TUSKEGEE
A cool Baltic wind swept over the sea, churning waves and howling into the darkness. A moonless night was made less lonely by the multitude of stars above. White lights twinkled through the endless black velvet. A pair of tired eyes looked up at them wishing they could slip the surly bonds of earth. A white noise tempted the eyes to shut and go away to the Land of Nod.
"Fallin' asleep there?" cracked a deep voice.
"No sir!" a young voice replied, "Just a little distracted."
"Give yourself a slap, you were listing lazily to the right and dangerously close to me."
"Yes, sir! Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!"
"Don't stress it, kid," said a third voice, "Happens to all of us on our first time. Right, Tuskegee?"
"Yeah, it does, Tomahawk. Hatchling One, just hold out for a few more minutes. Hatchling Two, you still awake back there?"
"Doin' okay. Doin' okay."
Four planes flew through the air. The propellers whirring and roaring as loudly as they could. At the head of the formation was a pair of P-40 Kittyhawks in dark green paint with shark jaws drawn on the engine. The P-40s were tailed by a pair of veteran pilots flying the famous P-51 Mustang. The sleek steel hull shimmered like a star and the bright red tail let everyone know the wing was elite. Navigation lights shone brightly on the tail and wings. In the red and green lights was the Screaming Eagle of Midway High School.
"There she is," said Tuskegee happily, "We can head home now."
A sprawling city with tall spires and long bridges. Its old architecture from centuries' gone stood head and shoulder above the bastardized buildings of the twentieth, and the buildings of the twenty first were beginning to sprawl. Walking the streets of the old city, which bore three names, was a travel through time.
"St. Petersburg, a beautiful city," said Hatchling One.
"I'll take the warmth of Honolulu any day over Russia," said Tomahawk.
"Request permission to head back, captain," said Hatchling Two.
"Permission granted. The ship can manage on its own now. All planes turn bearing two-seven-zero. Repeat, two-seven-zero."
"Hey, Tuskegee have you figured out what we're going to do about the Ruskies?"
"Figure it out tomorrow after a good night's rest. Match is in two days, more than enough time."
THE BEAR
"Comrade Commander, the American's have arrived."
A student with black hair and blue eyes marched into the room. His uniform was army green and the boots were obsidian black. A bright red and yellow crest adorned his garrison cap. The crest was a T-square, steel squares, and scissors arranged in a way to mimic the infamous hammer and sickle. Across his chest were rows of medal ribbons.
The student officer had entered a grand office. Red carpet went from green wall to green wall. Portraits of previous commanders stared imposingly at anyone who dared enter. A large velvet chair waited behind a black desk. In one corner of the room sat a globe with pins stuck into certain cities, and in the other was a small coffee table and a pair of chairs.
"I know Comrade Wolf," said a shadow by the window, "I can see them from here."
The shadow pointed to red and green lights floating across the sky.
"Perhaps you should look up and open your eyes rather than waiting for the men in naval studies to tell you what is happening. Slack jaws and laziness costs victories."
Comrade Commander took his seat at the desk. He was broad fellow, with strong arms accented by his only average height. Steel gray eyes pierced through long grey bangs. He wore the same uniform as his subordinate but many more ribbons and medals. His hat was an officer's hat with a light blue band. Impressive tassels and bars clung to the shoulders denoting his great rank.
"Is that all you wanted, Comrade Wolf?"
"Commander Bear, should we not contact our sister school and begin planning? The Americans are experts in ground attack and bombing. They will be difficult to content with in this new format."
"I agree, but Comrade Commander Snowdrift has seen it fit to sleep tonight. There will be no coordinated planning."
"So we do nothing."
"Of course not. Inform the mechanics and have them prepare the planes. I want them in perfect condition. Then find the most fluent English speakers in the school. They will be tasked to conduct reconnaissance on the Americans."
"Infiltrate the school ship?"
"Perhaps, but befriending and having them willingly tell us their secrets will suffice."
"By your command."
"And one more thing, make sure the teams understands the importance of this match. The Student Council will not be pleased with another crushing defeat."
KEI THOMPSON
A massive crowd gathered in the Saunders' stadium, a facility almost as large as the ones on land. Bright lights blazed down on the football field, making it seem like day. A team of red and grey faced off against their white and blue adversaries. Strong boys blocked and tackled each other. The quarterback hurled a long pass, a prayer leaving his lips.
"Touchdown!"
A burly football player danced in the end zone. The crowd went wild. Air horns blasted beside the long obnoxious drone of the vuvuzela. Hoots and hollers and cheers drowned out the announcer. Big bright flags flew frantically in the wind. Boys and girls in bright team colours and makeup snarled and called each other out. The sound carried over the open sea and must've awoken then entire Baltic Coast.
"Go Longhorns! Woo!" cheered a blonde hair, blue eyed commander.
Kei stood up on her seat screaming as loud as she could. Her drink sloshed around and the popcorn fell around. Nobody cared about the mess. They were all too busy getting in on the game.
RING! RING! RING!
Between the play, Kei fumbled for her phone.
"Hey, what's up?!" she shouted into her phone.
"Kei!" the phone shouted, "We're almost at St. Petersburg and –"
"Go Giants!"
"Kei, where are you?"
"At the stadium watching Midway's football teams. What's the big deal, Alisa?" Kei pointed out, "Hey! Get that guy! Block him! Block him!"
"What's the big deal? We're about to dock in Russia and we haven't even started planning our strategy for the match."
"Oh we'll be fine, they lost too after all."
"To a better team," Alisa sighed, "But I'm not going to be able to pull you away from –"
"Interception!"
"Yeah, that's what I thought. So who's winning?"
"Who do you think? My Texas Longhorns are up 28 – 3 in the second quarter against your New York Giants. Your team sucks, Kei teased.
"The Giants always pick up in the third. They'll turn it around."
"Oh yeah? Wanna bet?"
"What are you thinking?"
"Well if your team wins I'll pull an all-nighter on the battle plan you're so worried about."
"Okay, and if you win?"
"Ankou dance."
"But that costume is so tight. Fine, you're on."
"Oh and it's in front of the boys."
"Fine, but if you lose you're doing it in addition to your all nighter."
The crowd cheered as the Longhorns scored another touchdown.
"Sure, we just scored again so you better get your groove thing on."
NONNA "BLIZZARD" CHAIKOVSKY
"Sleep, my beautiful good boy, Bauyshi bayu," sang a soft voice.
In a starlit room Nonna Chaykovsky hummed in a cushioned chair beside a large bed. A comfortable light red pajama set hung loosely on her hourglass figure. Her shoulder length dark brown hair was still damp from a late evening bath, droplets twinkling like little gems in the dim light. Silver-blue eyes looking longingly at the sleeping girl beside her.
"Quietly the moon is looking, into your cradle," she sang sweetly, "I will tell you fairy tales and sing you little songs…"
Every note hung in the air, careful not to disrupt the calm, sweet, peace. The covers on the bed rose and fell slowly like waves on the ocean. It was very late in the night but Nonna didn't feel tired at all. She continued to sing like a young mother to her child.
BZZT! BZZT! BZZT!
Nonna's phone vibrated and flashed with a new message. The young woman stopped singing and waited for a moment. The bed didn't stir, still fast asleep. Quietly unlocked her phone and turned the light away.
The Americans have arrived. Sturmovik is moving.
Keep me posted, Nonna replied, Thank you, Klara.
But of course.
BZZT!
"GWAH!"
Katyusha sprang up from the bed with a deep short gasp.
"Nightmare?"
"I heard something," said Katyuhsa, spying the glow of the phone, "I thought I told you not to wake the Russian Bear."
"I didn't, he was awake the entire time."
"Not him, me. I told him I wanted to sleep and we'll deal with the match later."
"I'll be sure to tell him. And I will tell him that a more terrifying bear is not as forgiving."
Nonna smiled a small, nearly invisible smile as she fawned over Katyusha's little outfit. The petite general, with her icy cold demeanour and equally frozen green-blue eyes, could not be less intimidating. Cold Commander Katyusha, and her child-like stature, was warm and snugly in a cute, yellow bear pajama complete with sleepy eyes, brown button nose, and fuzzy ears. Were anyone to see her like this their hearts would melt from the cuteness. And Katyusha absolute embarrassment would lead to much violence, but we won't talk about that part.
"Good. I'm going back to sleep, and you should too."
"Of course, after I deal with our American visitors."
"They're here? Now?"
"They are arriving. Commander Vasily "Bear" Romanov, has called his team and mobilized his school to greet them. I thought it wise to meet with him tonight."
Katyusha scoffed, "Those pilots worry too much. A the slightest cloud they fear they can't fly."
Katyusha waddled to the window and looked out across the city. In the harbour she could see the tall towers the Midway and Saunders' carriers.
"We don't have a reason to fear the Americans."
"Just as we had no reason to fear Ooarai during the internationals, and no reason to fear Ohka in the last match," said Nonna coldly, "Is that not correct?"
"Ooarai, Ohka," Katyusha flinched, "We practice first thing tomorrow morning."
"Of course," said Nonna texting away.