Evacuation, by Circuit
A new life? by Adrogans
Zaahid Eftekhari (no title provided), by Adrogans
OOC: Too bad I couldn't get this in before the update. Oh, well. At least now it counts for a story in the new year.
IC:
Pergamos at night.
Sergeant Asklepios Giziks considered this a good way to spend the night in the little town of Pergamos (which the Turks he met that day insisted on calling Bergama, those backward slime), but the military didn't care whether he was having a good time or not. They had plans for him; plans that he might not want to partake on. After all, forcing Turks from homes was, in its own way, good sport...especially when they resisted and made him think (a little bit).
But, of course, if the Tunisians had to give in to their lazy Socialist habit and call it a day, there wasn't much he could do about it. Can't do any more evictions when there's no one to take the evicted. Disappointing, really. He and his platoon been relatively busy that day, and had "repatriated" in total 20 Muslims to the Tunisians. Some, like that lazy bastard teenage brat and the old fart, were such a cinch to take care of that it almost no fun. Others, though, didn't go so easily. They made for entertainment.
As the last of the Tunisian buses for the day, filled with Muslims, began to leave, Giziks hollared, "Load up!" The men made their way to the jeeps, filing into them one by one. As Giziks opened the door to the passenger's seat of the lead one, he looked over his shoulder at the last bus as it left the encampment. If he had a rocket launcher...my, what fun that would be! Filling a bus full of Muslims with fire. But alas, the DEP leadership did not want any diplomatic entanglements. No fun for Giziks. Wise, perhaps. But no fun.
As he got in and shut the door, he looked over his shoulder to the men in the jeep. "So, did you guys enjoy yourselves?" he asked, a sly grin on his face. The men started to laugh, then cheered. After they seemed to have gotten it all out, Giziks shedded the smile. "Well, be smart. If one of you report what went on, we're all screwed. Got that?" They said "Yes, sir," as they should, then got back to chatting.
As the jeep started, Giziks leaned back in his chair. Hopefully no soldier decided to get drunk and spill the beans. Otherwise, things would get complicated fast--for Giziks especially. Heck, there might even be a court martial. He and his men had gone against orders: no one wanted horror stories filing out of Tunisia that made the Constantinople Federation--the DEP and Xanthou, in particular--look bad. Giziks didn't think much of it. But disobeying orders was disobeying orders, even if they were stupid.
Best to cover all his bases. Sergeant Giziks used the radio to relay to the other jeeps the order. Then he leaned back in his chair to relax. His eyes weren't closed for five minutes till a military phone rang in his pocket. Having no idea what it was for, he pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Sergeant Giziks," he said.
"Sergeant Giziks, this is Colonel Nikolas," the voice on the other line said.
Huh. Odd. "What do you need, sir?"
"Well, Sergeant, we have a situation on our hands," the Colonel said. "Apparently, some Party apparatchik was on his way to the base, and then had the wonderful fortune to have his jeep break down. And the closest one to him is you."
"I see, sir," Giziks said.
"You're going to have to pick him up. He's on the outskirts of the city, west along the CFN240. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Okay. Be prompt."
"I will, sir." Giziks closed the phone. "We're going to have to change course," he said to the driver. "A Party member is stranded."
"Okay, sir," the driver said. After telling him where to go, and informing the other drivers over the walkie talkies what was up, the platoon continued into the city, then made a right turn at an intersection in the city. After driving through the streets of the (undergrade) town, for about four kilometers, the crew spotted a jeep on the side of the road, with the driver and a man in the Party uniform (there was little difference between the Party uniform and the uniform of the military, other than that the Party uniform included DEP armbands and a Party pin on the lapel, where the military used the armband only in ceremony, and which was also slightly different) standing on the side. The jeeps pulled over, and Giziks stepped out.
"Hello, sir," Giziks said, walking up to the Party official with outstretched hand. They shook. "I'm Sergeant Giziks."
"Stylianos Prisco," the Party man said. He twitched his head back to the jeep. "The driver said that a belt snapped, and we don't have a replacement. So we're kind of stuck here."
Giziks had a secretary's smile. "Well, just leave it on the side of the road to be picked up later. For now, let's get you to the base. You can load your luggage into the back of a jeep."
After the driver and Prisco loaded the stuff, Giziks got into the head jeep. Probably best to have Prisco in here, he thought. After ordering one of the men in the jeep to give up his seat to Prisco, the man got up, out, talked to Prisco, then took a sweat in another jeep with Prisco's driver. Some shuffling gave Prisco the middle seat, and soon the platoon took a U-turn and was headed up the highway.
Sergeant Giziks leaned back to Prisco. "So, what brings you here to the Federation's frontier?" he asked.
Prisco chuckled. "I'm to give a report to the Greek Syncretic Party Committee on the Repatriation of Muslim Nationals."
"My, that's quite a name."
"It is wordy, yes. So I'm just going to hang around for some time and see what's going on, how things are going. I shouldn't be in anyone's way."
So much for having fun, Giziks thought. A false move in front of him, and he was way screwed. Sergeant Gizik's opinion of the DEP was generally positive. Xanthou was doing a lot of good. But he could tell right now he would not be liking this Party apparatchik.
They were barely into Pergamos when the platoon encountered ten men--Turks--standing in the middle of the road, and had to stop. Giziks scowled. They wouldn't move, even though the jeep's horn was blaring. What was going on? "What is this?" he said aloud. He looked back to two of the men in the jeep. "Let's take care of this."
His squad of three came out and formed in front of the jeep. The turks were looking and gawking at the blocked convoy. Giziks said pointedly, "What is this? Get out of the road!"
A Turk staggered up to him. Sergeant Giziks smelled licquoer. Drunks. That explained it. The Turk, words slurred, said, "We...we don't doing nothing wrong, tonight." The other Turks were looking on.
Giziks was not amused. Had his mother not taught him better, he would have socked the bloody Turk right in the nose. But there was a Party member here. Time to maintain an image. "You are doing something wrong. You're blocking a platoon of the Constantinople Federation."
The Turk lifted a smile. "What's wrong with that?" His Turk buddies started to laugh.
Giziks temper was building. "You are intervening in our affairs! And you are preventing a official of the DEP from getting to the base."
The Turk was not impressed. In fact, he craned his neck to see Prisco. Then he spat, in both Prisco and Giziks' direction. The phlegm landed befor Gizik's feet, and the other Turks proceeded to laugh.
Giziks was wide-eyed with both astonishment and fury. "I'm placing you under arrest! All of you! Men?"
But before Giziks' men could grab the Turk, the man heaved his fist and threw a punch across Giziks' nose. The blow turned Giziks' head down, out of sight. As he heard the soldiers seize the man, he felt his nose, and warm blood trickled down over his upper lip.
That did it. Giziks slowly lifted his head to see his men holding the Turk's arms behind his back. Giziks' eyes were wide, his pupils dihalated, and his teeth were bared. "Let him go," he growled.
The soldiers looked confused. "What, sir?"
"Let...him...go."
The soldiers, glancing at each other hopelessly for guidance, let the Turk's arms go. The man looked smug, looking back at his buddies. The soldiers stepped aside, and he just about stumbled over his foot as he turned back to his buddies.
His buddies looked happy, but the drunken grins on their faces soon turned to horror. They started to protest, saying, "No, no, please!" But it was too late. The Turk never returned to his buddies; his back jerked, and rounds flew through his body before he hit the ground, with Giziks holding his sub-machine gun. Giziks then lifted the gun and sprayed the crowd of Turks. Men screamed before they fell, and once they hit, they were filled with more lead once they hit the ground as Giziks pumped the gun till it was empty of rounds.
Giziks' men looked to him, their eyes wide, with dropped jaws. Giziks returned the submachine gun to his side, then said, slightly deflated from the energy of his fury, "Get the other men. We'll kick down one of the doors to these houses to hide the bodies till we can bury them."
"Which house, sir?"
"Any of them. All of them should be vacant. This area has been cleaned out." Giziks made a note to tell Prisco of that too, otherwise he would be in serious trouble. Killing Turks was one thing. Having witnesses and spreading the news was another.
The whole platoon soon was out of the jeeps and performing the cleanup. Most were silent, probably in shock. A couple though sneered. "Turkish, Muslim, Communist scum," they'd say. Sergeant Giziks shot a doorknob off one of the houses, and the platoon dragged the bodies in. After all the bodies were in the house, the men asked what to do about the blood.
"Leave it," Giziks said. "There's nothing we can do for it. Load up."
They loaded up. Giziks took the passenger seat of the lead jeep again, and looked back to see Prisco awestruck. Giziks smiled. "Sorry you had to see that." Prisco was about to say something, when Giziks remembered to say, "There were no witnesses. This area and the surrounding areas had been evacuated for some time."
Prisco left his mouth open with words at the tip of his tongue, but shut it and nodded. The convoy started up again. They continued along the highway to the east, to the military base on the side of the road in the hills. The convoy met the gate, passed the checkpoint, and pulled in to the base. Once in, all unloaded from the vehicles, including Prisco.
"Okay men, get settled," Sergeant Giziks yelled.
But then he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sergeant Giziks," Prisco said, "I would like to speak with you. In private."
Gizik's heart dropped. He was in trouble. He was be in big trouble. Giziks and Prisco stepped behind the jeep, after the soldiers unloaded. They were out of earshot, unless Prisco started hollering.
But Prisco was not loud, nor did he look perturbed. "When I said I was coming here for that Committee who I don't care to mention," he began, "I lied. That's not why I'm here. I have been given a special assignmnet by Cronus Xanthou himself, one that is very hush-hush. The Igetis knows that what happened to Yuri Kallis could easily happen to himself unless he has a unit of elite, dedicated, ruthless bodyguards, ones that would hold back nothing to protect the Igetis. I've been sent to find qualified officers for that position. I think you should seriously consider joining."
Giziks was...stunned. "Me?"
"Yes. When you...neutralized those Turks, I realized that you were what Xanthou wanted in his organization; ruthless, no limits, willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. And I think you should join. You would be critical to the success of the nation."
Giziks' heart was beating fast, now due to excitement. This sounded good. Very good. Boy, was he wrong when he thought he was in trouble. "And what does the job entail?" Giziks' asked.
"You will be in constant contact with the Igetis himself. The organization will be under his direct command, and you will undertake assignments he assigns to you. Your duties will very, but you will be involved in the domestic setting. You must be willing to sacrifice your life for the Igetis. And there are certain benefits, including your nececities being proveded--and they are good--and an allowance to be spent on whatever you desire. Sound interesting?"
Sergeant Giziks' smile was broad, and he wagged his head. "I am very much interested. In fact, you might as well sign me up."
Prisco smiled. "Good, good. Now I'm going to stick around for a few days and find more recruits. But I'll list you. I'd expect a transfer to an undisclosed location within three weeks. Sound good?"
"Of course."
"Alright, then. Have a good day, Sergeant Giziks." Prisco and Giziks shook hands.
"You too, sir," Giziks replied.
Prisco left, walking right up to the command tent. Sergeant Giziks, however, immediately proceeded to the Officer's Club. Tonight was a night for a round of drinks.
Everything went as planned 
