €220,000 in legal fees for the defense of Vladim Krasikov, a Russian FSB operative convicted in Germany for the murder of Georgian national Zelimkhan Khangoshvili. Krasikov had been sentenced to life in prison for assassinating at the Kremlin’s behest. In 2024, he was released in a prisoner exchange for American journalists and was greeted personally by President Vladimir Putin upon his return. According to Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov, Krasikov was an operative in the FSB’s elite “Alpha” unit.

A joint investigation by OCCRP and Lithuanian public broadcaster LRT further revealed that Pravfond has provided financial support to Kremlin-aligned individuals, including lawyers, propagandists, and intelligence agents operating in multiple European countries.

Embedded Advocacy: The Arkhipovs and Pravfond’s Strategic Partnership

Maria and Yulia Arkhipova are deeply embedded in the Pravfond network. Their collaboration with the Kremlin-linked foundation dates back at least to 2014.

Long before entering the space technology arena, the Arkhipovs worked as human rights lawyers in Russia. In the early 2000s, when Maria was still known by her birth name, Evgeni, she founded the “For Human Rights” association for Russian attorneys. That same organization was one of several that petitioned President Vladimir Putin and Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov in February 2023 to lift visa requirements for Georgian citizens. The Kremlin obliged a few months later, ending the visa regime with Georgia in May 2023.

Pravfond’s interest in the Arkhipovs appears to have begun around the time of Russia’s annexation of Crimea. Internal correspondence from the foundation suggests a clear rationale: Maria’s gender identity was perceived as a public relations asset.

As one Pravfond representative, Sergey Panteleev, put it in a message to colleagues:
“Russia keeps producing reports and events for internal audiences, and they’re not taken seriously internationally... Hopefully, with help from their organization [Maria and Yulia’s], we’ll finally find a way around this problem.”

Panteleev was no ordinary staffer. In 2023, he was sanctioned by the EU, the United States, Canada, Switzerland, the UK, and Japan for his role as an agent of Russian military intelligence. According to the EU’s official journal, he is an officer in GRU Unit 54777. At the time of the correspondence, he was officially serving as a Pravfond advisor.

At least €72,000 in grants flowed from Pravfond to the Arkhipovs’ “For Human Rights” association. Officially, the funds supported reports on human rights in Ukraine and covered basic operational expenses.

Note: This figure reflects only confirmed contracts. The Arkhipovs have been in steady communication with Pravfond for over a decade, submitting reports, research, and opinions in exchange for guidance and support. It is likely their activities extended beyond these two documented projects.

In 2014, their association submitted a report on human rights violations during the Russia–Ukraine conflict—one that closely echoed Kremlin narratives. It described Ukraine’s government as neo-Nazi and portrayed Russian military actions in Crimea as protection for ethnic Russians.

That report was ultimately submitted to the United Nations, aligning with what appears to have been Pravfond’s strategic objective. Arkhipovs’ direct contact at the foundation, Igor Panevkin, praised their work in a letter: “Wonderful, I’m impressed, well done!”—his response came after Maria’s report prompted the UN Committee Against Torture to send a special delegation to investigate alleged abuses in Crimea.

Shaping Narratives: How the Arkhipovs Positioned Themselves as Russian Assets in Georgia

In February 2023, the Arkhipovs wrote to Pravfond offering to bring their expertise to Georgia. “Given our experience since 2004,” they wrote, “we would be pleased if our knowledge and skills prove useful for on-site work—especially in Georgia, where we already have good connections with activists, politicians, and other stakeholders... We are not opposed to working on creating a branch of a local NGO in Georgia.”

After that message, Maria and Yulia Arkhipova began sending regular updates and reports about developments in Georgia to their Russian contacts. Pravfond subsequently forwarded these to various state agencies, including Russia’s Ministry of Education and the Presidential Administration.

In March 2023, Maria Arkhipova submitted a report claiming the existence of “Russian-speaking settlements” in Georgia, specifically naming Grigoleti, Shekvetili, Ureki, and Poti. According to her account, ethnic Russians in these areas struggle due to their lack of Georgian language skills and need interpreters to navigate public institutions. She alleged they are targets of bullying and, in some cases, physical violence.

“They have no representation in elected positions, nor government bodies or local administrations… Russian names and origins lead to discrimination. People with Russian names are barred from jobs in administrative offices or local councils… They face more restrictions than Georgians. Typically, Russians are the first to be dismissed or laid off and are paid the lowest salaries,” she wrote.

The second half of Arkhipova’ s report shifts focus to the use and status of the Russian language in Georgia. She strongly advocates for Russian to be declared the country’s second official language. Her submission to Russian government bodies outlines what she describes as systemic obstacles faced by Russian speakers in Georgia, even though she acknowledges that many Georgians understand the language.

“There have been cases where local Russians were reprimanded in the reception area of Georgia’s President [Salome Zourabishvili] for speaking Russian and were instructed to use Georgian in government institutions,” the report claims. “This creates a vacuum for the Russian-speaking population and gives them the false impression that they should leave… This is not limited to one or several regions—it is encountered everywhere.” Arkhipova also points to a lack of certified interpreters in legal and investigative institutions, arguing that this results in violations of the rights of ethnic Russians.

In closing, she outlines several “recommendations” intended to improve the status of Russians in Georgia:

• Promote Russian as a second official language through targeted policy and legislative changes;
• Empower Russians in political and civic life, encouraging both long-time residents and recent arrivals to participate in governance and public engagement;
• Ease residency and citizenship procedures for Russians, to facilitate their political emancipation and integration;
• Conduct a national census to determine the actual number of ethnic Russians living in Georgia.

Recent legislative shifts introduced by Georgia’s ruling party, “Georgian Dream,” bear a striking resemblance to proposals previously outlined by the Arkhipovs.

• In November 2023, the Georgian government amended its Organic Law “On Georgian Citizenship,” easing the naturalization process. The required period of uninterrupted residency was cut from 10 to 5 years. Additionally, foreign nationals who are denied citizenship can now reapply after just six months, instead of the previous one-year waiting period.
• Another significant change followed in December 2024. Under amendments to the Law “On Public Service,” heads and deputy heads of structural units in state institutions are no longer classified as public servants. As a result, they are no longer required to know the Georgian language—a rule that had previously applied to all public officials.

The tone and messaging of the Arkhipovs’ 2023 report on the treatment of Russians in Georgia mirrors the rhetoric they used in 2014 during the annexation of Crimea. At the time, Maria Arkhipova accused the Ukrainian government of neo-Nazism and claimed that Russia’s military intervention was necessary to protect ethnic Russians.

Maria Arkhipova has begun echoing her earlier Crimea-era rhetoric in Georgia—this time, making her claims openly in Russian media. She asserts that anti-Russian provocations in Georgia are driven by the political opposition and groups linked to Ukraine’s Maidan movement. In an interview with a Russian outlet in October 2024, she warned that if Russians' rights continue to be violated, Russia may be forced to “take Georgia back,” just as it is “taking back Ukraine.”

“One of the oldest native peoples in Georgia is the Russians,” Arkhipova said. “Russian diplomacy must act in this direction. The Russian language must be granted official status, Russian schools must be established, and Russians must be granted diplomatic protection. Otherwise, we will have to take Georgia back exactly as we are now taking back Ukraine.”

In correspondence with Pravfond and Russia’s Ministry of Education, Arkhipova also raised concerns about Russian-language social media communities in Georgia. She claimed many of the Facebook groups are controlled by Ukrainians or anti-Russian Russians sympathetic to Ukraine, and included lists of individuals involved. One example she named was Nikolai Levshits, a Russian citizen who manages a Facebook group and a Telegram channel. According to Arkhipova, Levshits played a role in organizing anti-Russian protests in Kutaisi in March 2023 and enforced strict censorship of the Russian language and culture within his group.

Throughout 2023, the Arkhipovs submitted at least ten reports to Pravfond alleging that ethnic Russians were being persecuted in Georgia.

The Arkhipovs have consistently worked to convince both their Russian audience and state institutions that attitudes toward Russia in Georgia are primarily favorable, and that they enjoy significant support. These narratives are reflected in their correspondence with Pravfond and are also echoed in their media appearances.

“The Georgian people don’t want capitalism. They want to live with Soviet Russians and are well-disposed toward ordinary Russians… We explain to Georgians that normal Russians also oppose corruption and support friendship and cooperation between our countries. They tell us they are fully in solidarity,” Maria Arkhipova said in an October 2024 interview with a Russian media outlet.

Throughout their time in Georgia, Yulia and Maria have repeatedly tried to demonstrate their strategic value to Russia. At times, they proposed a “peace formula,” and at others, they offered help in circumventing sanctions by supplying restricted goods.

One of their most striking suggestions was a so-called peace proposal that envisioned a “mutually beneficial collective security system” between Georgia and Russia. Under the plan, Georgia could eventually join the European Union—but never NATO. In return for lifting visa restrictions for Georgians and returning the occupied territories (with the caveat that Russia would handle the safety of Internally Displaced Persons), Russia would be allowed to establish military bases in Georgian territory. The proposal also recommends that the republics not be unitary, but rather federal.

“This is truly a unique moment when negotiations are possible with the current adequate government (‘Georgian Dream’), which holds the majority—and this is the reality,” the Arkhipovs wrote in a February 20, 2023, letter. “The return of territories in exchange for Russian military bases is a realistic policy that benefits everyone—ordinary people and politicians alike.”

Following the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Maria Arkhipova also offered to help Pravfond avoid Western sanctions. In a letter dated April 9, 2022, she wrote:
“I have the opportunity to help supply any components needed for electronics, as well as spare parts and equipment that Russia previously purchased abroad. I can deliver via so-called third countries or directly myself. If you need help in this direction, let me know.”

We sent written questions to the Arkhipovs asking why they reported alleged persecution of Russians in Georgia to Pravfond, advocated for Russian as an official language, and proposed “peace plans” involving Russian military presence.

Their unedited response was as follows:

“As for the deployment of Russian troops, this is my political position. I have publicly advocated on social media for convergence between Russia and the European Union. Historically, Russia protected Georgia from Turkey and the Islamic world. Georgia joins the EU—Russia does not oppose this, provided that Russian military bases are stationed in Georgia. At the same time, Russia does not hinder the reintegration of Abkhazia and South Ossetia into Georgia. In return, Georgia does not join NATO. This entire process occurs by the principles of human rights, freedoms, and sovereignty. Russia does not interfere in internal affairs, except in cases of mass unrest caused by genocide against Russians. The Russian language is spoken by 90 percent of Georgia’s population. For Russians, it is their native language, and it is normal for Russian to be granted official status in Georgia—such practices are also found in EU countries. Language rights are human rights.”

From Cosmodrome to Jam Factory: Tracing the Arkhipovs’ Business Ties in Guria

As Maria and Yulia Arkhipova settled near Lanchkhuti, they found a local ally in Gela Zoidze. A fixture in the region’s business scene, Zoidze not only introduced them to local entrepreneurs but also became their business partner, holding shares in two companies alongside the Arkhipovs. Yet, much like their cosmodrome project, these ventures remain stalled.

Zoidze currently manages the Lanchkhuti Chamber of Commerce and Industry’s regional office. He previously headed the municipality-backed NPO “Lanchkhuti municipality Center for Economic Development and Innovation,” which operated from 2009 until its closure in 2022.

The Arkhipovs launched their business activity in Georgia in early 2022:

• February 3: They founded LLC Serviuki Agro, though its charter doesn’t specify its purpose. From April 2022 to September 2023, Zoidze held shares in the company.
• February 4: They established LLC Georgian Space Technologies, where the Arkhipovs are the sole listed owners and directors.
• May 3: They registered LLC Chai Chibati, a tea production venture co-owned by Zoidze, the Arkhipovs, and Malkhaz Katamadze. According to Zoidze, the company never became active because “the Arkhipovs had no funds at all.”
• June 30: The Arkhipovs and Zoidze became co-owners of LLC Limoni, with Yulia Arkhipova appointed as director. The story of this company is relatively tangled and contentious. Here’s what we mean:

Registered in 1999, LLC Limoni owns more than half a hectare of land in Shukhuti and previously operated a jam factory that exported fruit and vegetable preserves to Ukraine. Zoidze introduced the Arkhipovs to the company’s four existing owners in 2022. According to the latter, the Russians pledged to revive the factory and invest over 2 million GEL.

Zoidze confirmed this in an interview with iFact, saying the deal hinged on preserving the original facility. He explained that restarting operations would require a “solid investment,” which justified involving the Arkhipovs. However, neither he nor the other shareholders verified whether the Arkhipovs had the funds.

Journalist: “Mr. Gela, when you help foreign nationals with investments, don’t you check where the money comes from? What if it’s tied to drugs, arms, human trafficking or money laundering?”

Zoidze: “These people come to Georgia, they move around, cooperate with official structures—how was I supposed to check? I told someone from law enforcement about it—if there’s an issue, look into it. We entrepreneurs don’t know what someone’s plans or intentions are.”

When asked how he met the Arkhipovs, Zoidze explained:

“They were referred to me from the notary's office in Lanchkhuti. They needed help drafting company charters and registering a business. That’s how we assisted startups and cooperatives. Later, we suggested they visit Tamaz Imnaishvili, the head of Limoni. We went to the site together. The factory had been idle for a long time, and they [Arkhipovs] expressed interest in investing in it. That’s how they joined the company.”

The Factory That Never Came Back

We met 85-year-old Tamaz Imnaishvili and 70-year-old Darejan Kalajishvili in the village of Shukhuti on June 29. They shared how hopeful they had been when the Russian investors arrived, believing their long-idle factory might finally be brought back to life.

“We went to the notary, and a contract was drawn up. It stated that these Russians—Yulia Arkhipova and the other one—had $ 3.5 million in their account. From that, about 2.5 million was supposed to be invested in our factory for renovation, expansion, and restarting operations,” Darejan recalled. “I read the contract at the notary and said to her, “Mother, they have the money. This is great if they truly plan to reopen the factory.”

In exchange, the old owners transferred 51.55% of their shares for free: 49% to the Arkhipovs and 2.55% to Gela Zoidze, who acted as a go-between. The transaction was finalized in June 2022 at the office of Notary Marina Jikia in Poti. Yulia Arkhipova was named director of the company.

This gave the Arkhipovs control over more than half a hectare of land and the buildings owned by LLC Limoni. But within just a few months, the original owners grew suspicious. There were no visible signs of progress, and soon, tensions flared. The new owners began blocking them from entering the premises.

“I went there once, and they wouldn’t let me in,” Tamaz said. “When I finally did get inside, seven Russians surrounded me and started shouting, ‘Get out, get out!’ One of them insulted my mother. I was so shaken—I hadn’t said a word to them. I needed medical attention afterward.”

With no communication from the new director and the factory still inactive, the old shareholders tried to remove Yulia Arkhipova from her post. But their request was denied by the Public Registry after Arkhipova objected. In July 2023, she submitted her document to the registry—a document the previous owners viewed as dubious and suspicious in origin.

One year after the original deal, the Arkhipovs submitted a new document to the registry that drastically shifted the terms. In it, they claimed their “intellectual contribution” to the company was worth $30 million and that this would serve as their input into managing the business. In return, the former owners were expected to grant Yulia Arkhipova complete control over the company and agree not to interfere. The promised investment of 2.5 million GEL was never mentioned in this document.The only obligation listed was for the new director to cover outstanding company debts and “revive” operations.

The document was notarized at the same office where the original deal had been made, but its date and the signatures on it raised eyebrows. The Russian version was dated June 22, 2022, while the Georgian version was dated June 30. Darejan and Tamaz insist they only visited the notary once and signed documents only on that occasion.

“That 2.5 million was supposed to go into production? It turns out that Arkhipova’s brain was valued at $30 million. What the hell do I care about her brain?” Darejan said.

“Would we ever sign off on ‘intellect’? We signed because they said they’d invest money. When we saw the documents later, they had already been changed,” added Tamaz.

The version submitted to the public registry contains photocopied signatures in black ink. In contrast, their other official filings are signed in blue ink, consistent with original documents.

We asked Maria and Yulia Arkhipova if they considered their actions commercial fraud. They denied any wrongdoing, claiming they entered the deal out of compassion for the elderly owners and had different plans at the outset: “They told us, ‘We’ll agree to anything—just buy the factory.’ But the very next day, Georgian nationalists came to the factory and launched a loud campaign against me as a ‘Russian occupier.’ They shouted, staged scandals... We saw it as a provocation. We demanded our money back and were ready to return to the factory. They stalled. Due to the conflict, we suspended investments in Limoni, installed guards, mothballed the facility for reconstruction, and filed a lawsuit,” they wrote.

Since her appointment, Yulia Arkhipova has failed to fulfill her duties as director. The factory’s debts remain unpaid, and as of July 2, 2025, the land is still subject to a lien. No production has resumed—only the guard booth has been renovated. Russians brought in from Ukraine were hired as security and still live on the premises together with dogs, and outsiders are barred from entry.

For two years, the original owners have been trying to remove Arkhipova as director and reclaim their stake. They have filed complaints with the prosecutor’s office and the courts and retained legal counsel. But no court hearing has been scheduled, and the case remains unresolved.

When we showed Tamaz and Darejan the real purpose behind the land acquisition—including Maria’s YouTube videos showing the site as part of a future cosmodrome—they were stunned. We explained Maria Arkhipova’s background, her gender transition, her arrival in Georgia, and her links to Russian soft-power institutions.

After a long pause, Darejan turned to Tamaz with a single, quiet question: "Where did you find these people, you blessed one?"

It was Tamaz’s idea to bring the Russians in as investors to the factory.

Where are the Arkhipovs now, and what are they planning?

In May 2024, Maria Arkhipova took to social media with alarming news: her blood pressure had spiked to 230, she had lost weight, couldn’t sleep, and believed she had been poisoned.
“A month ago, while skiing in the mountains, two men were loitering near my car. When they saw me, they walked away. I approached them and they asked questions that, as a lawyer, I found inappropriate... I felt fine while skiing, but after drinking water in the car and eating a banana at home, my face swelled, I struggled to breathe, and I began convulsing,” she wrote.

Maria continued posting about her health, claiming that doctors couldn’t diagnose her and that she was treating herself. She began to talk about how she missed her hometown, friends, and home in Russia. Meanwhile, Yulia contacted Pravfond, asking for help to return Maria to Russia for treatment, despite Maria’s earlier claim of being in exile from Russia.

Their longtime Pravfond contact, Igor Panevkin, responded with sympathy but said the now-sanctioned foundation couldn’t offer real assistance.

While the full scope of their correspondence remains unclear, we confirmed that Maria is currently undergoing treatment in France. However, social media activity in fall 2024 suggested both she and Yulia had spent time in Russia, particularly in Maria’s hometown of Domodedovo.

The trip had a backstory. In March 2023, the Arkhipovs told Pravfond they were defending Lali Moroshkina in Georgia. They claimed Moroshkina had reached out for legal help after facing threats and discrimination due to her appearance on Russian TV. “She’s afraid for her and her child’s safety, feels confused and powerless,” they wrote, asking Pravfond to assist her as an ethnic Russian.

However, when we contacted Moroshkina by phone, she dismissed the claim. She said the women had introduced themselves at Café Canape two years prior through an intermediary, identifying themselves as sisters and claiming to be exiled Russian lawyers seeking to defend Russians in Georgia. She later saw their cosmodrome plans on Facebook and grew suspicious, so she reported them to Georgia’s State Security Service (SUS).

“These women are either charlatans, spies, or fraudsters,” Moroshkina said. “I even gave SUS screenshots of their posts and their phone numbers with Georgian SIM cards. When there’s this much social media activity, something’s usually behind it. I didn’t follow up.”

The intermediary who introduced them was Dali (Mary) Milorava, a retired local from Lanchkhuti who briefly worked as their interpreter. Zoidze had introduced her to the Arkhipovs and asked her to help with translations. Speaking with us by phone, Milorava said she quickly realized the Arkhipovs were exaggerating their wealth and ambitions.
“They talked about buying land in Gomis Mta, Grigoleti—but bought nothing. They said they were cousins and wanted to build ‘sputniks.’ They even went to Tbilisi about permits, but nothing came of it,” she said.

Milorava confirmed that Maria is now in France receiving treatment, and said she no longer communicates regularly with them. She added that police and security services had shown interest in their activities, though she couldn’t recall from which agency.

The Arkhipovs themselves told us that they have not left Georgia. In messages to us, they said they’re abroad temporarily for health reasons and denied any issues with law enforcement. They acknowledged one meeting with the State Security Service, held at the Guria Chamber of Commerce with its director present.

“They asked about our work—we said ‘space.’ They responded that space development is a national interest for Georgia and welcomed our company,” they said.

We attempted to confirm with the SUS for a week whether any investigation into the Arkhipovs had been initiated or completed, but received no response.

Our first direct contact with Maria and Yulia came on July 4 via WhatsApp, using a Russian phone number. We began in English. They replied that Georgian journalists should speak Russian and started teaching us the Russian alphabet. They refused to answer questions directly and asked us to submit them in writing. Two hours later, they sent their replies.

Meanwhile, they posted about us on Facebook, accompanied by a photo of toilet paper.
“Georgian nationalists contacted me about their investigation… The Georgian people love me, and I love them, but Georgian investigators and nationalists belong on this toilet paper,” the caption read.

They later deleted the post, but re-published it after we followed up with additional questions.

They never answered those follow-ups. Instead, they warned that our information was incorrect and threatened legal action if we published. We replied that our work is based on verified documents, facts, and evidence—and that we’re prepared to defend it in court. We noted that intimidation tactics might be effective against elderly locals in Guria, but not against journalists.

Their final message:
"А, ещё и запугивание. Понятно 🤣" — “Oh, and now intimidation too. Got it 🤣.”

Contributors to this article:
Journalists: Ia Asatiani, Eter Midelashvili, Natia Mikhelidze
Reporter: Shorena Laghadze
Graphic Designer: Nino Gagua
Editor: Nino Bakradze

Sources used in this article

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