The gate was open, the team all saddled up. SUV in front of the LAV, UAZ pulling
drag.

Jagelis stood in the VC's hatch, Fox sat in the VG position, Lee drove. All three covered the front sector. Champlain covered the left sector, standing in the left deck hatch. MacDonald and McRae were in the right deck hatch, McRae covering the rear and MacDonald the right.

Looking down at Lee in front of him, Ben noticed that she was standing on the driver's seat. It could be hydraulically raised for sitting with the driver's head out the hatch, although the Mountie probably didn't know that. Oh well, she could be updated later when they weren't moving!

Khandola's SUV started out the gate and down the unpaved service road, and the LAV's 350-hp Caterpillar engine bellowed and belched thick black smoke as Lee pressed the accelerator and moved out.

At the first roadblock, Khandola picked up a Militia to ride shotgun. The second SUV got in line behind Taras.

The drive up Balaclava to Marine was quick and uneventful. There was an overgrown golf course on the right, and high hedges lining the left, no sidewalks but narrow overgrown ditches.

This neighborhood was obviously affluent, mostly single-story ranchers, not too ostentatious. There were wide formely-manicured yards, barns, stables and huge open paddocks in a part of the city where space was normally at a premium.

The LAV's Michelin tires sang and bounced over the potholed asphalt, and the passengers were accompanied by the roar of the engine and various rattles, squeaks and clanks of the armoured vehicle and its trailer rolling along.

At the intersection of Balaclava and SW Marine they picked up the third SUV, and it got in behind Taras' UAZ.

SW Marine was a designated Disaster Response Route, and as such it had been cleared of abandoned vehicles so that there was a lane free down the middle of the wide 2-lane street. It had also recently been patched up, potholes filled.



The combat-hardened members of the team began to feel rather nervous traveling on SW Marine. The houses that they could see were still somewhat well-to-do single-family structures, but it was hard to tell because of the line of high fences, walls and hedges lining the route.

It almost seemed like several vehicles in strategic places along the route could quickly be moved to block the open lane, and/or be used to emplace IEDs.

Hell, the whole route could be turned into one long and deadly "ambush alley" with little effort! Behind the LAV, Taras smiled to himself, admiring his handiwork.

They were met by 2 off-road bikes that took up point, and 2 4-wheel ("quad") ATVs that followed in behind. The Militia riding these machines were wearing green motocross helmets, black police-style armoured tactical vests over surplus camouflage, and MP-5s strapped across their chests.

One ATV rider had an RPG-7 rocket launcher secured in the cargo area of his quad, and the other quad rider had a backpack with 3 spare rockets in their cargo bin.

Soon, the little convoy came to Checkpoint Charlie, where W 41st Ave angled in from the east and turned the route into a wide 4-lane throughfare.

The open grassy verge around the intersection had been well-cleared of any cover or obstacles for several hundred metres. Flanking the road but set back from it were two squat concrete bunkers. blocking the road was a roll of concertina wire in front of a removable barrier.

To the right a twin line of wire-topped chain-link fence stretched off to the north; walking on the road between them was a Mountie with a German shepherd on a leash and 3 Militia. To the left the fence line disappeared into a stand of trees. Cameras and lights on poles completed the scene.

Signs warned:



Approaching the bunker, they weaved between concrete traffic barriers that had been placed to force traffic to slow and approach in single file down one lane.

The outriders showed some kind of laminated ID badges to the guards (2 Militia armed with shotguns), who moved aside the concertina wire and lifted the barrier across the road and let them pass. The barrier was raised and lowered with each vehicle.

He did the same with Khandola, then walked over to the LAV.

The young man looked Indian or Pakistani, wore a neatly-trimmed beard and was a little overweight.

Holding a clipboard he asked, "ma'am, Officer, all of you, may I please see your identification? Thank you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:55, Thu 07 Feb 2008.

With a smile of amusement, Chris set down the C6 and dug out his Canadian Forces ID. He  held it out for the man to inspect when he got back there.

Already ahead of them was the news crew van, having taken a short cut and traveled above what was likely safe speeds to beat them. The van was already through the checkpoint, parked to the side.

The cameraman, Curtis, filmed them as they approached. He then then moved up and focused on the formality of presenting ID.

Ben couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the sign in relation to his unit. Did they really think they'd be confiscating any of their multitude of weapons?

Towering over the checkpoint and the people who manned it, Ben wondered what they'd do if one or more of them weren't carrying identification. Would they be simply waved through and a temporary pass issued, or would the locals attempt to incarcerate the individual?

More and more it seemed that the military and the government it represented wasn't really needed here. These people had managed quite nicely by themselves, adequately defending their small enclave and preserving the knowledge lost or destroyed in most other part of the world. Here they apparently still produced electricity, established an effective radio and telephone network, produced enough fuel to be using bikes and light trucks instead of horses and bicycles.

Who was in the better position? The university and it's associates, or the military, battered and depleted by years of brutal fighting?
This message was last edited by the player at 03:42, Wed 06 Feb 2008.

Fox exposes his upper body and looks around as the LAV is halted at the gate. When the clipboard guys asks for ID, Fox flashes his battered piece quickly, trying to hide his annoyance. Obviously food supplies are not an issue here he thinks, looking at the man. Nor is fuel it seems.

Kelsey hesitated, then with a smirk pulled out her BCDL, SIN and BC MSP cards.

"Just like renting a tape at Rogers, eh?"

Noting the various sour and/or bemused looks of her companions she whispered, "hey guys, smile for the camera!"

She waved at the cameraman who was capturing the scene for posterity a few metres away. The man winked back at her.


[BCDL: British Columbia Driver's License, SIN: Social Insurance Number card, universal 9-digit government ID card (no picture) which I believe is also your CF serial number, MSP: Medical Services Plan; universal health care card.]
This message was last edited by the player at 06:37, Wed 06 Feb 2008.

The guard politely checked IDs against a list of names on his clipboard. Also attached to the clipboard were several plastic cards on lanyards marked "VISITOR", obviously temporary passes.

Reaching up for Jagelis' ID, he said with a straight face, "As you know sir, the UEL is federal property. Therefore, please deposit all firearms at the bunker ahead and to the right. Park in front. Thank you sir."

The sun winked off his eyeglasses, and this speech sounded well-polished and used.

He waited a beat, carefully watching the other man's face, then grinned. "just kidding. That's just what we tell everyone coming into the secure zone, no exceptions. Won't apply to military or police like you, anyways. Of course!"

Looking at the rest of the news team, McRae could read Tricia's lips as she chatted with her young hippie driver/soung guy. "...real hottie...as a post...interesting!" She laughed.

Within the gunslit of the reinforced recessed bunker set behind the gate and to the left, Fox spotted what looked like the muzzle of a GPMG trained on the entry area. He would either have to get closer or use binoculars to tell for sure what kind it was, but an MG was definitely emplaced there.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:49, Wed 06 Feb 2008.

After the ID episode was done Lee asks the man loudly over the sound of the engine - "Where do I park, or just follow them?" pointing at the RCMP SUV. After instructions are given, Lee guns the LAV past the gate and into the secure area.

Pretty well armed for a handful of mounties and irregulars she thought.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:17, Wed 06 Feb 2008.

Ben very nearly swung the '19 around to point at the guard followed by the words, "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

Very nearly....

"Standing order," he said clearly over the intercom, while staring without expression directly at the guard.
"Personal weapons to be carried at all times until further notice."
It wasn't really necessary to say since everyone except Lee was serving military and already accepted it as normal practice, but after the circus of the previous hour, the guard really annoyed Ben.

Once again the tension began to build to the breaking point.

The Militia looked more than a little shocked at Ben's struggle for self-control and subsequent order that clearly signalled a desire for confrontation.

"Ah... I didn't mean to offend, one moment, please." He walked over to Khandola's SUV.

Khandola made a call on the radio. After a short conversation the guard walked back.

He spoke in a warm, soothing voice.

"It's okay, Sir. Just don't point them at anyone. You're fine."

The cameraman focused in close on Ben's face as the Militia checked Ben's name off and moved towards the back of the LAV to check the other IDs.

[Edit added: not interested in either an argument from Jagelis or being pistol-whipped for his insolence, the milita moved off.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:54, Thu 07 Feb 2008.

Presenting her ID to the guard, Chris smiled.

"Here ya go. Sorry, we're all just a little squint-eyed and confused. You know how it is."

This was an expression describing trappers, hunters and miners who stayed out in the wilderness too long and became a little feral.

The Militia nodded. "No problem, man. I understand. Happens all the time."

He checked off Chris' name on the list, then handed the ID back.

"Okay, you're good. Enjoy your stay."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:53, Thu 07 Feb 2008.

The Militia checked Kelsey's ID, and she treated him to a smile as well.

"I should get my hand stamped in case I want to go for McDonalds?"

"Sorry lady, no in-and-out privileges."

She chuckled.

McRae, also trying to lighten the mood, tried to smile at the militia, although it looked like it hurt his face.

"You guys got running water and Starbucks, too?"

Checking his name off the list, the Militia smiled.

"Sorry sir, we got flush toilets but we're fresh outta lattes. Feel free to complain to the management."

"Don't call me sir, I'm just a Sergeant."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Enjoy your stay."

From the distance, the ex Soviet Officer was enjoying the moment. The militia appeared to be in good spirits and the visitors were willingly complying with the checkpoint affairs.

So far, so good. This is our chance to get things moving from now on. The Spring is just blossoming and the good weather may bring a few surprises.

Now Taras was shaking his head towards his left shoulder as a visible sign for the guards to speed up the encounter and reach the Faculty at last.

Fox climbs out of the gunner's hatch halfway and sits on the turret, legs hanging inside. Dropping his crewman's helmet down onto his seat he squints and watches the rest of the team put up their identification.

"Easy fellas." Lee says over the I/C to anyone who was listening.

Lee's quiet warning was heeded by Ben and Andrew, as they were the others wearing intercom helmets. Fox ditched his to sit on the turret in the warm sunshine.

It did not seem to be needed as the Militia finished checking IDs, being polite and formal to everyone and waving them through.

There was another thick bluish cloud of smoke as the LAV started up and moved through the lifted barricade to wait behind Khandola's SUV.

The 2 Dirtbike-mounted Militia had parked over by the right-hand bunker, and were talking and having a quick smoke with the other Militia who'd just been patrolling the fence line. One was a young dark-haired woman, the other a guy.

Via radio, Khandola instructed Lee to wait behind him for Taras.

Some people appeared from within the treeline on the left, no doubt natives from the subdivision that occupied the Musqueam reserve stretching to the south of SW Marine. There was a half-down people, a family it looked like; mom, dad, and a few kids. A couple of dogs barked somewhere out of sight. The people waved at them.

Taras moved his jeep up. The Militia, Jag, checked his ID and greeted him.  "Okay, drive on."

Once through, they formed up (outriders ditching their cigarettes and pulling on helmets) and prepared to continue down SW Marine.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:25, Thu 07 Feb 2008.

Beaming, Chris waved to the small knot of civilians lining the road to witness them pass. Seeing he was native like them, they waved even harder, breaking into wide smiles.

"Hey Chris, you're a celebrity, man! Woo-hoo! Way to go!"

She laughed and slapped him on the shoulder, then waved at the family.

"Aww, look at the kids! They're sooo cute!"

Andy tried to muster a smile for the guard checking I.D.s at the gate. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had asked him for it. It took him a while to find it.

As the guard handed it back, Andy wondered whether the trawler hadn't passed through some kind of time warp or interdimensional wormhole on the way over from the island. This place was just too tidy, too with it. Everyone looked clean, well fed, and well rested- this was not your average "frontier" community. It was if they'd entered a bubble in which everyone and everything had escaped even the knowledge of the war still going on outside in the wider world. The GPMG levelled at the Grizzly was the only sign that the people here had to work for their apparent security. It was all very sureal.

The LAV jerked back into motion and his more pragmatic mind with it.

He spared a quick left-handed wave for the civies along the road.

I used to have one of those... he thought, looking away from the family gathered to see them on their way.

His right hand never left the grip of his carbine.

Now in University of British Columbia grounds the small convoy that Sgt Khandola was leading resumed his final destination. Taras gave a final visual sweep at the checkpoint. He could see the familiar faces. One of the members of the militia appeared to be talking on a handheld radio. Probably communicating with HQ at the Faculty, the roar of the starting LAV paired with the low volume set on his radio prevented him from hearing the message.

Oh, well. Off we go again. Darn! is getting late now...Tomorrow I will start the job with the directional mines.

Out of his left breast pocket, Taras produced a small plastic comb and tried to put some order in his growing red goatee. He felt that somebody may be waiting for them after all. Angela maybe...

"Rolling." Lee says on the I/C as she puts their LAV into motion behind the leading vehicle.