A/N: This story crosses over with a movie from 1966 called 'The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming.' Also, the circumstances of Illya and Trina's marriage are described in my story 'The Doppelganger Affair.'

August 1968

"That's the third dead fish I've seen washed up on the shore today," Walt Whittaker grumbled as he picked the creature up by its tail and tossed it back into the water. As he did so, he glared at the smoke stacks in the industrial section of the little island town of Gloucester, Massachusetts. The smoke stacks originated from the new plant that had opened up on the island within the last couple of months or so. The plant reportedly existed for the purpose of manufacturing perfume, cologne, and aftershave, but Walt suspected that its real purpose was much more sinister, and that pollution from the plant was what was causing dead fish to wash up on the shore. Right there and then, he determined that it was time to let Gloucester Police Chief Link Mattocks know of his suspicions.

Walt didn't know that he was being watched.

"This is my cousin, Alexei Kolchin," Illya Kuryakin told his partner, Napoleon Solo. "He was in the Soviet Navy for four years and has just been recruited as a section two agent by UNCLE and assigned to the New York headquarters."

"Welcome to New York." Napoleon smiled and shook hands with Alexei.

Unlike his cousin, Alexei was very tall, about six foot five or so. His hair was a darker blond than Illya's, but he had the same blue eyes. He looked to be in about his early twenties. "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir," he told Napoleon.

"So is this your first time to visit the United States?" Napoleon asked Alexei.

"No, sir," Alexei replied. "Two years ago, I was part of a submarine crew that accidentally ran aground on the island of Gloucester, Massachusetts. The island's inhabitants were afraid of us at first, but in the end we made our peace and they helped us back on our way."

"Sounds like quite a story," Napoleon remarked. "So your first impression of Americans was a less than pleasant one, at least at first."

"I was raised to fear Americans, but deep down inside I have always known that they are people just like us, only they speak a different language and have a different kind of government."

"It sounds like you're going to fit in well with our organization," Napoleon said with a smile.

Walt Whittaker was on his way to the police station when suddenly he saw what looked like a wallet full of money lying beside the road. Intrigued, he pulled over and got out of his car. Right at that moment, a man hit him over the head with a bat, and two other men grabbed him and stuffed him into the trunk of a car.

Illya approached the door of his home with slight trepidation. He knew that in a moment, he would have to give Trina news that he knew she wouldn't like. At least this time the assignment was merely to the island town of Gloucester, Massachusetts, and not halfway across the world, as was usually the case.

As soon as he opened the door, his three-year-old daughter, Lydia, came running to him, shouting excitedly. "Daddy! Daddy!" Lydia had Illya's blond hair and blue eyes and also favored him much more strongly than she did her mother.

"Hello, moya printsessa." Illya picked the little girl up and gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Were you a good girl for Mama today?"

Lydia nodded vigorously. "Mommy let me put my big girl panties on this morning, and I haven't had any accidents all day long!"

"Excellent!" Illya praised her.

A moment later Trina appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. A strand or two of dark brown hair fell across her face, which bore a slightly peaked look. She was eight months pregnant, and Illya was accustomed to seeing her look pale and wan at the end of the day.

"Moya dorogaya." Illya put his daughter down and took his wife into his arms, gently sweeping the hair back from her eyes before kissing her lips. "Have you been all right?"

"Not too bad," she replied bravely. "I've had a backache off and on all day, but the heating pad helps."

"Mne ochen zhal." He held her and gently rubbed her back as she rested her head on his shoulder. He knew that what he was about to tell her was going to make her feel even worse.