Teslia
02-04-2006, 16:37
80 Miles outside of Telgrade, Teslia
The whir of the helicopter blades contrasted with the peaceful silence of the countryside, rolling hills, valleys, higher peaks dotted with the occasional village. It was early and the pink sun was just now stretching its fingers over the country. His uniform shirt unbuttoned revealing a green undershirt and an old pair of dog tags, the large Teslian officer struggled to situate himself comfortably, as he fumbled with the Telgrade Times. He raised a hand to scratch the thick stubble that covered his well-fed face and adjusted the lopsided officer’s cap. The helicopter flew on, coming up over a tiny village, halting, and descending into a clearing below. The officer folded his paper, adjusted his cap again, and jumped to the ground. He reached into his pocket, removed a cigarette and a lighter, and touched one to the tip of the other. He replaced the items and began buttoning his shirt as a younger officer appeared from the doorway of one of the small houses.
“General Gregovic, sir. Colonel Marev reporting.”
The general nodded and grunted a hello, fumbling with his shirt buttons.
“Sir, General Iliev sends his regards. You’re to meet him if you’ll follow me sir.”
The general was silent, concentrating on his shirt, but he followed as the young man walked off. As they went, the faces of children could be seen watching, a mix of excitement and fear in their eyes. Most had seen soldiers before, but not many had the privilege of seeing them up-close in their own town, and even the youngest of them was intelligent enough to recognize the significance of a general’s rank. The two military men halted in front of a house that looked remarkably similar to the others.
“Go right in, sir. General Iliev is waiting.”
Gregovic had by now buttoned his entire shirt, however he had threaded the bottom button through the hole directly above the correct one, and was rather lopsided. Ringing his hands in frustration, he shook his head and stomped into the building. Inside, a lithe, robust man, clean shaven and in clean, green uniform stood before a map hung on a wall previously occupied by a family portrait. He was older in appearance, his hair pure white, in stark contrast to Gregovic’s jet black. Iliev turned as Gregovic entered, and the other dozen men in the room stood and smartly saluted.
“At ease,” the two generals spoke in unison. Iliev looked at Gregovic’s misbuttoned shirt, and did a poor job of suppressing a chuckle.
“Good morning, Nikolai,” he said.
“Morning. What’s this all about then? Pulling me from my garrison job in Tlska.”
“I apologize for the short notice, but I figured you’d prefer something a bit more interesting. I suggested your name to Marshall Namazov himself, and he agreed, so I contacted you right away.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any idea what we’re doing here?”
“Squatting in these people’s homes?”
“Besides that.”
“I figured you’d tell me.”
“Nikolai, welcome to Fort Namazov.”
Gregovic looked around at the plain house, screwing his face up in confusion.
“Not much of a fort.”
“An acute observation, but then again, you haven’t seen the rest of it.”
Iliev smiled mischievously. Gregovic thought to himself how strange and rare a phenomena it must be to see a general smile mischievously, but he decided to go along with it. Iliev gestured towards the next room, the kitchen. Gregovic followed him in. A pair of guards stood at opposite ends of an acutely narrow door, a rather comic sight considering the kitchen was no larger than a moderately sized bathroom. The two struggled to salute in the close confines, and one opened the door, revealing an old stone staircase.
The two generals began their descent, coming at the bottom to an old iron door. Iliev fumbled around in the dark, finally finding a small brown box, flipping it open, and lowering his eyes for a retina scan. The door ground open, revealing an old stone basement, damp and smelling of mold. Gregovic put a large hand to his nose and mouth and followed Iliev through to another iron door, where he repeated a retina scan process. The door opened and the two stepped into what appeared to be an airlock of sorts, with bright fluorescent lights and white walls. Iliev looked over at Gregovic and noticed his cigarette.
“You’ll want to get rid of that.”
Gregovic took a last puff, and dropped it to the ground, crushing it under his heel.
Behind a large pane of glass a soldier saluted.
“Morning generals. I’ll have you right through. Just a minute.”
The door closed behind them and the one in front opened, revealing a long white hallway, lit with the same fluorescent lighting. Gregovic followed Iliev down the hall, coming to a steel door, which he opened with a retina scan. They entered and found it to be a small control room of sorts, overlooking what seemed to be a laboratory, with men in protective suits bent over workbenches.
“I improperly welcomed you before. This is in fact Fort Namazov.”
Gregovic watched the scene through the glass intently.
“What are they doing?”
“Perfecting the uranium enrichment process.”
Gregovic turned to Iliev, a look of disbelief on his face. Iliev smiled contentedly.
“The Teslian nuclear program is actually quite advanced. At this time, we’re only a few months away from beginning construction of a reactor to power Telgrade. From then, it’s only a short hop to weapons.”
Gregovic turned back to the scene in the other room.
“What do I have to do with this?”
“You’ll oversee the weapons department when it’s finalized.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“No one except the people you’ve seen working here. It’s probably the nation’s best-kept secrets. Marshall Namazov has ensured that.”
Gregovic was silent.
“Do you like what you see.”
Gregovic nodded.
The whir of the helicopter blades contrasted with the peaceful silence of the countryside, rolling hills, valleys, higher peaks dotted with the occasional village. It was early and the pink sun was just now stretching its fingers over the country. His uniform shirt unbuttoned revealing a green undershirt and an old pair of dog tags, the large Teslian officer struggled to situate himself comfortably, as he fumbled with the Telgrade Times. He raised a hand to scratch the thick stubble that covered his well-fed face and adjusted the lopsided officer’s cap. The helicopter flew on, coming up over a tiny village, halting, and descending into a clearing below. The officer folded his paper, adjusted his cap again, and jumped to the ground. He reached into his pocket, removed a cigarette and a lighter, and touched one to the tip of the other. He replaced the items and began buttoning his shirt as a younger officer appeared from the doorway of one of the small houses.
“General Gregovic, sir. Colonel Marev reporting.”
The general nodded and grunted a hello, fumbling with his shirt buttons.
“Sir, General Iliev sends his regards. You’re to meet him if you’ll follow me sir.”
The general was silent, concentrating on his shirt, but he followed as the young man walked off. As they went, the faces of children could be seen watching, a mix of excitement and fear in their eyes. Most had seen soldiers before, but not many had the privilege of seeing them up-close in their own town, and even the youngest of them was intelligent enough to recognize the significance of a general’s rank. The two military men halted in front of a house that looked remarkably similar to the others.
“Go right in, sir. General Iliev is waiting.”
Gregovic had by now buttoned his entire shirt, however he had threaded the bottom button through the hole directly above the correct one, and was rather lopsided. Ringing his hands in frustration, he shook his head and stomped into the building. Inside, a lithe, robust man, clean shaven and in clean, green uniform stood before a map hung on a wall previously occupied by a family portrait. He was older in appearance, his hair pure white, in stark contrast to Gregovic’s jet black. Iliev turned as Gregovic entered, and the other dozen men in the room stood and smartly saluted.
“At ease,” the two generals spoke in unison. Iliev looked at Gregovic’s misbuttoned shirt, and did a poor job of suppressing a chuckle.
“Good morning, Nikolai,” he said.
“Morning. What’s this all about then? Pulling me from my garrison job in Tlska.”
“I apologize for the short notice, but I figured you’d prefer something a bit more interesting. I suggested your name to Marshall Namazov himself, and he agreed, so I contacted you right away.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any idea what we’re doing here?”
“Squatting in these people’s homes?”
“Besides that.”
“I figured you’d tell me.”
“Nikolai, welcome to Fort Namazov.”
Gregovic looked around at the plain house, screwing his face up in confusion.
“Not much of a fort.”
“An acute observation, but then again, you haven’t seen the rest of it.”
Iliev smiled mischievously. Gregovic thought to himself how strange and rare a phenomena it must be to see a general smile mischievously, but he decided to go along with it. Iliev gestured towards the next room, the kitchen. Gregovic followed him in. A pair of guards stood at opposite ends of an acutely narrow door, a rather comic sight considering the kitchen was no larger than a moderately sized bathroom. The two struggled to salute in the close confines, and one opened the door, revealing an old stone staircase.
The two generals began their descent, coming at the bottom to an old iron door. Iliev fumbled around in the dark, finally finding a small brown box, flipping it open, and lowering his eyes for a retina scan. The door ground open, revealing an old stone basement, damp and smelling of mold. Gregovic put a large hand to his nose and mouth and followed Iliev through to another iron door, where he repeated a retina scan process. The door opened and the two stepped into what appeared to be an airlock of sorts, with bright fluorescent lights and white walls. Iliev looked over at Gregovic and noticed his cigarette.
“You’ll want to get rid of that.”
Gregovic took a last puff, and dropped it to the ground, crushing it under his heel.
Behind a large pane of glass a soldier saluted.
“Morning generals. I’ll have you right through. Just a minute.”
The door closed behind them and the one in front opened, revealing a long white hallway, lit with the same fluorescent lighting. Gregovic followed Iliev down the hall, coming to a steel door, which he opened with a retina scan. They entered and found it to be a small control room of sorts, overlooking what seemed to be a laboratory, with men in protective suits bent over workbenches.
“I improperly welcomed you before. This is in fact Fort Namazov.”
Gregovic watched the scene through the glass intently.
“What are they doing?”
“Perfecting the uranium enrichment process.”
Gregovic turned to Iliev, a look of disbelief on his face. Iliev smiled contentedly.
“The Teslian nuclear program is actually quite advanced. At this time, we’re only a few months away from beginning construction of a reactor to power Telgrade. From then, it’s only a short hop to weapons.”
Gregovic turned back to the scene in the other room.
“What do I have to do with this?”
“You’ll oversee the weapons department when it’s finalized.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“No one except the people you’ve seen working here. It’s probably the nation’s best-kept secrets. Marshall Namazov has ensured that.”
Gregovic was silent.
“Do you like what you see.”
Gregovic nodded.