A/N: Two chapters in two days! And now, presenting, Act Two of Fighting Land!
It was three in the morning when the Aeroflot flight to Groznyy finally landed. By then, Carter and Rosie were thoroughly tired enough to nearly fall asleep while walking.
"A midnight flight in a crowded and noisy turboprop," muttered Carter. "Looks like the Chairman was not as omnipotent as he had been back during the Soviet era."
"How in the world did you know that it was crowded and noisy?"
"I've got a sixth sense, Rose."
There was a man waiting for them in the arrival area, holding a placard bearing their cover names. But it was the man holding it that grabbed their attention.
"How did you get there earlier?" Carter asked Abramov.
"Being a member of the KGB has some benefits. Colonel Fedorova recommended for me to tag along with you two, but I preferred a little more speed." He pointed at a MiG-29 parked on the tarmac.
His car was another GAZ-24, this time without any markings at all. "I'll take you up to the Army's headquarters here. Our KGB personnel reside with them."
The ride through town was smooth, but as he began to travel down the Groznyy's main road, he suddenly applied the brakes. "Oh, shit," he muttered. Five BMP-1 troop carriers were blocking his path.
Abramov got out of the car and walked towards a soldier in field dress. After having a brief chat, he returned to the car. "There's some kind of demonstration in front of the Chechen War Memorial," he told the girls. "Third Shock Army's sealed off the road until it's over. Can you help me push the car to the side of the road?"
After finishing the task, the three walked towards the congregation of Russian soldiers. "Who are those two guys on the stage?" asked Carter.
"Lavrenty Yakovlev and Abdullah Reshetov," replied Abramov. "Yakovlev's a representative in the Russian parliament, he's been trying to push Adzhitekova to recognize that island off the coast of Morocco; I think it was Bedoan Island or something like that. Reshetov's the leader of the Islamic minority here, and also a prominent member of the local Communist Party."
"Oh, I've heard about it," said Rosie. "The Moroccan king wasn't all that pleased to let go of Bedoan Island, but the war had become unpopular, quite like Vietnam had been thirty years ago."
It wasn't the only reason why Bedoan Island was eventually given independence. The nation was not a socialist state in the sense of the former Soviet Union, more of a Communist Party-led state. Already, political commentators have begun calling the resulting ideology "Bedoanism."
"It sounds like they're saying something," said Carter.
"Don't look at me," replied Abramov. "I know nothing of the Arabic language."
Naturally, her gaze turned towards Rosie. "Fine," the princess-turned-spy muttered, taking a notepad and pen. "I don't guarantee full accuracy, mind you."
Half an hour later, Reshetov had finished his speech, to the apparent approval of the protesters. Rosie's translation bore only a few mistakes, chief of them misunderstood words.
"'My brothers and sisters, let us support the People's Republic of Bedoan Island, and save the Homeland from the capitalist infidels! For too long, we have suffered under despots, but now we have a socialist Homeland to call our own! I congratulate our brothers-in-arms for keeping Bedoan Island free and safe. But now, I must return to the matter at hand: the establishment of our home.'"
"'The People's Republic of Bedoan Island is a legitimate nation-state with a firm government, an iron-clad constitution, and a high degree of respectability. If it weren't for our President, we would still be under the heavy hand of the imperialists! For too long, we have been denied a home, and now our opportunity has come! All of us here have the blood of the Bedoans flowing in our veins, and that shall be our unifying force! We shall fight as fiercely as the Bedoans fought against the imperialists, and soon our Homeland will be recognized and respected!'"
"'But all this would be impossible without you, my brothers and sisters! We are united with a common goal, and we shall crush anyone who dares to stand in the way! Our Homeland is the only thing we have left in this world besides ourselves, my brothers and sisters, and we shall fight for it, even if it needs our lives to succeed in the ultimate goal!'"
"'And so, my brothers and sisters, go! Sow the seeds of socialism and prepare for a very bountiful harvest! Socialism is the way to Allah! Communism is the way to Allah! Allah akhbar!'"
"I can see some weapons in the crowd," said Carter. "Do you think they would use them?"
"I doubt it, unless they're suicidal enough to incur the wrath of the Red Army," replied Abramov. "No, it's highly improbable that they will use them."
News crews from Russia's main television channels were already flocking the scene, causing the protesters to increase the tempo of their chanting. Thanks to today's interactive world, any message conveyed by video can reach even the farthest corners of the planet within the span of minutes. For the protesters, the intended effect was to increase awareness on the effects of the legal recognition of Bedoan Island.
Suddenly, the crowd began to scatter. "Militantiy! Militantiy!" they shouted.
"What are they talking about?" asked Carter.
"Militants."
"What in the world do you mean by militants?—"
The first shots took everyone by surprise. Even the supposedly well-trained Red Army soldiers, of which some were quickly felled by the attackers. One of the wounded soldiers was rushed by his comrade towards Abramov's car. "Comrade, do you mind if I use your car to bring Comrade Zhemnev to the hospital?" he asked.
"No, I can take him there myself if you want," the private replied.
The shooting suddenly ceased. The militants had vanished as swiftly as they had appeared. But some of their number had been left behind, some wounded, others those trying to surrender. The soldiers quickly surrounded them and arrested them. Whatever the cause of the events, only one effect was clear.
It was going to be a very long day.