The ancient Sikorsky Ilya Mourometz V crawled through the air with, as it seemed to the passengers, agonizing slowness. The terror and excitement of the glass-bottomed section of the plane had long since run out, and as it was getting dark, there was less and less to see out of any window. They were cold, tired, hungry, but most of all bored. The flight had taken hours, and it would take hours more. And still the former WWI strategic bomber marched ever onward towards Moscow.
Tanya, the interpreter and photographer of the team, was initially excited to have the chance to her mother country, but as the flight wore on she became more and more anxious. Changes had been made since the October Revolution, big changes, which she was afraid of. What had once been a nation of peaceful peasants was now a dictatorship gearing up for world conquest. She feared for her mother country. And yet, in a way, she was filled with pride and patriotism. After all, roads were now being built, factories erected daily, and Lenin was championing the way towards what appeared to be a great future.
But still she worried. She had heard many rumors...Vicious rumors, of people disappearing. Of dissent being squelched through guns. Of looting and pillaging of Russia's history and art, all to fund the war machine. She shuddered, even with her heavy coat it was cold as the Russian winter up so high in the air. She got up and, waving her long, bushy vulpine tail in a show of unconscious seduction towards nonexistent males, walked up the stairs to the washroom. The plane had already made two stops, it would not need to refuel until it landed, and so she decided now was the time to make sure she looked beautiful (an easy thing for her), and that her camera was in working order.
Her ``boss'', if she could be called such, was dozing in her seat. Fifine was also a fox, but her fur was lighter and tipped with white instead of black like Tanya's, indicating her French origin. She was dressed to be prepared, wearing somewhat manly clothes (highly unusual for such a woman of refinement) but clearly more suited to more dignified clothing. Of course, this was to be a job of hard work, not of refinement, and hence she chose clothes for the job. She had packed a few dresses in her bags, but that was unimportant now. Across the way from her napped the wolf named General Barrax, a war-worn old Drablavian general. He was wearing his field uniform, medals and rank insignias removed for safekeeping (and to help keep him from being identified). His snores were so loud you could hear them over the drone of the engines, but as only Professor Proton was awake and in the room to hear them, there was only him to complain.
Professor proton was pouring over a manuscript with the help of one of the primitive electric lights located above him. Although he had cursed the small, poor-quality light at first, he now found it to be mostly adequate, as it was so dark in here that the light provided almost enough to see what he was reading. It was clear he was having trouble. The manuscript was in Russian, and his first language being French, he was having trouble cutting through the flowery and prosaic Russian which had been put into this book. The cover said ``A History of Czarist Possessions and Activities'' and that is what it was. Unfortunately, the Russian historian who had written it had obviously intended to find favor with the now-dead Romanov family, and had spent more time talking about how wonderful they were than he had writing the real meat and sustenance of the book. He sighed and pulled out his pencil, crossing out line after line of downright silly and superfluous adjectives, trying to find what he was looking for. Eventually he did, and he was relived to no longer have to search for meaning in this atrociously bad manuscript. The passage was still hard to read, but it told him what he wanted to know, and wanted to keep secret. The location of the Czar's scepter, one of the many Romanov artifacts lost in the Revolution and sought most aggressively by Stalin and Lenin themselves. But most of all, not them, but General Boris Zukhov, or ``Bloody Boris'' as he was known. The old turtle shook his head at even the thought of Bloody Boris. A living puppet for Stalin, even the soviet oppression of information hadn't stopped the rumors of his atrocities. Men, women and children buried alive simply because an enemy of the state had been found in the village. Death marches. Murder. Torture. Genocide. Bloody Boris had earned his name many times over.
Tanya came down from the washroom, her camera now prepped and loaded, flash and film all quite ready to go. She grinned, knowing that not only would this be a great opportunity to take pictures of the new Russia, but to meet members of her family she hadn't seen in years. Additionally, working for Fifine was an honor that surely would make her famous. Fifine's adventures in Bamako, Egypt and Drablavia were well known and had made her famous the world over. Children bought books of her adventures as fast as they were printed, and an autographed photo of Fifine could sell for thousands to the right buyer. This sort of fame was just the opportunity the beautiful and talented Tanya needed to ensure her photography career took off. She smiled and checked over her equipment yet again, even though she knew it was in wonderful working order and quite stocked. She was so excited she barely noticed the cold! Soon it began to dissipate, though, as the plane slowly lowered itself through the clouds. The pilot leaned back towards the passenger cabin to yell the only English he knew, hoping to wake and please his French-born but English-speaking passengers: ``Welcoming you to Moscow!''
Fifine was clearly nervous as she went through customs. There were many forms for her to fill out, and Tanya constantly had to translate the long-winded and confusing Russian questions on the form. Fifine sighed as she finished yet another page of mindless paperwork. Fifine`s aggravation became more and more evident as her hand grew cramped and tired. She'd signed her name at least fifty times by now, didn't they know who she is?''
``What's this bird here?'' a gruff, Russian voice said. Fifine turned around and saw a Soldier picking up Fifine's pet Dodo by his feet. The poor bird was squawking and flapping its vestigial wings around in an attempt to get free, or at least to bite the soldier holding him, but the soldier just laughed and held the bird up in the air, eyeing it like he intended to cook it. ``Some sort of ugly chicken?''
Fifine snatched Dodo out of his hand and returned the bird to a proper and upright position in her arms. She cooed and caressed the startled Dodo, making sure he was calm and relaxed before she started yelling at the soldier.
``Its not a chicken, its my pet Dodo, and he's the last of his kind so you should treat him better!'' Were Fifine any closer to her vulpine ancestors one could imagine her snarling and barking at the soldier, but she was much more civilized than that. The soldier backed off casually, not wanting to get another tongue lashing from the independent minded and self-empowered woman. Fifine turned around and continued to fill out forms, Dodo now sitting contentedly on the table as she wrote her name, birthdate, and place of residence over and over again. Finally, she reached the last page, and handed it over to the man at the desk. The grizzled old paper-pusher didn't even bother looking at it, he simply pitched it over his shoulder into the garbage can.
``What did you do that for? I must have spent hours filling it out!'' Fifine had not been treated at all well since she got off the plane, and had quite a lot to be mad about by now.
``The law requires that I make you fill out the forms,'' said the man behind the counter ``but not that I bother to read them. You and your three comrades are free to enter the country now. Please get your passports stamped and head down the hall.'' Fifine fumed with anger as she dragger her bulky suitcases down the hall, Dodo waddling along in tow. She hoped the rest of her trip would suit her better.
The outside of the hotel had been quite impressive, as it was formerly used to house visitors to the Romanov family. It had not been well kept since the revolution, however, and had grown gray and moldy over time. The staff, too, seemed to have no greater desire than to lay around and talk to one another or listen to the radio in the lobby. Fortunately for Fifine, though, Barrax's crowbar/cane managed to convince the bellhop to do more than listen to ``Katyusha'' play on the radio.
``You worthless waste of space! Get these bags up to room forty-seven before I put your brains all over the carpet!'' the bellhop apologized and ducked, running towards the bags as Barrax kept swinging. Everyone laughed, except for Barrax and the bellhop. The bellhop was lucky Barrax's age prevented him from swinging faster or more accurately, as the old wolf's aged arms clearly intended to strike the lazy boy if chance permitted. The bellhop finally managed to grab the bags and begin dragging them up the stairs, his head still ducked low in case the swinging cane should come back again. But it didn't, as Barrax needed to rest from all that exercise, and was leaning on his cane with both hands and panting.
``Go on up to the room without me,'' he said. ``I'll be along as soon as I catch my breath.'' Fifine and her party nodded and walked up the stairs after the bellhop, who kept cringing and ducking almost up until he unlocked the door to the room and showed the ladies (and Professor Proton) into it.
The room was fancy for soviet standards, but Fifine was much more used to schmoozing with foreign aristocracies than sleeping in cut-rate hotels. Still, it had two double beds, a table and two chairs. It also had a personal bathroom and a walk-in closet, both quite luxurious when compared to other rooms they could have chosen. Fifine laid her bags in the corner and flopped on the bed, tired from her long journey. She checked her watch. It was past midnight now. And she was so tired. Before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep.
By the time Fifine had awoken, it was morning. Barrax and Proton were snoring away loudly in the bed next to hers. She looked up, but Tanya was nowhere to be found. She moved quietly to her bags, not wishing to wake up the old men or Dodo, who was sleeping peacefully on one of the chairs. She lugged her bags over to the closet and opened it. Before she could see anything she heard a loud shriek.
``AIIIIIIEEEE! Pleased to be closing the doorrr, Fifine!'' before Fifine could do anything, the door slammed shut. She heard some rumbling and rustling from inside the closet. A few moments later, Tanya opened the door.
``Don't open a darrrk rrroom without knocking, Fifine! You almost rrruined everrrything!'' It was then that Fifine noticed that Tanya had only two things on. One was a smile, the other a cigarette between two of her fingers. Fifine shied her eyes away and closed them.
``I'm sorry Tanya, I didn't know you were naked! Please, you can put some clothes on.'' Said Fifine, as she kept her eyes averted. Tanya blinked, then put her hand on Fifine's shoulders.
``Didn't you know,'' said the russian vixen, ``that I'm a furrist? I'm not much one for clothes...I find them constrrricting, and not as beautiful as the body. Norrrmally I don't wearrr anything at all when I am in my own rrroom. But I figurrred, if I did that herrre, I might give Generrral Barrrax a heart attack!'' Tanya almost stumbled over the word ``Barrax.'' She drew hour her ``r's'' so long that it was almost impossible for her to pronounce more than one at a time without sounding like she was purring. She walked over to one of the hangers in the closet and began to put on some clothing of hers.
``Please, if you arrre coming in, shut the doorrr.'' She said to Fifine. Fifine moved in and shut the door, the large closet now illuminated only by a single dark red lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Tanya had a number of trays of developing fluid set up on a small folding table, and now that it was safe, she took the covers off them and resumed developing and enlarging the photographs she had taken, pausing only to puff on her cigarette or replace it with a fresh one. She had been in the room awhile, and as it had almost no ventilation, the smoke had become thick and hazy. Fifine coughed a bit, not being a smoker herself and unused to the foul smell.
``What are you developing?'' asked Fifine. Tanya held up a negative to the light, then passed it on to Fifine.
``I was noticing some interrresting things when we werrre walking to our hotel.'' Tanya said. ``Doctorrr Prrroton mentioned that what we werrre afterrr was orrriginally storrred in a house forrr the carrre of rrroyal guests. Take a look at these photos.'' Tanya handed some old photos to Fifine, who immediately began to ruffle through them.
``Tanya, this is our hotel!'' exclaimed Fifine. ``Yes, the exterior has changed a bit, and its not as pretty as it once was, but these photos...They were taken before the revolution, and it was of this very building!''
``Corrrrrect!'' said Tanya. ``This building was meant to enterrrtain guests, and once had a larrrge concerrrt hall, with a Museum of Rrroyal Artifacts underrr it.''
``But I didn't see any concert hall on the way in,'' said Fifine. ``Dark as it was, I doubt I would miss such a large building!
``It was...Destrrroyed in the rrrevolution.'' Said Tanya. ``You should not botherrr yourrrself with the details...Many people were killed. It was verrry sad...'' Tanya paused and took a particularly long drag on her cigarette, tapping it out in a small ashtray. ``But you see, they werrre building a gymnasium and swimming pool on the top of the foundation. The old museum was underrrrneath.''
``But wouldn't it have been raided, just like everything else? The looting was intense once the Czar had been taken away...''
``Yes, of courrrse it was...But not all of it. Many of the arrrtifacts that werrre supposed to be therrre never showed up on the black marrrket. I think there would be some kind of...storrrage rrrroom that the looters did not find. The worrrkerrrs must not have looked forrr it, orrr not opened it, because they werrre too busy trrrying to build the swimming pool on top of it!'' Tanya and Fifine both grinned.
``Well then we must wake Barrax and Proton! To think, we just arrived last night, and already the Czar's Scepter is only next door!''
The areas beneath the swimming pool were dank and wet, the only light coming from a flashlight they had brought along. There was a constant sound of dripping as the hastily-installed pipes leaked water. They huddled close together, scared that any one of them might explode suddenly and flood them out.
What had once been a mighty museum was now anything but. Originally it had been made of three underground floors, but the first had been ripped apart to make room for the swimming pool. The one beneath it, where they were now, had been stripped of anything useful and now housed the pumps and hot-water tanks needed to run the radiators, showers and filters that kept the gymnasium and pool in working order. If there were any lights, none of the four huddled companions could find them.
``Well there clearly aren't any artifacts here.'' Said Professor Proton. ``Can anyone see the stairs to the lower level? And while we're on that question, can anyone see anything at all?'' It was just then that the stairs found them. A long spiraling staircase, located in the middle of the room, took them downstairs very quickly as they all fell down it, tumbling into a heap. They were lucky to have fallen on just the first few steps, as the safety railing had been removed and they could have fallen to their deaths. They moaned and groaned in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, the flashlight, somehow still on and working, tossed over to the side. Fifine slowly extracted herself, her hand rubbing the small of her back where Barrax's cane had bashed against it.
``Is everyone all right?'' she asked. Luckily, no one was hurt very badly, although not a one of them was without bruises, aches and pains. She went over to the flashlight to pick it up, and noticed that the rotting, dusty carpet it was laying on top of had a pattern significantly off-center from the rest of the floor. As she walked on top of it, it creaked, the sound of old iron taking new weight. ``A panel!'' Fifine exclaimed. Quickly she dropped down and began fingering the edges. Barrax ran over and, using his crowbar cane, pried open the panel and helped Fifine to move it aside. Professor Proton picked up the flashlight and shone it down the opening.
``A stairway!'' he exclaimed. ``And there's a door at the bottom! If the Czar's scepter is anywhere, its behind that door. They all grinned. Suddenly, there was a bright, blinding flash of light. Fifine, Barrax and Proton both began to stumble around, rubbing their eyes and trying to see. Tanya flushed red in the darkness, her hands instinctively replacing the now-used flashbulb.
``I am being so sorrrrrry!'' she said. ``You werrre all just so happy...I wished to capturrre the moment of discoverrry.'' Everyone was too pleased with themselves to do anything more than laugh. They quickly walked down the steps and opened the rusting, creaking door to reveal what lay behind.
The storage room had lain abandoned for quite some time, evidently not visited since before the revolution. The electric lighting, while still installed, had been disconnected. Fortunately, Professor Proton found some candles, and soon the room was filled with a dim, yellow light. The room had no sort of organization, and priceless artifacts were strewn around the room with little to no care.
``What a waste!'' exclaimed Professor Proton as he pulled a dress out of an open chest. It had become so moth-eaten that it was good for little more than making rags. They all fumbled around, checking through box after box, most of which were unlabeled. Also, as Fifine and Barrax were not very good with russian, they found it hard to read many of the labels. After an hour of searching, Barrax sighed and leaned against a nearby pedestal, the dust so thick on the glass display case no one could see what it contained. As he put his weight on it, it began to topple over, and before he could stop it the large marble pedestal headed straight for the ground. The glass case broke into a million pieces, the marble cracked in several places, and a long cylindrical object bounced out. Fifine ran forward and grabbed it, holding it up to a nearby candle.
``It's the Czar's Scepter!'' exclaimed Professor Proton. ``Let's get out of here, and back to the hotel where we can examine this in more detail!''
It had been hours since they'd gotten back, and the Czar's Scepter had yielded no secrets whatsoever.
``What was it that the passage says again, Professor Proton?'' asked Fifine. The old turtle pulled out the worn volume he'd been reading on the plane and flipped to the earmarked page, looking for the underlining he'd left from before.
``It says here that the `Scepter is an object of great importance' and that it `is the guide and map to the Czar's reserve treasures', which are stored at an ancient castle somewhere out in the seas to the east.''
``Well, therrre is a lot of sea to the east of motherrr Russia!'' said Tanya as she laid out on the bed. It was dark now, and as they had eaten their room service, there was little to do besides sleep or ponder the scepter. Barrax had already chosen sleep, and soon Tanya was sleeping peacefully under the covers. Fifine sighed and picked up the scepter, taking it to the bathroom while Professor Proton poured over his books and the many photographs Tanya had either taken today or brought along. Dodo toddled along after her. Fifine closed the door and turned on the water, hoping that this time, she might clean off some stain or smudge that would reveal useful information. As she had done this three times already, she held out little hope. She held it up and looked at it.
``What's your secret, you golden little scepter you?''
Suddenly Fifine heard the main door of the room being broken open, the large wooden door falling flat against the floor, then being trampled by the muddy boots of several soldiers. Fifine was about to open the door when suddenly shots rang out, two of them going through the door of the bathroom. She ducked down low and clutched Dodo, wanting to help her friends but afraid of being shot. She listened carefully to what was going on outside.
``A vixen and an old turtle and a war criminal! This is them!'' exclaimed the soldier who must have been in charge. There was quite a scuffle, and the sound of Barrax's cane coming into contact with an unhelmeted head was plain to be heard. One of the soldiers must have put his hands on the wrong part of Tanya's anatomy, as she slapped him so hard Fifine winced from just the sound of it. Hearing the footsteps retreat, she cracked open the door just long enough to see the uniforms of the departing soldiers. They were perfectly normal for Russian soldiers, excepting that they had a large, unusual wolf's head patch on their right shoulders. She stepped out of the bathroom now, and watched them run, knowing better than to call attention to herself as she watched Tanya, Barrax and Professor Proton being carried off. She gripped the scepter, worry filling her face. Why had the soldiers come, and why did they take away her friends? More importantly, why had they left her? They must have mistaken Tanya for her! Fifine stamped her foot and marched back to the room, frustrated. She didn't know what to do next. She sighed and grabbed her purse, clumsily hiding the scepter inside it, and walked down to the bar.
Fifine had not touched her vodka. She was not, after all, here to drink. The bar was a very expensive and fancy one, and it was filled with all sorts of persons in various states of intoxication. She knew that drunk people tended to have loose lips, and if she listened carefully she might get to hear what she wanted to know. But unfortunately, nothing of any importance had been heard yet. She sighed, plinking her glass around on the table. ``I just wish I knew why and where they were taken!'' she said in English.
``Why and where who?'' said a voice next to her. ``My name is Roland, and you are?'' Fifine turned, and saw a smiling, blonde-haired and blue-eyed fox sitting next to her. About twenty and only half drunk, he was clad in an American-style flight jacket. The leather was worn with use, and it was clear both it and its owner had spent great amounts of time in the air. He was nursing a beer a little and grinning. While he looked harmless, it was pretty clear to Fifine that this fellow was a romancer and a heartbreaker and Fifine knew what it was he wanted.
``I'm Fifine'' she said. ``And my friends were kidnapped!''
``Kidnapped, or taken by the police?'' asked Roland. ``Lots of people go ``missing'' around here, if they're not saying or doing the right things.'' Roland had an unusual, but distinctly American, accent. It sounded as though he was trying to disguise his nation of origin, but he wasn't doing a very good job.
``Neither. A bunch of soldiers broke into my room and carried them off!'' replied Fifine. Roland stiffened at the mention of soldiers. Roland slid his muzzle up against Fifine's ear and spoke into it, keeping a lecherous look on his face. But there was nothing but fear in his eyes.
``It's a good thing we're talking in English. General Yukov is in town. You know, bloody Boris? The genocide in Chechnya ring a bell?'' Fifine whispered into his.
``I haven't heard of this `Bloody Boris' before, but I'm beginning to think that my friends are in more trouble than I had thought!''
``Listen, I'm a foreign consultant for Bloody Boris. I know where his base is. I think I can help you out and help you. Just let's act like I'm picking you up, and I'll take you back, maybe we can get your friends out before its too late.'' Roland grinned and pecked her on the cheek, putting his arm around her. ``I hope you don't mind if I make it look realistic...'' he said. Fifine was, his breath stunk of beer and cigarettes, and she wasn't to keen on having Roland's roaming hands moving all over her.
``Fine,'' she said ``but if you touch anything below my shoulders I'll slap you!'' Roland just grinned, although whether it was his acting or his lecherous nature was hard to determine.
Fifine ended up having to slap Roland on their way to the airport, as he let his hand slide not only past her shoulders but all the way down onto her hind end. Still, he seemed to almost not have noticed it, excepting that he kept his hands where they were supposed to be. The soldiers laughed and spoke amongst themselves as they saw Roland walking around the base with another girl. From the talk of it, Roland was apparently an even bigger womanizer than Fifine had thought, as the men cheered him on. Roland smiled and talked with them, making a rather great show of it all, putting his face in Fifine's and pretending to kiss her, but in reality behaving almost like a gentleman. After what was, for Fifine, a good twenty minutes of tension, Roland managed to get her into his private cabin. Now that they were alone, she turned to him, her anger now clear.
``What nerve you have, Roland, to treat me like that! I'm not some soldier-loving slut you picked up out of a bar like you seem to prefer!'' Roland sighed...
''Hey no problem then...'' He tossed her a jacket. ``Put this on. It'll be cold where we're going.'' Roland continued to toss her gear, all of it female flying equipment. He grinned. ``You're lucky that its quite common for me to take my dates flying. No one will be suspicious.
The PO-2 trainer well suited Roland's hands. The aged but sturdy biplane carried him and Fifine through the air, Dodo in Fifine's lap. The sun had risen as they flew, and Roland was somewhat sleepy by now. He lazily flew on, his ears barely listening to the steady static and crackle over the radio. Suddenly his ears perked up.
``Hey Fifine, they're on to you! They say that...To be on the lookout for...For a Polikarov biplane...Headed...'' Roland didn't have time to finish. The sudden ``Pok pok pok'' of hot lead ripping through fabric interrupted him. Thinking instinctively, he tipped the nose of the plane down and sent it into a full power dive.
``Hold on to something!'' he ordered. Luckily for Fifine, she was already buckled tightly into her seat. She screamed in horror as the plane pointed its nose straight at the ground, the engine roaring as it pulled the plane towards the hard earth as fast as it could, Roland finally leveled out, and Fifine felt the g-forces slamming her down hard into her seat. She looked behind her. In the distance, four planes were following them, all of different colors. Roland noticed them too, and when he did, he swore.
``Those are Boris's personal air escort? What the hell are they doing out here?'' More streams of tracer fire arced around the plane. Dodo squawked as bullets tore into the plane, one of then snapping the cross of the Czar's scepter. Roland forced the plane into another dive, but then aborted it early and forced his plane into a turning curve. A simple maneuver, he managed to get the biplane's single practice gun firing. One of the aircraft began to spew smoke, and it took off with its wingman to make it back to safety. The other two continued, and Roland whimpered as the last of the practice rounds left his gun, the machine making a repeated ``Clackclackclack'' as it tried to fire bullets that weren't there. They never gave you enough!
Roland sent the plane into another dive, bleeding off the last of his altitude in the process. He was now flying at full speed almost right at treetop level. He looked behind him and was shocked to see that not only were the two planes still following him, but that they were now taunting him, taking advantage of the low altitude and lack of maneuverability to throw line after line of fire at Roland ``Well I'll show them...'' he thought.
Without warning, he threw his plane down as they passed over a field. Fifine screamed as the plane came to a sudden screeching, scraping halt, the landing gear, propeller and underbelly of the plane snapping, cracking and breaking as Roland brought the plane to a complete and unabashed halt. The other two planes had passed over before they even realized what he'd done. When the plane finally stopped bouncing, skipping and crunching its way through the field, Roland quickly pulled himself and Fifine out of it.
``The Scepter!'' she said as Roland hauled her out of the wrecked plane. ``We can't leave it behind!''
``There's gasoline everywhere!'' said Roland ``If we don't go now, the loss of that Scepter may be the last thing we ever care about!'' Fifine looked worried, then smiled as she saw Dodo at her feet. The bird had the scepter in his mouth! He'd must have been holding on to it in the dogfight! Fifine picked up and kissed her bird, excited that he was safe. But Roland hurried them on.
``We've got to get in the trees. Even if the plane doesn't explode, they will no doubt see it and start strafing!'' Fifine nodded and grabbed Dodo, carrying him in her arms as they went.
Luckily they didn't have to walk far. After a few short minutes, they hit a road, and after a few hours, they saw a base up ahead. Roland stiffened at the sight of it.
``Well, we're either in luck or in trouble. That's Boris's main base up there. If your friends are anywhere...Its behind those walls.'' Roland grabbed her hand as they marched forward towards the base. ``Act natural. Act like you're my date, that I picked you up in town.'' Soon they approached the guard gate. Roland was back to the way he was earlier...Dirty mouthed, dirty minded, and putting his hands all over Fifine. Fifine was pretty sure it was all just an act, but she still couldn't help but be extremely put off by it.
``Bringing in another one, eh Roland?'' shouted one of the guards. The other whistled. Apparently Roland had not only been here before, but his reputation as a womanizer was somewhat well known.
``DAMN she's pretty. Does she have a cute sister back in town? Preferably a younger one!'' shouted a third guard. Fifine looked around. The place was crawling with armed guards, all wearing the same uniform, all having the same wolf's head insignia on the shoulder. These were the same men who captured her friends to be sure. She kept herself upright and dignified, ignoring the series of catcalls and lewd gestured coming from the men as Roland brought her through more and more security. Fifine almost scoffed at these Russians. How long had they been alone out here, to have lost all semblance of manners?
They finally reached the Officers quarters, and soon Roland was opening the door of a tiny room to Fifine. Not much bigger than a broom closet, it nonetheless held a bed and a small desk. ``And to think, I have all this space all to myself, since I'm an officer.'' Roland said with a grin. Fifine sighed and sat down. ``So what do we do now?'' she asked.
``We wait for nightfall.'' He said.
When night came, Roland took her by the hand and led her to the military prison. He stumbled and spoke brokenly, doing his best to imitate drunkenness. Fifine had gotten used to this sort of two-faced play, and Roland's skill as an actor, and even played along, laughing at his stupid jokes and pretending to be flattered by all the lewd things he was saying. They eventually made it to the prison, and Roland grinned, leaning on the guard.
``Hey fella...We wanna take a look at some of those...'' Fifine winced as Roland continued. Even when he wasn't pretending, Roland had an extremely filthy mouth, and right now he was swearing fit to shame a grizzled sea captain. He talked with the guard for a few minutes, and eventually the irritated private gave way to Roland's superior rank and let him in. For all the security outside, the prison was a bit of a joke, as there were no guards inside, only a series of cells, barely lit by some cheap yellow bulbs. They soon found the only cell that was occupied, their search assisted by General Barrax's loud snoring. Roland went to the cell and, grinning, put his full weight on the cheap lock holding the door closed. It fell to pieces as he did so. ``Communists can't get anything right, can they?'' He opened the door.
Fifine was elated to see her friends again, and she ran forward, hugging them all. She moved so fast, she ended up almost dropping Dodo from her arms, and Roland repeatedly had to remind them not to make too much noise or else the guard would get suspicious. It was about then that he and Tanya locked eyes.
``What...What's your name, beautiful?'' Roland asked. He blushed through his fur, extending a shaky hand. Fifine giggled to see him suddenly so shy around a woman. He certainly hadn't acted so unsure of himself around her! She wondered if it was just another act.
``I'm Tanya. And you arrre?'' Roland's grin widened and his ears flicked when she spoke. He seemed to really love her accent.
``I'm Roland and...'' he checked his watch. ``And we've gotta get the hell outta here. C'mon!'' He grabbed Tanya's arm and practically yanked her out of the cell as Fifine, Barrax and Proton followed.
Roland took the care to knock out the guard on the way out, but had not been smart enough to bring a light. With so little artificial lighting on the base's grounds, they were all soon lost in the thick, inky blackness of night. The clouds above obscured the moon and stars, and except for the occasional guard post, they might as well have had their eyes closed. They stumbled around in the dark, instinctively holding on to one another. Suddenly, everyone heard a loud ``CLUMP!'' as Roland's heavy boots made contact with tarmac.
``This is it! This is the airstrip!'' he said. ``Most places don't have these, but Boris has a bunch of big bombers with `im...Big `ol four engine Tupolevs, brand new too! C'mon, we've got to find one.'' This turned out to be rather easy, as the next thing Roland did was bang his head, hard, into a rubber tire. He felt it, the directed the others to do so.
``This plane is huge, if this is just its tire!'' said Fifine. The top of it was almost over her head.
``Yeah,'' said Roland. ``Its supposed to carry enough bombs to level a town, or enough paratroopers to occupy it. C'mon, we've got to steal it and get out of here!''
After much more fumbling, they eventually found the ladder to the wing, and from there, the door into the cockpit. The insides of the plane were also huge, and they were all free to walk around inside, not even having to bend over. The insides were crude and Spartan, but there was more than enough room. Roland scrambled up into the cockpit.
``No time for pre-flight checks, we've just gotta hope that this thing is working!'' said Roland. ``Buckle yourselves in, we've got some flying to do!'' With a jolt, the entire airplane suddenly roared to life as Roland started all four engines simultaneously, something not wise to do in so large an aircraft. He clicked on the forward lights, as there were no lights on the runway, and was relieved to find that the plane was in ``Scramble'' status, in that it was positioned so that it could easily move on to the runway. Fifine scrambled herself, but to find a seat with a seatbelt instead of anything else. Her friends did likewise, taking various seats throughout the plane as they could find them. Barrax ended up sitting down in one of the gunnery positions in the nose, while Fifine and Proton strapped themselves down in the map room. Tanya chose the copilot's seat, grinning and sitting next to Roland. He tried not to look at her. Now was not a time to get distracted. He gunned the engines this way and that, dragging the plane out on to the runway before clicking off the forward lights. He knew they could hear the plane by now, and were no doubt rushing towards it, but he could at least turn off that which light up his cockpit and thus gave them a clear shot. He sighed and closed his eyes as he did so, the view not changing as he opened them again. He whimpered and sweated as he fingered and fumbled the controls, no longer to see them. He yelped as he heard the sound of a rifle round ricocheting through the corrugated aluminum somewhere. He was so scared he could barely move.
It was then that Tanya put her hand on his. He listened for her in the dark. She was scared too, her breathing heavy...She gripped his hand firmly and said ``Rrroland...you have to save us all...Do it, please, I know you can...You must!'' he sighed, and pushed his hand forward on the throttle, all four engines running full out. More bullets tore through the aluminum, bouncing around in the wings and fuselage. Dodo screamed and squawked as one tore through the metal in front of him and Fifine. Through the hole it left, Fifine could see lights outside, all of them trying to find and point out the plane that she was in, its immense size hidden in the dark. The plane jolted as it finally began to run down the runway, slowly gaining more and more speed. The liftoff came with another, powerful jolt, and Fifine was shaken as the plane bounced up and down before finally getting airborne. Even from her position well back in the plane, and with the engines, Fifine could hear Roland sigh with relief. The plane continued to climb, a slow, lumbering giant, now out of danger.
By daybreak, everyone except for Roland had managed to get at least some sleep, and the plane was still flying, lumbering along under a hazy gray sky. Roland and Tanya, grinning and sitting side-by-side up front in the cockpit, had been speaking very quietly to one another since she had awoken from her brief night's sleep. Although it didn't take much guesswork to figure out what was on their minds, their tails betrayed everything, Roland's twin tails swishing around through the hole in the seat while Tanya's flicked and flipped about, clearly pleased with the words coming out of Roland's mouth. In the back, Fifine and Professor Proton were searching over the scepter and the maps, trying to figure out both where they were and where they needed to be going.
``I don't understand how this thing has managed to be such a mystery for so long.'' Said Fifine. ``It points the way to a great treasure, the book said. Maybe if I lay it down, it will...point?'' she asked. Professor proton shrugged.
``I have heard of stranger artifacts...Indeed, we have found much stranger ones on our travels!'' replied Professor Proton. Fifine nodded and laid it down on the map table. It immediately began to move...in that it promptly rolled off the table and towards the floor. Fifine and Proton both made a grab for it, but succeeded only in knocking their heads together. Dodo also lunged at the falling scepter, but he simply wasn't quick enough. It fell to the floor, the silver ball atop it smashing into a million pieces like a Christmas ornament. Fifine looked up towards the cockpit. Roland and Tanya were kissing one another, and as Roland leaned over in his seat to do so, his knee nudged the control stick to the right, ever so slightly tilting and turning the plane. Fifine fumed as she undid her seatbelt and walked towards Roland.
``All this work, all this time, and you go and break the Scepter all because you can't keep your hands off a pretty girl! You! You...you...you...'' Fifine didn't have time to come up with a decent insult, as Proton let out a rather effeminate shriek of delight.
``Fifine, come quickly! A map! No wonder the Scepter was so poorly and cheaply constructed. A map! With perfect instructions!'' Professor proton was holding a small sheet of paper with many fold-marks on it. ``It was in the ball! It was all here, all the time! All we had to do was break the scepter! Oh we should have done that back in Moscow and simply abandoned the stupid stick! This is what we need!'' Fifine blushed, feeling foolish for letting her anger get up, and walked back to the map area to help chart a course with Professor Proton. Roland resumed kissing, and only occasionally had to be reminded that he was making the plane tilt.
Fifine and Professor Proton found the map quite easy to understand and to work with. It was evidently made rather recently, and great care was taken to ensure that it could easily be followed. When combined with the many charts in the bomber's map room itself, they found their course quite easy to chart.
``You know...'' said Fifine ``This course will take us to the infamous Port Arthur. Do you think...Maybe we should make the last leg of our journey with the help of Nadia?'' the professor nodded.
Landing on the east coast and finding Nadia turned out to be easier than they had thought. While the trans-siberian railway managed to keep the Kremlin in touch with those in the far east, it didn't enforce their laws, and for the time being there was still an air of lawlessness and independence. It was in this environment that the pirate captain Nadia Romanov, a close friend of Fifine, chose to make her home and her career. Her magnificent white battleship, formerly a prize of the Australian Royal Navy, had been cleverly won and magnificently restored. Elegant and luxurious, especially by pirate standards, it was nonetheless quite powerful. Black market trade with the Yokuza had brought her many pieces of Japanese navy artillery, and the Japanese desire to build the biggest guns at sea between the wars had also ensured she had range and firepower unprecedented amongst pacific pirates. She also found herself in possession of a fine and loyal crew, ready to fight to the death for a captain who had served them as well as they had served her.
``I want half.'' Said Nadia to Fifine. They were in the captains quarters, the ship already at sea (Nadia rarely spent more than a day in any one port, for fear of having to fight her way through a blockade). Fifine and Professor Proton had just completed a magnificent meal, and were now discussing the route, plans, and how to carry it all out.
``But you don't even know what the treasure IS, much less how we define half of it.'' Replied Fifine.
``It doesn't matter, the only reason I'm only asking for half is that one, you're a friend of mine, and two, The Party has been neglectful of its security lately and my financial situation is...good...'' Nadia grinned. The ship itself was a grand example of decadence and glamour, and Nadia spared no expense on the elegant woodwork and extensive use of wrought gold and silver in the Captain's and Officer's quarters.
``Well Nadia, you can have half...You might even get to have almost all of it! We are here for the adventure anyway.'' Said Fifine.
``And the historical value!'' Said Professor Proton. ``Think of what artifacts the Romanovs must have hidden out there! If not a king's ransom in gold, then at least untold masses of history, lost for hundreds of years...
``Well that might all be well and good,'' said Nadia ``But I've got to at least break even on this little enterprise if I am to keep myself in business!''
``Well, we'll do all we can to see that you do, Nadia. So you'll get at least half. You have my word!'' said Fifine.
``And your word is what I'll take. You're a damnably honest woman, Fifine, and I'm sure you will cut me as fair a deal as you possibly can. Now, let us enjoy our meal, and may you enjoy your stay aboard the Katyusha!''
To say that Fifine and her companions enjoyed their stay would be an understatement. Professor Proton was elated to find that Nadia's personal library, while small when compared to those on land, was a vast archive of world history, and that it contained more than a few books of Fifine's adventures, which he took great pride in...correcting.
In the mean time, General Barrax enjoyed sleeping on the deck, Fifine enjoyed the company and conversation of the brilliant and charming Captain Nadia Romanov, and Roland and Tanya enjoyed one another. Roland was also elated to find that the ship contained a number of disassembled I-16s, all purchased from corrupt generals or off the black market. A few were even kept ``at the ready'', in that they were only partially disassembled and were prepared to be launched from the ship's catapult, in place of the artillery observation plane which normally resided there. After all, the fragile little biplane would do little in a dogfight!
Tanya was also elated in that she found photography equipment among Nadia's spoils, and was soon back to her true calling, snapping photographs of everything from the sailors aboard to the ship itself. She and Roland spent quite a lot of time together, and Roland soon had a small sheaf of photos which he seemed very reluctant to show anyone else, but always kept in the inside pocket of his jacket.
It was on a clear, bright day that this idyllic cruise vacation turned into anything but. Without warning, a number of small dots appeared on the horizon, the whine of distant engines evident and frightening to the captain and crew. Quickly, Fifine and her friends scrambled to the Captain's deck with Nadia. Nadia strode in, her body erect and proud, and immediately began dishing out the orders and taking in the information.
``How many are there?'' she shouted into a speaking tube.
``I count seven!'' came the reply from the crow's nest. ``All two engine bombers! And they've got Bloody Boris's insignia on the wing!''
Suddenly the radio crackled to life. ``Hello Nadia...Remember me, your old friend Boris?'' The voice was sickening to hear, and even the hardened Nadia cringed at the sound of it. ``I've come to ensure you won't be...bothering my supply ships anymore.'' At that moment, the ``Plish, Plish, Plish'' of torpedoes striking the water came sickeningly to ear, despite its distance from the ship. The anti-aircraft guns roared to life, firing wildly at the bombers as they flew over the battleship's superstructure, but it was to no avail. The shots missed, and in any event the torpedoes were already on their way, the large long tubes driving themselves through the water. The ship rocked violently as her torpedo bulge was struck, and struck hard.
``Are we taking on any water?'' shouted Nadia.
``A little but we're holding!'' came the reply. ``But we were lucky! She can't take another one like that.''
``Then we can't let a second wave get through!'' said Nadia. ``Every man and woman to the guns! We'll fill the sky with lead!'' ordered Nadia.
``If I may ask, captain, could I take one of those I-16s up before you fill the sky with lead? You must know how much more effective fighter planes are than stationary guns when it comes to fighting bombers.'' Asked Roland. Nadia nodded.
``Take one, and have the other two ready ones sent up. I've got a few pilots amongst my crew, and I'm sure they'd be honored to fly as wingmen to the famous Roland Bloodthunder.'' Replied Nadia. She marched over to a large map of the area and immediately began barking out more orders to her men. She was setting the stage, and she intended to find and sink Bloody Boris's ship, no matter what kind or where it was.
Roland's voice crackled over the radio. ``We've got a Russian aircraft carrier and two destroyers! A series of torpedo bombers with escort coming in, we're above them and moving to engage!''
As Roland and his wingmen dove down, Nadia's men opened fire. While they were unable to see where the opposing ships were, Roland and his wingmen had given them quite a good idea, and soon Roland reported that he could see huge eruptions of seawater appearing nearer and nearer Boris's ships. It would be only a matter of time before they were struck, and struck hard.
But Nadia was still on the defensive. Not foolish enough to think that the airplane was ``merely a novelty'' like their compatriots, both Nadia and Boris had intended to fight in the air. Only Nadia was at an extreme disadvantage, and she knew it. Even as her sailors bravely pumped a protective cloud of lead into the air above and in front of her ship, she knew that all it would take is one plane getting through and getting the right shot. Even as she saw a number of bombers begin to disintegrate and explode thanks to her sailor's accurate fire, she knew that she would not be able to get them all.
Luckily for her, Roland had a knack for mopping up what was left. Ignoring the hail of friendly fire, he dove into the fray, mercilessly pouring rounds out of the four guns on his plane. His wingmen followed him, although clearly frightened with doing so, and in the end they succeeded in striking down a number of enemy bombers. It was the fighters that had become a problem. Soon the bombers were not coming at all, and Roland and his two wingmen were soon confronted by a force of ten angry Polikarovs, their pilots fresh and their guns fully loaded. Additionally, they were above Roland now, as he had dove down to confront and eliminate the bombers. Without warning his right wingman's plane burst into flames, plummeting into the sea before the poor pilot had even a chance to think about ejecting. Roland struggled for altitude. His wingman was now spewing smoke, and was soon forced to pull off. Roland tried to bite down his fear as his plane climbed into the clouds. Ten planes to one. Those were very poor odds.
It was at this time that Roland heard the voice over his radio. That insidious, cruel voice he'd heard on the captain's deck. ``Well, what have we here. My spies tell me that it is the infamous Roland Bloodthunder...'' said Boris's voice. Roland tried to ignore it, keeping his white plane in the clouds in hope of blending in. ``What a prize, it will be, to hang your burned corpse from the ropes of my ship. I'm not very upset that a pathetic mercenary like yourself would betray me, but I am disappointed to have to kill one with such skill as yours...At least I will have the pleasure of doing it myself...''
Roland tried to put on an air of confidence, and also to ignore the occasional streams of chaser fire that appeared around his plane. His pursuers were well trained, and were following him doggedly. ``Well how can you be so sure? What with those nine men of yours, and I have none, how can you be sure that they'll all miss? Why don't you fight me on your own for awhile?'' offered Roland. He knew it was a stupid bit, but he had also heard that Boris was very prideful. He also knew that Boris was one of the few surviving Russian aces from the first world war, and that he believed that he was the finest pilot in all of Russia.
``Why not?'' said Boris. ``But be forewarned...My men WILL follow...And if I go down, you are no less likely to escape them than you are to fly that plane to the moon!'' Roland grinned...And cut his engine. As he threw on his air brakes, ten planes whizzed by him, all startled to see their quarry suddenly drop out of the sky like a stone.
Roland's plane plummeted like a stone for a few moments, and then suddenly roared back to life, the engine screaming at its topmost speed. Boris had already figured out Roland's trick and was working to maneuver himself in such a position as to be on Roland's tail, but Roland had no intention of letting that happen. The other nine planes whizzed about as Roland got closer and closer to Boris, lines of his tracer fire arcing nearer and nearer the old Russian's plane. Boris's men clearly wanted to fire, but were as scared that they might hit their own leader as they were eager to be the one to strike down Roland. Suddenly, Boris's right wing burst into flame, bullets from Roland's guns ripping into the gas tank. Boris's men, desperate to protect their leader as he frantically attempted to bail out, fired wildly at Roland. Roland seemed not to notice, even as his plane shook wildly as fire ripped into it. He kept shooting...But it was irrelevant. Without landing another shot, Boris's plane soon exploded in midair, small flaming pieces falling seawards. His escort turned and ran, even as Roland's plane began to smoke horribly. Now afraid, they routed at the loss of their leader, seeking to save their own skins and losing all eagerness to fight. They pushed their planes towards Boris's carrier, their voices blubbering about Boris's death over the radio. But they were ill timed in picking such a landing spot. Just as they prepared to land, Nadia's crew scored a direct hit, and the center of the Russian carrier erupted into great orange flames. The sailors worked hard to pump water on it, but it was clear she was lost, as the planes below and caverns of artillery burst into flames and exploded. Roland grinned and turned his plane towards Nadia's ship, hoping she wouldn't mind too much if he ditched his now-ruined plane, was hauled out of the water, and spent the evening smoking and drinking with Tanya in their private quarters. He grinned, staring at the picture of her he had taped to the instrument panel. Tonight would be his happiest in many years.
But such was not to be. Without warning, some unknown part finally gave way to the stress, and his plane went from smoking to flaming. He grabbed at the extinguisher underneath his seat, trying to force the flames out even as they crept out from under the instrument panel and ever towards his legs, threatening to set his woolen coat on fire and burn him alive. He grabbed at the radio, shouting into it.
``Carrier's busted. I'm on fire, I'm going down! See an island...Heading for it!'' he managed to cough out. Then his radio went dead.
This was the last that Nadia, Fifine and the rest heard from Roland. Tanya broke down sobbing, grabbing and clutching on to Fifine.
``Why? Why my Prrrince Rrroland? He was such a good man, such a hero!'' She sobbed, her mascara running down her face as she buried it into Fifine's shoulder. Nadia looked grim. Though she had won, and by a heavy margin at that, she had her own dead to bury at sea. The bombers, while they could not sink the Katyusha, could nonetheless kill many of its brave crew, and they had done that job well.
The remainder of the trip was taken in almost complete silence. Few talked, and there were many funerals over the next few days, many of the wounded dying slowly and in pain, while others were reduced to mutilated shells of their former selves. Even the optimistic and upbeat Fifine showed little enthusiasm as she boarded the dinghy to go ashore, their island destination finally reached.
It was then that they saw, to their amazement, a burned-out husk of a formerly white I-16. And beside it was Roland, napping in the shade of one of the wings. Tanya dropped her camera overboard and dove over the side, wading in chest-high water towards land as fast as she could go. Within moments she was giving Roland a tight, wet hug, the two lovers embracing and kissing in turn. Everyone cheered.
``I thought I would neverrr see you again!'' said Tanya between kisses.
``Oh, did you think a little fire would stop me from seeing you? Bah. Were it not for the fact I was out of gas, I'd have flown back to you after checking out this island, and making sure it was ready for you. Why this old bird is just aching to take me back in the air.'' As he said this, he patted the burned-out aircraft on its side. As if sensing the irony of the situation, the plane's right wheel gave out, snapping in half and sending the plane's right wing crunching into the sand. Everyone laughed.
After seeing that Roland was bandaged and fed, the entire party began to explore the island. It was small, and it took but little time to find the large house they were looking for. The huge house looked quite out of place on the island, but being the only structure, it was the only place to look. Its design was clearly that of a royal home away from home, although it had no servants to tend it. Clearly, this had been the intended place for the Romanoffs to run to in the event of the worst kind of civil unrest and rebellion. It was unfortunate they had never reached it in time.
Within minutes, Nadia's men were hauling out large chests of gold bullion, each one stamped with the Romanoff family seal. Nadia grinned and laughed, swishing around her ceremonial Captain's sword with glee at the sight of such booty. They also pulled out elegant dresses, beautiful statues and paintings, and many more things kept safe in the water-tight chambers stashed below the lone building on the island. It was a veritable King's ransom, intended to allow the Romanovs to live comfortably in exile. Everyone was pleased with the find, and thanks to Nadia, everyone got a fair share and no one dared to complain.
``Well!'' said professor Proton ``this treasure is many times more magnificent than I had dreamed of!'' Fifine nodded.
``Yes, even what we get of this will finance our expeditions for many years to come!'' replied Fifine.
``I'll pay for my trip back to the States.'' Said Roland. ``FDR needs me, I think.'' He turned to Tanya, gripping her hand. ``Tanya...I know you love your Mother Russia, but you must know it isn't possible for me to stay there. And you know that it isn't safe for you...because of me...Tanya, would you come with me to the States? Or at least, to Canada, where I know you will be safe?'' Tanya looked deeply into his eyes, and replied with a kiss. They embraced, and Fifine smiled at the pair of lovers as they held one another, pleased to see her friends so happy. She turned to Professor Proton.
``Well Professor, where shall we go next?'' she asked.
``Well, I am sure you are familiar with the Buddhists of Tibet, aren't you?'' the old turtle asked with a wry smile.
``How could I not be?'' replied Fifine. ``We've visited them before! Are we to pay them yet another visit?''
``Well, you see, I've been reading about this ancient school, high in the Himalayas...'' professor Proton said. Barrax scoffed.
``Can't we have even a moment's rest?'' he said. ``You drag me through several air battles and across a continent! I'm an old man!''
``Well Barrax, we can't MAKE you come.'' Replied Fifine. ``But it would be a pity for you to miss out...'' she smiled to herself, knowing her adventures were never finished.
