So he's a dick-eating animal?
Anyway, since the whole defectors plot really went in a surprising direction, I'll share what I had planned for the story. First, the post I was so pissed about yesterday:
Coilerburg, March 14th 2012
Kulinsky still thought it was a risky plan, but it was wonderfully simple, too. It all depended on how tight a ship the Saddamistanis ran, and how quick they would be to realize anything. Still, the chances were greater than nothing.
The preparations have been made. The King approved of the operation,and the Coilerburg residenture got all the resources necessary to pull it off.
The entire residenture would be runners for Julia tonight ; If she suceeded, she'd become a famous Viking straight away.
The submarine base was two and a half hours away by car from the capital, where a specially sent PeZookian airliner would land soon. It would wait at the airport, scheduled to leave just tightly enough to take Julia, the Saddamistani major and his girl aboard. They already got forget documents, and thanks to the mix of ethnicities all around the archipelago, he wouldn't stand out of the crowd.
The final briefing was underway now.
"I instructed them not to make any actual preparations. We are almost certain the phones of everyone involved in construction of the sub base are bugged, and their identities are definitely on the no-fly lists. Fortunately for us, the airport guards are rather lax ; They won't check for photos, so fake documents should do it.", Julia was going over her plan once more. The runners were already out in the field, securing critical points, leaving emergency dead drops, scattering cars with civilian clothes in them. No other spying would be done that day.
"The major assured me he had a way to leave the base unnoticed. They don't get leaves, but an officer can move around more freely than a private. The girl, Catherine, has gone clubbing with friends today, as she usually does. A runner will pick her up at a pre-determined time ; We'll meet up on the road to the capital and change cars, dressing up our man in civvie clothes. Then we proceed to the capital, check in at the airport with our fake luggage, and if all goes well, fly out of Coilerburg."
Kulinsky nodded. There were contingencies, too - naturally. A PeZookian FCS was steaming around the sea between Coilerburg and PeZookia, escorted by a Halifax-class frigate. Ostensibly, they were taking radiation measurements. Four PeZookian fighters were also ready for immediate take-off, with four more on standby. Shore batteries were instructed to remain alert that night. And, of course, they had safehouses and an additional set of fake docs ready - just in case.
"Good. You have my approval. Good luck."
If they had any, by this time tomorrow, the Fedayeen major would be in debriefing by RIS officers in Astoria.
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Construction site of Coilerburg's submarine base
Hassan al-Sidab had work to do, or so everybody thought. For the last week, he'd followed instructions of that PeZookian woman - he stayed late in the planning facilities, catching up on lagging paper and design work. It could be done easily, since so much of it was, actually, piled up.
It went well, he thought. Still, he had to be careful - his unit was a Fedayeen brigade, and Saddam The Great had eyes everywhere. Even now, he looked at the major from a portrait with stern eyes, as if the great Emperor knew all about the planned escape.
Hassan grew up in such a place, where every day was spent under the watchful eye of Saddam the great. From his very youth, he was conditioned to obey his superiors at every turn. He believed Saddam was the way to the glory of his homeland, and that by dilligent work, dedication and unfailing loyalty he could elevate his homeland amongst the foreign devils who wanted to destroy it. He learned to hate them, to be suspicious of everything the evil foreigners did - they wanted to smash his home, to throw the people into poverty and suffering, enslave and exploit them.
But now he was here, in a country full of them, a country which not three months ago was a sworn enemy, an outsider to be destroyed if it threatened Saddamistan. And he met Catherine here, a sweet girl bearing a love for life and passion he has never seen before. The people here had less lofty ideals, perhaps, but their energy and vigor and the sheer joy they took from life was incredible. He fell in love, as unlikely as this may be, and started seeing the girl regularly - remaining ever careful, of course, ever watchful. Saddam was watching, and Hassan was sure the Emperor did not approve of his actions.
But the stories...the stories she told him...there were places in this world where a man did not need to fear. Where people were not told to care about one idea, one all-encompassing axiom, and could in fact be free to believe anything they wanted to. Where you could criticize your government, or even try to convince others you should be the one to lead it. Where, if you didn't like the place you lived in, you could move elsewhere - to another country, even! And where you worked to provide for yourself and your family, and only this work and the skills you had determined if you stood or fell.
It sounded incredible, like a story about heaven. But Hassan felt captivated by those fairy tales, and soon made a decision. He would leave - leave with her, and live in bliss in one of these strange foreign lands.
The only problem was - how? Hassan was a senior officer, but even he was watched. The short, secret meetings with Catherine were all he could manage, and he was sure she would be watched, too. Fortunately, that strange woman came along. A spy - could he really trust her?
He didn't know. She wanted to know what he knew, that much was obvious. His knowledge could be used to hurt Saddamistan - and according to everything he has ever heard, the foreign devils would not hesitate to use that knowledge.
He was hesistant. Working on dock schematics, he absent-mindedly weighed his chances. Could this even work? Was it possible to escape the UAR?
If it was, then this place was the only one to try. In a year, Hassan would be back in Saddamistan, alone, and destined to die that way. He was certain he would never find another girl like Catherine anywhere at home. What use was living without her?
He made his decision. In half an hour, we would meet the strange PeZookian woman, and would escape to the paradise beyond the sea.
Or die trying.
Now, in my head, I had this planned thusly:
The PeZookian RIS officers would collect the major and his girl ; They'd get him civilian clothes and fake documents.
A runner would then drive them to the capital ; A PeZookian airliner was arranged so that it would land in Coilerburg an hour before they were scheduled to arrive there.
Accompanied by Julia, the pair would proceed to the airfield. Now, the most risky part was getting through security: obviously, both Catherine and the Major would be on a no-fly list there, hence the fake documents. But it would be late at night, and the guard probably wouldn't check the entire no-fly list for photos.
The major conflict I had in mind was that all three of them would board the airliner, but right after it took off, word got out the major is there. The pilot would gun it for international waters, where PeZookian fighters would escort it in. There would be real passengers on board, pezookians and coilerburgians.
So Coiler would actually have to make a tough decision: shoot the plane down or let it go. I wondered what he'd do
Anyway, Shroom resolved it. A bit dickishly, but still
