Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Implementation, Part Two
Dr. Mohammed bin-Adat lounged back in his seat, as the carriage trotted through Teheran. It was nice to finally get out of the city...especially with all the foreigners pouring in, he thought as a large, slightly drunken crowd of Frenchmen singing "Le Marseillaise" stumbled through the square. It was a pleasant place to be for a while...but too many things were happening there. There were too many Federate spies to endanger his work, as well. He needed peace, and security.
He was going to Baghdad.
The First Consul turned to Adat, smiling.
"Ah, my friend! If only I could help you in your work, but alas. I must be present at the official coronation of l'Empereur, Julien I, this evening. My hopes and prayers are with you, my friend."
"Thank you, Emile. The Hand of God will triumph."
"So I hope."
Emile Grebert stepped out of the carriage, and walked quickly towards a large building with the Tricolore fluttering from the roof.
The carriage turned, heading towards The Shah's Gate. What was once the simple gilded gate of a university city had been turned into a massive wall, bristling with razor wire, patrolling soldiers and Engineering Corps supervisors. The sentries on top of the massive steel gate saluted crisply when they saw the flags on the carriage. The reinforced doors swung slowly open, and the coachman urged his horses through.
As they passed into the darkness, the only sound being the clatter of hooves on cobblestones, Adat considered his future. This project had consumed him for years...and it was finally nearing completion. True, so many things still needed to be sorted out, and before the great Federate assault began, but...it would be done.
What to do after that, though? He would receive his commission as promised, and probably an award from the Shah, as well. Perhaps he could retire to Azerbaijan...and spend some time with his grandchildren.
It was probably a false hope. Adat was a humble man, but he knew that there was no better expert in his field than him, in all Persia. Perhaps the Federates might be able to duplicate his work, but only if they had him.
If they had him...
Adat suddenly realized how little protection there was for him. A small, isolated carriage, driving alone on a road already cleared of all civilian traffic. No military guard, not even a single bodyguard besides his coachman. And now, they were pulling into a road that was definitely not the road to Baghdad. They were veering south...towards the battlelines.
"Coachman, don't you think that..."
His sentence was cut off as the coachman turned around, to reveal a leering face that was not Persian at all.
Before he could use the pistol he'd been given, or even react at all, he was struck from behind. Blackness enveloped him.
---
Three hours later, an administrator at Military Affairs noticed that the battalion of troops to guard Dr. Adat on his trip to Baghdad had been diverted, by a clerk that had since disappeared. When the dead body of the real coachman was discovered in an alley two hours later, their worst fears were confirmed. He was missing. The Shah was notified, and he authorized the use of five agents in his recovery. Finding him would be the first problem, though.
---
A nice bucket of cold water would do it. Or even someone shaking his shoulders. But no, they had to hit him. The heavy blow to the side of the head woke him up, revealing a room. It was neither dark, nor light. He couldn't tell what time of day it was...they'd be smarter than that. There were no distinguishing objects in the room that gave away anything.
In front of Adat sat a Federate officer. His uniform was immaculate, every button and medallion in place. His hands, covered in spotless white gloves, were folded on the table. He smiled warmly, sardonically.
"Doctor Mohammed bin-Adat, what a pleasure!"
"Where am I?"
"Oh, we'll get to that eventually. It could be Shiraz. It could be Basra. In fact, it could even be London itself. Cooperation will make everything easier."
"I'm afraid that I cannot tell you anything. Perhaps you would be so kind as to let me leave, now."
The Federate laughed for a long time.
"I'm terribly sorry to hear that, Doctor. We were hoping to have to avoid other methods of persuasion."
"Torture won't help you," he said desparately.
"Ah, I'll be the judge of that."
He snapped his fingers, and two tall men entered the room. They carried a large tray between them.
"Do you know what these are, Doctor Adat?"
"No."
"You'll find out soon enough."
And he picked up a sharp looking knife, that ended in three silver points. One of the others grabbed a sledgehammer.
At that moment, the door burst open, revealing three panting Federate officers.
"Captain Smith, there's been an emergency!"
The officer turned around angrily.
"What the hell is this! No one is EVER to interrupt me in the middle of an interro-
He never finished his sentence, as the first "Federate" that walked into the room promptly raised a pistol and blew his head off. He winked at Doctor Adat, who by now was close to going into shock. All three of them pointed their pistols at the two Federate guards, who raised their hands. After they were tied up, the first one turned again to Adat.
"We'll have to do introductions later, Doctor. It's time to go."
Dr. Mohammed bin-Adat lounged back in his seat, as the carriage trotted through Teheran. It was nice to finally get out of the city...especially with all the foreigners pouring in, he thought as a large, slightly drunken crowd of Frenchmen singing "Le Marseillaise" stumbled through the square. It was a pleasant place to be for a while...but too many things were happening there. There were too many Federate spies to endanger his work, as well. He needed peace, and security.
He was going to Baghdad.
The First Consul turned to Adat, smiling.
"Ah, my friend! If only I could help you in your work, but alas. I must be present at the official coronation of l'Empereur, Julien I, this evening. My hopes and prayers are with you, my friend."
"Thank you, Emile. The Hand of God will triumph."
"So I hope."
Emile Grebert stepped out of the carriage, and walked quickly towards a large building with the Tricolore fluttering from the roof.
The carriage turned, heading towards The Shah's Gate. What was once the simple gilded gate of a university city had been turned into a massive wall, bristling with razor wire, patrolling soldiers and Engineering Corps supervisors. The sentries on top of the massive steel gate saluted crisply when they saw the flags on the carriage. The reinforced doors swung slowly open, and the coachman urged his horses through.
As they passed into the darkness, the only sound being the clatter of hooves on cobblestones, Adat considered his future. This project had consumed him for years...and it was finally nearing completion. True, so many things still needed to be sorted out, and before the great Federate assault began, but...it would be done.
What to do after that, though? He would receive his commission as promised, and probably an award from the Shah, as well. Perhaps he could retire to Azerbaijan...and spend some time with his grandchildren.
It was probably a false hope. Adat was a humble man, but he knew that there was no better expert in his field than him, in all Persia. Perhaps the Federates might be able to duplicate his work, but only if they had him.
If they had him...
Adat suddenly realized how little protection there was for him. A small, isolated carriage, driving alone on a road already cleared of all civilian traffic. No military guard, not even a single bodyguard besides his coachman. And now, they were pulling into a road that was definitely not the road to Baghdad. They were veering south...towards the battlelines.
"Coachman, don't you think that..."
His sentence was cut off as the coachman turned around, to reveal a leering face that was not Persian at all.
Before he could use the pistol he'd been given, or even react at all, he was struck from behind. Blackness enveloped him.
---
Three hours later, an administrator at Military Affairs noticed that the battalion of troops to guard Dr. Adat on his trip to Baghdad had been diverted, by a clerk that had since disappeared. When the dead body of the real coachman was discovered in an alley two hours later, their worst fears were confirmed. He was missing. The Shah was notified, and he authorized the use of five agents in his recovery. Finding him would be the first problem, though.
---
A nice bucket of cold water would do it. Or even someone shaking his shoulders. But no, they had to hit him. The heavy blow to the side of the head woke him up, revealing a room. It was neither dark, nor light. He couldn't tell what time of day it was...they'd be smarter than that. There were no distinguishing objects in the room that gave away anything.
In front of Adat sat a Federate officer. His uniform was immaculate, every button and medallion in place. His hands, covered in spotless white gloves, were folded on the table. He smiled warmly, sardonically.
"Doctor Mohammed bin-Adat, what a pleasure!"
"Where am I?"
"Oh, we'll get to that eventually. It could be Shiraz. It could be Basra. In fact, it could even be London itself. Cooperation will make everything easier."
"I'm afraid that I cannot tell you anything. Perhaps you would be so kind as to let me leave, now."
The Federate laughed for a long time.
"I'm terribly sorry to hear that, Doctor. We were hoping to have to avoid other methods of persuasion."
"Torture won't help you," he said desparately.
"Ah, I'll be the judge of that."
He snapped his fingers, and two tall men entered the room. They carried a large tray between them.
"Do you know what these are, Doctor Adat?"
"No."
"You'll find out soon enough."
And he picked up a sharp looking knife, that ended in three silver points. One of the others grabbed a sledgehammer.
At that moment, the door burst open, revealing three panting Federate officers.
"Captain Smith, there's been an emergency!"
The officer turned around angrily.
"What the hell is this! No one is EVER to interrupt me in the middle of an interro-
He never finished his sentence, as the first "Federate" that walked into the room promptly raised a pistol and blew his head off. He winked at Doctor Adat, who by now was close to going into shock. All three of them pointed their pistols at the two Federate guards, who raised their hands. After they were tied up, the first one turned again to Adat.
"We'll have to do introductions later, Doctor. It's time to go."
You have it though right?
