Tasya made a point of introducing Petrov to them first although the leader of the boarding party — a solidly built major called Moltsyn who sported an impressively square jaw– had noticed the presence of FMA uniforms as soon as he’d come aboard. Petrov was cool and formal when he shook Moltsyn’s hand, but he made no comment about the nature of the craft that had gathered them up from the waves and was now, presumably, flying them back to the Conclaves. Katya was glad he didn’t. She didn’t like the way things were going and suspected Petrov was of the same opinion. The pirates and the Yagizban seemed to know each other of old, and it was a very comfortable relationship.
At the major’s invitation, the bridge crew went up top. Katya didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see what the transporter’s cargo bay looked like for herself and climbed up to the top of the conning tower. Standing there, the roof of the hanger-like bay was almost within her touch, still wet from the sea in which it had momentarily rested while grappling the Vodyanoi. Below, she could see the other members of the bridge crew on the deck, looking around the bay and chatting to the yellow-clad troops. It all seemed very friendly, but the FMA sailors looked like prisoners the way the Yagizban hedged around them.
“What’s going on?” she said quietly to herself.
“What’s going on indeed?” Petrov had joined her and was looking down at the scene on the deck grimly. “Look at this, Ms Kuriakova, just look at this. The major tells me that this is an experimental aircraft that just happened to be available. Yet the Vodyanoi fits into it like a hand in the glove. Look how closely even the conning tower fits in with just enough clearance. This bay has its grapples in exactly the right places and even the damned gangplank is in exactly the right place to go neatly up against the side hatch on the tower. This aircraft has been custom built to carry this submarine, there’s no question about it. As for the major and the Chertovka, they all but embraced when he came aboard. The Yagizban have been consorting with pirates and they’re not going to any great pains to hide it.” He shook his head in defeat. “They won’t allow anybody from the Novgorod back to report their complicity. I fear for our safety.”
Katya looked at the smiling faces of the Yagizban troops and saw them harden whenever they looked at anybody from the FMA. She suddenly felt afraid. “What will they do to you?”
Petrov looked at her with mild, tired surprise. Seeing him weary just compounded her sense of dismay. “Do to me? Do to us, Ms Kuriakova. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re wearing an FMA uniform. I think you may already have been earmarked for disposal just like the rest of us.”
CHAPTER 14
Cutting Edge
It seemed Petrov had a point. When Katya went down on deck, she found herself being treated with the same coolness as the real FMA personnel. She was relieved when Kane took her by the arm and made a point of introducing her to Major Moltsyn. “This is Ms Katya Kuriakova. She was aboard the minisub that the Leviathan first attacked.” She was grateful that he didn’t mention that they’d also been the ones who had unwittingly reactivated it in the first place. “She has been a great help since.”
Moltsyn regarded her with hooded eyes. “And how long have you been in the Federal forces, Ms Kuriakova?”
Kane laughed. “She’s not with the FMA, major. She’s a civilian. Her clothes were ruined by seawater so she was given these aboard the Novgorod.”
Katya felt pathetically thankful as the major’s slightly threatening expression abruptly lightened, but there was also a spasm of guilt that she was escaping whatever fate the Yagizban had lined up for the FMA people. She felt like she was abandoning Petrov and the rest, and yet she still felt relief. She simmered at her own cowardice. The major didn’t help when he said, “Well, we’ll have to get you some proper clothes, Ms Kuriakova,” as if she was wearing filthy rags.
“No,” she said, with a little iron in her voice, “I’m fine with these. I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“Nonsense,” laughed Kane, even as he flashed her a don’t be stupid look. “I’m sure the major can find you something better than an old and, I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, very ill-fitting uniform.”
“Yes, we can find you some civilian clothing when we reach the Conclaves.”
Katya pricked up her ears. “When will that be?”
The major checked his watch. “In about an hour, Ms Kuriakova.” He chuckled. “Can’t wait to be in some proper clothes, eh?”
She’d actually wanted to know so she could make a swift calculation as to how quickly the transport was flying — she estimated 600kph, perhaps a little more — but the major’s comment was revealing. He seemed to regard the FMA uniform as about as pleasant as a skin disease. She’d never been to the Yagizba Conclaves — very few had — and had never met anybody from there either but, even so, the difference in mindset, mores, and behaviour was surprising. She’d thought all Russalkin were as one; united by the war and unified in their hatred of Earth and trust in the Federal authorities. Yes, everybody grumbled about them, but there was no doubt that Federal leadership had brought the Terran invasion to a standstill and that the authorities did a good job in these difficult times. To meet somebody who regarded the FMA and its sister organisations with utter contempt was outside her experience and expectations.
The hour passed slowly. Katya felt uncomfortable around the Yagizban and the pirates, and felt like a traitor to the FMA sailors. The two groups quickly gravitated away from one another and it pained her to see men and women who’d been working so easily and efficiently together only hours ago starting to regard each other as enemies again. She found her uncle standing on the Vodyanoi’s prow, looking down at the closed bay doors below with a thunderous frown.
“You look how I feel, uncle,” she said as she joined him.
“If you feel suspicious and uncomfortable, then you’re exactly right,” he growled, the closest he could usually manage to a whisper. “Always knew the Yags were a weird bunch, never realised how little I understood them. Look at ‘em, thick as thieves.”
Tasya and the major were still making some small effort to carry on the pretence that they were strangers, but it was cosmetic and everybody knew it.
“That Moltsyn,” muttered Lukyan, “he’s all pose. An administrator playing at soldiers. Yags… creepy bastards, all of ‘em.”
The tension in the bay was palpable and Katya was glad when the transporter nosed down and started its descent. The major asked everybody to sit down or otherwise brace themselves for a few shocks during the landing, but the pilot made such a good job of it that there was only the slightest lurch as the landing pylons touched down.
As everybody formed up to leave by the side ramp, Major Moltsyn raised his voice. “The ramp is facing the platform’s entrance, so head straight for it. There’s a storm blowing outside so expect to get wet, but keep your head down, don’t stop to sightsee, and you’ll be fine. Okay,” he nodded to the sergeant at the door controls. “Let ‘em out.”