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section7mfu2016-11-21 05:15 pm
"Guilty or not?" For the Short Affair Challenge
-Prompt Word #1 - Salt
-Prompt Colour – Copper
Title: "Guilty or not?"
Author: mrua7
The assignment hadn’t gone at all as planned, and now Illya Kuryakin found himself in a most uncomfortable situation.
He’d been caught while trying to break into the palatial home of the despot Ahmed Khan. The man had delusions of grandeur and was trying to control a remote Indian province in hopes of making it his own, allowing him to rule it like the Maharajas of old.
The Russian agent was lucky he wasn’t executed on the spot, but instead he was condemned to serve the rest of his life in the salt mines controlled by Kahn.
Salt was a precious commodity in India, and Kahn took advantage of that by using slave labor to do his mining. His methodology wasn’t very efficient though as his workers were supplied with antiquated copper tools that dulled rather quickly.
The slaves were treated like dogs, suffering not only from the work but from guards and overseers who kept a sharp eye on them.
Illya had witnessed too many men collapse and die at their hands, but he planned not to be one of them.
Rescue wasn’t imminent as no one knew where he was. He’d been relieved of his clothing and belongings, including his shoes. He watched as everything, including his communicator was thrown into a large bonfire as long with the belongings of Khan’s other captives.
Day after day the work continued, twelve hours a shift by the Russian’s reckoning.
Kuryakin was covered in perspiration; the simple cotton clothed he was wearing were soaked. His bloodied feet were wrapped in rags, as they’d been pricked by tiny
shards of sharp salt. Eventually they’d become callous, but Illya wasn’t going to wait around long enough for that to happen. He’d have to effect his escape, and soon; the problem was how to do it.
The slaves were watched twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. A window of opportunity was what Illya was waiting for, and he hoped it would reveal itself soon.
His thoughts drifted to that of his partner, who as usual, had the cushier part of the mission. He was masquerading as a businessman, interested in investing in Kahn’s proposed kingdom.
All he could think of was Napoleon sleeping in a nice soft bed...probably with an exotic beauty. He leaned against the mine wall, supporting himself as he tried to catch his breath. The heat was intolerable even down in the mine, though the salt somehow seemed to help keep him invigorated, and his breathing was not an issue.
Perhaps when the salt heated from their bodies released water vapor back into the air, it might expels negative ions which have the opposite effect on the human airways, increasing cilial activity to keep the lungs clear. It was something he’d have to investigate once he was out of here.
Illya looked up, as a young boy was coming past with a wooden bucket of water and a ladle.
“You don’t look so good sahib,” the boy handed him the ladle and Illya gulped down the water. It was supposed to be only one ladleful per man but the boy took pity on the skinny blond man and gave him a second one.
For that, the boy received a lash from the overseer. The whip was drawn back for a second strike but as it swung round Illya grabbed it, pulling the man into his grasp.
“I have had enough of you,” he snarled. He grabbed the overseer around the throat and wrapped the leather whip around it, strangling him.
Illya retrieved the keys from the man’s belt and unlocked his shackles. Tossing the keys to the boy; he began to quickly free the other men.
“We must continue to dig, if they do not hear the sounds the others will know something is wrong,” Illya spoke softly.
The men continued hacking away at the wall of salt until one by one they were all free of their chains.
The UNCLE agent led the way up the shaft. Using his own pick as a weapon; he took care of the guard at the entrance and confiscated the man’s handgun and rifle.
At that point the prisoners charge, and though a few were killed, they were able to overwhelm the rest of guards.
He left the men to their own devices and disappeared into the jungle where less than two miles away he’d buried a backup pack with supplies and most importantly a communicator pen. It had been planted that before the assignment commenced, just as a precaution.
Illya sat hidden beneath some greenery, sighing with relief as he pulled out a package of jerky, gnawing on a piece of the dried meat while the set up his communicator.
“Channel D- overseas relay.”
“Mr. Kuryakin,” Waverly answered.”We have been concerned about your whereabouts. Are you all right?”
“For the most part sir,” he didn’t bother mentioning the whippings he had endured the last few days. After filling in the Old Man on the situation a retrieval was scheduled.
A helicopter arrived forty minutes later, along with a team to raid the offices of the salt mines.
If Khan couldn’t be deposed politically, then perhaps it could be done criminally, charging him with the enslavement free men. Waverly decided it was better than nothing.
When the helicopter landed in a nearby clearing, Illya was greeted by the smiling face of Mark Slate.
“Not that I am unhappy to see you Mark, but where is Napoleon? He was on this assignment as well.”
“The Old Man didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what Mark?”
“Sorry to say mate, your partner is laid up in a New Delhi hospital. Seems he had a run in with a local mahout and his elephant. Napoleon zigged when he should have zagged and ended up with a broken leg. He sent this with his compliments though.”
Mark handed Kuryakin a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. As he opened it, Illya smiled.
In it was fruit, bhatura bread, a jar of aloo gobi...an Indian dish made of cauliflower, potatoes and spices, there was also another jar of mango chutney as well and a thermos filled with chai.”
Slate laughed as Illya tore off a piece of the bread and dipped it in the chutney.
“Napoleon said you’d be hungry as a horse, and this would tide you over until you can have a proper meal when we get back to headquarters.”
Illya instantly felt guilty about thinking badly of his partner getting the cushy end of the mission.
Later that day, he visited Napoleon in the hospital, as he was being kept for observation.
He expected Solo to be unhappy but instead found him surrounded by a bevy of beautiful nurses who were giggling while in the process of giving him a sponge bath.
Illya poked his head in the doorway, nodded his hello and promptly left. He was back to feeling guilt free about being annoyed with his partner, as the Russian's back was promptly reminding him of his own pain.
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The food had to be rather basic to make it easily transportable. Fruit, bread, chutney and aloo gobi both in jars and of course the tea, simple food to soothe the savage Kuryakin.
Thanks for reading and commenting. This was a weird one, and not so sure it worked.
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