Chapter 3: The Arrest of Katyusha
Laika ushered the remaining audience back to their seats.
She gave them wide reassuring smiles that would have made a used car salesman cry. Pravda's Red Army choir members also went back to their places with those playing instruments making last-minute adjustments. A cacophony of violins being retuned echoed throughout the stage.
The choirmaster also made checks on the notes she scribbled on her music sheets. She noted the parts where the sopranos needed to pitch up their singing or when the contraltos needed to ease with their enunciations. Having a choir of Japanese high school girls sing a Russian folk song was a challenge the choirmaster knew needed constant scrutiny.
"That's right, just sit down on your seats," Laika requested to the audience. "Nothing to worry about. Everything will just be fine."
"There's not enough left," Laika muttered to her kouhai. She lowered her voice so that only her kouhai could hear her speak. "Those bloody guards were too slow to lock the doors."
"I'm sure locking the theater's doors while people are still inside is a direct violation of the building code."
"What?"
"I said, having the doors locked while people are still inside is a direct vio-"
"I don't give a damn about your building code!" Laika hissed. "There are not enough people inside, and this will affect the acoustics!"
"Why not just let people sit six feet apart from each other?"
The stage director stared at her kouhai. "What?"
"I mean, we can fill up the whole theater with less people inside."
"Fewer."
"What?"
Laika shook her head, signaling her kouhai to continue.
"Like I said," her kouhai started again. "People will sit six feet apart like they're trying to avoid each other from getting infected by some virus or something."
Laika raised an eyebrow as she crossed her arms.
"I mean," her kouhai tried to explain further. "With everyone evenly spaced six feet apart, the chances of getting infected by some flu will be minimized."
"Kouhai," Laika glared at her kouhai as if she just said the dumbest thing she had ever heard. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"But I mea-"
"What's next? We lockdown our school simply because I coughed?" Laika made several coughing sounds to make her point. "Enough with your crazy social distancing plans. I need more people to fill up this theater, and I need them now!"
"But it's already late," her kouhai protested. "Everyone but us in here is already in their dorms sleeping."
"I don't care!" Laika threw her hands up in a fit. "That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make! The blokes in the Fisheries Department are still working right now. Go get their asses here, and I don't care if you have to drag them on a net! Move!"
Without saying another word, her kouhai scurried away out of the theater.
Laika let out one exhausted sigh.
This was not what she had in mind when she accepted the position for stage director. All she wanted to do was to manage concertos of Russian folksongs and ballads.
Thoughts of damp classrooms without any sunlight flashed before her eyes. She didn't do anything wrong. She had good grades, never been late to a class, and she had publicly proclaimed her loyalty to the great Katyusha-sama. There should not be any reason why she should be sent to Siberia.
But what if there was?
An icy shiver ran down her spine. Now memories of her doing something that might earn her an infraction came rushing into her head.
She remembered that she was walking down a street one time, and she forgot to pick up some litter. Was she being observed then?
Or what about that time when she went to school with mismatching socks? Did they record that on her files?
She shook her head. Until her bumbling kouhai returns with folks from the Fisheries Department, she just needs to prepare the audience and the stage for the recording.
"Uh, comrades, may I have your attention, please?" She addressed everyone inside the theater.
She was ignored.
"Comrades, may I have your, SHUT UP!"
Everyone stopped on what they were doing.
She made a sweeping glance at the audience and then at the Red Army Choir on the stage before proceeding to speak.
"Comrades, I have wonderful news," she began. "I just got a call from Comrade Katyusha saying she loves the concerto so much that she wants a recording of it right away!"
She paused as she let the knowledge of Katyusha liking the concerto sink in. She could see equally mixed feelings of excitement and terror from the choir members at the mention that the little General Secretary loved their performance.
The audiences also started to murmur between themselves regarding this revelation. Laika could even spot some sleepy audience members snapping back to attention.
"Unfortunately," her shoulders sagged. "We currently don't have a recording for myriad and complex reasons I don't have time to explain."
Now, this got everyone's attention. Those audiences that looked like they had some objections to being forced to stay went immediately silent. Everyone understood the implications of the little General Secretary wanting a recording of an unrecorded concerto.
"So, that's why the concerto we just played will be playing again," she gestured to the choir on stage before turning her attention towards the audience. "And this time, we will record it, and then we will applaud it."
A member of the choir started clapping, followed by a couple more members. This then got everyone in the choir to clap until the audience, too, started applauding. The sound of thunderous applause reverberated around the theater.
For the first time in the day, Laika's smile turned genuine. She felt incredible relief at what she just saw. This was possible. They could actually recreate tonight's performance and let it be recorded for Comrade Katyusha's listening pleasure.
"I won't do it."
Laika turned her attention toward the one who just spoke so fast she almost snapped her neck muscles.
"Who said that?" She asked.
The pianist, a second-year student with short ginger hair, stood up. She faced the stage director with a defiant expression.
Laika glared back at the pianist and cursed.
Motherfu-
==0==0==0==
At the same time as Laika went on a profanity-laced tirade inside the People's Hall of Theater and Arts, dozens of military trucks roamed around the streets zeroing in on their targets. These trucks would then park close to their target's apartment before NKVD members, armed with airsoft rifles, would start unloading from the back. They would rush inside the apartment completely unannounced to apprehend their targets before they could react.
The Nonna-Katyusha Victory Division was initially formed to gather intelligence on the Senshado clubs of other school ships. One of their notable accomplishments was successfully infiltrating Kuromorimine last year to gather vital intel on their commander, Maho Nishizumi.
This year, however, due to the Alumni Association's mandate to Katyusha to bring drastic reforms to the school, the NKVD was retooled to focus its resources on internal affairs. Thus, the organization ballooned from only a dozen handpicked members to one containing hundreds of informants and agents. They even have their own security force trained within the enormous airsoft club.
Katyusha woke up in the middle of the night after she heard loud banging on her apartment door. At first, she tried to ignore it, but the banging continued until it compelled her to get up.
She had fallen asleep while completing her homework, and her mind was still groggy with images of numbers and formulas. She wondered who could it be at her door and why they wanted to see her so badly? She thought of combing her unkempt short brown hair but realized she didn't have the time.
"Ok, hold on a sec," with a wide cavernous yawn, she unlocked the door.
The door slammed open, and immediately two girls in army fatigues came in to apprehend her.
Sleep quickly evaporated from her mind as she realized the identities of her nightly visitors.
"Are you Katyusha from class 1-C of the General Studies Department?" a third girl wearing a commissar uniform asked.
Katyusha felt her body trembling in fear. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words dared to come out of her lips.
The commissar leaned forward, so their eyes were only inches apart. "I'll say this one last time. Are you Katyusha from class 1-C of the General Studies Department?"
Still shaking from fear, Katyusha slowly nodded her head in the affirmative.
The commissar stepped back and took a paper from her list. "Katyusha from class 1-C of the General Studies Department, you are hereby detained for failing on your midterm exams on multiple subjects."
"But… But I'm working on..." Katyusha stammered. "I'm working on my su-supplementary lessons right now!"
"You can work on it in Siberia," the commissar replied as she turned to walk out of her apartment.
Katyusha wanted to protest some more, but the two girls in army fatigues wrapped their arms around hers, forcing her to come with them.
==0==0==0==
Katyusha felt her legs go numb as she watched six NKVD security forces barged into her tank repair hangar unannounced. She could hear their hurried footsteps echoing all around her. She wanted to run away as far away as she could, but her legs refused to function.
Some of her fellow mechanics were also frozen in place like deers petrified with fear from a fast-approaching car.
Their senpai president attempted to meet the approaching NKVD agents, but they tackled her down to the ground even before she had any chance to speak.
Now she could hear cries from a couple of her mechanics, and some even tried to run away. Perhaps these agents were only looking for a specific individual? It didn't necessarily mean they would take them all to Siberia. After all, their mechanics club did well in maintaining the Senshado club's tanks. She even saw the Great General Secretary stopped by from her busy schedule to congratulate them for a job well done.
Her hopes of not being the NKVD's target soon died when she saw the lead commissar make a bee-line towards her.
Now her mind was screaming for her legs to move. At the last second, she sensed some control over her legs and immediately tried to run away. However, in her panic, she slipped on a puddle of grease and fell to the floor with a thud.
She could feel her world spinning. Why was she being targeted? What did she do to deserve this?
Before she could get up, she saw a pair of boots stepping in front of her face. Slowly, she looked up and saw the commissar glaring menacingly at her.
"You are Katyusha from class 1-A of the Engineering Department, yes?" the commissar asked.
"Y-Yes," she squeaked. "M-My name is Ka-Katyusha."
The commissar nodded and gestured to her underlings to approach.
Katyusha was yanked back to her feet with her hands cuffed behind her back.
"Katyusha from class 1-A of the Engineering Department, you are hereby detained for your unsatisfactory results in your latest exams."
The commissar's words felt like a hammer blow. She felt her stomach go numb with guilt.
The commissar was right. Her last exam was a disaster. She got too embroiled in her love for fixing tanks, she neglected her studies for weeks. Her fellow mechanics even urged her to take her studies more seriously, but the smell of oil and sweat staining her long flowing back hair and green jumpsuit made her lose sight of her academic studies.
Katyusha finally lowered her head in total submission.
"A-At least allow me to c-change my clothes," she requested as she kept her gaze low.
"Don't worry," the commissar quipped. "Your clothes will be sent to you in Siberia."
==0==0==0==
"Unhand me, you louse!" Katyusha protested as two NKVD agents pinned her down on the ground. "Stop it! You're hurting me!"
The NKVD agents proceeded to cuff the blonde-haired fashion designer despite her pained screaming. With a sharp click of the handcuff's locks, they finally had her secured. They hoisted her back to her feet without any care that she was missing one of her high-heeled shoes.
"You're making a terrible mistake!" Katyusha warned. Tears fell down her cheeks, which further ruined her mascara. "My mother will have your heads! She will not stand idly by while her dau-"
"Your mother is part of this school's Alumni Association," the accompanying commissar cut her off. "They gave our Great General Secretary their direct blessing to implement her radical reforms for this school."
"I don't give a damn about the General Secretary's reforms!" Katyusha shot back as she struggled and squirmed. "Mother did not agree to have her daughter getting manhandled!"
As the daughter of a super-wealthy family, the blonde fashion designer had never expected to be so rudely treated like a peasant.
The commissar stared directly into Katyusha's eyes before smirking. She then showed Katyusha a note. "This is from your mother. She specifically mentioned her desire to reform your bourgeoisie ass and let you experience the everyday struggles of a proletariat."
"Hah?!" Katyusha stared back at the commissar. "That doesn't make sense!"
"Soon it will be," the commissar nodded before taking another note from her pocket. "Since you're already apprehended, this will simply be a formality, but… Katyusha of class 1-D of the Fashion Department, you are hereby detained for failing to pass half of your exams in the midterms."
"I don't care!" Katyusha protested. "I don't need those useless subjects!"
The commissar signaled to her fellow NKVD agents to bring her to their truck. "You'll soon learn to love them in Siberia."
==0==0==0==
Katyusha swore a deluge of profanity as she passed through the dimly lit corridors on the ship's lowest decks. Parts of her white sailor uniform, as well as a considerable portion of her black pony-tailed hair, were drenched with crimson paint.
"Halt!" one of the pursuing NKVD agents shouted at her.
"Go fuck yourselves!" she shouted back as she showed her pursuers her middle finger.
The sound of their footfalls on the corridor's metallic floor echoed all around her, which made it difficult for her to hear any other sounds.
Without stopping to aim, she glanced back and fired her Tokarev TT-33 airsoft pistol at her pursuers, who all wore the green fatigue uniforms of the NKVD.
Her airsoft pistol let out a sharp, high-pitched sound each time it fired a pellet.
The NKVD agents tried to evade her shots, but one got hit by a pellet, which exploded into a smudge of orange paint on her uniform.
In normal airsoft battles, this would have compelled the NKVD agent to declare 'hit' and return to her starting position. However, the elusive sailor broke such rules the moment she continued firing, even when her white sailor uniform was redecorated with red paint. It was now a contest of how much the sailor could withstand the pain of being hit repeatedly.
Katyusha continued to fire her airsoft pistol at her pursuers from behind as she quickened her run through the corridor.
"You will never catch me alive, you dumbfu-"
She never saw the commissar coming towards her from a corner.
The commissar slammed her whole body against her, which sent them both crashing to the ground hard. Before the downed sailor could react, the commissar wrapped her entire arm around her neck on a headlock.
Katyusha squirmed. She tried to point her airsoft pistol at her attacker but realized she no longer held it in her hand. In desperation, she tried to hit the commissar behind her with a closed fist, but the chokehold on her neck only hardened like a vice grip.
"K-Katyusha f-from 1-B, of the Naval S-Studies Department," the commissar struggled to recite her charges without softening her grip on the squirming sailor. "You're h-hereby detained for b-being a f-fucking moron."
"F-Fuck you!" Katyusha growled as her vision began to dim and her strength began to weaken.
"Enjoy your stay in Siberia bitch," the commissar replied before tightening her hold on Katyusha's neck until finally, she passed out.
==0==0==0==
Katyusha knew they were coming.
She recognized the military truck driving to a halt in front of the school's gate. A dozen or so NKVD agents descended from the truck's rear door wielding airsoft rifles.
Too excessive. She thought, not quite sure if she should be flattered or insulted by it.
Finally, she shut the blinders of the computer lab's glass windows and walked towards the teacher's chair. She sat down and then took out her mp3 player from her pocket and started to play Chopin's Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor.
Her mp3 player immediately played a somber sonata appropriate for her inevitable arrest. The sad piano music gave her a piece of solace in her mind. She made a mistake, and now she was paying for it.
The computer lab she was in was situated on the third floor of the Science building, which meant she still had a couple of minutes for herself before her captors arrived.
She opened a drawer on her teacher's desk and took out a small repair box. She placed the box on the desk and opened it. She knew her teacher was a smoker. She could smell the distinct smell of nicotine near her desk every time she tried to approach him. Though he would never smoke in class, she knew he must have stored his cigarettes somewhere close by, and she was right. Inside the repair-box was an unopened cigarette pack. Tearing off the pack's plastic covering, she opened it, then took out a cigarette stick.
She studied the stick for a few seconds. She let her fingers caress its soft paper covering before sniffing it.
Chopin's sonata had turned mellow and downcast. She couldn't help but notice how appropriate the song was for her fall.
She was here inside the computer lab, alone, and sniffing on a cigarette stick. She had fallen, and she had fallen hard.
She heard a loud banging on the door and realized it was not locked.
For a second, she mused at what would happen to her if they came in finding her playing with a cigarette stick. It would be one spicy scandal she would never recover.
She quickly returned the stick back to its pack. However, instead of returning the pack to the drawer, she placed it inside her pocket.
A second later, the computer lab's door opened, and a girl in a commissar's uniform entered. Her lackeys soon followed.
She eyed the commissar with a neutral expression.
"You are late," she said before the commissar could speak. "I was expecting you half an hour ago."
The commissar stopped a few steps from her and shook her head. "Beg your pardon, miss, our previous target was an idiot that didn't know her time was up."
"I see," she nodded before standing up. She grabbed her mp3 player, pressing stop on the play button. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
The commissar nodded back.
"You are Katyusha from class 1-S of the Computer Science Department?"
"Yes, that's me."
The commissar signaled to her subordinates to move forward.
"Katyusha from class 1-S of the Computer Science Department, you are hereby detained for achieving an unsatisfactory score on the last midterm."
"I understand," Katyusha replied with resignation.
"Don't worry," the commissar assured her as she took out her handcuffs. "You will have plenty of time to amend your mistake in Siberia."
A/N:
It seems to me that sharing the name of the Great General Secretary is not a boon, but a liability in Pravda. I wonder if that could also be the case in countries with not so much democracies? ^^
Anyways, thanks so much for the warm comments and PMs from Reddit and Wattpad. I really appreciate it all.
Until next time!
Revision History:
- Originally published on February 12, 2021
