Meeting New People
From the bridge roof, Sam watches the small armed party for a few minutes before giving his SALUTE report. Six men, observing the tug, roughly 500m to the east, on the other side of the river in a cluster of brush and dead wood, no apparent uniforms- just dull subdued civilian garb. Two of them are armed with what appear to be WWII era rifles, one carries what is certainly a PPsH submachine gun, one has an AKM, and one is armed only with a long-barrelled automatic pistol- probably an old Tokarev or M1911A1.
In the village, the old man- probably no older than 65- continues to assail the party with a tirade of impassioned giberish. When Dawid shows him the gold crucifix, the old man crosses himself several times, then spits an equal number of times into the ashes at his feet. He looks expectantly at the party for a few seconds before crouching, bent at the waste, elbows cocked to his sides, hands hanging limply at the wrists, and sniffing the air vigorously. Then, he begins to bark, like a dog, jab-stepping at the party in a surreal pantomime. This lasts several seconds. Stopping abruptly, he looks all around as if to reassure himself. Seemingly satisfied, he gestures urgently for the party to follow him, repeating over an over an unintelligible refrain.
Back on the tug, the native crew, now joined by a mostly recuperated Tadeusz, and aided by the newly adopted Indian railway engineer, Sanjay, begin to shift ballast forward. Soon, the Vasilek and the Mk-19 are surrounded by various bits of ship's equipment- ropes, chains, machine parts, crates, barrels, and the like. Even the Ural is trundled forward. This arrangement will likely hamper the effective employment of the tug's main gun should the need arrise.
Slowly, the stern of the Krolowa begins to rise while the bows nose down. Repairs can begin within the hour.
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