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au_bingo - more first scenes...
Title: The Day After Trinity Affair
Fandom: Man from UNCLE
Prompt: Other: Aliens
Words: 690
Warnings: None
Summary: July 16, 1945 - more than just the birth date of the Atomic Age.
Afterwards, the world found that the scientists involved in the Trinity tests had run a sweepstake, the various options considered and ranked in order of likelihood. Some had thought nothing would occur, that the device Oppenheimer and his colleagues had worked on would prove a fruitless exercise, while the more pessimistic among them had predicted the Earth's atmosphere would catch fire and destroy all life as we knew it.
Nobody seemed to have thought about the possibility of aliens.
The test firing had gone off without a hitch, but instead of providing the key for the ending of World War II, Trinity had been a beacon to the rest of the universe. And something had responded to the signal, arriving in numbers before the planet could destroy itself one way or another, a massive electromagnetic pulse taking down all communications and rendering both sides equally powerless. Technology beyond the understanding of any human scientist rendered that change permanent, pushing civilisation away from electricity and back towards more primitive ways of doing things.
When the dust settled, literally and metaphorically, there was peace once more, but the enforced peace of a world united against a common enemy. Instead of dividing up a conquered Europe, the Potsdam conference quickly turned to discussions of resistance against a new threat, an enemy with no name and an uncertain purpose.
--------------------
It was an unprecedented honour to be ordered to accompany Comrade Stalin to Potsdam, an honour that Illya Kuryakin's seniors had emphasised over and over in the days leading up to the conference.
The youngest of Stalin's aides, Kuryakin had no influential family members to press for his promotion and was forced to rely on his own skills, not to mention a sizeable amount of luck. The fact he was Ukrainian could be either a blessing or a curse, depending on who you talked to - at the moment, Stalin was looking on it as a positive, remembering his own non-Russian roots from the now-republic of Georgia and seeing the makeup of his staff as a microcosm of the Soviet Union.
The alien attack had been unexpected, of course, news of it only arriving in Potsdam days into the conference by the hand of a messenger from Berlin. He had travelled the old-fashioned way, firstly on horseback and then by a hastily-recommissioned steam train till he reached the city. Prior to his arrival, there had been rumours of course - what would any conference be without rumours? - but Stalin preferred to rely on his own intelligence sources before he would give any weight to the stories put about by the other members of the Allied forces.
"So," he said, smoothing out the message on his desk, "it would seem that something unprecedented has occurred." Stalin looked down at the paper, in silence, for what seemed like minutes. Then he picked up his pen and began to write. "Kuryakin?"
"Sir?" Illya stepped forward, a desperate mixture of excitement and trepidation making his stomach churn at being singled out by the General Secretary.
"Take this to the American contingent." Stalin handed him the message, complete with his own scribbled note. "You speak English?" Illya nodded. "Stay and translate, if necessary."
Illya took the paper, amazed that his hand didn't shake. He was half way to the door before he began to wonder just what was going on. What message could he be carrying? Surely if it were important then someone else would be sent, not the most junior of Comrade Stalin's aides?
One of the other staff members opened the door and Illya found himself out in the corridor, the message from Stalin clutched in his hand. Outside there were two burly soldiers with sub-machine guns, both of whom looked at him with a mixture of interest and disdain. He was old enough to have been a soldier himself, but instead he spent his time running errands for the General Secretary.
"Comrades," Illya began, realising the one minor hole in Stalin's plan to have him play messenger. "Do you know where the Americans are?"
au_bingo - more first scenes...Title: The Day After Trinity Affair
Fandom: Man from UNCLE
Prompt: Other: Aliens
Words: 690
Warnings: None
Summary: July 16, 1945 - more than just the birth date of the Atomic Age.
Afterwards, the world found that the scientists involved in the Trinity tests had run a sweepstake, the various options considered and ranked in order of likelihood. Some had thought nothing would occur, that the device Oppenheimer and his colleagues had worked on would prove a fruitless exercise, while the more pessimistic among them had predicted the Earth's atmosphere would catch fire and destroy all life as we knew it.
Nobody seemed to have thought about the possibility of aliens.
The test firing had gone off without a hitch, but instead of providing the key for the ending of World War II, Trinity had been a beacon to the rest of the universe. And something had responded to the signal, arriving in numbers before the planet could destroy itself one way or another, a massive electromagnetic pulse taking down all communications and rendering both sides equally powerless. Technology beyond the understanding of any human scientist rendered that change permanent, pushing civilisation away from electricity and back towards more primitive ways of doing things.
When the dust settled, literally and metaphorically, there was peace once more, but the enforced peace of a world united against a common enemy. Instead of dividing up a conquered Europe, the Potsdam conference quickly turned to discussions of resistance against a new threat, an enemy with no name and an uncertain purpose.
--------------------
It was an unprecedented honour to be ordered to accompany Comrade Stalin to Potsdam, an honour that Illya Kuryakin's seniors had emphasised over and over in the days leading up to the conference.
The youngest of Stalin's aides, Kuryakin had no influential family members to press for his promotion and was forced to rely on his own skills, not to mention a sizeable amount of luck. The fact he was Ukrainian could be either a blessing or a curse, depending on who you talked to - at the moment, Stalin was looking on it as a positive, remembering his own non-Russian roots from the now-republic of Georgia and seeing the makeup of his staff as a microcosm of the Soviet Union.
The alien attack had been unexpected, of course, news of it only arriving in Potsdam days into the conference by the hand of a messenger from Berlin. He had travelled the old-fashioned way, firstly on horseback and then by a hastily-recommissioned steam train till he reached the city. Prior to his arrival, there had been rumours of course - what would any conference be without rumours? - but Stalin preferred to rely on his own intelligence sources before he would give any weight to the stories put about by the other members of the Allied forces.
"So," he said, smoothing out the message on his desk, "it would seem that something unprecedented has occurred." Stalin looked down at the paper, in silence, for what seemed like minutes. Then he picked up his pen and began to write. "Kuryakin?"
"Sir?" Illya stepped forward, a desperate mixture of excitement and trepidation making his stomach churn at being singled out by the General Secretary.
"Take this to the American contingent." Stalin handed him the message, complete with his own scribbled note. "You speak English?" Illya nodded. "Stay and translate, if necessary."
Illya took the paper, amazed that his hand didn't shake. He was half way to the door before he began to wonder just what was going on. What message could he be carrying? Surely if it were important then someone else would be sent, not the most junior of Comrade Stalin's aides?
One of the other staff members opened the door and Illya found himself out in the corridor, the message from Stalin clutched in his hand. Outside there were two burly soldiers with sub-machine guns, both of whom looked at him with a mixture of interest and disdain. He was old enough to have been a soldier himself, but instead he spent his time running errands for the General Secretary.
"Comrades," Illya began, realising the one minor hole in Stalin's plan to have him play messenger. "Do you know where the Americans are?"
