The Energy Sheild Affair Chapter 4This is a featured page

Working

Napoleon had nothing to do while he waited for Illya to be returned from the lab. His thoughts drifted to Jo. How was she doing? Would she be the person that she was before the shooting? And most importantly would he be able to tell her what he discovered—that he did loved her. Where would they go from there? Both were dedicated to the ideals of UNCLE; neither would be willing to give it up, yet. How he hated having time to think about a real life, with a real family knowing that he would only allow himself to have one after he retired. Not liking the thought, he needed action soon.

Illya spent the day engrossed in the materials in front of him. The concept was feasible and the completed work was excellent except for a few errors that he spotted. He could see where his knowledge of quantum mechanics would be helpful to explain the behavior of matter and its interactions with energy on the scale of atoms and atomic particles and how it would be needed to complete the project. Illya was just not sure how he was going to do it so that they wouldn't suspect that he had sabotaged it. It was late at night before he noticed the time. Illya hadn't eaten or stopped since he had sat down early that morning. Finally, he had the guard take him back toward his cell.

First through he stopped by Napoleon. Looking at his friend, Illya could see that his condition was deteriorating. "What is it?"

Napoleon shook his head, "Seems to be getting worse. More blood in the urine, more pain in my back."

"Did you eat?"

"Not hungry. How's the work going?" Napoleon asked as he tried to turn over but stopped crying out in pain, "Guess it worse than I thought."

Illya took another look at his friend, placing his hand on his head. He was feeling feverish, and his color was bad.

Then to the guard, "This man needs a doctor now," he demanded.

"Sir, I don't have permission to do that."

"Then get it now or I am finished," one of the guards hurriedly left to talk to Fabray.

When Fabray arrived, he looked irritated and angry. "Listen, Dr. Kuryakin. You aren't giving the orders here I am. Plus you already made your demands and I agreed to them. Now you have another. DO NOT PUSH ME, or you might find your partner dead."

"If you do not get this man a doctor, he will be dead and your bargaining chip will be gone. He may have some internal damage," Illya challenged him.

Fabray gave the order walking away, "Have a doctor check him out."

Napoleon was taken to the site's medical bay and Illya stayed with him against the guard's better judgment. The x-ray showed a urethral injury which had resulting from the trauma of the beating. Napoleon had severe flank pain, blood in the urine and decreased urine output, fever and pale skin, all symptoms of the injury. The doctor ordered analgesics for pain relief and the fever. In addition, he was given corticosteroids for the inflammation and bed rest until bleeding was reduced.

"You better get some rest, Dr. Kuryakin. Dr. Fabray said he expects you at 8 tomorrow," the doctor informed him, "Have you eaten yet? I could order you some food."

He might be a Thrush doctor, but sometimes the pain and injuries he treated upset him. I

llya shook his head, "Just take care of him. I will be okay."

He placed his hand Napoleon shoulder, "I will see you tomorrow," he said, before allowing the guard to lead him back to his cell. The next morning after breakfast, he was taken right to the lab.

"Dr. Kuryakin, let's get a few things straight. Unless you start showing progress, I will put Mr. Solo on a work detail digging out there. Now from what the doctor told me, this would cause his condition to worsen and might even kill him. It will be your choice whether or not your partner lives at this time, do you understand?"

"I understand you only too well," his fists tightening in fury as he twisted toward him.

"If he dies you will follow him quickly, this I promise you."

"We both understand each other well. Shall we get to work?"

The next couple of days were long. Early each morning Illya was taken to the lab where he spent the day working with the machine. Now that Napoleon was doing better, each evening Illya would have dinner with Napoleon who had been returned to his cell. The two men continue to fight over the project, much to the amusement of the guards. Here was UNCLE two top agents arguing like children.

Illya had found a way out through an escape hatch he passed daily on the way to the lab, now they only needed the means and the opportunity. Once Napoleon was able to travel again, they would make their escape. By the fourth day, Napoleon no longer had crippling pain or blood in his urine. The doctor explained that he would still need to take the corticosteroids but he could get out of bed if he was careful. It was agreed between him and Illya that he would exercise as much as he could but stop at any sign of the damage returning.

"How is the machine coming?" Napoleon asked Illya when he came to see him late that night.

He could tell Illya was getting very little sleep and knowing his partner probably eating very little also.

"It is a beautiful piece of machinery. If only we could take it with us when we leave before blowing this place to pieces."

Napoleon understood Illya's desire. He was a scientist at heart, and often had to destroy items which if used for good would benefit mankind. Usually however, Thrush was attempting to use it for evil.

"I know, but can the world afford it?"

Lowering their voices, "Are you ready to travel, Napoleon?"

"Whenever you are. The pain is under control and bleeding is stopped. We'll need to blow this place, any ideas?"

"Yes, but I have to figure out a few details. I need to make sure that you can travel first. There are enough things in the lab to take care of blowing up that part of the complex. Plus when we get to the pathway through the cliffs, I have my backpack there. Filled with lots of goodie. For today, just act as if the pain is returning. I visit you after the lab."

Fabray was walking back and forth rubbing his hands together. "How far have you gotten Dr. Kuryakin? This is taking entirely too long. Perhaps we need to give Mr. Solo another lesson to encourage you to move faster."

Frustration flowed from him like the tentacles of the vines growing on the island.

"Fabray, you have had this machine for how long and do not get it to work. I have had it for five days, and you expect me to have your answers. Be reasonable, I am working as fast as I can," Illya retorted.

He actually had the answer to their problem, but he was stalling to figure out how to sabotage the project.

"You have until I return the day after tomorrow to show me results, or Mr. Solo will have another lesson to hurry you along."

Illya swept the small mirror and a few test tubes onto the floor in anger, "I am doing the best I can," he yelled back.

"Clean up your mess, Dr. Kuryakin and get back to work." Fabray instructed him, "Or the lesson will begin earlier that when I get back." T

here were several large piece of mirror lying on the ground among the other broken glass. As Illya cleaned it up, hiding two of the larger pieces of mirror. The smile across his face momentary, his plan was beginning to look as if it might succeed.

Illya stopped by Napoleon, and whispering outlines his plans in the guise of checking over his partner. Napoleon would have a relapse, and they would use it for their escape.

"Ok, so I played the sick little UNCLE agent as you asked, now what are you planning you smart Russian."

Illya began loud enough for the guards to hear, "Seeing Fabray will be going off the island tomorrow Napoleon, I need to go to the lab first to get instructions from him. Once he leaves I will have them bring me back to check on you."

"So, I should be honored, that you have time for me?"

Illya grinned at him and slipped him the mirror pieces for use in communicating once they were out of the compound. Without their communicators, this might be the only way to keep in touch if they got separated. Napoleon knew Illya wasn't like him. While he preferred a generalized plan and then running by the sit of his pants, his partner always had things planned out completely.

"Okay Kuryakin, we'll do it your way."

"Make sure to eat and rest tonight. You have no way of knowing when you will have the chance to do it again."

Their code for Napoleon to get ready to go in the morning.

"I'm sure you really care. Take some of your own advice, Kuryakin," Napoleon shouted as Illya started toward the cell door. "You look as if you haven't been eating or sleeping well."

Illya shrugged his shoulders, "I will soon, see you in the morning."

"I don't need your pity or care Kuryakin," he turned his back toward the guards.

The Escape

Fabray left around 10 am. Illya waited until 11:30 to ask to check on Napoleon. The guard seemed to be ready to deny the request. "You do know that I have permission to see him whenever I feel necessary. He was ill yesterday and I want to check him," he explained, and then added with an authoritative voice, "And I intend to do it now, or will be done working for the day. You choose."

The guard looked at Illya, sitting with his arms crossed across his chest, and knew that Fabray would be angry if the work was delayed.

"Fine, consider this your lunch hour," and led the agent to the cell. Napoleon was laying on his bunk, softy moaning.

When the door was opened, Illya quickly went to his partner. "What's the problem?"

"The pain and bleeding is back," he was informed. Illya called to the guard after checking him over.

"He needs to go to the medical unit now."

The guard was torn. Did he have the authority to move the prisoner? He knew that Kuryakin would do nothing until his friend was taken care of and if he refused to work, Fabray would be enraged.

He finally made a decision, "Move away from the bed," he told Illya and entered the cell to check out Napoleon himself.

As he moved toward the bed, Napoleon grabbed his rifle while Illya came behind him clipping him with a karate chop to the neck. The two men ran from the cell. Illya lead the way, Napoleon following him with the rifle. As they came to a flight of stairs, Illya let Napoleon go before him. Once outside the door, they headed across the compound toward the jungle.

Almost to the tree line, bullets began to splatter the ground around them, "Looks like they don't want us dead yet," Napoleon said as he fired back toward the guards.

As Napoleon reached the tree line, he heard Illya yell out and fall. He turned to help his partner, but heard him yell to keep going as he was being surrounded by their pursuers. For one moment he considered returning for him, but knew that would only result in his capture also.

The guards pulled Illya up and forced him to walk back toward the compound. His bleeding leg made walking difficult and painful. He knew that Napoleon had escape and hoped he would be able to stay clear of the searchers.

When they entered the cell, he was hit behind the knees and fell onto the bed, "Get the doctor in here to stop the bleeding. I need to contact Fabray," the leader of the search said, "And one of you are to stay in the cell at all times. Make sure he doesn't try anything, but don't kill him yet."

Napoleon made the pathway through the cliffs and retrieved the backpack. Now that he was armed better, he was ready to go back for his partner. The jungle helped him stay ahead of searchers, and he made his way back toward the compound with most of the searchers going toward the cliffs of the island rather the base.

Fabray had been irate when he received the phone call. He gave temporary orders and made plans to return immediate. Illya was pulled from the cell and taken out into the compound. In the middle of it there was logs framed in an upside down U. He was tied to these and left to hang.

"I hope you enjoy the sun, Dr. Kuryakin. I believe it will be over 100 in the shade today. However, I think you will find this spot isn't bothered by the shade."

Laughing the guard turned away and signaled for his men to watch him.

"One hour shifts gentlemen, we don't want anyone suffering from heat stroke or dehydration now—well almost anyone," glancing back at Illya and then laughed as he reentered the lab area.

Go to Chapter 5



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