The Meanest Thing Part 9 - Illya's at sea!
The Meanest Thing Part 9-------
By Hazelayes
Somewhere in the North Atlantic, on board The KS411 (Novgorod) - a submarine of the SMPL class (Sverkmalaya Podvodnavy Lodka, literally, 'super small submarine'). Part of the Northern Fleet, the Novgorod is the 'mothership' for an even smaller 'special missions vessel' (spy sub) of the Paltus class (very deep diving, with extendable manipulating arms and a crew of 2). The Novgorod is a nuclear powered sub but it carries no armament. It transports the 'spy sub' in its specially extended hull and provides support for the Paltus while it is in operation.
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Illya threw his duffel onto the bunk and surveyed the tiny cabin he would share with five strangers, for several months possibly. Dmitri had been insistent that Illya should get the only other single cabin in the sub besides his own - the captain always has private quarters - but he had been overruled by the Admiral of the Northern Fleet himself. The other private cabin was now occupied by a "marine biologist" from The Soviet Institute of Marine Studies.
Of course, even without the 'interference from on high' there was really no question whether 'she' would have to share quarters. Illya hadn't minded (much), but it would make it more awkward sending his reports back to UNCLE. His 'papers' said his name was Illya Petrovitch Krasnayov, and that he was a deep sea engineer/diver from Severomorsk. However, Illya was as sure that the biologist knew he was no deep sea diver as he was sure that she was no marine biologist.
Some minutes later he found Dmitri on deck, scanning the horizon through powerful binoculars. The 'biologist' was also up top, watching the sunset, the captain and anyone who spoke to him while stretching her long legs with a ballet dancer's suppleness and grace. Both men stood looking at her go through her exercises further down the deck.
"KGB," Dmitri growled, and he spat into the glassy, blue-green water.
"You know this?" Illya asked.
"As captain of this vessel, Illyusha, I know everything that goes on aboard her." He waved an arm at the ocean. "The sea is my road, the Novgorod... is my home."
Illya laughed softly and shook his head. "You are still a gypsy, my friend, albeit a seagoing one."
"And what are you, Illyusha?"
Illya looked at him, the late light turning them to bronzed statues, only the woman further down the deck still moved, kicking high, then bending into deep stretches. "I will let you know... " he said, and turned to go down into the sub "...when I find out."
"Illya!"
Illya turned fully around to face him.
"Be careful. They are watching you and she will certainly try to seduce you so that she can watch you even more closely."
Illya's eyebrows rose at the concern he heard in Dmitri's voice, "You seem to know a lot about their plans, my friend."
"You have been too long in the west. Why else put a female agent on the job? They have no place on a submarine, and the trouble outweighs any benefit... unless it is one that can best be acquired by a beautiful woman."
"You are not worried for yourself, but what about your men?"
"They know what she is," Dmitri sneered, "and would sooner put their dick in the hands of a chicken strangler."
Illya snorted in amused agreement, then he saw a movement over Dmitri's shoulder and narrowed his eyes. It was warning enough . The lady in question was casually, but very quietly strolling towards them, carrying her deck shoes under her arm.
Dmitri immediately segued into the latter half of a colourful and somewhat unbelievable anecdote about a prostitute and her large, strong hands.
Illya tapped his arm and nodded towards the approaching beauty before she could get much closer.
"Don't mind me gentlemen, I just need to get by you." The voice was low and pleasant.
Dmitri began to apologise profusely, he hadn't known she was close, he would never have used such language etc. etc.
She laughed musically, like a Hollywood actress. "That's quite alright captain. I didn't hear a thing, believe me. You carry on with your story, Mr Krasnayov was enjoying it so much."
Both men silently stood aside to let her pass into the hatchway but she still managed to get near enough to Illya to just brush her hip against him and she shook her auburn curls to make sure he had a taste of her perfume... up close.
The only effect this had, however, was to make to make Illya think of Napoleon, who he was sure would have been able to name the fragrance and tell him just what kind of woman would wear it. Though he was sure he was about to take his own 101 in that dept, like it or not.
end of part nine-------------
By Hazelayes
Somewhere in the North Atlantic, on board The KS411 (Novgorod) - a submarine of the SMPL class (Sverkmalaya Podvodnavy Lodka, literally, 'super small submarine'). Part of the Northern Fleet, the Novgorod is the 'mothership' for an even smaller 'special missions vessel' (spy sub) of the Paltus class (very deep diving, with extendable manipulating arms and a crew of 2). The Novgorod is a nuclear powered sub but it carries no armament. It transports the 'spy sub' in its specially extended hull and provides support for the Paltus while it is in operation.
-------------
Illya threw his duffel onto the bunk and surveyed the tiny cabin he would share with five strangers, for several months possibly. Dmitri had been insistent that Illya should get the only other single cabin in the sub besides his own - the captain always has private quarters - but he had been overruled by the Admiral of the Northern Fleet himself. The other private cabin was now occupied by a "marine biologist" from The Soviet Institute of Marine Studies.
Of course, even without the 'interference from on high' there was really no question whether 'she' would have to share quarters. Illya hadn't minded (much), but it would make it more awkward sending his reports back to UNCLE. His 'papers' said his name was Illya Petrovitch Krasnayov, and that he was a deep sea engineer/diver from Severomorsk. However, Illya was as sure that the biologist knew he was no deep sea diver as he was sure that she was no marine biologist.
Some minutes later he found Dmitri on deck, scanning the horizon through powerful binoculars. The 'biologist' was also up top, watching the sunset, the captain and anyone who spoke to him while stretching her long legs with a ballet dancer's suppleness and grace. Both men stood looking at her go through her exercises further down the deck.
"KGB," Dmitri growled, and he spat into the glassy, blue-green water.
"You know this?" Illya asked.
"As captain of this vessel, Illyusha, I know everything that goes on aboard her." He waved an arm at the ocean. "The sea is my road, the Novgorod... is my home."
Illya laughed softly and shook his head. "You are still a gypsy, my friend, albeit a seagoing one."
"And what are you, Illyusha?"
Illya looked at him, the late light turning them to bronzed statues, only the woman further down the deck still moved, kicking high, then bending into deep stretches. "I will let you know... " he said, and turned to go down into the sub "...when I find out."
"Illya!"
Illya turned fully around to face him.
"Be careful. They are watching you and she will certainly try to seduce you so that she can watch you even more closely."
Illya's eyebrows rose at the concern he heard in Dmitri's voice, "You seem to know a lot about their plans, my friend."
"You have been too long in the west. Why else put a female agent on the job? They have no place on a submarine, and the trouble outweighs any benefit... unless it is one that can best be acquired by a beautiful woman."
"You are not worried for yourself, but what about your men?"
"They know what she is," Dmitri sneered, "and would sooner put their dick in the hands of a chicken strangler."
Illya snorted in amused agreement, then he saw a movement over Dmitri's shoulder and narrowed his eyes. It was warning enough . The lady in question was casually, but very quietly strolling towards them, carrying her deck shoes under her arm.
Dmitri immediately segued into the latter half of a colourful and somewhat unbelievable anecdote about a prostitute and her large, strong hands.
Illya tapped his arm and nodded towards the approaching beauty before she could get much closer.
"Don't mind me gentlemen, I just need to get by you." The voice was low and pleasant.
Dmitri began to apologise profusely, he hadn't known she was close, he would never have used such language etc. etc.
She laughed musically, like a Hollywood actress. "That's quite alright captain. I didn't hear a thing, believe me. You carry on with your story, Mr Krasnayov was enjoying it so much."
Both men silently stood aside to let her pass into the hatchway but she still managed to get near enough to Illya to just brush her hip against him and she shook her auburn curls to make sure he had a taste of her perfume... up close.
The only effect this had, however, was to make to make Illya think of Napoleon, who he was sure would have been able to name the fragrance and tell him just what kind of woman would wear it. Though he was sure he was about to take his own 101 in that dept, like it or not.
end of part nine-------------