NK...sorry about that. Something urgent came up.
Implementation, Part One
Sassanid Hall, Teheran University
which is why, in conclusion, the operation and implementation of such a weapon is totally impossible, at this time. With all due respect gentlemen, I and my colleagues do not have the monetary resources, equipment, and Western expertise to accomplish this task.
The large, academic lecture hall* was silent, as the ten men at the high table stared down their noses at the cowering scientist. They looked displeased. But all the military men looked displeased these days, with the governments exodus to the Caspian Region putting everyone on edge. The head clerk blinked, blew his nose, and put down his stack of papers.
Very well, Dr. Mohammed bin-Adat. In light of the military and economic circumstances, I only see fit to deny your continued requests for additional resources. In addition, I find you guilty of three breaches of Standard Military Code, Section Twenty-five, including
The doors shot open, a small and quite irritated Frenchman striding in. He seemed to be wearing a military uniform of some sort, but it was darkish blue, definitely not the turquoise of the Persian Army.
Dear Allah, what does the Legion want now?
His question was rapidly answered by the shrill announcement coming out of the Foreign Legion officers mouth.
Gentlemen of the Military Appropriations Council, I present to you his Most Honorable Excellence, the First Consul of the Free French Government in Exile, Supreme Commander of the French Foreign Legion, Doctor Emile Grebert! He looked expectantly at the officers, probably hoping for applause.
After hearing none, the Consul himself (probably listening from around the corner) walked in confidently.
Ah, gentlemen! No need for applause, I assure you! I really am quite humble after all.
Silence.
Make sure to make my list of titles longer next time, he whispered to the officer.
The clerk was obviously not amused. How could anyone be amused, except for that pompous, overbearing Frenchman. Not that anyone hated him; he worked tirelessly for both Persia and his French comrades. But still
he was
so annoying!
Yes, your Excellency, what is it?
Ah, excellent! Even Doctor Adat is here. How is the family? Good? Good. Now, I am here to discuss a very important matter. I have, with the direct authorization of the Shah, transferred to Persia a large number of European refugees with remarkable scientific or technical skills of some sort. At the behest of Ardashir, I am required to assemble a team of experts that will begin immediate work on implementations of Dr. Adats plans. Certainly you are a genius, sir, but a genius needs competent subordinates!
As usual, his speech was met with stunned silence.
Need I continue? I have also been given a sum of three hundred thousand rials with which to fund this task, from the Shah himself. Money is no object, gentlemen, I merely require authorization. Well? Say something!
Adat cleared his throat. The engineer and munitions expert was notoriously shy.
Ah, your Excellency, I would be pleased to transfer all my work to your project, on two conditions. You see, my family is currently hiding in Shiraz. The Federates have grown increasingly indiscriminate in their reprisal slaughters of the Shia population, and they require aid in escaping.
Done. The Legion will attend to it immediately, or the Eyes and Ears of the Shah will accomplish such a task. And the other condition?
As you walked in, the Council was about to give me three citations for breach of military conduct, something to do with not wearing a standard uniform
I would appreciate it if you
amiably solved the matter. Adat smirked.
A flush of color appeared in the cheeks of Grebert.
My patience
is growing thin, gentlemen. I do trust that you are aware of Shirazs current state? Of the outcomes of the Battles of Haifa, Kirkuk, and Medina? Yes
I am sure, but you spend your time giving PETTY CITATIONS! WE ARE AT WAR, GENTLEMEN! He calmed down a little. And I trust that you will give me my authorization now, or I will bring the wrath of the Supreme Persian Military Command down on all of you!
The head clerk hadnt had a good day. Normally he was an amiable fellow, but he just recently heard of his sons death
or supposed death, somewhere in Iraq. But the Frenchmans tirade shocked him out of his reverie.
My apologies, your Excellency. Its clear that I was overstretching authority. Also, I allowed personal complications to interfere with my judgment. With the power entitled unto me, I hereby grant renewed authorization for Dr. Mohammed bin-Adat to continue his work. May Allah be with you, gentlemen. He stamped a dossier with an official looking seal, and closed the ledger. You are free to go.
Adat smiled. Perhaps his family would escape after all, and his project succeed.
Emile Grebert smiled. Everything was going according to plan. If only the Foreign Legion would organize itself faster
The head clerk smiled. He could finally go get lunch.
And somewhere, in some tent on some battlefield, Mustafa swore.
Damn it all to hell, you bastards!
Probably.
If someone had the bravery to sneak up to the high table and examine the dossier that the clerk signed, they would have seen an official-looking signature next to a blue seal. And several words.
Authorization Renewal:
Granted
Project Name:
Hand of God
*Converted to temporary military use. All the good spots were already taken.
OOC: If you have MSN Azale, please get on it. Thanks.