“Hahaha… China just emptied their arsenal. Taiwan, South Korea and inexplicably 10 to Vancouver,” roared Korlov. Primakov was relived.
“The Albatross already has them. We are golden…” said Pulikesi.
“So where do you want to allocate them. We are pretty full everywhere,” informed Ilya, “unless you want them in the Volga.”
Primakov turned to the President and said, “Madam I think these Ukrainians and their janitor friend should all get a medal or something… for services to Russia.”
Pulikesi had other plans, “Nope. No shitty medals. I want a dacha… outskirts of Moscow…”
“Me, I am fine with St. Petersburg” said Ilya.
“No one is getting a dacha…”
“Bet you gave Snowden a badass dacha… with a covered pool and SUVs… and… ” prodded Pulikesi.
“Snowden lives in a dilapidated khrushchyovka in Ulyanovsk. He drives an 80s Lada… and his day job is at a sausage factory.”
The President raised her hand for order, “Sure, whatever. When this is over, we will see.” She had real Presidential stuff to do. She had a speech to write… one declaring world domination by Russia.
“Well thanks Madam President. But we still need a place to put the incoming Chinese,” said Ilya.
“Not Volga. Remember Volga only for Americans. So… let’s see… ok send them to Lake Issyk Kul in Kyrgyzstan,” said Primakov.
“Is it deep?”
“It’s very deep.”
Pulikesi, had a follow up question.
“So dude, is it safe to like dump so many nukes into your fresh water reserves…?”
Primakov smiled and said, “My simple friend, you can nuke a nuke… and nothing will happen to it. They are made of titanium. Solid.”
Antipin agreed, “They say diamonds are forever… I say nukes are forever.”
Someone added, “Also tight buttholes…”
“Uh oh…” said Pulikesi.
“Whats wrong?” asked Primakov who was about to sip his Tall Americano.
“Irish missiles… 3 Minutemans… Coming in fast to Moscow…”
“Reroute it… let the Albatross handle it.”
“Well we did some trial runs at Vnukovo Airport and they have a beta version of Albatross. For some reason that beta version is overriding our version of Albatross.”
“Oh dear… a beta version… were there any bugs?” asked Yuspov the Attorney General. The recent update on his candy crushing game had serious performance issues.
“No bugs… but it had this one extra feature…”
“This is Vnukovo ATC… I repeat reduce speed to 100 Knots…” The ATC crew at Vnukovo couldn’t understand. First the Russian government had shut down their airport and now they were sending in fighter jets. But for some reason the jets just couldn’t be identified. They were as big as a wide body, yet moved like a Mig.
“This is Vnukovo ATC… pilots identify yourself…”
The 3 Irish missiles had joined the war at the last moment. Some quality control creep had insisted on repainting the tail as it ‘wasn’t the right kind of green’.
“Oh man this is going to get ugly,” said Ilya, “You guys should take the President to some bunker.”
“How far is Vnukovo from the Kremlin?” asked Pulikesi.
“Not too far,” said Primakov. “Madam perhaps we should…”
“So what was the extra feature?”
Following orders from the Vnukovo version of the Albatross, the three Irish missiles headed to Vnukovo in the south western extremities of Moscow.
The first Minuteman with its green fins gradually descended, 40ft… 30ft… 20ft.
At 10ft above the ground, the missile lowered its rear and performed the first ever ICBM ‘touch down-landing’ in history. It was a hell of a leap.
20 seconds later the missile parked itself at Vnukovo’s Gate 13. The second and third missiles went to the unoccupied gates — 18 and 29.
Other than the slightly charred tarmac, Vnukovo seemed operational.
It was a warm humid January day in Siberia. President Anna Petrova and Primakov were up in a Mi-8 chopper exploring the new flora and fauna of Siberia.
“Bears. To the right Madam, on the banks of the Yenisei.”
A bunch of polar bears and grizzlies were out sunbathing and sharing a dolphin.
“Perhaps it’s their Thanksgiving.”
This was the new Siberia. A Mediterranean paradise where everyone had fun. A place where new alliances were made every day. Plus every day was balmy. Moscow was Madrid, St. Pete was Barca and New York… lolz was the Novo Novosibirsk.
As the chopper rose again, something on the horizon caught the President eye. A large circle of SUVs and a bunch of people were cheering something. In the middle of the circle, something large and violet was twisting and turning. The President wanted to get a better look.
“Do you see that?” she asked Primakov, who immediately extracted his binoculars and checked it out. The large spindly violet octopus-like creature was fighting something. Its opponent was equally weird, almost like a ball of barbed wire.
“Oh yeah, it’s the Ebola vs Anthrax fight,” exclaimed Primakov. “Those are super fun.”
“Ebola as in the virus?”
