K-235 was lost during classified exploration of the Antarctic coastline. A detachment was sent from the main fleet to attempt to find the wayward vessel or its wreckage, but found neither. What they didn’t know was that they couldn’t find the submarine because K-235 was no longer on the coastline of the Antarctic, or anywhere else that could be found on a chart or map for that matter. What was generally believed, as the crew was finding out to be true, was that the vessel would never return home.
-
The hidden whirlpool that had unexpectedly dropped the K-235 into an inland sea and careening to the shore thundered behind Starshina First Class Pyotr Vadimovich as he disembarked from the stricken vessel. The dark black sand of the shore whuffed underneath his boot. He tightened his jacket against the cold wind that blew from the hole the submarine had fallen through. Men solemnly moved among the boxes that were strewn along the ebony beach, taking stock of everything that had been salvaged from the vessel.
Meanwhile Commissar Ivanovich gave a speech from the K-235’s prow saluting the bravery and courage of the crew who have managed to do what Hitler could not. Russia would be the first country to lay claim to Agartha, the mythical land inside of Earth, and use its resources to further the cause of Communism on conventional top-side Earth. His passionate cries echoed across the barren black sand.
Pyotr thought that it didn’t matter anymore, because no one would know that they had done anything more spectacular than dying. He looked up and down the empty shore. There was nothing spectacular about this place, no magic. It looked just like anywhere else. Except the sun, Pyotr realized, it was rotating slowly and only half of it seemed to be on fire. It looked like it was permanently eclipsing. Abram, Pyotr’s subordinate, put a meaty hand on his shoulder and broke his chain of thought. Pyotr greeted him with a grim smile.
“I am pleased that the Navy made it to Agartha before the cosmonauts landed on Nibiru, comrade, my only regret is that it was us who made this discovery and not some other misfortunate ship,” Abram said. “Also, at this point I regret that no women were brought on this expedition, because I doubt we will see another woman for a long time.”
“I agree,” Pyotr replied, “but I am more concerned that your sister will become lonely without me to visit her.”
“No,” Abram winked as he said, “I don’t think that will happen. In fact, now she can make father some money again since you don’t waste all of her time at the discounted rate- that whore.”
Pyotr feigned a chuckle, and then looked up at the sun again. It was beginning to darken along the edge like the moon changing phase. Soon, Pyotr imagined, it would wink out entirely and the sky would light up with forests, mountains, and rivers instead of constellations.
“Do you think we will sleep in the boat tonight?” He mused.
“I doubt it,” Abram answered, “The current is already taking that poor bitch to its grave.”
The Commissar stated that today was a great day for the people, and Captain Konstantinovich whispered in his ear. They spoke quietly and heatedly for a few minutes, and then Ivanovich sulked his way back into the ship. The Captain shouted to the crew milling about in the sand that they would camp along the shore that night, and set out tomorrow to explore the surrounding land.
“Told you,” Abram muttered to Pyotr as they worked their way to a pile of damp bedrolls and tents.
By half sun the K-235 had been torn from the sandy beach and into the depths of the sea along with the beds, the kitchen, and the toilets that the crew was already beginning to miss. And as the sun winked out the crew laid down to sleep.
-
“SHWAAAAAAAAK!”
“Shwaaak!” It cried.
Pyotr laid back and tried to see his assailant in the darkness. From his right a light blasted him, and once his vision cleared the tube of light illuminated a squat animal on his chest. It looked like a penguin, only it was white and red instead of the usual coloration. The animal’s soft blue eyes peered down at him.
“You looked like a sausage trying to escape a fat man, comrade.” He heard Senior Matrose Mikhail Borisovich’s high pitched voice from beyond the light. “You want me to kill this bird for you?” A pistol cocked.
“No, no, that is not needed Meeky. I don’t want my first memory of the Fabled Land to be shooting a stupid bird. Besides, he is cute, yes?”
“Shwaaaaaaaak!” The penguin stamped its webbed foot down on Pyotr’s chest, and something glinted in the light.
Pyotr craned his neck to look closer, and saw that some fragment of the K-235 had become lodged in its ankle. He pulled his arms out of the sleeping bag and caressed the animal’s head. Then, cooing, he snatched the bit of metal out of its leg. The bird fluttered its stumpy wings briefly, and then settled down- never moving from Pyotr’s chest. He sighed and moved the bird onto the inky sand between himself and Mikhail. The light gave the penguin a halo briefly before Mikhail switched it off with an audible click.
“Thank you for saving me from this beast Meeky, now go to sleep, there is much to do tomorrow,” Pyotr said, then drifted back to sleep as Mikhail’s footsteps retreated into the darkness.
-
That morning Pyotr awoke to a blood-red penguin staring him down. Pyotr blinked, the penguin blinked. Pyotr wondered to himself if penguins were supposed to be able to blink, but he put that thought aside as the least of his worries at the moment. He shooed the penguin away, but it would not budge from his side. Pyotr shrugged and stood up, smoothing down the wrinkles in his slept-in uniform.
A thin mist had formed along the shore, and it obscured much of the crew and supplies. A few figures shuffled along the sand, given away by the dim glow of their cigarettes.
“Shwaak!”
Pyotr ignored the bird as he looked around for Abram and Mikhail. When he found Abram he administered a swift kick which was met with some half-muttered curses that he ignored. He merely nudged Mikhail with the toe of his boot, because he had a much slighter build than Abram and he was afraid he might injure Mikhail. He had no such compunction towards Abram, however, because the man was build like a bear and, perhaps more importantly, Abram usually deserved such treatment.
They assembled in a half circle with the rest of the crew around the Captain who was assigning survey groups and issuing orders. The Commissar stood behind him and inspected the crew, presumably looking for signs of dissidence now that they were so far from the rallying force of the motherland. A number of unfamiliar crew members lined up beside the Captain and were paired off with the groups. They carried with them various pieces of unusual equipment that Pyotr could only assume was for charting the new continent.
Behind him he heard Abram say, “How did I not see these people before?”
“They are scientists, they would not mingle with the common crew,” Mikhail replied, “Now shut up and pay attention.”
When the Captain was done with assignments the crew collected their gear and went off with their commanding officer and their scientist. Pyotr, Abram, and Mikhail answered to Captain Lieutenant Boris Borisovich the third who explained that their mission was to march straight ahead until the sand ended or the sun set, whichever came first. He then introduced their scientist, Lenka Victorovna, and explained that they were to find samples of local plants and animals for her to catalogue and study.
“Hooray, a woman! And an attractive one at that!” Abram cheered under his breath, causing Mikhail to chuckle.
“She is too good for you, be quiet now,” Mikhail muttered.
Abram attempted to reply, but Boris was alerted to their exchange. He strode confidently over to the two men. “Do you have something to add to the briefing?” He asked in the angriest tone he could muster.
Mikhail opened his mouth to apologize, but all they heard was, “SHWAAAK!” The small man jumped.
Boris looked down at the penguin. “This is what?”
Pyotr said, “It is some sort of bird; his name is, um, Shrapnel. He has followed me wherever I go. I cannot rid myself of him.”
Boris looked at the scientist, “Lenka will need to see it, but since it follows you we will march first. We have ground to cover.” She nodded in agreement, and Boris began to lead the group across the sand.
“Lucky break for you, Meecky.” Pyotr said as they began to march.
“True,” Mikhail replied. Then asked, “Why do you call me Meeky?”
Pyotr smiled, “Because you are short, and your voice is high, and it works with your name to call you Meeky. You know, like Meeky Mouse? But mostly, it pleases me to do so.”
“Who is this mouse?”
“Hmm… I suppose you would not know. A long time ago a neighbor managed to pirate American television broadcasts, and he let me watch a show where ugly American children worshipped this mouse character. When I was a child it seemed harmless and fun. Then this neighbor disappeared and I was questioned by men. I told them that it only reaffirmed for me that American children were weak and being brainwashed, and because I was a child I was not required to be reeducated. My family was watched for some time though.”
“And you would associate me with this?”
“You are both weak-minded and like a mouse. Also, I outrank you, so I can do what I want to you.”
Mikhail prepared to say something in his defense, but Abram cut into their conversation. “Why are you two so hot for each other? It is Lenka you should focus on, not some capitalist rodent! It is shameful that you can even think of such things with a fine woman like her around! More importantly, what do you think my chances are of having her?”
Pyotr sighed. “Ask yourself this: Was any of the captain’s liquor saved from the boat, and can I get it? My no-culture friend, I think you are without luck.”
“That is unfair! What woman could resist a man like me?” Abram said, flexing his muscles. “And with a cute face like mine, she will turn to butter.”
The three men laughed, and Mikhail commented that Abram should probably work on getting the liquor, and both Pyotr and Abram told him to be quiet. He glared at them, but complied.
The sun burned full over the beach, and the group began to see trees along the horizon.
“SHWAAAAK!”
“Damn bird…”
4 комментария:
Oh that's nice.
Хваление от царя!
I dunno what that means.
"Praise from the Tzar."
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