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Chapter 4

The Unsinkable Sophia Marskov

Our engine chugged along, more and more sluggishly, for about half an hour before we saw anything. The storm was getting steadily worse, wind knocking us around erratically, and waves high enough to reach the plane.

"Gadget, can we fly any higher?" asked Chip as another wave of frozen spray washed up over the top of the plane.

I shook my sopping hair out of my eyes and dragged a hand absently across my fogging goggles. "You know I can't, Chip," I pointed at one of the gauges. "The water in the engine is weighing us down."

"I could always toss Dale overboard!" he shouted through the wind.

"Hey!" exclaimed Dale. I heard someone in the back get socked.

"Technically, I don't think that would help, at least not for very long. When we get to the Anastasia, we're going to have to find some other way of rescuing Miss Marskov."

"I'd be likin' to go nowhere once we reach the Anastasia," Monty huffed.

"On the contrary, I think we will be in quite the hurry to leave after all," replied Jules tersely, pointing over the console and to port.

As we flew on, smoke, heavy and dark, climbed into the plane. Coughing, gagging on the denseness of it, I turned the Wing down, hoping to find and evade the source. Our engine didn't like smoke, either.

"Golly!" It came out so automatically, yet hardly covered the severity of what we were seeing. Black plumes erupted into the air around us, and I darted around them, treating us to a horrific view of the Anastasia, which was on fire. And sinking like a rock.

"Crikey!" exclaimed Monterey.

"Chip, what're we gonna do?" I shouted. "The Ranger Wing isn't going to make it back, and even if it was, we couldn't take all the mice on board with us."

"We'll have to ditch the Ranger Wing and make a raft," proclaimed Chip, standing up to scout out the ship better. I rejoiced that he was around; he never seemed to lose his head in a crisis. "Jules, where will Miss Marskov and the other mice on board be?"

"Undoubtably they will be-"

But Dale cut him short. "On the side that's not underwater!"

Dale was right. The entire bow of the ship was nearly under, it's dying lights flickering eerily under the ocean waves. "All right then, we go to the stern," I said, and took the Ranger Wing down, the smoke around us a death omen.

As soon as we landed, skidding a bit on the slippery, sooty deck, Chip started shouting out orders. "Jules, take Gadget and go find Miss Marskov. Dale, you help everyone get over to this side of the deck. Monty, Zipper? We'll start a raft."

We all nodded and scattered. Jules grabbed me by the elbow and started running towards the door leading inside the ship, yawning before us like a gateway to perdition. I did not want to go down there.

"I didn't want to mention it on the plane, but I'm afraid all the quarters are in the front of the ship. Miss Marskov is very frightened of fire. She probably panicked and refused to leave her cabin."

I nodded, gasping for air as we went through the doorframe. It was dark, almost black inside, the only light coming from the Christmaslight bulbs wired horizontally on each side of the floor. Water crept up around our ankles as we wound our way through the claustrophobic maze, and the lights cast green and yellow reflections up onto Jule's face. Everything down there looked the same, twisted and trapped.

My breath caught in my chest, and I whimpered quietly. Jules looked back at me, apprehension on his face. "We're almost there, Miss," he whispered, and took my elbow again, leading me.

There was no one down there in that pit of inky oblivion. The only sound came from the enormous pressure the ocean was exerting on the hull of the ship. It groaned and clanked, threatening any moment to buckle and send ice and water into the hallway. I knew I'd freeze in under three minutes if I got wet and stayed that way. The water was 45' Fahrenheit at best. It would be like the Titanic all over again, except with mice.

Jules turned a corner I could have sworn we'd taken before, and stopped sharply. The bottom fourth of it underwater, Jules reached out and pushed cabin 54-B's door open. A new sound met my ears: hysterical crying. And it wasn't me.

Sophia was huddled in the corner of the room, wet and crying. The instant she saw Jules, she was on her feet and in his arms. "Oh! Jules! You have come!" She pulled back, absolutely in pieces. "He is here, Jules!"

"The assassin?"

"Yes! He is here! He started the fire...oh, Jules!"

Sophia's ebony curls swirled around her as Jules wrapped a firm arm around her shoulders. "Miss Marskov, we must flee at once. I have brought the Rescue Rangers with me. They are here now, building a raft for us to escape on."

Sophia looked up for an instant, something like hope in her green, tear-dewed eyes. I was certainly glad she felt that the situation looking up. For my part, I felt like collapsing into my own little ball of hysterics and waiting for the Rangers to find me.

"Yes, yes, we must go at once," she said, and started towards the door.

The problem was, there was already someone in the doorway. Sophia screamed. So did I.

"You're going nowhere," breathed a deep, guttural voice. I stepped backwards, splashing in the rising water.

"No!" Sophia whimpered, fainting on the spot.

"Miss-"

But Jules got no further. The assassin lunged and grabbed him, and in two seconds had him out the door and into the dark hallway. I heard Jules cry out and something smashed and spluttered up the corridor, away from us. I prayed he would get out top.

"Run, coward!" The assassin reappeared in the doorway, big and looming, rough like a brick and heavy like a boulder. He was grey, and the flashing, dimming lights from the hallway were casting his face into unearthly contortions.

My chest ached to breathe freely again, and yet a detached part of my mind somehow started working on an escape plan. The assassin had passed Sophia's prone form up and was heading for me, grinning maniacally. If I could get past him, I could probably pull her out of the room and shut and lock the door on him. That is, if the water didn't slow me up too much. In anticipation of my plan, I took one more small step backwards. I couldn't move too far, or he'd catch me before I could get Sophia out.

He was right in front of me. Just the sight of him and I felt small and helpless. He reached inside his black jacked and pulled out a knife. He held it poised, letting the meager light play with it. I felt nauseous, and I closed my eyes for a brief second. This was really getting out of hand. What was I doing on a sinking ship trapped in a room with an assassin?

He lunged for me, knife coming right at my heart. My mind went blank, empty and white, and I ran. No conscious thought on my part, only instinct and fear. I ducked under his arm and unceremoniously grabbed the unconscious actress and pulled as hard as I could, as fast as I could, but I didn't seem to be able to move properly. A nightmare of being chased, and yet not being able to move. Flying, then falling. Trying to speak, but no sound. I was knee-deep in icy water, brain and lungs addled by smoke, heart thundering furiously with fear, stomach roiling with nausea. I couldn't hear, I couldn't see, and yet I ran. I was out of the room. I had slammed the door, thrown the key card.

I dragged Sophia up the river from Hade's lair.

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