Chapter 59

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Duga-2 Radar array, September 1983

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Opening the door to the laboratory, Kozlov paused, his fur standing on end. Eyes glancing around, steps made nervously as he made sure not to get too close to anything mounted on the walls or the lab tables, he edged over to Jorin and a few other mammals, chief amongst them a mouse fiddling with complicated equipment.

"Ah," the wild ass said, turning to see the newcomer. "In time for the demonstration I see."

"Da," he said, turning down and looking at the masses of wires and equipment strewn about. Haphazardly cobbled or pieced together, it looked like something out of a low rate Frankenschwein movie. The bear would have added on 'ready to raise the dead' there, were it not for just how random it all seemed. If anything, it looked more like a…

"The portable fur drier of doom," he remarked, looking over the plastic casing somewhat placed inside and around it. While plenty of wires and components lay on the outside of the thick cream enamel, what was there certainly had the look of a bulbous casing with a long tubular end.

"Please," the mouse waved off. "This is the combination of both our team's years of research and work. I'm sure you wouldn't want to cut down on the gravity of this moment."

Kozlov nodded. "So, explain again how this…"

The mouse cut him off with a sigh. "Officially, my work is classified and I cannot explain what our main objectives are…"

"-I eventually asked him after the Union collapsed and he reveal that his team work on LASER and other energy weapons for in-orbit anti-satellite weaponry. Required technology to have no recoil, long range, fry electronics. While ultimately laser system chosen and launched on Polyus satellite, which due to error fell back to earth, he examined other methods of using energy as direct weapon."

"I can say that I have done advanced research into directed lightning and ball lightning technology."

"Ball lightning?" Kozlov asked, scratching his head.

"A very rare atmospheric phenomenon that we have been attempting to recreate via tesla coil discharge systems," he said, looking over his lab equipment and experimenting a little. "We should stand back."

That they did, their fur growing even more on end as a hum grew in the room. "Our propagation was poor however, with the assistance of your mammals research into the feedback spectra from major thunderstorms…" Kozlov raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Jorin. "We have been having significantly more success." The mouse retreated behind a small plastic shelter, paws on a small lever. "Observe."

He flicked it, a relay snapped shut, and the air cracked with a whip of a spark, a bright light reaching out from the gaps in the enamel casing. Bright lights that didn't fade, instead moving forward and out, snapping and cracking small sparks against metal as it went. Kozlov almost jumped back, instead bumping a slightly retreating Jorin away, as a bright orb of light sailed out. Slowly wobbling as it went, it stayed its course as it moved towards the wall, only for a sudden spark to leap from it to a nearby metal filing cabinet.

In an instant, it was gone.

"I…" Kozlov began, jaw hanging open as he walked over to where it had been. Jorin meanwhile was smiling, looking down at the mouse.

"That is quite excellent."

"Indeed," he smirked, starting to pack up the equipment. "And, while slow and only really able to provide a nasty electric shot to larger mammals, there is certainly promise in developing this system further. After all, the technology that at one point could only light a bulb under a football field in America now powers our cities, or can raze them to oblivion. Watch this space, we may win a Gnubel prize with this!"

"Or win the war," Jorin shrugged.

"Ha," he said, starting to operate other dials and levers, powering down his device. "We'll win it with good old bullets before this thing is operational. The next war though? Who knows, who knows…"

"Indeed," Jorin nodded, as he led Kozlov out.

Stepping out, walking through the pine forest in the shadow of the hulking radar array, it didn't take long for Kozlov to feel safe that they were alone. A slight cough and a pointed look at his partner followed.

"Back when we thought that our detections of Sizogo Orla were the result of its interactions with atmospheric conditions, I searched out any research papers on obscure events like those," he said. "Sprites, ball lightning, etcetera. It is not my best subject, but for the cause I tried."

"Makes sense," Kozlov nodded.

"We did get some, incredibly slight, variances in our feedback against the usual when such things occurred," he followed on. "I recorded them as best I could and sent them to these teams, playing them off as odd feedbacks being produced by the radar system. Some of the mammals trying to recreate these events in labs, our comrade back there included, reported very minor improvements in the output and success of their operations." He shrugged. "I considered that supportive of my weather hypothesis, so filed it away."

"-Until we learnt the real cause," Kozlov mused. "And introduced the frequencies we detected from our talisman."

"Exactly," he said. "At which point, as well as upgrading our detection system, to great success, I fed it back to them as a far more accurate reading. I was curious what might happen…"

"Results are interesting," the bear pondered. "You think this 'ball lightning' is by-product of whatever craft, whatever engine, this vessel uses?"

"Could be, could be," Jorin said, nodding along. "There's also been research leaked out into using those frequencies for stealth protection. Run it through the skin of an airplane, shield it from radar."

"And if plane is supersonic, at night," Kozlov followed on.

"Undetectable."

"Unless the west have their own Duga with its own frequency."

"I… Yes, but as far as I know they do not," he said. "Either way, from what I gather the stealth applications have all failed. It must be some interaction with the alloy material that allows it to function. You have the fundamental material, you have this fundamental frequency… Together…"

"Da," Kozlov agreed. "So, we invent the ray gun. What now?"

"Kozlov, Kozlov," Jorin said, hoof shaking the bear's shoulder. "Isn't that enough?"

"I…" he began, before relaxing back and smiling. Indeed, it was easily enough. To think otherwise was a silly thought.

"And if you are still unsure, or it never progresses beyond that," Jorin carried on. "We at least have something tangible that we have produced. To hold up in review meetings, applications for funding, more travel, more resources."

"More clout, more allies," the bear agreed, nodding. "For when the confrontation comes. For when we make our move."

"Indeed," he agreed, pausing as he looked out, the sun behind him. Kozlov did too. To the east. Across the sea. To the land beyond. Sizogo Orla's domain.

"This was something we discover, or rather come to conclusion of, few months before."

Earlier in the year, Kozlov looked on as Jorin unveiled a map of the Kamyakta peninsula. From its thin connection to the mainland in the north, to its wide body in the centre, the central and east coast ranges enclosing a great valley, its one outflow, the Kamyakta river, cutting through a steep gorge to flow into the ocean. "You know what it reminds me of?" Jorin asked, Kozlov turning to him.

"What?"

"Califurnia."

After a few seconds, Kozlov shook his head, the wild ass leaning in. "You have the coastal ranges, you have the big inland valley with a river draining from both sides and through a gap in the middle, you have the great mountains beyond. You have geysers here, you have…"

"Volcanoes?" the bear asked, pointing at them. From where the great arc of the Aleutian islands hit and then running down the coast, the peaks rose. Some as part of the Eastern range, like Avachinsky as it soared in a great perfect cone above Petropavlov-Kamyaktskiy. Others came up inside the valley, either on their own like the broken and now regrowing Shiveluch… Or the great conglomeration of volcanoes below, to the south of the river. Like a scab growing in the middle of the verdant valley, the green of the lowlands on the map was replaced by earthen browns, greys and whites. Highest among those was Klyuchevskaya Sopka, far more beautiful in real life, with photographs he'd seen revealing a grace that put Japan's Fuji to utter shame.

As long as the framing missed out the snarled up other brothers and sisters sprouting up alongside her, of course. Tolbachik -flat and sharp, Ushkovsky, Bezymianny, Krakarov, Zimina and Udina.

"-I think Califurnia has one or two in the north," Jorin waved off.

"Hmmm," Kozlov noted, turning to him. "Was it the one the side blew off of?"

"Maybe."

"That's why Russian volcanoes are better."

"Huh?"

"The side doesn't blow off."

Jorin flashed out a smile before bringing out a set of cellophane sheets. Together they began laying them over the great landmass, lining them up. Together they put each concurrent flight plan over the last, tracking every movement in and out of its domain that Sizogo Orla had made.

The results were clear.

"In there," Jorin said, pointing to the great mass of volcanoes. "And…" He brought something out, placing it down. Kozlov looked at it, pausing.

"A no fly zone… Missile and military testing."

"And ash," Jorin waved off. "That is the other main thing they say. When it's not the plumes and ash blasted up from Klyuchevskaya Sopka, it's the convected heat and smoke rising from Krakarov and her lakes of lava… Or so I've heard."

Kozlov just looked on, nodding. "A cover, for them."

"Obviously."

"And how do we get past the great bureaucracy to do something?"

Jorin settled back, rubbing his chin with his hooves. "So few mammals live out there. And from what I've heard they're very superstitious. Believe in ghosts, demons…"

"Sizogo Orla," Kozlov joked.

Jorin nodded, smiling, only for it to quiver somewhat. Instead, he shook his head. "Well, what contacts I can get… Not sure if there's any use. However, are you able to use yours to try and get in contact with mammals in the air force."

"I…" he said, pausing. "I can try, yes. Why, to get a plane to go after them? Shoot them down?"

"Or just to get a picture," he said. "Not to engage, but keep afar, take a nice picture. Some videos. See what our enemy is actually like. And then shoot off faster than sound if it tries anything."

"I'll try," Kozlov said, nodding. "And if we get that?"

"Let us hope members of the party will take action," Jorin said. "We have spy satellites, find out where his home is and…"

"Nuke it," Kozlov said, smiling, fist up.

"Kozlov," the ass cut in, the bear's mood cut short for a second. "Those volcanoes are treasures of our nation! They are also volcanoes. I do not know what happens if you nuke a volcano, but I now want to find out."

"Da," Kozlov agreed, the pair shaking paw and hoof.

"For record, I still want to know. Do not lie, you do too. Anyway, back to where we were."

Night had fallen. It had been a week or so since their visit from the mouse scientist who, having left them with a crude prototype, had flown back west. Inside the sub-control room, the one staffed by the subversive team and dedicated to tracking the comings and goings of their mysterious enemy, Kozlov was sitting by the computer screens, slowly looking over them. Lines continually flashed down, the pale green display of objects moving in and about.

One thing that always annoyed him was that there were plenty of other things in the air that were decidedly not Sizogo Orla. In fact, sometimes it was quite hard to discern which one was him or not. Various filters and wheels, varying the tuning of the system, were provided. They allowed a very crude method, seeing if you could phase him in or out.

Kozlov let his claws slowly rotate the dial back and forth before he sighed, paw waving out to bump against the switch to try and focus back on him.

Nothing much. Just another mess of things going on.

A yawn.

A need for some coffee.

He stood up, walked off and, after a bunch of other little things were done, he came back.

He looked back to the screen, eyes pausing as he saw something flickering in the middle of the Bearing Sea. An eyebrow rising, he tapped his pad onto the screen, feeling the light buzz of the static behind it.

A few dials had been added, allowing him to move a pair of crosshairs over the target. And with that, he sat back and watched, the light flickering here and there, cruising as it was to the South and West. Towards the heart of the peninsula. Towards its home base. "You don't know what is coming," the bear said, deciding enough time had passed. Using a second set of dials, he moved a new set of crosshairs over where the target was now. Pushing a button, a computer quickly calculated its heading and traced a long line in front of and behind the mark.

"Hmmmm… Right on target," he muttered, tapping his claw on the heart of the volcanic complex. The line passed right over it, as it traced from the crook of the bay at Anchorage, down through the peninsula and then down through Sakhalin and the Korean peninsula. "Hey, Jorin."

A few murmurs came out from the one or two mammals in the room, before Kozlov roared again. "JORIN!"

"-Don't blow the house down mammal," came a mutter, before he walked out, coming over. "What?"

The bear shrugged, tapping at the screen. "Eagle."

"Not like we can hunt it," the ass said, pushing him to the side and leaning in. "Not that we don't already know where he's going and…" There was a click and Jorin paused. "Huh?"

Kozlov blinked, looking up. "What?"

"Why's it still there?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just turned off the detector, he should have gone."

Kozlov blinked. "Well press it again. Maybe…"

Another click, Jorin looking down at the button. "And now it's… -it's off."

Kozlov looked down at the button, then at the screen, Sizogo Orla still on its route. "That is strange…"

"Even stranger is it means it was off when you saw Sizogo the first time," Jorin said.

"I… I turned it on," he said.

"-Well maybe you pressed it and it didn't click," he said, clicking it a few more times. The dim signal light kept on coming on and off, not that it made itself clear. "-Right, off."

Sizogo Orla could still be seen, out in the middle of the ocean.

Jorin threw up his paws. "Must be a loose connection. Let me check the readouts," he said, wandering off. Kozlov stepped out of his seat too, not that there was much that he could do. "-Seriously?"

He turned to face the wild ass, walking back to him with a pile of papers in his hooves. "What?"

"The readout," Jorin stressed, "says it's still running the detection frequency. Get there, turn it off when I say."

Kozlov went back, finger over button.

"-Now."

He pressed it.

"And again."

He did so.

Jorin threw up his paws. "No, working fine," he said, wandering over. "So why can we still detect you, huh?"

The bear paused before laughing. "He's broken down."

"Ha. Maybe. But maybe he's hit a lightning storm and it's still having the same effect. Boris?"

"-Da," came a voice from the other side of the room.

"Weather report for the Bearing Sea please."

"On it."

"Very good," he said, leaning in and using his controls to scroll in and read off more data. "Eleven thousand meters… That's very high for him."

Kozlov nodded. "Does it know its systems are not working? Is that why it's flying hi… -No, if it knew, it would fly as low as it could, as usual. Instead, the normal radar could pick it up. Ha, it might get blown out of the sky right here right now."

Jorin shook his head. "Remember those gales last week?"

"Yes, why?"

"They were far worse out there," he said, pointing to the eastern coast of the peninsula. "I heard they're still trying to repair the radar."

"Well, should we call them?" Kozlov asked, Jorin nodding. Just then, Boris came over.

"Calm water over the sea, sir."

"Good," Jorin said. "Call the commanders in Kamyakta air command. Unidentified flying object picked up at our coordinates, on the following heading." He read them out, Boris noting them down and racing off to communicate them on. "Well," he said, shrugging. "That was easy."

"Da," Kozlov said, nodding. "Da…"

"You're not sure?"

"Something… Something feels a little different about him this time."

"Do you know what?"

The bear shook his head. "On back of mind, I… -Is he going faster?"

Jorin looked at him then quickly got to work, working out the distance between the waypoints and calculating… "Hmmm, rather fast for him, but not the fastest I've seen…"

"But for a long time," Kozlov said. "Maybe they're taking energy out of the shields, into the engines. They're bringing someone home, fast as they can."

"It could be, could be…" Hooves tapped on buttons and dials. "He's also bigger than before, no oscillations. Seventy metres long, sixty or so wide… Ha, all these years we've just been chasing a fancy jumbo je…" He froze, Kozlov turning to look at him as he gulped. "Jumbo… Jet."

The polar bear blinked, slapping his face. "Idiot, I was just following a plane. Again."

"Well this plane is about to hit our airspace," Jorin cut in, leaning forward. "What does he think he's doing?"

"Spying?" Kozlov asked, only to get a grunt from the equid.

"I know what spy planes look like. This is just a regular airplane. Why do that? At night. Over Sizogo Orla's base?"

"Maybe it's a radar plane?"

"But why send it over there. If they're tracking Sizogo Orla too, fine. But why are they using a slow flying plane. A U-2 can park outside our territory and look in. Whatever mach three wonderplane they have can just cruise across and be done. Is this some stupid young pilot thinking he can be a big hero?"

Kozlov scratched his nose. "It's coming from Anchorage."

"Probably mixed in with all the civilian planes."

"Or it is one," Kozlov said, turning back. He traced a line down the east coast of Japan, an arc of planes following parallel to the edge of their own airspace. "He just put in the wrong code in the navigation system or something."

"I…" Jorin slapped his head. "BORIS!"

"-What now?"

"Did you send that report in?"

"Yes, they say they've got a pair of MiG's scramble already."

Jorin hissed a curse. "Tell them it might be a lost civilian plane. Just… Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes," he said, phoning back up again. Jorin collapsed forward, his closed eyes leaning against his hooves. "Idiots. Learn to fly."

"Well," Kozlov said, pausing as he saw a few small marks moving up from an airfield down south. By the looks of things, they were going to miss, and the bear knew they had poor range. "Problem solved."

"Yes," Jorin agreed, "those idiots will just fly on safe and sound."

"We can even use it as evidence that the no fly zone is pointless."

"Yes," he said, standing up. "I suppose that…" He froze, a sudden look of terror on his face.

Kozlov blinked. "What?"

"If that is a civilian plane… It's flying right over Sizogo Orla's inner sanctum. A place its creators or whatever made to protect themselves."

"So?"

"What if Sizogo Orla does not like a plane flying overhead!"

The same look of terror on Jorin jumped onto Kozlov as the pair turned to the screen, watching with dread as the line slowly but surely inched forward. The small spots of the fighter planes, askew of their target and likely fearful of their fuel condition, turned back home, leaving the lost jet to pass over where the mass of hidden volcanoes were, cruising at its same pace as it left them behind.

And a new mark appeared behind it, following along, ever close, ever present.

Jorin, trembling, flicked the button off. The radar outside stopped using their special modulation frequency. The second dot vanished from the screen, the first one still flying on, unperturbed.

Jorin flicked it back on, and Sizogo Orla reappeared. "Kozlov," he said, gulping. "You had some airforce connections, yes?"

"I made some," he said, turning down and pointing at where the line crossed over Sakhalin. He got out and raced out his chair, diving for a phone. He shouted into it, barked clearances, and soon came over with his own small speaker and microphone. Placing them down, rubbing his head, he looked once more at the situation.

As the two marks flew over the sea of Oxhost.

"They say eagles would even hunt foxes," Kozlov said. "Let's see how they handle a wolf."

And, after a painful wait, the speaker fizzed to life. "Big bear, big bear, I'm onboard. Taking off now."

"Yes," Kozlov said. "Hurry."

"Will do. Night flight Sukhoi special, ready to lead my pack!"

A howl rang out through the speaker as, on the map, a new set of dots appeared, flying off of Sakhalin to meet the interlopers, and the enemy.

Kozlov and Jorin sat there, soon joined by others. "Plans never survive first contact with the enemy," the latter said, as the lines slowly but surely converged.

"Good thing we don't have plans," the bear replied, as they waited on in anticipation and terror.

Jorin hung over the communicator, breath steady but deep, and it was left to Kozlov to report back on what he saw.

"Should be getting close now."

"Okay Wolfy, do you see anything. Anything on radar or?"

"I thought you were radar mammal. But yes, drawing below sound barrier now." There were hisses and radio chatter before it went silent for a moment, coming back on. The background noise was somewhat reduced, though the piloting mammal seemed to be grumbling somewhat. "These planes were not built to be this slow but… It looks like a civilian jet."

"You sure?" Kozlov asked, as a few mutters were spoken out from the other side.

"Let me just get to the side -I can't get this mammal on radio or anythi… -Okay, two engines on both side."

"The west uses a modified seven-oh-seven for their radar aircraft," Jorin said, hoof tapping on the table. "They have a big flying saucer on the top too, could it be…"

"No," the wolf said. "Though, seemed to be lump or something… Bit of cloud, having to find a way to fly along without overshooting or stalling. Let me just go away and sideswipe in…"

Working his paws together from the stress, Kozlov shook his head. "If it was a radar plane, wouldn't they have noticed our jet by now."

"Yes," Jorin huffed, rubbing his head. "I can only hope they're idiots caught with their trousers down, trying to play it cool…"

"Like cubs covering their heads to hide?" Kozlov asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't say it was a good hope," Jorin hissed, as the radio crackled back to life.

"Haha, big jumbo jet. Seven-Four-Seven. Has the hump and everything."

"-Passenger or military?" Jorin cut in.

"-I think Passenger, I see some lights and… -Korean."

"Korean?" Kozlov asked.

"Just saw the tail in the moonlight. Think it was the Korean symbol. South, obviously."

"Well get them on call," Jorin hissed, ignoring the wolf pointing out that he was trying and going to another communicator, picking it up to try and spread the word before anyone else did something stupid. "Come on, come on, maybe you know air control in Japan or something… -Why haven't they called these idiots."

All while Kozlov peered over at the screen once more. There was only one, very close, blob of feedback, moving fast across the sky. It slowly split into two as a tiny wavering dot moved to the north before picking up speed and racing ahead to loop back behind once more. Reaching for the switches, he turned off the phase system, the main blob shrinking somewhat, before growing again as it was turned on once more. The bear made his way back to the communicator and spoke in. "Our 'eagle' is right on that jet. Above or below it. Can you or anyone else see it?"

"No, can't detect much either… But we do have that slight adjustment to our radar that one of you mentioned installing…"

"Jorin?" Kozlov yelled, the ass staring back. "Should he turn on the Sizogo Orla filter?"

The Syrian wild ass grit his teeth. "I wanted to chase him while going across the ocean in the day, get a good picture. There isn't even good moonlight right now."

"-He's below me."

"What?" Kozlov asked, as Jorin thrust whatever call he was taking into Boris' chest and raced over.

"You saw him?"

"I flicked the radar thing on and off quickly," the wolf said, Jorin groaning in frustration. "What? I might as well use it. I've given my comrades orders to back off a bit, I'm dropping down to a lower level, see if I can spot anything. -Turning on infra-red, thermal sys…" He went quiet before speaking out again, hushed, confused, scared. "There it is… -Going down now."

Both equid and ursine leant over the radio communicator, breath bated. "-What does it look like?" the bear finally asked.

"It's… It's some kind of… No… I…" He trailed off before Jorin barked out…

"Just tell us mammal!"

"-Ornithopter."

…

"What?" Kozlov asked, scratching his head. "What is…"

"It flies by flapping its wings," the wolf said, "-I thought you said this was some alien thing or something. What next, they invade planets for spice, fight with sword and don't even have computers?"

"I didn't," Jorin cut in, groaning. "We don't know what it is, for all we know it's some kind of monster…"

"-Ah yes, I forgot about giant worm in there too. This thing goes around eating Mongolian death worm or something? Don't see why your eagle is quite an issue in actuality."

"WILL YOU BE SERIOUS FOR A SECOND!" Jorin yelled.

"Will you stop being an ass?"

…

"-I could not help it," the wolf pilot chuckled, before groaning somewhat. "Just need to keep an eye on my fuel situation…" A few switches being flicked could be heard, but other than that.

"Can you see anything else about it?" Kozlov asked, "do you have any cameras or…?"

"No, no," the wolf muttered. "Tell you what, I prepare my afterburners. I get in close, see if I can tail right behind your big bad bird, and if anything happen… Zoom! I'll zoom away, see if I can see anything in my mirrors."

"Be careful," Jorin muttered.

"What career do you think I am in," the wolf snorted, all as the sound of the engines picking up rang out.

The odd mutter…

The ever-present background noise coming from the speaker, and in the room.

The growing crowd of mammals around Jorin and Kozlov, their fellow eagle hunters.

"On his tail now," the wolf pilot muttered. "Getting to about as close as I want to, before my missiles will blow me up. Let me just see anything before I go zoom."

…

"Come on, good bit of moonlight…"

…

"I…" He trailed off. "No vertical tailplane, I don't think. But… Two refuelling pods near the end, close but hanging there… Almost like fee…-CYKA!"

The group listening jolted back as the explanative was yelled out, before a screaming whizz cut in, immediately followed by another, whatever sound they made cut out by the roar of the jet fighters engine picking up and then two sudden, sharp, explosions. "-Going wet now," came a panicked voice as the roar of afterburners came through, cut off by what sounded like hail rattling on tin roof for a second.

"-What's going on?" Jorin yelled.

"I'm getting away from it!" came a panicked reply, the wolf pilot's voice pressed down deep by the force or his manoeuvre pushing him back and down into his seat, all as a set of sirens began to ring out.

"What happened!?"

"Minor depressurisation from shrapnel but oxy and fuel systems still good," he said to himself as Kozlov raced over to the screen.

"WHAT HAPPENNED!?"

"It looked at me!"

Jorin trailed off, as did Kozlov as he froze by the radar screen, looking back at his comrade in arms and their connection to the confrontation taking place high in the skies to the south.

The Syrian wild ass blinked. "-What!?"

"It turned its head," the wolf said, beginning to whimper, the adrenaline high already deflating and bringing him crashing down.

"-Head?" Jorin asked.

"It was like someone snapped it clean around," he muttered. "Back to face me. And I fired right away as soon as I saw them."

"Saw WHAT!?"

Jorin now held the microphone in his hooves, as if he could strangle the answers he wanted right out of it. Kozlov started to race back too only to pause, for whatever reason giving the briefest of looks at the radar screen. And then he charged back, yelling as he ran.

"They were burning in the air, the two of them.. Like coals, but cold, colder than…"

"What were?" Jorin asked, as Kozlov raced over and pulled the speaker from his grip.

"Its…"

"IT'S BEHIND…"

"-Eyes…"

"-You!"

For one terrible, terrible, eternity long second… There was silence.

And then a crash rang out from the other side. The wolf was screaming, yelling, the wind suddenly howling far more and the roaring engine sputtering before cutting out completely. Whatever the pilot tried to say was covered up before one part-word came through. "-jecti…" The scream of a rocket firing smashed any other sound to the wayside, other than a dull thud and a constant rattle, the sound just going on and on and on… And then fading. The wind was back, and the blaring of sirens, and the screams and coughing of the wolf. "It held the seat down, it…" And then there was a feral shriek of terror. "HELP ME! HELP ME! MERCY! I HAVE PUPS AND A WIFE AND-!" There was a rough metal jolt followed by a rough flapping sound, like a coat in the wind. Before a final crash ripped through, the whimpering drowned- out cry of the wolf vanishing into the howling ether.

Jorin and Kozlov looked on trembling.

The wind still rattled through the speaker. Metal groaned and shook. A dull constant beat, like wings flapping, rang out.

"What was that?" someone asked, as Kozlov almost felt the urge to make the sign of the cross, never mind his treatment of that god's followers in his earlier life. Instead, he just let his head fall into his paws, his claws gripping painfully onto his skin.

"Sizogo Orla…" the bear spoke.

As did Sizogo Orla. "So, that is what you christened me."