Alaska Thunderfuck and the Russian Expedition

Chapter 1

December 31 st , 1989.

United States Secret Military Base (USSMB) – Cherskiy, Russia.

Twenty three hundred hours.

Private Clucker falls off his chair at the screeching sound of the alarm. What the fuck? He didn't even know the base had such an alarm. It has sure never rung before. He's about ready to pick up the phone and call his superior when General Juneau Dancer walks in.

"Move over kid. This is a situation best handled by grownups."

How did she get here so fast?, Clucker wonders, but says nothing. He, like every guy on this base, is scared to shit of General Dancer.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph! It's a code 424. You know what that means, Private..."

"Clucker, sir. Private Joe Clucker."

"I'm not a sir, Clucker. I'm a fabulous woman, clearly." The boy only blushes in response. "A code 424 is what comes from the SETI base in Argus. You know what that means?"

"S-something about aliens?"

"Exactly! Aliens, Clucker. Isn't it exciting?"

"..."

"I remember when I had my first contact with an extraterrestrial. She was the most gorgeous thing you have ever seen..." Her eyes glaze over, lost in the memory. And then she's back. "But I digress. Let's see what message Dr. Ellie has for us, shall we?"

General Dancer moves her face near the screen and her flawlessly tanned complexion goes completely eggshell.

"Oh. My. Goddess!"

***

Her name was Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, but you can just call her Katya. If you ask her about herself, she'll reply, plain and simple: "I'm your average run-of- the-mill Russian bisexual transvestite hooker." What she'll leave out, however is that she is a three time Olympic gold medal winner gymnast, has a PhD in Russian Politics, and she's trained in medieval combat. She's currently part of the Russian intelligence, as the highest success mission rate spy the organization has ever had. Also, she's Russia's number one high class whore.

But right now, she's in a pickle. Just as General Dancer reads the screen on the other side of the base, Katya is hanging by an incredibly toned leg on the bars of a prison cell. Her other leg is wrapped around her neck, which makes her look like a platinum blonde pretzel. She turns her upside down face to the left, and says to the guard standing outside her cell, in a thick Russian accent:

"What must a girl do to get a cigarette around here, Brenda?"

The pig faced man just grunts in return.

"Oh, it appears you are deprived of any intelligence. I didn't know, I'm not a scientist. You must excuse me, beast!"

The guard hits the bars with the side of his right fist, making the tremble. Katya falls on her firm butt.

"Shut up, whore!", he barks.

"Watch out, Officer", says a feminine voice coming from down the hall. "You know we don't mistreat any living creature at this facility. Even the prisoners."

It's General Dancer. How did she get here so fast?, Katya and the Officer both think.

"Yes, General", says Officer Pigface.

"Good. Now if you would please leave us alone. I need to have a word with Miss Zamolodchikova."

"You can call me Katya. Your dad does." She opens a black and red fan with a flourish, making a thwoorp sound.

"I understand you are very crossed with us right now, but you are an enemy spy. What would have us do? Here." General Dancer hands Katya a cigarette and lights it.

"Thank you. But you won't make me talk."

"I'm not here for that. I came to ask you if you would like to start 1990 out of this slimy cell."

"Is this trick question? I am not in the mood for games, Linda."

"It's Dancer. And no, it's not a trick question. I am offering you your freedom."

"And would I have to do?"

"I need you to set aside all issues between our countries, so we can work together on something that's bigger that any of that."

"What is it?"

"I need you to help me save the world."

***

Former alien and current Hollywood, nay, worldwide sensation Alaska is staring at her perfect reflection in the mirror. Her mug is already beat the house down, and half of her waist length, natural, air dried, platinum hair is up in two buns at the top of her head, while the other half cascades silkily down her bare shoulders. She's wearing a long red for filth (still her favorite color) cetin gown. She hasn't aged even a day since we last saw her. As a matter of fact, the glamtr0nian beauty looks even more sickening than before, if that's possible.

But her mind is elsewhere. Her thoughts go all the way back 10 years ago, to the date, to the night she first came (mistakenly, or so she thought at first) to Earth. Now, her spaceship is long, long gone, and so much has happened. She knows she has made the right decision by staying in this gorgeous, yet insane little planet. The eighties were so much fun! She's made a name for herself, and thanks to that, she's been able to make the most of her mission of spreading the word of love and equality for all throughout the world. She couldn't be prouder of herself and her amazing friends (and she's made so many of them, too! But more on that later).

However, now, on these last minutes of the eighties, she's caught herself feeling nostalgic for that very first night on Earth. She knows the nineties will be even better than the eighties (as all glamntr0nians know, time is not linear, and past, present and future are one, and what is simply is). But that first night, back when she still was Alaska Thunderfuck 5000, was to gag for. The thrill, the anxiety, the adventure, the shade of it all! She was simply living for it.

Her thoughts are interrupted by Divinity, who storms into Alaska's dressing room. Which is not anything new, seeing as she never, ever knocks. What causes Alaska to worry about her friend is the look of exasperation on her face.

"What happened?"

"Guuuuuuurl, you will never believe this." Her face is flushed underneath all the paint. "It's Juneau. She's on the phone, and she's scared, gurl. She's asking for you."

Alaska rushes down the hall, and picks up the receiver from the wall phone.

"Juneau? It's Alaska", she says in her raspy, dragged out voice. "What's wrong?"

"Lasky, you're there, thank Goddess! We have an intergalactic situation in our hands and we're gonna need all the help we can get. How soon can you get to Russia?"

"You mean right now? Bitch, I'm about to go onstage."

"The tips and the tops can wait, Alaska. We're in a global crisis. It's RuPaul, she's been abducted."

Alaska gasps.

"I'm on my way."