Kilani
05-01-2006, 18:44
Green River International Airport, Green River, Kilani
Sergei Bessonov closed the magazine he had been reading and looked around the crowded airport. As usual the airport was bustling with activity. Hundreds of people from a dozen different countries were going about their business. However, Bessonov was not concerned with them. He was silently checking on the other members of his team. Over in the corner, ostensibly talking on a pay phone, was Ivan Moniushko. Sitting a few seats away was Mikhail Lusinov. Across from them, Fedor Bachurin and Viktor Erdman were enjoying a drink at the bar.
Bessonov silently recalled the events that had lead to this. Over a year ago he and his team had been part of the Kilani Liberation Army when it began it's bid for a free, capitalist Kilani. However, the Kilani government had been quick to begin negotiations. And Bessonov, along with thousands of others, had realized that the KLA was weak. It did not have the stomach for a prolonged fight. So they had formed their own revolutionary group: the New Republicans. They had taken the fight to the enemy and klled thousands of cummunists. But without foreign help, they were simply crushed by the sher size of the People's Army of Kilani. They had been splintered, driven underground. The government believed the New Republicans gone for good. Bessonov smiled to himself as he thought about that. They were stil here and they were going to show the communists and traitors that they were very much ready to free Kilani from it's communist overlords. Kilani airport security was lax. No one had ever done something like this.
The PA System pinged and a friendly, female voice spoke, "Rodenkan Air International Flight 47 is now boarding. All passengers for Flight 47 to the gate please, you are now boarding. Please have your boarding passes ready."
Bessonov stood, giving the slightest of nods to Bucharin and Erdman. The other members of his team slowly began following him into the line, spacing themselves out. A pretty young stewardess smiled at BEssonov as he handed her his boarding pass, "Enjoy your flight, sir."
"Thank you. I do believe I will." he replied. She looked slightly puzzled but her smile reappeared within moments.
Within minutes the entire team was on the plane. The plane was a Boeing 757, the staple of most airlines. Bessonov was seated forward, with Erdman and Bucharin a few seats away. The other two were in the rear. Now all there was to do was wait...
Flight 47, One Half Hour Later
Flight 47 was now in the air and on the way to Rodenka, Klanis northern neighbor. So far it had been a smooth flight. Bessonov checked his watch. One minute to H-Hour. He exchanged a glance with Erdman and nodded. Reaching up he grabbed his carry-on bag and unzipped it, reaching for a small case on the bottom of the bag, as well as a small cloth bundle. He grabbed it and flipped it open, revealing a Makarov sem-autmoatic pistol. Across from him Bucharin was pulling an identical pistol from his bag, while Erdman was quickly putting together a Mini-Uzi. Someone finally realized something was wrong and there was a scream, "Gun! He's got a gun!"
--------------
In the cockpit, the pilot, Eric Fischer, exchanged a glance with his co-pilot, Hans Ostmann. They were both Rodenkan and had been flying for the airline for years. Fischer had served in the Rodenkan Royal Air Force as well. He flipped the mike on, "Green River Tower, Green River Tower, this is Flight 47. We have reports of a gun on board, please be advised. Over."
"We copy Flight 47. Stand by for instructions. Over."
Seconds later the door to the cockpit was kicked open. An older looking man with greying hair stood in the doorway, brandishing a Makarov. Behind him Fischer could see another man, also with a Makarov, watching the passengers. The man spoke in accented German to Fischer and Ostmann.
"I am Colonel Bessonov, of the New Republican Army. You will follow my instructions, or I will begin killing passengers. Do you understand?"
Fischer nodded, "Yes, I understand."
Bessonov nodded grimly, "Good. Then we will not have problems. Change course to the following heading." he handed him a small slip of paper with a written heading. Fischer nodded silently and brought the jetliner onto course. He reached for the PA system button, but Bessonov stopped him. "I will do that." Bessonov took the mike and flipped the button, "Attnetion passengers of FLight 47. I am Colonel Bessonov of the New Republican Army. If you cooperate none of you will be harmed. Please, remain calm and stay in your seats. Fasten your seatbelts."
He grinned triumphantly at Bucharin. They had done it!
Sergei Bessonov closed the magazine he had been reading and looked around the crowded airport. As usual the airport was bustling with activity. Hundreds of people from a dozen different countries were going about their business. However, Bessonov was not concerned with them. He was silently checking on the other members of his team. Over in the corner, ostensibly talking on a pay phone, was Ivan Moniushko. Sitting a few seats away was Mikhail Lusinov. Across from them, Fedor Bachurin and Viktor Erdman were enjoying a drink at the bar.
Bessonov silently recalled the events that had lead to this. Over a year ago he and his team had been part of the Kilani Liberation Army when it began it's bid for a free, capitalist Kilani. However, the Kilani government had been quick to begin negotiations. And Bessonov, along with thousands of others, had realized that the KLA was weak. It did not have the stomach for a prolonged fight. So they had formed their own revolutionary group: the New Republicans. They had taken the fight to the enemy and klled thousands of cummunists. But without foreign help, they were simply crushed by the sher size of the People's Army of Kilani. They had been splintered, driven underground. The government believed the New Republicans gone for good. Bessonov smiled to himself as he thought about that. They were stil here and they were going to show the communists and traitors that they were very much ready to free Kilani from it's communist overlords. Kilani airport security was lax. No one had ever done something like this.
The PA System pinged and a friendly, female voice spoke, "Rodenkan Air International Flight 47 is now boarding. All passengers for Flight 47 to the gate please, you are now boarding. Please have your boarding passes ready."
Bessonov stood, giving the slightest of nods to Bucharin and Erdman. The other members of his team slowly began following him into the line, spacing themselves out. A pretty young stewardess smiled at BEssonov as he handed her his boarding pass, "Enjoy your flight, sir."
"Thank you. I do believe I will." he replied. She looked slightly puzzled but her smile reappeared within moments.
Within minutes the entire team was on the plane. The plane was a Boeing 757, the staple of most airlines. Bessonov was seated forward, with Erdman and Bucharin a few seats away. The other two were in the rear. Now all there was to do was wait...
Flight 47, One Half Hour Later
Flight 47 was now in the air and on the way to Rodenka, Klanis northern neighbor. So far it had been a smooth flight. Bessonov checked his watch. One minute to H-Hour. He exchanged a glance with Erdman and nodded. Reaching up he grabbed his carry-on bag and unzipped it, reaching for a small case on the bottom of the bag, as well as a small cloth bundle. He grabbed it and flipped it open, revealing a Makarov sem-autmoatic pistol. Across from him Bucharin was pulling an identical pistol from his bag, while Erdman was quickly putting together a Mini-Uzi. Someone finally realized something was wrong and there was a scream, "Gun! He's got a gun!"
--------------
In the cockpit, the pilot, Eric Fischer, exchanged a glance with his co-pilot, Hans Ostmann. They were both Rodenkan and had been flying for the airline for years. Fischer had served in the Rodenkan Royal Air Force as well. He flipped the mike on, "Green River Tower, Green River Tower, this is Flight 47. We have reports of a gun on board, please be advised. Over."
"We copy Flight 47. Stand by for instructions. Over."
Seconds later the door to the cockpit was kicked open. An older looking man with greying hair stood in the doorway, brandishing a Makarov. Behind him Fischer could see another man, also with a Makarov, watching the passengers. The man spoke in accented German to Fischer and Ostmann.
"I am Colonel Bessonov, of the New Republican Army. You will follow my instructions, or I will begin killing passengers. Do you understand?"
Fischer nodded, "Yes, I understand."
Bessonov nodded grimly, "Good. Then we will not have problems. Change course to the following heading." he handed him a small slip of paper with a written heading. Fischer nodded silently and brought the jetliner onto course. He reached for the PA system button, but Bessonov stopped him. "I will do that." Bessonov took the mike and flipped the button, "Attnetion passengers of FLight 47. I am Colonel Bessonov of the New Republican Army. If you cooperate none of you will be harmed. Please, remain calm and stay in your seats. Fasten your seatbelts."
He grinned triumphantly at Bucharin. They had done it!