"Damned if you do, damned if you don't" for The Short Affair Challenge due June 10th

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Short Affair Challenge

-Prompt Word 1 - Block

-Prompt Word 2 – Arid

-Prompt Colour – White

Author: mrua7

Title: Damned if you do, damned if you don’t

Word Count: slightly over 1000

The dry arid air worked wonders for Illya Kuryakin’s seasonal allergies, what also helps was the fact there was absolutely nothing blossoming and blooming. especially in the way of trees.  

That lovely green tree pollen that dusted everything in the spring made him sneeze the most but was simply not present; granted, he could take antihistamine medication to counter the effects, but then the pills made him drowsy.

Which was worse, a sneezing UNCLE agent of a snoring one?

Mister Waverly being aware of this seasonal situation found a solution to the problem; he sent his number two agent to assignments located in desert climates.

There was still a problem with that as Kuryakin saw it as he disliked heat terribly. His Slavic blood preferred cooler weather.  Still he knew he could not complain of that to his boss and not look like a whimpering child. He had to tough it up and soldier on as the Old Man would say. Complaining said ‘weakness’ to Illya; he never complained about his allergies, but those were difficult to hide.

At the moment he was trudging along in the sand behind his partner, though it wasn’t lost on the American that Illya was suffering. Both men were dressed in khaki shirts and trousers. Over them they each wore long, loose white tunics, and on their heads were kufiyya headcloths held in place by heavy woollen coils, The ends of the cloth could be wrapped around the face and neck as protection from the sun's heat, and a screen to keep the wind and sand out.

Napoleon was quite aware he’d once made fun of Illya wearing a white tunic, calling it a dress, but now he very much appreciated having one himself.  Apparently it allowed the air to circulate, preventing sweat from evaporating too quickly and slowing dehydration in hot, dry air.

As much as the clothing helped Solo knew Illya was very uncomfortable, he therefore made excuses for extra rest stops, and gave his partner plenty of water.

Solo also brought along figs, dates and other bits for them to snack on and keep up their energy level.

Their destination was a simple sandstone building in the middle of the desert; it was there for one purpose and that was the development of liquid explosive chemicals more powerful than nitroglycerine, but ones that would be more stable.  A single drop of this new development when refined could take down an entire city block.

Simple walking sticks helped the agents traverse the dunes as well as to warn them of quick sand, and there seemed to be a lot of it the closer they got to the satrapy. Perhaps this was why the location was chosen?

Finally, they hid behind the last dune as they’d reached the facility. Kuryakin took a quick peek with his mini binoculars to locate any entrances and guards on duty.

Illya nibbled on a date as he shimmied back down the dune to his partner.

“Only one guard and one entrance that I can see. I would imagine they do not expect much company out in the middle of nowhere.  If we did not have the coordinates to its location, we never would have found it. It blends in with the dunes almost perfectly.”

“We’ll wait for sunset before we head over,” Napoleon said. “It’ll be simple to take care of one guard.”

“Never use the word simple my friend, as somehow things always become complicated when they look that easy.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t jinx the mission.”

“Call it whatever you like Napoleon, but we should not let down our guard because something appears to be facile.”

“Point taken tovarisch,"Solo winked.

They removed their tunics and used their walking sticks as support poles, each holding up the white garments over themselves, creating a small tent-like protection from the sun. They’d seen many’s the Bedouin do such things while travelling in the heat of the desert.

At last the sun faded and abandoning their white clothing and equipment for now, they climbed up and over the dune. Just as the colors of the sunset gave way to the cloudless night sky they headed toward the structure at an angle out of the guard’s field of vision

Solo hit the man with a sleep dart while Illya had already begun setting large C4 charges with their timers.  Napoleon joined him, and together quickly finished the work. They headed back to their small encampment, moving on instinct as it was as black as pitch.

They dared not start a campfire, and wrapping themselves up in their tunics and headpieces, they waited.

The charges were set to go off in thirty minutes. It was a risky length of time that would increased the odds of them being discovered, but now that it was night no one would see the explosives in the dark.

The only light was from the tranquil starry night sky above them.

If someone came to relieve the guard, they’d find him sleeping on the job as Napoleon made sure to remove the sleep dart from his neck.

And that was exactly what happened. In the distance the UNCLE agents could hear the Station Chief admonishing his guard. Another guard took the man’s place and five minutes later there was a huge KABOOM followed by another and another.

Napoleon and Illya were shielded behind the dune, but they felt the concussion, not from their explosives but from the ones inside the building.  It sent both of them flying backwards, sand flying at them as if it were in the middle of a haboob.* Luckily it was over quickly.

Neither man was injured, and after peeking at the burning destruction over the top of the dune, they hunkered down for the night.

Flaming wooden debris had landed nearby and they took advantage of that, using it as a small campfire to ward off the chill of the desert night.

When the sun rose the next morning they surveyed the damage. There was absolutely nothing left except for some bits of smoldering wood.  It was now a blackened gash on the landscape, and even then it would eventually be covered by the windblown desert sands. It would be as if it had never existed.

“Open Channel D- overseas relay,” Napoleon spoke into his communicator.

“Yes Mister Solo what have you to report,” Waverly asked.

“Mission accomplished sir, everything’s been destroyed.”

“Well done, well done gentlemen. Remain at your location and I will have a helicopter sent to pick you up. I’m afraid there will be no rest for the weary as I have another assignment that needs your immediate attention.”

“Where sir?”

“The Orto Botanico di Padova botanical garden in Padua Italy. I’m afraid there’s been a rather gruesome discovery made. Apparently there are several man eating plants, some sort of hybrids based upon the Venus fly trap.  The botanists there have tried to destroy them, but without success. I’m sorry to say a few of them were eaten along with our agents Venucci and Simonelli of our Rome office.”

“This reeks of THRUSH involvement sir,” Illya spoke up.

“Indeed Mister Kuryakin. I’m afraid you might want to look into some mild form of allergy medication on this one.”

“But…”

“No buts young man.”

“Yes sir.”

“Waverly out.”

*haboob- Arabic name for a sandstorm.