Easter Egg: Magnetic Midnight (The Rosebay Affair-Part 4.5)
Title: Magnetic Midnight (The Rosebay Affair - Part 4.5)
Author: saki101
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Illya/Napoleon
Warnings: A few characters have wandered in from another DMC film called Around the World Under the Sea. (A video clip which introduces the characters in the film may be viewed here.) They did that in another of my stories, too. It isn’t necessary to read that one first, but having a look at the clip will help, and will also demonstrate that Dr Philip Volker is just as pretty as Illya.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of these characters or their universes and no money is being made!
A/N: At the beginning of The Rosebay Affair: Part IV, Kittridge was going off to Greenland to join a mission headed by a non-UNCLE scientist named Philip Volker. ride_4ever’s prompts included aurora borealis and dogsleds, so following up on the Greenland mission came to mind immediately.
(Also posted on AO3.)
A beautiful picture has been created for the story by open_channel_d. It may be viewed here.
Excerpt: The plane droned above clouds tinted pink by the rising sun.
“Straight on ‘til morning,” Napoleon murmured, unbuckling his safety harness and stretching.
Illya eyes swept over the instrument panel and then over his partner. “A bit more northerly than that,” he replied.
Magnetic Midnight
The Rosebay Affair: Part 4.5
The plane droned above clouds tinted pink by the rising sun.
“Straight on ‘til morning,” Napoleon murmured, unbuckling his safety harness and stretching.
Illya eyes swept over the instrument panel and then over his partner. “A bit more northerly than that,” he replied.
Napoleon moved behind Illya, arms resting on the back of his seat. “At least it’s clear.” He stifled a yawn. “We could have used another day or two of rest though.” His hands slid onto Illya’s shoulders, down his arms to his elbows and back up again, digging into the muscle there.
Illya let his head drop forward. “I doubt we would have used it to rest.”
Napoleon patted Illya’s shoulders and sighed. “Probably not,” he said, glancing about the flight deck. “Any chance there’s hot coffee hidden somewhere on this thing?”
Wisps of vapour streamed past the windscreen. Illya nosed the plane higher. “Check the small crate with the heart painted in red nail varnish on it. One of your admirers appears to have packed our provisions.”
Napoleon ducked through the curtain into the cargo area. “How do you know they're one of mine?” The plane bounced. There was a thump against the partition. “Ah.”
Napoleon pushed the box between their seats and sat. Illya raised an eyebrow at him. “OK, the ‘N’ in the middle of the heart was not subtle,” Napoleon conceded. He unlatched the top, pulled out a thermos and unscrewed the cup and the cap. He sighed as the aroma filled the cabin. “But the darling included coffee.”
***
“Not much variety in the scenery.” Napoleon remarked, gazing out the window. He curled the slender mission file and rapped it against his knee. “And next to nothing in this.”
“You prefer the contours of warmer climes,” Illya replied. “And it would appear that Philip wants to give his status report to us in person.”
Grey clouds striated the lavender sky. The glaciers gleamed gold.
“To you, you mean.” Napoleon squinted. “I can’t see the air strip.”
“Half a minute more and look to your right,” Illya said as he banked the plane.
Napoleon’s brow furrowed. Blue lights outlined a runway. Nearby, a pack of wolves appeared to be awaiting their arrival. He opened his mouth to speak and then decided against saying anything at all.
***
The cold swooped in when the cargo door opened. Napoleon pulled his balaclava down and tried to breath as shallowly as possible as he jumped down onto the packed snow.
“Tell me you’ve brought whiskey,” Kittridge shouted over the whirr of the slowing propellers and the yipping of the animals.
“We have, but I doubt it will be enough,” Napoleon replied, failing to repress a shiver.
Kittridge grasped Napoleon’s arm. “Anything will be a help, mate. The evenings are long, the lady is spoken for and chess really isn’t my game.”
“Ah, Volker’s idea of recreation,” Napoleon said.
“Yeah,” Kitt replied and reached down to pat the side of the creatures pushing against his legs. “These fellows are better company.”
Napoleon took a closer look at the harnesses the animals wore then peered past Kittridge. “Dogsleds?” Napoleon asked, stamping his feet, the warmth of the plane already gone.
“The tracking station only has two small snow mobiles for personnel and Volker took them this morning. The station’s supplies usually come in by sea during the summer when the water's closer. For everything else, it’s the dogs.” Kittridge bent to rub his glove behind a pair of furry ears. “These two are my lead dogs. Well, for the time being. They’re all Maligiaq’s dogs.” Kitt nodded to the right and Napoleon turned to observe someone in a fur-trimmed hood talking to Illya in Danish.
"Our local agent?" Napoleon checked.
Kitt nodded. "Cryptologist. Very self-sufficient. He likes to read when he's not out checking the sensors along the coast or looking after the dogs. He beat Volker at chess though. That was a notable evening."
“Where is Volker?”
“Under the ice,” Kitt replied, “retrieving another piece of wreckage. They might be back by the time we get there. Best to be in before dark.”
Napoleon looked at the sky. “Can we make it?”
“If we get our skates on,” Kitt replied with a wink as he slid his goggles into place. “Oh, and thanks for the heads up about him. I have to keep reminding myself he isn’t Illya.”
***
Napoleon closed the door and surveyed the metal shelving and concrete floor. “I had been hoping for something more luxurious,” Napoleon remarked.
“But it’s a private room, monsieur. What more could you desire?” Illya bent to examine the rolled sleeping bags and mats on the shelves more closely. “These would keep us warm out in the hangar. We’ll be fine in here.” He unsnapped the binding on the rolls and pushed them onto the floor.
Napoleon stuffed his gloves in his pocket and took a step closer. “Well, I suppose there are protocols to maximise body heat that we could follow.” He reached under the bulky parka and found the slim hips he sought.
Illya glanced over his shoulder. “These sleeping bags can be zipped together,” he said. “Luxurious enough for you?”
Napoleon pressed as close as two layers of parka allowed. “I’ll make do,” he murmured and found the cool steel of Illya’s belt buckle.
***
“They’ll be here in half an hour with what they brought up yesterday,” Kitt announced. “Well, some of it.”
“Fresh coffee!” Napoleon exclaimed.
“You brought supplies, remember?” Kittridge rejoined and set to pouring. “Sleep all right?”
“Napoleon would have preferred a suite with room service, but he made do,” Illya said, picking up the full mug and cradling it in his hands.
“It would have been worse if Maggie and Doug and Volker had come back last night as planned,” Kitt said, pushing a carton of long-life cream and a box of sugar cubes towards Illya and sitting down. “You got their accommodations last night.”
“If space is that tight in the station, why don’t they always stay on their boat?” Napoleon asked.
“They don’t want to use up its special fuel for heat and it’s even more cramped than the storage room. Haven’t you two been inside the Nereid before? Volker gave me that impression,” Kittridge said while he sweetened his coffee.
Napoleon cleared his throat. “Well, Illya’s had the grand tour. I might have been shooting THRUSH at the time.”
“I think you were flirting with Maggie Hanford at the time,” Illya said and lifted the heart-inscribed lid from the box on the table. “Ah,” he said, after some delving, “I thought there would be pastry in here somewhere.” He raised a wax paper bundle high enough for all to admire.
“They’ve got an interesting dynamic, those three,” Kitt observed. He pulled a chunk off the unwrapped brioche and sniffed it appreciatively. “Since I heard you two were coming, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you and Volker in the same room.” He nodded at Illya. “Side by side, I can probably see the differences.”
“Don’t count on it,” Napoleon warned. “I couldn’t.”
***
A icy draught stole along the floor. The door to the cramped canteen opened and three voices said, “Illya.” Volker headed straight for Kuryakin. Doug strode across the room and clapped Napoleon on the back. Maggie gave him a peck on the cheek and seated herself by his side.
“We didn’t think we’d be seeing either of you this time round,” Maggie said and turned her smile on Kitt. “You have coffee,” she breathed.
Kittridge stood up straighter. “Indeed I do, Dr Hanford,” he declared and poured her a cup.
“You’ve become formal while we were away?” she enquired, taking the mug.
“No, no,” Kitt denied. “Sugar?” he asked, although he had not forgotten how Maggie took her coffee.
Napoleon glanced at Kitt, saw him blush.
Crushing a few sugar cubes, Doug modelled the overlapping scatter patterns they had detected which was helping them predict where the remaining debris from the THRUSH vessel was likely to be found. “It was more than one explosion,” Doug continued, sweeping the sugar off the table and into his mug. “Philip thinks they deployed a new energy source for the submarine before it was properly tested under water.” He held the mug out towards Kitt.
“They collided with an iceberg?” Napoleon asked.
Doug shook his head. “Doesn’t appear so, although they may have grazed one. With the section we brought up yesterday, we have almost the whole hull; reassembled, it should tell us. Philip also thinks...”
Volker appeared at Doug’s elbow, his arm across Illya’s shoulder.
Napoleon scowled.
“Let me illustrate what I think,” Volker said, his arm slipping away. The table creaked as he placed his backpack gently upon it.
“Anything going to explode?” Kittridge asked jovially.
“Possibly,” Volker replied as he emptied it.
Napoleon caught Kitt’s eye and winked. Kittridge plucked a ring from the items Volker had unpacked. “I encountered a THRUSH with a ring like this,” he said, holding it up to the light. Its gemstone glimmered rose on one end and green on the other. Kitt peered at it. “It has a bird engraved inside the band.”
“THRUSH do love their insignia,” Napoleon said, picking a similar ring from Volker’s assortment. He scrutinised it for any obvious homing devices or microdots. He slipped it on his index finger.
Illya’s eyes flicked over the rings. “Watermelon tourmaline,” he said before returning his attention to the largest item on the table.
“You’ve seen one before,” Phil Volker stated, watching Illya’s expression.
“Not exactly the same,” Illya replied, running his hand along the vents and ports in the metal box.
Volker tapped Illya’s hand with the handle of a screwdriver. “Have a look,” he said. “We found pieces of several others, like this.” He pushed a twisted bit of steel towards Illya. “And then we found a sealed chamber with two asphyxiated scientists wearing those rings and five intact examples of this.” He rapped the side of the box.
Illya unscrewed the upper panel and lifted it away. Napoleon and Kitt leaned forward.
“They’ve made it smaller,” Illya remarked. “Where are the others?”
“On the Nereid,” Volker replied. “We’ll need a few trips with the dogsleds to get everything we brought up yesterday back here.”
“What have ‘they’ made smaller?” Kittridge asked.
Illya continued to peer at the circuitry inside the steel casing. “THRUSH have improved their portable power source,” Illya answered. “A variation on what you brought to New York.” He poked delicately with the tip of the screwdriver. “They’ve made it even easier to transport and...appear to have made it more powerful.”
“But,” Volker interjected, chuckling, “they did not make it waterproof.”
***
“So that is what I want,” Volker concluded, sitting back in his chair. “Just for the Nereid.”
Napoleon took a sip of cold coffee and grimaced. Illya swallowed the last piece of brioche. Everyone else had left for the vessel with the snow mobiles and the dogs. The generator hummed into the silence.
“But if she were seized or searched, the secret would be out,” Napoleon said.
“Who would be searching her?” Philip asked.
“Customs inspectors, licensing authorities,” Napoleon offered. “They’d be likely to notice the lack of an engine room.”
Volker nodded. “I’d have to retain an engine and some fuel as back-up, which would be enough to satisfy the authorities, and the savings on the cost and weight of a full load of fuel would increase the scope of my explorations significantly.”
“THRUSH would recognise its energy signature. You really don’t want them to come calling,” Napoleon said.
Philip Volker’s face was alight as he leaned across the table towards Napoleon. Napoleon drew back. “I have a solution to mask it in mind, which I would share with UNCLE, of course.”
Napoleon couldn’t help shifting closer again.
Volker removed his glasses, his eyes bluer and brighter without the barrier. “You know of my work with marine mammals?”
Napoleon’s brow furrowed. He glanced at Illya.
“Philip has trained porpoises and several species of whale to respond to verbal instructions,” Illya explained.
Napoleon’s frown did not subside.
“He has decoded their speech and can replicate it,” Illya expanded.
Volker returned his gaze to Napoleon. “I can modulate the energy signature of the power source to replicate that of a school of whales or a pod of porpoises.”
“What about when you’re near a coast, like now?” Napoleon persisted.
“Or a huddle of walruses,” Volker countered.
“You’ve expanded,” Illya commented.
“Yes,” Volker replied with a grin, arm sweeping out to his left. “Maggie and I were working on penguins before we took this project on.”
“It could be observed that none of those creatures were actually present,” Napoleon said.
“But they would be,” Volker replied, stretching out in his chair and beaming at Napoleon. “The appropriate signal would attract the suitable animals and I could vary my signals depending on my location.”
Napoleon tapped his fingers against his lips. “Would it harm the animals?”
“You’ve tested one of these power cells,” Volker replied. “You saw how it affected organic matter.”
Napoleon and Illya exchanged glances. Illya gave the faintest nod.
“But that was because of the device to which it was attached,” Napoleon replied cautiously.
“No, that device intensified and focused a side effect of the power supply, which works by tapping other energy sources: power grids, organic matter. We turned one on in the Nereid,” Volker explained. “Turned it off again almost instantly and still had to repair a few circuits. It’s a leech of sorts, an electromagnetic one. Wherever your device was developed must have had some significant, traditional source of energy and an earlier, probably larger and stationary, version of that.” Volker pointed to the metal box at the end of the table.
Napoleon was silent. Images from the island facility flashed through his mind. They had had so little time to complete the mission. The scent of the tropical garden came to him and the scent of the fires.
“So what were they looking for up here in the desolate north?” Napoleon asked. “It’s a dangerous route to take if they were simply headed for a rendezvous.”
“I have the answer to that,” Volker said, reaching inside his jacket.
Reflexively, Napoleon tensed.
Volker spread the papers he drew out of his pocket before them. “Found them in the submarine.”
Napoleon narrowed his eyes at the list of figures and dates, some going back centuries. “What is this?”
Illya tapped one column. “Solar cycles,” he said. He tapped another. “Highs and lows of recorded sunspot activity.” He looked up at Volker and smiled.
Volker grinned back. “There may well be a similar submarine in some Antarctic bay awaiting the next display.”
Napoleon spread his hands before him, palms up. “What?”
Illya grabbed Napoleon’s left hand, turned it over. “That jewel remind you of anything, Napoleon,” Illya asked.
“Other than watermelon?” Napoleon asked.
Volker appeared to be suppressing laughter. Napoleon wondered whether he could draw his gun and point out that it, too, could affect organic matter.
“You have to stop eluding the winter training sessions,” Illya said.
***
The propellers sliced through the icy air.
Illya walked slowly through the cargo bay, double checking the net and the straps securing the crate holding three power devices and assorted samples from the THRUSH submarine. He paused at the open hatch to slip his hands back into his gloves.
“You’ll support my proposal to Mr Waverly?” Volker asked Napoleon.
“We’ll tell him what you’ve told us,” Napoleon said and turned towards Illya. “All set?”
Illya tilted his head towards the interior of the plane. “Go remind Kitt he’s not coming with us.” Napoleon slipped past Illya.
“Are you sure you want to make this flight at night?” Volker asked.
Illya looked at the glittering sky. “Not a cloud in sight.”
“Of course,” Volker said, gazing upwards.
Kitt strode out. “We could still swap places, Illya,” Kittridge offered.
Illya shook his head. “Nice try.”
Kittridge stooped to load the ramp. “I gave Napoleon some letters to post.” The ramp clanged into place. “But I have another I thought you might deliver for me.” Kitt pulled off a glove to fish an envelope from one of his pockets and held it out.
Illya glimpsed Mandy Stevenson’s name as he took it. “I’ll pass it along,” Illya replied, “but, you know, Napoleon would have as well. He’s not possessive.”
“Well,” Kitt said with a shrug.
Illya caught Philip’s lips quirking. “Usually,” Illya added and extended a hand to Volker. “I look forward to your results, Philip.”
Volker grinned as he took it. “When you return with good news for me from New York, we can analyse them together.”
The cargo door began its descent. Illya waved once, before turning away. Locks ground into place.
“You think they’re coming back?” Kitt asked.
A cloud of snow rose around the plane’s wheels as it taxied along the runway. The dogs barked.
“If my theories are correct, yes,” Volker replied.
Lights winking, the plane rose into the air and turned west. Kittridge sighed.
Volker pivoted towards the dogsleds. “Come on. I’ll race you to the station.”
***
The night closed around them. Napoleon drowsed to the hum of the engines. A buzzer sounded, raucous and loud. He startled to alertness and scanned the instrument panel. Several lights blinked between amber and red. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Something began to ping.
“Nothing unexpected,” Illya replied, flipping a few switches to silence the alarms and cutting internal illumination.
“Shall we turn back?” Napoleon asked, noting the frantic motion of the needles on an array of dials.
“The engines are unaffected and I don’t need those to navigate,” Illya said, lifting his chin at the gauges, “when I can still see the stars.”
Napoleon peered out the windscreen. The stars were dimmer than when he’d last looked. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at the glass. “Are you sure nothing’s on fire?”
“The plane is fine,” Illya said.
Napoleon squinted. Pale yellow light flickered along the westerly edge of the horizon. He swivelled in his seat. The glow faded from gold to green further west.
The plane banked north, the land stretching blankly below them. Aqua light rippled through the air, obscuring the fainter stars. The engines growled as the plane picked up speed. Spikes of yellow and white flared into view. The sky grew brighter, filling the windscreen.
“So these are the northern lights,” Napoleon said.
“A better display than I predicted,” Illya replied, increasing their altitude.
“I’m delighted to witness them, so I may continue to evade winter training without forfeiting the experience, but do we have enough fuel for the scenic route?” Napoleon asked.
“We’ll land in Iceland or the Faroe Islands if we have to, but I think we’ll be able to make it back to Newfoundland for refueling,” Illya said and made another course adjustment.
“Well, that’s a comfort,” Napoleon commented. The curtains of light fell around them, the upper edges violet and trimmed with stars.
The plane angled higher.
“You’re chasing them,” Napoleon concluded.
“The brighter the better,” Illya said. “One of the portable energy devices is secured to the roof.”
Napoleon raised an eyebrow. The violet band was segueing to red. He glanced at the ring he still wore.
“Philip and I tested their capacity. They were all low in charge. We drained one completely recharging the spare snowmobile batteries, then let it pull energy from the back-up station generator for a few minutes. Unlike typical batteries, they do not need to be in direct contact to charge, although they do when they power something. At least those models do and the one we have in New York. Philip’s theory was that THRUSH brought them this far north to charge them from the aurorae,” Illya explained. The plane climbed even higher.
“How much energy are we talking about?” Napoleon asked.
“If the process works, then they would only be limited by the storage capacity of each portable device. If they’re made larger or linked, that would be enhanced,” Illya replied.
“And if they were connected directly to a power grid, like the one for, say, Helsinki or Fairbanks, could they light a city?”
“They could help, but the aurorae are too unpredictable on earth to be a dependable power source,” Illya said.
Napoleon turned in his seat. “In space? But sunlight is already powering satellites.”
Illya tilted his head. “For the nightside portion of orbits or to focus the energy, possibly the x-rays or gamma rays rather than the visible light, as a weapon from outside the atmosphere perhaps.”
Napoleon stroked his chin.
“Or maybe their plans are terrestrial, focusing the energy gathered to melt glaciers or crack sections off icebergs to disrupt shipping. We’ll know more when we see what we’ve gathered.”
The plane wheeled away from the brightest lights. Smudges of red and green faded to black and white and then were gone.
***
Napoleon took his coffee out onto the balcony, settled in one of the wrought iron chairs and took a deep breath of the mild air.
Illya followed him through the draperies, peeling a tangerine. He held out a segment to Napoleon.
“Volker’s going to be disappointed that you sent George,” Napoleon said, taking the fruit.
“I didn’t send George, Mr Waverly did,” Illya corrected. “Besides, Philip will be too pleased with the message to care who the messenger is.” He gestured with the tangerine towards the blue and gold pot in the corner of the balcony. “Have you noticed anything odd about our flowery friend?”
“No,” Napoleon replied, holding out his hand. “Is it developing teeth or anything?”
Illya shook his head and dropped another wedge of tangerine onto Napoleon’s palm. “It’s growing towards the building rather than towards the sunnier side of the balcony.” He popped a section of fruit into his mouth.
Napoleon drained his cup and stood. “I’m going to have another coffee. Want one?”
“Mm,” Illya replied, “and another tangerine.” He bent down to examine the green seed pod hanging from one of the plant's lower branches.
Napoleon rested his hand on Illya’s hip. “You know the flowers are facing the bedroom window,” Napoleon said. His hand smoothed across Illya’s back to his shoulder and up to his hip again. He pressed his thigh against Illya. “It may have the right idea. After coffee, perhaps we should take a nap.”
“We just got up,” Illya said.
“Who know when we’ll have another day off,” Napoleon said.
“True,” Illya murmured as he crouched to look at the tendrils the plants had wrapped around the baluster.
Napoleon paused in the doorway, a coffee in each hand.
Illya lounged in the chair, his head resting against the balustrade in the shade amongst the flowers. His legs stretched before him into the noonday sun. He half opened his eyes when Napoleon set down the cups. Illya raised his hand and pushed the last section of fruit between his lips.
“You make a pretty picture like that.” Napoleon said, taking a fresh tangerine from his robe pocket and holding it out.
“Do I?” Illya replied, accepting the fruit.
“I added some vodka to your coffee,” Napoleon said.
“The better to induce napping?” Illya asked, uncrossing his ankles. His robe fell from one bare knee.
Napoleon insinuated a foot between Illya’s feet and leaned forward. “We need a terrace on some secluded beach house, so we can tear our pleasures in the sunlight,” Napoleon whispered by Illya’s ear.
Illya reached past Napoleon and tapped the coffee cup. “Shall we bring these to the bedroom?”
Napoleon swallowed and straightened up. “Oh, I think just past the curtains will be far enough,” he said and held out his arm.
Illya grasped it and squeezed hard. “Perhaps we can leave the coffee here.”
The drapes swayed closed behind them. The buds facing the balcony doors opened.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Classified archival film clip may be viewed here.
Author: saki101
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Illya/Napoleon
Warnings: A few characters have wandered in from another DMC film called Around the World Under the Sea. (A video clip which introduces the characters in the film may be viewed here.) They did that in another of my stories, too. It isn’t necessary to read that one first, but having a look at the clip will help, and will also demonstrate that Dr Philip Volker is just as pretty as Illya.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of these characters or their universes and no money is being made!
A/N: At the beginning of The Rosebay Affair: Part IV, Kittridge was going off to Greenland to join a mission headed by a non-UNCLE scientist named Philip Volker. ride_4ever’s prompts included aurora borealis and dogsleds, so following up on the Greenland mission came to mind immediately.
(Also posted on AO3.)
A beautiful picture has been created for the story by open_channel_d. It may be viewed here.
Excerpt: The plane droned above clouds tinted pink by the rising sun.
“Straight on ‘til morning,” Napoleon murmured, unbuckling his safety harness and stretching.
Illya eyes swept over the instrument panel and then over his partner. “A bit more northerly than that,” he replied.
Magnetic Midnight
The Rosebay Affair: Part 4.5
The plane droned above clouds tinted pink by the rising sun.
“Straight on ‘til morning,” Napoleon murmured, unbuckling his safety harness and stretching.
Illya eyes swept over the instrument panel and then over his partner. “A bit more northerly than that,” he replied.
Napoleon moved behind Illya, arms resting on the back of his seat. “At least it’s clear.” He stifled a yawn. “We could have used another day or two of rest though.” His hands slid onto Illya’s shoulders, down his arms to his elbows and back up again, digging into the muscle there.
Illya let his head drop forward. “I doubt we would have used it to rest.”
Napoleon patted Illya’s shoulders and sighed. “Probably not,” he said, glancing about the flight deck. “Any chance there’s hot coffee hidden somewhere on this thing?”
Wisps of vapour streamed past the windscreen. Illya nosed the plane higher. “Check the small crate with the heart painted in red nail varnish on it. One of your admirers appears to have packed our provisions.”
Napoleon ducked through the curtain into the cargo area. “How do you know they're one of mine?” The plane bounced. There was a thump against the partition. “Ah.”
Napoleon pushed the box between their seats and sat. Illya raised an eyebrow at him. “OK, the ‘N’ in the middle of the heart was not subtle,” Napoleon conceded. He unlatched the top, pulled out a thermos and unscrewed the cup and the cap. He sighed as the aroma filled the cabin. “But the darling included coffee.”
***
“Not much variety in the scenery.” Napoleon remarked, gazing out the window. He curled the slender mission file and rapped it against his knee. “And next to nothing in this.”
“You prefer the contours of warmer climes,” Illya replied. “And it would appear that Philip wants to give his status report to us in person.”
Grey clouds striated the lavender sky. The glaciers gleamed gold.
“To you, you mean.” Napoleon squinted. “I can’t see the air strip.”
“Half a minute more and look to your right,” Illya said as he banked the plane.
Napoleon’s brow furrowed. Blue lights outlined a runway. Nearby, a pack of wolves appeared to be awaiting their arrival. He opened his mouth to speak and then decided against saying anything at all.
***
The cold swooped in when the cargo door opened. Napoleon pulled his balaclava down and tried to breath as shallowly as possible as he jumped down onto the packed snow.
“Tell me you’ve brought whiskey,” Kittridge shouted over the whirr of the slowing propellers and the yipping of the animals.
“We have, but I doubt it will be enough,” Napoleon replied, failing to repress a shiver.
Kittridge grasped Napoleon’s arm. “Anything will be a help, mate. The evenings are long, the lady is spoken for and chess really isn’t my game.”
“Ah, Volker’s idea of recreation,” Napoleon said.
“Yeah,” Kitt replied and reached down to pat the side of the creatures pushing against his legs. “These fellows are better company.”
Napoleon took a closer look at the harnesses the animals wore then peered past Kittridge. “Dogsleds?” Napoleon asked, stamping his feet, the warmth of the plane already gone.
“The tracking station only has two small snow mobiles for personnel and Volker took them this morning. The station’s supplies usually come in by sea during the summer when the water's closer. For everything else, it’s the dogs.” Kittridge bent to rub his glove behind a pair of furry ears. “These two are my lead dogs. Well, for the time being. They’re all Maligiaq’s dogs.” Kitt nodded to the right and Napoleon turned to observe someone in a fur-trimmed hood talking to Illya in Danish.
"Our local agent?" Napoleon checked.
Kitt nodded. "Cryptologist. Very self-sufficient. He likes to read when he's not out checking the sensors along the coast or looking after the dogs. He beat Volker at chess though. That was a notable evening."
“Where is Volker?”
“Under the ice,” Kitt replied, “retrieving another piece of wreckage. They might be back by the time we get there. Best to be in before dark.”
Napoleon looked at the sky. “Can we make it?”
“If we get our skates on,” Kitt replied with a wink as he slid his goggles into place. “Oh, and thanks for the heads up about him. I have to keep reminding myself he isn’t Illya.”
***
Napoleon closed the door and surveyed the metal shelving and concrete floor. “I had been hoping for something more luxurious,” Napoleon remarked.
“But it’s a private room, monsieur. What more could you desire?” Illya bent to examine the rolled sleeping bags and mats on the shelves more closely. “These would keep us warm out in the hangar. We’ll be fine in here.” He unsnapped the binding on the rolls and pushed them onto the floor.
Napoleon stuffed his gloves in his pocket and took a step closer. “Well, I suppose there are protocols to maximise body heat that we could follow.” He reached under the bulky parka and found the slim hips he sought.
Illya glanced over his shoulder. “These sleeping bags can be zipped together,” he said. “Luxurious enough for you?”
Napoleon pressed as close as two layers of parka allowed. “I’ll make do,” he murmured and found the cool steel of Illya’s belt buckle.
***
“They’ll be here in half an hour with what they brought up yesterday,” Kitt announced. “Well, some of it.”
“Fresh coffee!” Napoleon exclaimed.
“You brought supplies, remember?” Kittridge rejoined and set to pouring. “Sleep all right?”
“Napoleon would have preferred a suite with room service, but he made do,” Illya said, picking up the full mug and cradling it in his hands.
“It would have been worse if Maggie and Doug and Volker had come back last night as planned,” Kitt said, pushing a carton of long-life cream and a box of sugar cubes towards Illya and sitting down. “You got their accommodations last night.”
“If space is that tight in the station, why don’t they always stay on their boat?” Napoleon asked.
“They don’t want to use up its special fuel for heat and it’s even more cramped than the storage room. Haven’t you two been inside the Nereid before? Volker gave me that impression,” Kittridge said while he sweetened his coffee.
Napoleon cleared his throat. “Well, Illya’s had the grand tour. I might have been shooting THRUSH at the time.”
“I think you were flirting with Maggie Hanford at the time,” Illya said and lifted the heart-inscribed lid from the box on the table. “Ah,” he said, after some delving, “I thought there would be pastry in here somewhere.” He raised a wax paper bundle high enough for all to admire.
“They’ve got an interesting dynamic, those three,” Kitt observed. He pulled a chunk off the unwrapped brioche and sniffed it appreciatively. “Since I heard you two were coming, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you and Volker in the same room.” He nodded at Illya. “Side by side, I can probably see the differences.”
“Don’t count on it,” Napoleon warned. “I couldn’t.”
***
A icy draught stole along the floor. The door to the cramped canteen opened and three voices said, “Illya.” Volker headed straight for Kuryakin. Doug strode across the room and clapped Napoleon on the back. Maggie gave him a peck on the cheek and seated herself by his side.
“We didn’t think we’d be seeing either of you this time round,” Maggie said and turned her smile on Kitt. “You have coffee,” she breathed.
Kittridge stood up straighter. “Indeed I do, Dr Hanford,” he declared and poured her a cup.
“You’ve become formal while we were away?” she enquired, taking the mug.
“No, no,” Kitt denied. “Sugar?” he asked, although he had not forgotten how Maggie took her coffee.
Napoleon glanced at Kitt, saw him blush.
Crushing a few sugar cubes, Doug modelled the overlapping scatter patterns they had detected which was helping them predict where the remaining debris from the THRUSH vessel was likely to be found. “It was more than one explosion,” Doug continued, sweeping the sugar off the table and into his mug. “Philip thinks they deployed a new energy source for the submarine before it was properly tested under water.” He held the mug out towards Kitt.
“They collided with an iceberg?” Napoleon asked.
Doug shook his head. “Doesn’t appear so, although they may have grazed one. With the section we brought up yesterday, we have almost the whole hull; reassembled, it should tell us. Philip also thinks...”
Volker appeared at Doug’s elbow, his arm across Illya’s shoulder.
Napoleon scowled.
“Let me illustrate what I think,” Volker said, his arm slipping away. The table creaked as he placed his backpack gently upon it.
“Anything going to explode?” Kittridge asked jovially.
“Possibly,” Volker replied as he emptied it.
Napoleon caught Kitt’s eye and winked. Kittridge plucked a ring from the items Volker had unpacked. “I encountered a THRUSH with a ring like this,” he said, holding it up to the light. Its gemstone glimmered rose on one end and green on the other. Kitt peered at it. “It has a bird engraved inside the band.”
“THRUSH do love their insignia,” Napoleon said, picking a similar ring from Volker’s assortment. He scrutinised it for any obvious homing devices or microdots. He slipped it on his index finger.
Illya’s eyes flicked over the rings. “Watermelon tourmaline,” he said before returning his attention to the largest item on the table.
“You’ve seen one before,” Phil Volker stated, watching Illya’s expression.
“Not exactly the same,” Illya replied, running his hand along the vents and ports in the metal box.
Volker tapped Illya’s hand with the handle of a screwdriver. “Have a look,” he said. “We found pieces of several others, like this.” He pushed a twisted bit of steel towards Illya. “And then we found a sealed chamber with two asphyxiated scientists wearing those rings and five intact examples of this.” He rapped the side of the box.
Illya unscrewed the upper panel and lifted it away. Napoleon and Kitt leaned forward.
“They’ve made it smaller,” Illya remarked. “Where are the others?”
“On the Nereid,” Volker replied. “We’ll need a few trips with the dogsleds to get everything we brought up yesterday back here.”
“What have ‘they’ made smaller?” Kittridge asked.
Illya continued to peer at the circuitry inside the steel casing. “THRUSH have improved their portable power source,” Illya answered. “A variation on what you brought to New York.” He poked delicately with the tip of the screwdriver. “They’ve made it even easier to transport and...appear to have made it more powerful.”
“But,” Volker interjected, chuckling, “they did not make it waterproof.”
***
“So that is what I want,” Volker concluded, sitting back in his chair. “Just for the Nereid.”
Napoleon took a sip of cold coffee and grimaced. Illya swallowed the last piece of brioche. Everyone else had left for the vessel with the snow mobiles and the dogs. The generator hummed into the silence.
“But if she were seized or searched, the secret would be out,” Napoleon said.
“Who would be searching her?” Philip asked.
“Customs inspectors, licensing authorities,” Napoleon offered. “They’d be likely to notice the lack of an engine room.”
Volker nodded. “I’d have to retain an engine and some fuel as back-up, which would be enough to satisfy the authorities, and the savings on the cost and weight of a full load of fuel would increase the scope of my explorations significantly.”
“THRUSH would recognise its energy signature. You really don’t want them to come calling,” Napoleon said.
Philip Volker’s face was alight as he leaned across the table towards Napoleon. Napoleon drew back. “I have a solution to mask it in mind, which I would share with UNCLE, of course.”
Napoleon couldn’t help shifting closer again.
Volker removed his glasses, his eyes bluer and brighter without the barrier. “You know of my work with marine mammals?”
Napoleon’s brow furrowed. He glanced at Illya.
“Philip has trained porpoises and several species of whale to respond to verbal instructions,” Illya explained.
Napoleon’s frown did not subside.
“He has decoded their speech and can replicate it,” Illya expanded.
Volker returned his gaze to Napoleon. “I can modulate the energy signature of the power source to replicate that of a school of whales or a pod of porpoises.”
“What about when you’re near a coast, like now?” Napoleon persisted.
“Or a huddle of walruses,” Volker countered.
“You’ve expanded,” Illya commented.
“Yes,” Volker replied with a grin, arm sweeping out to his left. “Maggie and I were working on penguins before we took this project on.”
“It could be observed that none of those creatures were actually present,” Napoleon said.
“But they would be,” Volker replied, stretching out in his chair and beaming at Napoleon. “The appropriate signal would attract the suitable animals and I could vary my signals depending on my location.”
Napoleon tapped his fingers against his lips. “Would it harm the animals?”
“You’ve tested one of these power cells,” Volker replied. “You saw how it affected organic matter.”
Napoleon and Illya exchanged glances. Illya gave the faintest nod.
“But that was because of the device to which it was attached,” Napoleon replied cautiously.
“No, that device intensified and focused a side effect of the power supply, which works by tapping other energy sources: power grids, organic matter. We turned one on in the Nereid,” Volker explained. “Turned it off again almost instantly and still had to repair a few circuits. It’s a leech of sorts, an electromagnetic one. Wherever your device was developed must have had some significant, traditional source of energy and an earlier, probably larger and stationary, version of that.” Volker pointed to the metal box at the end of the table.
Napoleon was silent. Images from the island facility flashed through his mind. They had had so little time to complete the mission. The scent of the tropical garden came to him and the scent of the fires.
“So what were they looking for up here in the desolate north?” Napoleon asked. “It’s a dangerous route to take if they were simply headed for a rendezvous.”
“I have the answer to that,” Volker said, reaching inside his jacket.
Reflexively, Napoleon tensed.
Volker spread the papers he drew out of his pocket before them. “Found them in the submarine.”
Napoleon narrowed his eyes at the list of figures and dates, some going back centuries. “What is this?”
Illya tapped one column. “Solar cycles,” he said. He tapped another. “Highs and lows of recorded sunspot activity.” He looked up at Volker and smiled.
Volker grinned back. “There may well be a similar submarine in some Antarctic bay awaiting the next display.”
Napoleon spread his hands before him, palms up. “What?”
Illya grabbed Napoleon’s left hand, turned it over. “That jewel remind you of anything, Napoleon,” Illya asked.
“Other than watermelon?” Napoleon asked.
Volker appeared to be suppressing laughter. Napoleon wondered whether he could draw his gun and point out that it, too, could affect organic matter.
“You have to stop eluding the winter training sessions,” Illya said.
***
The propellers sliced through the icy air.
Illya walked slowly through the cargo bay, double checking the net and the straps securing the crate holding three power devices and assorted samples from the THRUSH submarine. He paused at the open hatch to slip his hands back into his gloves.
“You’ll support my proposal to Mr Waverly?” Volker asked Napoleon.
“We’ll tell him what you’ve told us,” Napoleon said and turned towards Illya. “All set?”
Illya tilted his head towards the interior of the plane. “Go remind Kitt he’s not coming with us.” Napoleon slipped past Illya.
“Are you sure you want to make this flight at night?” Volker asked.
Illya looked at the glittering sky. “Not a cloud in sight.”
“Of course,” Volker said, gazing upwards.
Kitt strode out. “We could still swap places, Illya,” Kittridge offered.
Illya shook his head. “Nice try.”
Kittridge stooped to load the ramp. “I gave Napoleon some letters to post.” The ramp clanged into place. “But I have another I thought you might deliver for me.” Kitt pulled off a glove to fish an envelope from one of his pockets and held it out.
Illya glimpsed Mandy Stevenson’s name as he took it. “I’ll pass it along,” Illya replied, “but, you know, Napoleon would have as well. He’s not possessive.”
“Well,” Kitt said with a shrug.
Illya caught Philip’s lips quirking. “Usually,” Illya added and extended a hand to Volker. “I look forward to your results, Philip.”
Volker grinned as he took it. “When you return with good news for me from New York, we can analyse them together.”
The cargo door began its descent. Illya waved once, before turning away. Locks ground into place.
“You think they’re coming back?” Kitt asked.
A cloud of snow rose around the plane’s wheels as it taxied along the runway. The dogs barked.
“If my theories are correct, yes,” Volker replied.
Lights winking, the plane rose into the air and turned west. Kittridge sighed.
Volker pivoted towards the dogsleds. “Come on. I’ll race you to the station.”
***
The night closed around them. Napoleon drowsed to the hum of the engines. A buzzer sounded, raucous and loud. He startled to alertness and scanned the instrument panel. Several lights blinked between amber and red. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Something began to ping.
“Nothing unexpected,” Illya replied, flipping a few switches to silence the alarms and cutting internal illumination.
“Shall we turn back?” Napoleon asked, noting the frantic motion of the needles on an array of dials.
“The engines are unaffected and I don’t need those to navigate,” Illya said, lifting his chin at the gauges, “when I can still see the stars.”
Napoleon peered out the windscreen. The stars were dimmer than when he’d last looked. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at the glass. “Are you sure nothing’s on fire?”
“The plane is fine,” Illya said.
Napoleon squinted. Pale yellow light flickered along the westerly edge of the horizon. He swivelled in his seat. The glow faded from gold to green further west.
The plane banked north, the land stretching blankly below them. Aqua light rippled through the air, obscuring the fainter stars. The engines growled as the plane picked up speed. Spikes of yellow and white flared into view. The sky grew brighter, filling the windscreen.
“So these are the northern lights,” Napoleon said.
“A better display than I predicted,” Illya replied, increasing their altitude.
“I’m delighted to witness them, so I may continue to evade winter training without forfeiting the experience, but do we have enough fuel for the scenic route?” Napoleon asked.
“We’ll land in Iceland or the Faroe Islands if we have to, but I think we’ll be able to make it back to Newfoundland for refueling,” Illya said and made another course adjustment.
“Well, that’s a comfort,” Napoleon commented. The curtains of light fell around them, the upper edges violet and trimmed with stars.
The plane angled higher.
“You’re chasing them,” Napoleon concluded.
“The brighter the better,” Illya said. “One of the portable energy devices is secured to the roof.”
Napoleon raised an eyebrow. The violet band was segueing to red. He glanced at the ring he still wore.
“Philip and I tested their capacity. They were all low in charge. We drained one completely recharging the spare snowmobile batteries, then let it pull energy from the back-up station generator for a few minutes. Unlike typical batteries, they do not need to be in direct contact to charge, although they do when they power something. At least those models do and the one we have in New York. Philip’s theory was that THRUSH brought them this far north to charge them from the aurorae,” Illya explained. The plane climbed even higher.
“How much energy are we talking about?” Napoleon asked.
“If the process works, then they would only be limited by the storage capacity of each portable device. If they’re made larger or linked, that would be enhanced,” Illya replied.
“And if they were connected directly to a power grid, like the one for, say, Helsinki or Fairbanks, could they light a city?”
“They could help, but the aurorae are too unpredictable on earth to be a dependable power source,” Illya said.
Napoleon turned in his seat. “In space? But sunlight is already powering satellites.”
Illya tilted his head. “For the nightside portion of orbits or to focus the energy, possibly the x-rays or gamma rays rather than the visible light, as a weapon from outside the atmosphere perhaps.”
Napoleon stroked his chin.
“Or maybe their plans are terrestrial, focusing the energy gathered to melt glaciers or crack sections off icebergs to disrupt shipping. We’ll know more when we see what we’ve gathered.”
The plane wheeled away from the brightest lights. Smudges of red and green faded to black and white and then were gone.
***
Napoleon took his coffee out onto the balcony, settled in one of the wrought iron chairs and took a deep breath of the mild air.
Illya followed him through the draperies, peeling a tangerine. He held out a segment to Napoleon.
“Volker’s going to be disappointed that you sent George,” Napoleon said, taking the fruit.
“I didn’t send George, Mr Waverly did,” Illya corrected. “Besides, Philip will be too pleased with the message to care who the messenger is.” He gestured with the tangerine towards the blue and gold pot in the corner of the balcony. “Have you noticed anything odd about our flowery friend?”
“No,” Napoleon replied, holding out his hand. “Is it developing teeth or anything?”
Illya shook his head and dropped another wedge of tangerine onto Napoleon’s palm. “It’s growing towards the building rather than towards the sunnier side of the balcony.” He popped a section of fruit into his mouth.
Napoleon drained his cup and stood. “I’m going to have another coffee. Want one?”
“Mm,” Illya replied, “and another tangerine.” He bent down to examine the green seed pod hanging from one of the plant's lower branches.
Napoleon rested his hand on Illya’s hip. “You know the flowers are facing the bedroom window,” Napoleon said. His hand smoothed across Illya’s back to his shoulder and up to his hip again. He pressed his thigh against Illya. “It may have the right idea. After coffee, perhaps we should take a nap.”
“We just got up,” Illya said.
“Who know when we’ll have another day off,” Napoleon said.
“True,” Illya murmured as he crouched to look at the tendrils the plants had wrapped around the baluster.
Napoleon paused in the doorway, a coffee in each hand.
Illya lounged in the chair, his head resting against the balustrade in the shade amongst the flowers. His legs stretched before him into the noonday sun. He half opened his eyes when Napoleon set down the cups. Illya raised his hand and pushed the last section of fruit between his lips.
“You make a pretty picture like that.” Napoleon said, taking a fresh tangerine from his robe pocket and holding it out.
“Do I?” Illya replied, accepting the fruit.
“I added some vodka to your coffee,” Napoleon said.
“The better to induce napping?” Illya asked, uncrossing his ankles. His robe fell from one bare knee.
Napoleon insinuated a foot between Illya’s feet and leaned forward. “We need a terrace on some secluded beach house, so we can tear our pleasures in the sunlight,” Napoleon whispered by Illya’s ear.
Illya reached past Napoleon and tapped the coffee cup. “Shall we bring these to the bedroom?”
Napoleon swallowed and straightened up. “Oh, I think just past the curtains will be far enough,” he said and held out his arm.
Illya grasped it and squeezed hard. “Perhaps we can leave the coffee here.”
The drapes swayed closed behind them. The buds facing the balcony doors opened.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Classified archival film clip may be viewed here.