01-07-2014, 10:21 PM
Mecca was a city of faded glory. Consumed by the former Saudi Arabia and now the CCD, the birthplace of the great prophet was nothing but a memory of grandeur.
Michael sat at his desk - filled with notes both written and digital - with a worn copy of the Quran that his local specialist Al-Shakir had procured from one of the more fervent supporters of Al-Hasan. The book had furious markings and notes in Arabic; the important ones translated by Shakir. The CCD main force didn't like Shakir's presence, but Michael had found the quiet man an invaluable resource. Revenge often begot the greatest loyalty, and Shakir was filled to the brim with vengeful rage, despite his mild countenance.
It was hard reading though, particularly when he was interrupted ever hour with status reports. He had 200 soldiers in the fortified base-camp awaiting the arrival of the Ascendancy, each one chosen for their composure under pressure and strict discipline.
However, he also had an additional 200 consisting of the best Vega had to offer who were positioned throughout the city in - for lack of a better word - disguise. All 200 had top of the line chip-communication devices 'installed'. He did not know the specifics, but it allowed for discreet communications - without traceable signals or the need for verbal communication. The monitor the chips were hardwired to would receive constant reports on the subject's health along with quarter hourly reports from the soldier's themselves. Base would be alerted immediately if the subject's vital signs showed any noticeable change, and a team would be deployed to investigate.
A precaution Michael found galling, but wise nonetheless. The information and critical positions could be the difference between life and death, a possibility he was growing more sure of every day as the Vega team displayed it's efficiency.
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
he replied while he placed the book face down on his desk and turned to address the soldier. He did not recognize the woman, but he recognized the insignia of the White Knights.
Interesting.
The woman's short black hair was pasted to her forehead with sweat and her reddened face was clearly not pleased with the situation, as he had found most of the special operations teams had been. "A group of soldiers calling themselves the Légion Première have contacted Dr. Weston and offered their 'services'."
The name piqued his interest, but he showed nothing in front of the woman, merely studying her face.
After a moment she cut eye contact and cleared her throat. "I was instructed to report anything unusual to you, Sir. Do you have any...orders?"
The last was dragged from her reluctantly. A dangerous hesitance if she and others like her would hesitate at a critical moment.
Michael hardened his expression and his voice was cold in the void that embraced him as he seized the power. "You have done your duty, soldier. I am fully aware of the orders I gave, I don't need reminding."
There was no malice or heat in his voice, only ice.
He had no authority over Dr. Weston excepting military emergency, but he would expect anyone to keep an eye on his own actions on a mission of such importance. As it was, he was inclined to trust in Dr. Weston's judgement - she was likely a far better soldier than he would ever be, and had the authority to bypass him in any case - but he could not let appearances slip. If word got out that Dr. Weston was recruiting soldiers without consulting the commanding officer of the mission the resentment may turn to open insubordination.
"Bring their commanding officer to me as soon as Dr. Weston has finished with him, to discuss the deployment of his forces. Dismissed."
The White Knight gave him a sharp salute and left, at which point Shakir decided to speak. "The Légion Première? I have heard of them, they could be useful. But I wonder why they are here now of all times."
He gave Michael a small smile revealing a row of gleaming teeth. "You handled the situation well, I could almost believe you expected their presence."
Michael released the power with reluctance and resumed his study of the Muslim text. "We will see. In the meantime, tell me what you know of Al-Hasan's 'miracles'."
Edited by Michael Vellas, Jan 7 2014, 10:31 PM.
Michael sat at his desk - filled with notes both written and digital - with a worn copy of the Quran that his local specialist Al-Shakir had procured from one of the more fervent supporters of Al-Hasan. The book had furious markings and notes in Arabic; the important ones translated by Shakir. The CCD main force didn't like Shakir's presence, but Michael had found the quiet man an invaluable resource. Revenge often begot the greatest loyalty, and Shakir was filled to the brim with vengeful rage, despite his mild countenance.
It was hard reading though, particularly when he was interrupted ever hour with status reports. He had 200 soldiers in the fortified base-camp awaiting the arrival of the Ascendancy, each one chosen for their composure under pressure and strict discipline.
However, he also had an additional 200 consisting of the best Vega had to offer who were positioned throughout the city in - for lack of a better word - disguise. All 200 had top of the line chip-communication devices 'installed'. He did not know the specifics, but it allowed for discreet communications - without traceable signals or the need for verbal communication. The monitor the chips were hardwired to would receive constant reports on the subject's health along with quarter hourly reports from the soldier's themselves. Base would be alerted immediately if the subject's vital signs showed any noticeable change, and a team would be deployed to investigate.
A precaution Michael found galling, but wise nonetheless. The information and critical positions could be the difference between life and death, a possibility he was growing more sure of every day as the Vega team displayed it's efficiency.
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
he replied while he placed the book face down on his desk and turned to address the soldier. He did not recognize the woman, but he recognized the insignia of the White Knights.
Interesting.
The woman's short black hair was pasted to her forehead with sweat and her reddened face was clearly not pleased with the situation, as he had found most of the special operations teams had been. "A group of soldiers calling themselves the Légion Première have contacted Dr. Weston and offered their 'services'."
The name piqued his interest, but he showed nothing in front of the woman, merely studying her face.
After a moment she cut eye contact and cleared her throat. "I was instructed to report anything unusual to you, Sir. Do you have any...orders?"
The last was dragged from her reluctantly. A dangerous hesitance if she and others like her would hesitate at a critical moment.
Michael hardened his expression and his voice was cold in the void that embraced him as he seized the power. "You have done your duty, soldier. I am fully aware of the orders I gave, I don't need reminding."
There was no malice or heat in his voice, only ice.
He had no authority over Dr. Weston excepting military emergency, but he would expect anyone to keep an eye on his own actions on a mission of such importance. As it was, he was inclined to trust in Dr. Weston's judgement - she was likely a far better soldier than he would ever be, and had the authority to bypass him in any case - but he could not let appearances slip. If word got out that Dr. Weston was recruiting soldiers without consulting the commanding officer of the mission the resentment may turn to open insubordination.
"Bring their commanding officer to me as soon as Dr. Weston has finished with him, to discuss the deployment of his forces. Dismissed."
The White Knight gave him a sharp salute and left, at which point Shakir decided to speak. "The Légion Première? I have heard of them, they could be useful. But I wonder why they are here now of all times."
He gave Michael a small smile revealing a row of gleaming teeth. "You handled the situation well, I could almost believe you expected their presence."
Michael released the power with reluctance and resumed his study of the Muslim text. "We will see. In the meantime, tell me what you know of Al-Hasan's 'miracles'."
Edited by Michael Vellas, Jan 7 2014, 10:31 PM.
"She saw a flaring halo around his head, radiant in gold and blue. It shouted of glory and power to come"
"No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."