1200+ hours.
05 Apr 2001

With some protest from Doctor Chandra, Ben was released from UBC Hospital in the early afternoon at his insistence shuttled back to the Marina in an RCMP SUV, windshield wipers slapping back and forth. Once there in the Marina's luxuriously nautically-themed lounge he seemed a little out of it and feeling no pain due to the medicine he'd been given, but his arm was bandaged and in a sling, and he was on a course of antibiotics.

In the cold rain of the North Shore, the recce team noted that the people leaving to the south (be they travelers or town work parties) were armed with at least one firearm. (Those leaving to the north seemed mostly unarmed.) The weapons the work parties carried were mostly variously pump and double-barreled shotguns, pistols and bolt-action hunting rifles, but a few were Chinese-made SKS and AK-47s. Also, at least a couple dozen of these weapons were in the hands of the Militia to beef up their own civilian arms. Before the war in the early 90's, Norinco had flooded North America with these weapons and ammunition.

McRae's suggestion to monitor the police bands came in as Champlain went about implementing Taras' idea along the same lines. Great minds indeed thought alike!

Immediately, they began picking up signals on the police band assigned to the West Van PD. It would likely take days of SIGINT gathering to decipher the codes, sort out the number and identity of stations, chart the individual call-signs and even voices of the senders, and so on. For the most part it was all routine traffic, radio-checks from the OPs and a HQ/command centre somewhere in town. Being in the District of West Van, Horseshoe Bay hadn't had its own police station or government building prior to the war, and the fire hall was just to the south outside of the security perimeter, so where the HQ was located was still a mystery.

The voices were all in English (some Russian-accented) so Taras' skills as a translator weren't needed. However, later on in the day, there was one Russian voice that was a tortured mixture of English, Russian and... Kazakh?

Taras' ears pricked up and a chill went down his spine as he listened to the crackling broadcast.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:13, Thu 03 Apr 2008.

(OOC: tongue firmly planted in cheek, of course)
McRae's suggestion.. bah, the doer never gets any credit, without her skill where would they be.. besides monitoring radio signals is something she does regularly anyway.  It's why having at least two radios is important to an RTO.
Anyway.



Work that Sarah immediately undertakes, it is her job, after all.



*She turns to look at the Russian, her brow perking and her face serious, pausing a moment to shake a cigarette from her pack*

"Ok, I think you need to share what made you act like someone walked over your grave"

Also, included along with Jagelis was a 9x19mm Smith and Wesson Model 5946, 2 spare magazines and a precious box of 9mm ammunition for practice. Also, his measurements were taken and a uniform modified to fit him. The flashes and regimental badges identified him as being in the RCMP, not an Auxiliary.

Andy kept low when the foraging parties were going past. He was glad they were still using radios below, contacting the village by radio before meeting face to face would be polite, sort of like calling before dropping in on a friend. He hoped this contact would go better than the one with the stickmen.

Shevchenko's face appeared to be frozen in time. Suddenly his jaw dropped:

Holy Mother of Kazan! Let a thunder fall on my head right now if I don't know that voice!

He turns his head to call the attention of Sgt. Fox:

Sgt. Fox! I think we have something here that could be interesting!

Fox walks over visibly interested. "Yeah?" he asks, "Something come over the net?"

Lee casually raises a hand, and says - "No, no. I have no issues with doing it. My choice of uniform won't hinder my motivation or ability." Nodding to Taras she continues, "More than one is not a bad idea... but until either Sgt. Fox or Mr. Jagelis relieves me, my task will remain for this mission."

Her attention is later drawn to Taras when he announces his recognition of the voice over the radio. She imagined this would be their way in. They would work this out as the means to begin negotiations.

Recovering from the initial surprise now the face of the Ukrainian was turning into  excitement:

I swear that rascal talking on the radio is my good friend Bulat Shailin. I met him in the Caucasus, he was a Sargent desantniki VDV. A good kazakh guy. He was in Afghanistan, that may explain the kheffiyeh that the sniper was referring to. Damn! Bulat was one the bigger hash traffickers I've met...

Taras couldn't believe the news but somehow things appeared to fall into place.

Bulat never believed in the bullcrap of the communists. No wonder he ended up here! But I would be cautious, this guy would be able to sell his own mother to Lucifer for two bottles of Stolichnaya...

"Ha, yes, of course! Good luck indeed in your endevours! Perhaps an intimidating presentation will work to your benefit, somehow."

He chuckled.

"As for who assigns your tasks, your secondment is to the DRI, and their assignment is to assist the civil government here as an Aid to the Civil Power. As you well know, of course having been at the same meeting as I! Should it be their pleasure to assign you, or indeed me or anyone else to a different task, then ours is not to question why!"

He was full of good humour and cheer, and his formal language was more a product of his upbringing, not sarcasm.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:28, Fri 04 Apr 2008.

*Kelsey snickers a moment*

"We appear to have caught a fish in it"

*Good.. she thinks, we aren't here to fight anyone, damnit.*
*Her voice sounds distinctly relieved*

"A fish that might bring us many, eh?  We don't need to be fightin anyone."

Finally a time to breath some fresh air. Lots of memories were spinning in Taras mind. It was God sent. He could felt that the next combat will be a clash of personalities and a struggle for cooperation rather than bullets.

I have a good feeling here. Bulat and his people will surely cooperate with us. But lets not forget that they are also in a position of power up there. The Sargent is a good damn military guy that survived many battles unscathed and he knows that he commands an strategic position. We must play the card of sharing a common enemy and all the benefits of an alliance. Since they are moving patrols East I believe they try to contain the stickmen And he dully added: The enemy of my enemy is my friend, da?

Then he looked towards Fox. It was time to get things rolling a bit.

I suggest to broadcast an official message from UBC stating who we are and our intentions to pay a visit. With their response I can work out an approach to Bulat to smooth things out...

"Not bad, I have a good feeling about this, and you boss.  Run with it"
*She turns to her radios and adjusts a few settings, humming softly to herself*



*Not missing a beat, she finishes the adjustments*
"Did you want me to script that official broadcast, or wing it?"

At 1315 hours local, Andy was watching the Russian Serzheant make his rounds, accompanied by the female sniper.

A cold rain fell around them, if anything getting harder. Down at the Marina, rain sluiced down the gutters and drainpipes. The spacious lounge where the team was camped out was luxurious, and had a world-class model ship collection. There was hot-and-cold running water. In fact, all the buildings they'd been in either here or at UBC had at least cold running water.

At Horseshoe Bay pair under observation stopped off at the single north checkpoint below them, where the BTR was blocking the Sea-to-Sky highway.

At a certain point, the Serzheant looked at his watch, then took out his compass and took a bearing. Walking over to his horse he pulled out a rolled-up mat wrapped in waterproof plastic. Taking the embroidered mat out of its protective covering he laid it out under the covered area next to the bunker, aligned to the north and south. He took off his web gear and laid his rifle down beside it, then washed his hands and face with water from his canteen.

Facing north away from them, he commenced to... exercise? Execute some kind of ritual? Whatever he was doing, it included some kind of ritual postures like standing straight, then bending forward, touching his head to the mat, standing up again, then sitting with hands on knees, etc. Repeated several times in a slow, careful manner.

The Militia and the sniper seemed unconcerned, ignoring him while having a smoke and trying to keep out of the rain in the parked APC, the bunker and covered area beside it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:18, Sat 05 Apr 2008.

It was afternoon and everybody was tired. Taras decided to have some rest before jumping into broadcasting.

Champlain, I think that will be a good idea to start working in the script. I think that will be better to send it early in the morning. This way we can have some extra time to rest and give them the time as well to make a move.

Again he turned towards the Sargent Fox:

I recommend to rest a bit for now. Later on we can prepare the intructions and equipment for the team to move up North. Early in the morning we can try to make radio contact and get ready to move as soon as possible. I prefer to deal with them taking full advantage of daylight. I think HQ should be reported as well.

Then he spoke to Belanger:

Sir, we still have the opportunity of take advantage of the media and get an interview with the Lieutenant. You know...the brave soldiers fighting against all odds...under inferiority...I'll leave it up to you but a bit of propaganda may work before the rumours spread...

Belanger nodded.

"The news people were agitating to get a story this morning when news of the attack spread around. Remember, one of the Militia got hurt worse than the leftenant. The community will no be happy unless they get some kind of answer, or at least a good story. At least our intrepid reporter will also want to accompany the team to Horseshoe Bay tomorrow morning."

He addressed Ben.

"Lieutenant. Please be prepared for an interview. It should not be long, and I do not thing it will be hostile."

Khandola yawned and stretched.

"I should get back to the detachment as well. It has been interesting, indeed! Sergeant Lee, a word if I may."
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:32, Sat 05 Apr 2008.

Andy continued to watch the village. So the leader of the Soviets was a Muslim. Interesting.

Mac looked a little mystified.

He looked through his optical binoculars (saving the image intensifiers for night-time) at the Russian NCO. Water dripped off the brim of his boonie hat.

"What the hell's he doin'?"

Andy guessed that Islam hadn't been a fixture of the cultural landscape up in Lillooet.

"He's praying to Mecca," Andy explained, "some of the  Soviet sub-states are Muslim and this guy's praying to their holy city."

*she chuckles a bit and pulls out a pencil, clearing a bit of table to write on, coming up with ideas*

"Right... hmmm..  We come in peace.  Take us to your leader.  We come from a galaxy long long away"

*she scratches it out, looks at it, erases some*  "Oh... fuck that peace bit.. how about..."  *She gives the Lt a slights glance, smirking.*

"Ah, yeah, I saw that on TV. About the Muslims praying. Like Malcolm X."

He scratched his nose in thought.

"Uh, so why's he praying to the north? Is Mecca on the North Pole or something?"

Mac chuckled uncertainly, making a weak joke but secretly certain he was missing something obvious.

"It's because he's a foreign muslim. American Muslims trace the direction back to Mecca using a map, the Mercator map is a distortion of the world and so they use what's called a rum, something like that to pray toward Mecca. The rest of the world's Muslims look at how the shadows fall from the Qibba, the thing they pray towards on certain days of the year and split the directions up into grand circles. I guess the circle to Mecca from here must go North and around." he paused, "Funny how they taught us all of that when all we really needed to know about the ragheads was where to aim."

Mac smiled.

"That makes sense. Like flying direct to London means going over the pole."

He yawned.

"Man, it's sure pissin' out. No dry hooch (tent) around here, eh?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:38, Sun 06 Apr 2008.

"No, the wet weather plan on this one was, "If it rains, get wet." same old, same old, still I'll take this over the warm reception the other guys had." Andy replied.

"Amen to that."

Mac yawned again even wider, showing teeth that really needed some dental work in the upper molars..

"If it's jake with you, Master Corporal, I'd like to nry and nap a bit. We got a long night ahead of us!"

"Or I can cover for you if you like."

The rain sewers in Horseshoe Bay seemed to be handling the downpour just fine; over in Vancouver itself when it had rained the day before last the overflow had backed up into the streets, forming shallow streams.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:39, Sun 06 Apr 2008.

Belanger asked the tired-looking crew again.

"Leftenant? Sergeant Fox? "Sergeant" Lee?"

"Anyone care to comment to the people of the community what happened last night? One of their own was injured you know, Meghan Barnes, and people are going to want answers."

"As Taras says, we have the opportunity to turn this to our advantage."

"You get some shut eye now, you can cover for me later." Andy answered and settled down to a few hours of solo observation.

"Sounds skookum to me, Master Corporal."

Pulling his poncho over him and crawling under a partially hollowed-out log, Mac tried to get some fitful sleep as the cold rain pelted down.

Some time in the early evening at the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club after Khandola left to attend to business at the Uni, the CBC news van pulled up, wipers slapping back and forth.

Tricia and Curtis got out, carrying bags of equipment through the heavy rain.

They picked a good location to set up the lights and block out the camera angles. They knew that the little community was hanging on their every word, and that this was a good way for the team to get its message across.

Before they got rolling, she greeted Tars warmly, turning the wattage of her considerable charms on him.

Once she started, she got a few words from Belanger, who praised the team's efforts so far.

Tricia started her interview with Ben.

"Don't worry, I don't bite. Even if you ask nicely!"

She mentioned in passing that most people in the community supported their efforts so far.

However, she also gave Ben a valuable off-the-record head's-up that there was a vocal minority at UBC spreading a rumour that going into Stanley Park in the middle of the night was fascist warmongering, intruding on people who were minding their own business, that they were only acting in self-defence.

"Not that I believe that of course! Bear in mind there are many people in this city who frankly see the government and military as having abandoned us here to our fate. There is resentment you should be aware of an take care to avoid."

Then she was all business.

"So Leftenant, tell us a bit about what went on last night. We heard that one of the local militia is still in hospital. I see you're hurt too."

"It couldn't have been fun. Why don't you tell me about that?"

Fox politely ignores any reporters finds an isolated spot in the marina building and sleeps.

While the TV crew arrived and started setting the media parafernalia around, Taras went into the main building for a quick inspection of the model ships and library. He came out with an "Illustrated History of the West Coast". a heavy volume with lots of maps, pictures and drawings. One of the co-writers was the former director of the now abandoned "Maritime Museum" the archeaologist and explorer James Delgado. Shevchenko sat on a curb not far from the TV journalists, close enough to hear the interview. After flipping some pages here and there, the natural curiosity of the Ukrainian turned to browse the alphabetic index in the search for some familiar name.

Lets see what we have in here...

A few months ago, shortly after he arrived to UBC, Taras was introduced to the history of this far away from home corner of the World. Surprisingly enough he found out how far the spaniards went and that the presence of Russian explorers and traders extended at some point from Alaska down to the 51` latitude and even a trade post existed just North of San Francisco and even Hawaii... Now, that wouldbe a nice assignment...

Alexandr Baranov,...
hmm.... Nikolai Rezanov...
Gregori Shelikhov...Lavrenti Zagoskin.

Those were some of the names associated with the "Russian American Company", a semi official trading company, not unlike the Hudson Bay british counterpart, that was granted monopoly over trade in this region until the transfer of Alaska to the United States in 1867.

Who knows! Maybe is time to start a similar venture all over again! But this time I'm gonna ask the guy at the Musqueam reserve how much is willing to pay for my ushanka!

Now the interview was taking place. Perky Tricia Todd was holding the microphone in one hand, notebook on the other, while trying to make a hair flick all at the same time.

Not bad, not bad...Taras leaned back on his elbows while strecthing and crossing his legs and tilting his head slightly to the left...all at the same time....

Lee catches Robert before he makes his way to the marina. "I'll be back a in bit. Back before you need me." - she says to him. Making her way over to the UBC staff she asks for a quick ride back to their compound and back again. While at their quarters she changes into her RCMP uniform and throws on her gortex jacket. She keeps her MP5 however.

If Khondola is around she'll try to avoid him, she wasn't in the mood to explain her change in attire. Returning to the marina she follows Robert's lead and enters the main building. Rest seemed like a better idea than talking, and it might be good for Ben to remain an active part of things by letting him handle it solely. Placing her SMG on the floor, she covers it up with her Gortex jacket. Still nearly fully clothed she sleeps.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:03, Tue 08 Apr 2008.

Ahhhh a chance to dress formal.  She pulls her waterproof bag out of her ruck, pulling out and quick decreasing her tartan kilt, long socks and dress boots, and a good uniform shirt, putting them on meticulously, her glengary topping it all off.  Of all that came off to make way... most notably her underpants were part of it, if anyone was rude enough to watch.

After getting all gussied up, she slips on out to where the reporter was, but also keeping a little distance, checking out what the Russian was reading.


Speaking softly "What you got your hands on there, eh?"

As usual, Ben was very uncomfortable in front of a camera, even more so with the bandages swathing his arm.
"Well, uh, we went over to the park last night just to see for ourselves what the story was. We'd been told the current inhabitants had caused trouble with anyone trying to cross through and use the bridge so it's important we find out what the truth is. If any real lasting progress is to be made rebuilding the city, let alone the whole country, we need to be able to travel anywhere we need to at any time without running the risk of lawless elements attacking people at every turn."

As he spoke, his sense of unease faded. It seemed that everything beyond himself, Tricia and the nights events faded away into obscurity, less important with every word.

"We'd barely gotten off the boat before we struck trouble. We'd assumed the seawall path would be realatively clear, but the truth was it's choked with debris from several years of neglect. Picking our way northward, we found ourselves almost directly underneath the bridge, hemmed in by the water to our left and a near sheer cliff to our right."

"It was then that everything seemed to really take a turn for the worse. I'm still a little unclear what happened - all I remember is flares lighting up the sky while off in the distance we could hear gunfire. Rocks, tree branches and molotov cocktails were raining down on our heads a heartbeat later accompanied by almost animal howls and screams from above."

"The flames seemed to be everywhere. I myself was drenched in burning gasoline and only my body armour saved my life. We ran back the way we came, some of still on fire, and all the while the rocks and stuff kept coming."

Bens face had grown paler by the moment as he relived the terrible event. There was nothing they could have done to stop the attack on them, nothing anyone could have done. The utter helplessness was driven home once more as he paused, unable to speak, a tear sliding down his face.

"We'd barely gotten out of the water onto dry land when they attacked us. They didn't even try talking first. There was no provocation, no reason to attack us beside pure malice. They're an evil that needs to be dealt with or this country will continue it's slide into anarchy."

Tricia thanked Ben, and after packing up the crew made their way back (unescorted) to the UBC campus.

Belanger was pleased; this would be a help in keeping the people on the side of the government, and even give them something of a pass on the injury of one of their own.

There was a radio message from Vancouver Island Command that a boat would soon arrive, ferrying some supplies and replacement equipment, and a few support personnel (a couple of comms techs and an intelligence officer).

The additional support personnel would begin to establish an actual DRI station on campus. As previously agreed, DRI operations in the lower mainland would shift from operating independently to more closely aligned with UBC, falling under the authority of the fledgling civil government.

In the late afternoon various team members caught up on sleep, both at the marina and on the North Shore. Some of the sleepers tossed restlessly, haunted by dreams of fire and darkness.

Heavy rain continued to fall, backing up in places to form streams and shallow lakes in the streets.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:27, Wed 09 Apr 2008.

*She turns in for the night, glad for a peaceful day.  She had seen horrors previously, since the war, during it.  The other night's combat was not what she was here for, but instead she was here for things like.. a news crew that visits you in the field.*

*Her dreams may be tainted with horrors of fire, but mostly they are about hope.. and a few cute girls back at the town*

Taras recklessly, after showing his interest for the history of the West Coast to Champlain, tossed the book on the passenger seat of the UAZ jeep parked nearby. What he just said to the female soldier start spinning in his mind...

Ms Champlain, it all started because of the trade...

He thought about the importance of commerce and how the will of the people of yesteryear helped to create a place to live out of an inhospitable wilderness. Unknown facts came to illuminate him. The heavy volume was rich in details. One of them was a reference to the friendly relationship of Dionisio Alcala Galiano, a spanish Officer and George Vancouver, a british one. Both agreed to assist one another and share the surveying work and charts.

Suddenly he felt more comforted. Canada was a very welcoming country for strangers, even invaders! Even though there was an important job to conduct in the North Shore he couldn't help thinking about the trading posts that would be a must to contact. That is where, historically, beyond trade itself, news and gossip were spread. Also, a good grip on the understanding of commerce in the Lower Mainland was paramount to obtain a realistic picture of the situation.

Peace only was found when every party agreed to share the mutual benefits of cooperation...

After overhearing the interview, Shevchenko was almost surprised of the honesty and integrity of the Lieutenant. As an Officer in the Soviet Army he was used to blown out of proportition descriptions by corrupted officials looking to appease the apparatchik rather than tell the truth. Maskirovka was a large chapter in Soviet doctrine indeed.

Andy let Mac have a few hours sleep and then gently awakened him and took his own turn at egyptian PT.

Chris yawned and stretched, taking out his binoculars and wiping the lenses.

"Nighty-night."

He positioned himself in the shallow dugout so that he could easily tap Andy's foot with his own if need be.

Afternoon crept to evening. It kept raining, slacking a bit, then coming back even harder. Hail fell at one point. Belanger excused himself, saying that he also had business to attend to.

The scanning of the North Shore community's radio traffic produced another tidbit of information:

Someone at presumably one of the field outposts asked if the landline was repaired and the answer was, ...not yet, they're still working on it, but I don't think they really know what they're doing....

At around 1700, a radio call came in from the small boat ferrying the personnel and equipment and supplies from the Island. They were going to land at the wharf to the south of the city, at the Celtic shipyards. This time the local Musqueam band was well-informed, and had secured the area with tribal constables and the UBC RCMP detachment.

There wasn't much point for the team to go down to meet them, because they needed to be available at the marina to move out in support the recce element at a moment's notice.

The new arrivals and material was moved quickly to UBC to Reitsumikan House, rapidly becoming the DRI's new base of operations in the city.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:09, Fri 11 Apr 2008.

2000-0000 hours, 05/04/2208

The sun set at 1952, but in the gathering storm it had gone prematurely dark before that time.

Cold moist air moving off the ocean collided with the mass of warm air flowing down from the upper valley and produced a relatively rare phenomenon in mild Vancouver: an intense electrical storm over the city.

Lightning flashed inside the clouds, followed by rolling thunder. Gusts of wind blew the rain horizontal for a moment, then it resumed it's vertical torrent.

On the North Shore, the OP dugout was becoming untenable. Despite built-in drainage, it was starting to fill with chilly water. Andy dozed fitfully, still somewhat dry under his dripping shelter-half. Chaotic memories were churned up from his subconscious by the wraith-like appearance of the Russian patrol the previous night, and the thunder and lightning around him.

At the Marina, the well-maintained clubhouse buildings shed the water with ease. The streets outside became straight shallow lakes. Dinner on good china in the dining room was served to the various DRI and UBC personnel waiting there, some dozing, others keeping themselves occupied.

Andy was awoken only to realise just how cold and wet he was. He sat, dripping and cursing as he refuelled on rations, chomping them cold and then he looked at Chris, "OK, mate, we'll hear off for Whiskey Cove now, we'll do a straight recce of the place and then set up an OP to wait for the rest of the team. Let's do this carefully. I don't want to start mudslides or break any ankles. Let's go."

The pair moved like dripping, soggy ghosts away from the community and toward the RV. Stay alert Andy boy, he thought. Just because the weather's too bad for horses doen't mean a son-of-a-bitch Spetsnaz NCO wouldn't have his team out scouting.

Kelsey wakes from yet another catnap to find the weather getting worse.  She runs out antenna in the club for long term setup, then runs breaks and grounds so that lightning won't fry her radio.  This allows her to set up in a dry spot instead of out in the elements, and really pay attention to her broadcasts (less outside noise)  Paying attention of course to her own team channels (especially if she has more than one radio, one will stay on team freq) but also watching the channels id'd as the town's, and those for the local authority, but less often.

The Club was a place full of amenities and certainly a place that will cause much blushing to any Officers Pavillion back in the Motherland. Taras just needed one of those comfy leather sofas where lay down and get some sleep. A short walk in one of the halls brought him some catchy music. Some militia guy was probably rescueing some old record for R&R. A nice song that wouldn't be easily recognized across the Iron Curtain. Taras couldn't help but to stop in his tracks killing all the rattling caused by his equipment:

Moses went walking with the staff of wood. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Newton got beaned by the apple good. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Egypt was troubled by the horrible asp. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Mister Charles Darwin had the gall to ask. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Hey Andy, did you hear about this one? Tell me, are you locked in the punch?
Hey Andy, are you goofing on Elvis? Hey baby, are you having fun?
If you believed they put a man on the moon, man on the moon
If you believe there's nothing up my sleeve, then nothing is cool.

Man on the Moon, man on the Moon. If you believe...

Shevchenko crashed nearby. Not exactly in the Moon but in a well furnished lounge. Removing the vest and placing the Smith & Wesson under a fluffy cushion, by the time sleep was creeping in, R.E.M. could still be heard:

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago,
Turned around backwards so the windshield shows.
Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse.
Still, it's so much clearer.
I forgot my shirt at the water's edge.
The moon is low tonight.

The recce team wolfed down some cold IMP (Individual Meal Pack) foil entree pouches. Andy ate Navarin (lamb mutton vegetable stew) while Mac had Cheese tortellini in Marinara sauce. IMPs were made by "Freddy Chef" and bore their logo; by some accounts marginally better than US MREs but with a serious flaw: no individual heating tabs.

Cautiously the pair made their way around and down, lightning flashing above in the black rain clouds, occasionally striking the mountainsides not too far off. The crashing thunder was loud enough to make them jump.

Working their way along wasn't too easy, but finally they were across the Upper Levels out of sight of the roadblocks. Gleneagles Golf Course had been planted with crops, as this was probably the only real area cleared of thick forest or developed for single-family dwellings. It was outside the defensive perimeter, so basically abandoned for the night.

There were large and expensive houses secluded in the trees, all dark and empty.

Leading down to Whiskey Cove was a narrow ravine leading down through the trees to the water, swollen creek rushing at the bottom. Erosion had claimed the narrow path beside the creek, so they carefully made their way down next to it on a wider but still narrow grassy hillside cleared of trees, also heavily eroded with runoff.

The rocky beach was littered with driftwood (including logs) and the immediate area was clear.

The cove itself was long and narrow, and they could see big but dark houses along both sides, among the trees. There were more houses on the hillside and narrow beach leading to the left, as the right side was steep slope or sheer cliff into the water. However, there were concrete wharfs on the right side with solid stairs leading up, one even had a small derrick of some kind. There were large houses almost at the waterline on the left with short stairs leading down to the pebbly beach, but the stairs looked wrecked.

Over the next couple hours they worked their way along and cleared the houses overlooking the water on both hillsides without incident. Then the next order of business was to find a dry place to either wait out the storm or reposition themselves.

---

The electrical storm was playing havoc with reception at the Marina. Static burst and hissed. The FM signals from the North Shore were frequently drowned out. Rain continued to pour down.

Although there was a generator to power up batteries, most light was by oil lamp and candles. The flames cast a cheerful yellow glow, and one of the Club's keepers lit a fire in the magnificent stone fireplace to keep away the chill.

Dinner had been delicious pizza, cooked in a wood fireplace on a slab of slate. Cheese, tomato sauce, green and red peppers, ham, salami, prosciutto, washed down with cold clear water. The UBC's reaction team dozed, while others patched up the damaged whale-watcher boat.

The Militia and their RCMP non-coms talked about the injured Militia, the one who'd gotten a crossbow bolt through the throat. Her name was Meaghan Barnes. She'd come as a refugee to UBC a couple of years ago, and was well-liked. Apparently the Stickmen had come at them out of nowhere like banshees, and the two crew that were uninjured were still a little shaken, but putting the previous night's harrowing experience behind them.

[OOC: okay, that's it for the 0000 turn.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:49, Mon 14 Apr 2008.

Andy checked the RV area carefully and then looked around for somewhere to wait out the storm and still make a good OP.

Lee awoke staring at the marina ceiling. She listened to the quiet voices and Fox's slow breathing. After a couple of minutes laying completely still she got up. Watching the storm from a window she eventually wandered over and ate. Many thoughts raced across her mind as she ate quietly. The strangest one being the one she dwelled on the most... how the their LAV was.

Finished, she returned to her 'spot' and laid down. After lying on her side listening the storm, the voices, and Fox, she got up again and went to the window. She could see some activity out around one of the boats, but wasn't sure exactly they were doing.

Wandering over to Champlain she asks "Anything going on?"

Kelsey was finished with her set up, and she gave a hand with dinner, as long as she could stay close to her radio.  She definately looked into getting her radio close enough to the fire to.. ahh.. keep it dry.  Ok, she wanted to be warm, can you blame her.. but dry is good for radio as well as operator.
She complimented the cooks excessively Possibly the best meal I have had in years, even before the war"

When Rachel came up she was dozing by her radio, though during the period she had been still trying, resting on the unit channel with one, with the other scanning known and unknown for traffic, still.

Rachel, though, starts her into another check, she pushes the everpresent headset closer to the one ear she keeps it on, then rips it off, cursing under her breath colorfully.

"Great Fogs Filibusterin Fajitas!  That lightning can ruin your hearing."
*She shakes her head at her and sighs*
"Nay a thin, this lightnin has got me about dead aired... how about you, what you doing awake?"
*She looks honestly concerned, still sitting with her bedroll partly about her*

Ben had spent most of the day resting, trying desperately to let his injuries heal up as much as they possibly could before the following, early morning mission to the north shore. Although nearly twelve hours of medically induced sleep helped, it was a toss up whether it was that or the pain killers that had the greater effect.

Finally hauling himself upright, Ben tried to shake the fog from his mind as he noted that outside the sun had long set. A glance at the bedside clock barely registered the early hour - just past midnight. Definately time to be up and sorting through the previous 24 hours of intel.

Ravenously hungry, he threw on his spare uniform - the first having been mainly destroyed by fire - before attending to his urgent bodily needs. Then, slightly refreshed but still a little muddled from the drugs he'd been given, he made his way to find out what had been happening.

"What's new?" he asked, entering the area set aside as the "operations room". Most had gone to bed long ago, but the radio, as always, was manned 24 hours without break.

'operations' got moved to someplace warm, and cozy.. Kelsey being rather possessive of her radios, besides, she knew how to sleep and watch from long experience.  She looked up as yet another joined her and she smiles.

"Good to see you up and around.. not much though.. the lightning is fouling reception badly"

The RCMP Corporal (David Blaine) in charge of the UBC reaction team chatted with Ben over tea about what Amber 1, the boat, had gone through.

"When you left them, leftenant, it was quiet for about a half-hour or so."

After the signal flare went up, Molotov cocktails came out of the woods at the top of the cliffs. One hit the boat, and as they were trying to put it out Meaghan was sniped by a crossbow. At that point under covering fire from the Mk. 19 they took off for the middle of Burrard Inlet, where they extinguished the fire in relative safety. Out of radio contact and with someone critically wounded, then headed back to the marina to get the injured medical attention ASAP. They might have bagged a couple Stickmen with 40mm grenades, but of course they weren't sticking around to find out.

The RIB's Kevlar-fabric cells were fireproof, but there was other flammable material onboard (like the fuel lines, controls, weapons, ammo, people) that could have been damaged. So far, it looked like the boat would be ready for transport in the next few hours, as luckily the actual damage seemed superficial.

Giving her compliments to the chef, Mike Consuela, she found out he had been the head chef at Joe Forte's on Thurlow, a well-known high-class seafood and steak restaurant before the war. He was a cheerful sort in his 40's, widowed in the attack on the city, and hopeful that someday he could continue his chosen avocation for more people than the people at the Yacht Club, the odd traveller, and the UBC militia.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was homey and intimate, lit by candles. Kelsey got the feeling he was maybe interested in her, but not really making a move.

---

The south arm of the land bordering Whiskey cove was a low rocky tree-covered hillside. On the north, it was an uneven cliff, again with many evergreen trees. The beach itself was narrow and rocky, with a swath of sand by the water and littered with driftwood and logs. Behind the slender shoreline was a small grassy sward with a couple of park benches, littered with fire pits. Looking uphill from the beach, the heavily wooded gully and stream was on left along the side of the wooded cliffs, eroded cleared slope ahead, thick forest on either side (houses among the trees on the right).

Houses were more common on the south shore, as the hillside was part of what must have been an exclusive neighborhood. There was even one or two large houses just above the south end of the crescent-shaped shoreline.

There were no houses above the beach on the north cliffs; the rocky bluffs were too rough and heavily forested and dropped straight into the water, although there were some houses further out near the far point of land, built on a lower part of the bluff and connected to solid concrete wharfs by stairs.

Back-tracking up the slope, past the tennis/ball-hockey court at the top of the low hill there, the recce team went around to the south where there was more likely shelter. The houses were large but oddly not built out from the cliff on stilts but conventionally-built split-level structures.

Clearing the last place on the south side, they found that there was a dry rec-room overlooking the cove and the narrow crescent beach. The inside walls were covered in mildewed and peeling wallpaper, while outside the trees and landscaping had gone wild. Silver DVDs and CDs littered the soggy moldy floor around a dead entertainment centre in the corner, smashed wide-screen TV and overturned stereo lying in a pool of water dripping from the ceiling.

Settling in amid the musty leather couches and spotted carpets, the waited for the dawn to shine through the smashed French sliding-glass windows.

[OOC: Sorry, my initial post was rushed. I added a bit of detail for clarity.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:57, Thu 17 Apr 2008.

Fox continues to sleep. The smell of food woke him at one point, but he didn't get up.

Strange, Andy thought to himself as he kept a watch over the cove, I'm lying in the midst of more wealth than I could ever have hoped to accumulate as a soldier and now its worthless, all that's left is the strength of your arm and the skill that guides it. He hoped that what they were doing would help rebuild the country, not to make the rich rich again, but to protect the weak from the strong, to allow communities to grow and thrive instead of cower under tyranny or hide from it in godforsaken corners of the earth.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:29, Thu 17 Apr 2008.

"I thought I was only up for the moment. But I guess its later than I thought. I'll relieve you on radio watch." Lee responds. She digs into her pocket and pulls out her balaclava. Rolling it up halfway she wears it like a toque, and sits down next to the radio and Champlain.

Kelsey winks, hands her the headset, then rolls away, curling up closer to the fire, pulling her 'fart sack' closer up around her, watching Rachel for the moment from the floor

"Cool, thanks, some real downtime would be great.  So, you hear anything about our Russian talking to their Russian yet?  Seems like a killer idea to me, and he seemed to know him or something, good or bad?"

It was almost midnight when Taras woke up. He got up stretching the arms, arching the back and relocating the manhood without a hint of decency in this very last movement . He reached for the grey 9 mil compact and returned it to the holster clicking the thumb release into place. He decided to take a walk and have a chat with the radio operator. Still excited as he was, he couldn't help the excitement of the last voice heard on the ether.

I can't believe it... But it was him...It was like nothing had change...

But something was intriguing him even more. The radio picks were poor and far between. Something strange. No radio findings on the airport or any other area nearby in the city. No broadcastings about any possible checkpoint or watch tower. Before entering into the radio comms room, Shevchenko took a few minutes to sort out the contents in his backpack. Some of the stuff was in need to be removed. He decided to keep a low profile and whatever the contents of the pockets, if found out by the inhabitants of the North Shore, they will tell tale a lot of critical information. In a plastic bag labelled as "London Drugs" he deposited a number of paper wrappings and small tools. They will be returned to the safety of the UBC grounds before departing.

Shortly after he stopped by a door knocking gently...

Good evening ladies! How things are progressing? I hope I'm not disturbing your assignment...

(OOC quick.. landlines will lower radio msgs, thought he caught the partial transmission on them working on fixing them?)

*Kelsey rolls over and looks up, with a big grin*

"Well speak o the devil, just was talking about you... so when you callin the other Russian.. you guys friends maybe?"

The voice that I heard yesterday...I'm very positive is that of a good friend. Also he appears to be in charge of some sort of militia up there that displays the canadian flag in their uniforms and even call themshelves Police...They are defectors for sure. The guy, Bulat, is a veteran and knows what he wants. If we can get to talk with him that would be great.

Shevchenko sitting over one of the chairs next to the radio set added:

Any other transmissions so far?

*All smiles then, confirming that*

"Then we should be contacting him, yes?  It could save lives, make us friends, and give us intelligence, yes?"




*She shakes her head*

"No I think we got lucky because their land lines went down.. those are always safer, you know.. standard procedure for a unit is to put in land lines at any bivouwack site.  I am betting they have some handsets and probably a switchgear at least for their OP's and CP's.  It's only smart... that, and they are probably still listening to that radio, you can count on that."

*She shrugs and grins some more*

"So, whatcha think, we give your friend a call say.. oh six?"

Taras acknowledged the good skills shown by the soldier.

Very good. I really was expecting some more traffic. I'm aware of landlines. Is standard for..."us" too...We have to remain in attention. Any mobile patrol should have portable radios and that is what calls my attention...Respond units you know...

Scratching the back of his head he resumed his train of thought voicing his concerns:

0600 to 0630 is good time to make contact. We can make it in a couple of hours max to the North after that. This will prevent the set up of any elaborate ambush from them or any other group that may intercept radio traffic or just see us crossing the waters. Also I may have to come back to UBC to pick-up some items that I want to carry with me like paperwork and so. I wonder if you can write an official message with our intentions and I will add my greetings at the end. Meaning business first, of course.

Finally he added:

We should take advantage of the contact to gather info on the Stanley Park problem and see what we can do. Please contact Belanger and lets have the reaction team ready as well.

*She grins wider at that, unabashed*

"Oh and atmospheric conditions are currently unfavorable..."
*She pauses as a flash of lightning lights up the closest window, and a rumble of thunder follows shortly thereafter*
".. for radio reception."



"If weather conditions are favorable.. aye.  I do recommend we transmit to them from either a remote antenna, a relay, or a bit in the field and then bug out fast.. just in case they have the equipment to triangulate our position."

*She sort of mock salutes at the last bit*

"Sure.. I will give you a draft for approval."




"Suuuure, sounds like a good idea, glad ye thunk it loot, I think waitin on Belanger a good idea for the time being, but soon early"

*She winks, but will do a break or two to see if Belanger has his ears on*

It was quiet in the hours after midnight. Dark too since there was little need to waste valuable resources on lighting. Only a few hardy souls stirred, most assigned to guard duty out at the various checkpoints, a few more on roving patrols between them and throughout the campus. The rest were like him, either slept out, working very late on some vital task, or monitoring the radio and telephone networks.

The sound of rain beating down and the flickering of candles lent a cosy feel to the room, reminding those few awake lucky enough to be inside of a better life before the war. It was a good time to catch up on paperwork and read over the days reports, a task he settled into after exchanging a few pleasentries with those on duty and getting their verbal update.

"Seems there's been a little progress while I was sleeping," he declared quietly so as not to wake anyone. "Not as much as I'd hoped for, but more than I expected."

"I like the idea of radio contact before meeting face to face, but I think that should wait until our people are on the ground."

Bens arm hurt even with the rest and painkillers he'd had poured into him by the medics. Although he really wanted to join his team, there was still a very good chance he'd have to stay behind. With his arm in a sling, he'd be more of a hinderance than help if trouble struck - firing his weapon might be ok, but reloading, or even moving as quickly as needed would be next to impossible.

Sliding a notepad across the table towards him, he cradled a pen in his good hand and began to write. At least he could still do that much...

*The Radio op cocks her head at that comment*(

"On the ground where?  Are you proposing we do a special deployment for this contact?  Or are you proposing we risk an incident or injury?"

"Oh," Ben started, not realising Champlain was still awake.
"No, I'm thinking of landing the team on shore and having them establish themselves on the ground before transmitting. I'd rather avoid them knowing we're coming until after the fact."
"Naturally the actual landing will take place out of sight of the locals."
He didn't intend on giving no notice at all, just delaying contact until the locals wouldn't have any opportunity to set up an ambush as they landed. They'd all seen how badly things could go if they were caught at the shoreline with nowhere to go.
"You'd better get some sleep. Reveille is at 0400." Just a few short hours away....

"Yeah.. sounds sensible.  I sleep poorly in the field, you know..."

*She laughs and curls into her bedroll, drifting off to sleep again*

The room suddenly appeared to burst with some activity. The entrance of Jagelis put everybody in a mood. His condition awoke mixed feelings to the occupants of the room. Decission making sometimes comes with a hefty price. The sling was a pictorial reminder of how costly it could be.

Shevchenko was caught by surprise by the idea of sending the team inland before making radio contact;
Lieutenant Jagelis, are you aware of the consequences of landing a team on the shore prior establishing radio contact?

He didn't want to appear confrontational about mission orders at first. This time, and against all the military doctrine that he was taught in the Soviet Union, he decided to hear from the young officer.

Kelsey mumbles from her bedroll.

"Damn good way for folks to wind up dead, and sour relations.. huh, lil loot?  Jus give em a call an talk."

"We already have landed a team on the shore prior." Lee says sitting next to the old radio.

Shevchenko was willing to hear from everybody and get a clear operational picture of the situation. Now was the perfect time to get into consideration all the elements that could end up in a succesful operation or in catastrophic failure.

There is a sniper team up there, indeed. Undetected, providing vital information, which is our main concern towards HQ, and also they will provide information about a good landing spot and provide cover for the group at all times.

Taras tried to show the options:

What would happen if the team is landed and the intentions from Bulat's militia are hostile? We may have another Stanley Park in the making. And this time we may facing more than cocktail molotovs, as the snipers reported they are well armed. We can have some help from the sharpshooters but if they mobilize the BTR against us we are toasted.

More thoughts were pouring out from the concerned ukrainian:

I've been thinking about the last night...Both stickmen and Bulat's people dominate the heights. From above is easy to spot the wake and sound of the boat. I think it would be better if we broadcast our intentions. I know this may sound innocent but we can also play safe. We have the sniper team up there and they are in radio contact with us. If they can see some unusual military activity after the call is made, they can report to us and we can abort with the excuse of an engine failure, etc. I'll use diplomacy first, but with this hidden card.

Turning towards the injured Lieutenant he added:

Lieutenant Jagelis, I have no doubt about your good intentions towards this mission but I will like to make sure that all the resources are used in order to guarantee the safety of the members of the people involved in this. The original plan of the University for reconstruction is more prone towards winning allies more than fighting enemies at this time. We still small in numbers to press hard in anybody. The intel that we have right now should be enough to please the military authorities for what your purpose, recce , is worth. The added value of winning the confidence of the people living there should be carefully taken.

Ben peered through the dim light over the top of piles of radio reports, intelligence assessments and dozens of maps he'd been working with. Although he'd spent much of the day sleeping (besides the breif interview with that gorgeous reporter), he'd thrown himself into catching up on the situation.

Hearing out each person speak, he nodded along with some of their points, obviously in agreement with much of what was being said.

"I'm working up the plan at the moment for briefing at 0415. Many of these issues will be dealt with in some depth but for now, suffice to say that I do not intend to place any person in undue danger. All possible care will be taken to avoid hostilities and provided nobody does anything stupid, I doubt there'll even be a need to be armed."

"For now though you'd all best get some sleep, reveille is only a few hours away and it'll be a long day for all involved." With that he turned back to his papers, conversation over. He'd considered much of what had been said and come up with a few ideas to avoid possible trouble, but as the plans were still only in draft form, they'd all have to wait another few hours.

Even once the orders were delievered, they would not be set in stone. Alterations would always be required, no matter how well thought out, as the situation on the ground changed.

"Lee, is that you on the radio?" he inquired through the gloom quietly.
"I need a message sent to McRae. They are to scout out and select a possible alternate landing site out of sight of the locals. Also let them know the team will be landing at first light."

That gave the pair about 5 hours or so to complete their latest task - more than enough time and still allow a couple of hours to rest.

*She rolls in her sleep, mumbling again, a bit louder*

"Idiots.. Idiots"

As Shevchenko would put it, a new sense of comradeship was filling the air. Nothing unites people more in this world as a deep feeling of threat and urge of  survival. The cold, uninviting storm outside still brewing. Inside, the small room was filled with people hurt in many ways, in many wars, sharing a life that was beyond their wildest dreams, all of that was unconsciously getting them closer than they could ever think. A few hours ago, as an ex combat engineer officer, Taras was covering the extraction of a wounded "enemy" team from a set of granite, damp rocky stairs. Now he was fully dress in RCMP outfits, even sporting an OC spray and handcuffs set. Not an easy existence. The future of an entire city depending on the efficiency of such a patchwork quilt of characters.

Very well, then. If you excuse me, I'll proceed towards the UBC, to my quarters and coming back in about 20 minutes. We are going to need lots of rest. If the contact is positive, then, it will be a long day.

Shevchenko left the room and jumped into the UAZ jeep. Using the radio set he communicated his transit towards the compound to HQ in order to avoid any misunderstanding with the local militia at such paganhours. Upon arrival to his room, Taras removed the "London Drugs" shopping bag. From one of the closets he picked and packed a good solid 200 "Du Maurier" cigs and 4 book matches,One of the closet was opened and from the lower drawer he produced a bottle of Stolichnaya , from the upper shelf, Taras took a soft case containing a telescope and a small tripod. The model was a Meade Kestrel 15-45x 60 spotting scope. Taras retained in the backpack the small first aid kit, flashlight, 50 meters of paracord and a multitool that he couldn't affix properly in the new issued belt. From his desk he also added a small multiband portable radio. A commercial Panasonic RFB-11. Minutes later the UAZ, leaving a blue smoke streak, left for the Marina. Most of the people was asleep when he arrived. The waters were choppy but the storm was slowly fading.




This message was last edited by the GM at 05:29, Mon 21 Apr 2008.

Over the next couple of hours, a tired and wet Mac and Andy schlepped their way down Blink Bonnie Road and Gleagles Dr., across the wooded headland to the next cove aver to the south.

It was smaller but wider. However, there was no really easy access; it was surrounded either by sheer cliff, or hillside with large luxurious homes atop them. After clearing the deserted mansions, they found a path down to the rocky beach. It was obvious no one had been there for quite some time, at least over the winter months.

It also seemed winter wasn't quite done with them, either. As the electrical storm played itself out, it grew chilly as a cold front from the north came in laterally off the water. Cold air mass collided with warmer wet air, with predictable results.

A light snow started to fall, flakes melting as they hit the ground in most places, especially this close to the water.

Around 0300, the scouts were done clearing the secondary landing site (tertiary site, including the earlier clearing of Eagle Harbour). They dragged their tired asses back to the house they were in before, shivering and soaked to the bone.

---

At 0400, reveille was sounded, waking the sleeping personnel at the Marina. The UBC reaction team had stayed up all night, taking turns being awake.

On campus, Taras awoke to Belanger at his door. "You want to give me a lift to the Marina, or take my Land Rover?"

On the short trip to the Marina, they talked.

"Also, I was talking to the new intel guy. HQ is wanting to facilitate tranfer of unit command to local authority. They like the IRON plan and are really impressed. If it works out here, it could be adopted nation-wide."

"We'll have comms set up between here and the Provincial capital and Ottawa before the end of the day. Kwan will be LT Governor General, with personal authority over the lowe mainland. Khandola's going to be promoted to Inspector (roughly Major-Lt. Colonel rank), with responsibility for policing through the city,"

"If you feel your opinions or those of the Faculty aren't being heeded, then you can go over the Lt's head.  I'm going to have a talk with the leftenant soon, explain the facts of life about how we want things done here."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:37, Mon 21 Apr 2008.

Mac endured the extra humping through the rain and then light snowfall stoically.

Back at their original hide, he wolfed down some more rations from the silver Freddy Chef foil pouch.

His teeth were chattering, body trying to warm itself up. His breath steamed in the cold snap.

"Man, what a n-n-n-n-nnight"

"Look on the bright side, no one else is going to be able to see anything, either!"

they'd gotten about 4-6 hours uncomfortable sleep in the last 24 hours.

"That's true," Andy nodded, "not even the Soviets would be stupid enough to be out in this crap. Hell, even hockey fans are likey to stay inside in weather like this."

Mac scoffed.

"Clearly, you've never been to Winnipeg. Shit, you're from effin' Alberta! What's it like in Edmonton in wnter? Or even Calgary? Don't the engine blocks have to be plugged in to stop them from freezing solid?"

"This isn't that normal for Vancouver, but not unheard of."

He laughed and shook his head.

"Ah, I've seen worse weather," Andy said, "doesn't mean I go nightwalking in it."

*Kelsey got up and got ready, rubbing sleep from her eyes, soon drinking whatever passes for coffee, and eating whatever passes for breakfast.. smoking whatever passes for a cigarette, with not much to say until she finds out about orders.*

The hours of poring through the mountains of reports, maps, tourist brochures and just about anything else with any connection to the teams destination finally paid off just before revielle. Finally winnowed down to just a few pages plus a couple of maps, Ben moved about the team waking them for the coming day. A fresh brew of what passed for coffee waited for them as they woke.

"Briefing in 15 minutes people," he declared as they rubbed sleep from eyes, staggered towards the bathroom or dragged on the first ciggarette of the day.

Soon after the team was assembled. Another dozen or so of the militia would be involved in the morning activities and were also in attendance, some excited at the prospect of finally reaching out and making solid contact with another community, but all with the terrible events of just a few days before solidly in the backs of the minds.

"I'll get straight on with the briefing as there's not much time.

Situation
The terrain in the northern areas of Vancouver consists mainly of rugged mountains and hills with a thin strip of urban development along the shoreline. Roads tend to be narrow and wind about the contours. Off road travel is extremely difficult even on foot.

Most urban areas appear to have been abandoned for approximately three years although evidence exists of continued presence mainly in the form of a relatively recent deliberately lit fire having swept uphill from several shore locations around Eagle Harbour. Probable cause for abandonment is disease as mass burials dating from winter 1998 have been located but no evidence of conflict.

Defences in this area appear to be well constructed although abandoned for some time.

Eagle Island and a location at the mouth of Fishermans Cove appear inhabited although their disposition has not been ascertained.

Horseshoe bay is home to approximately one thousand people including armed forces. The nearby Gleneagles golf course has been converted into farmland.

Confirmed armed forces consist of at least nine Soviets and 100 to 120 local militia with West Vancouver Police officers acting as small unit commanders. Weapons are a mix of civilian small arms, at least one SVD with night scope, eight AK-74s, one GP-30 40mm grenade launcher, one RPK-74, one C-8 and one ATGM of unknown type. At least one military style manpack radio has been sighted. At least one of the Soviets are assumed to be combat veterans due to their airborne uniform. It is strongly suspected this individual is Spetznaz.

Transport appears to be mainly by horse although civilian vehicles, a Soviet UAZ and a BTR-80 are also in evidence.

Identified defensives at Horseshoe Bay consist of chainlink fencing and barbed wire entanglements, bunkers flanking the roads, watch towers, log hurdles, cribs and generator powered spotlights. Defenders actively patrol the area using three man units.

Mission

“To make contact with and establish peaceful negotiations with the inhabitants of Horseshoe Bay.”

“To make contact with and establish peaceful negotiations with the inhabitants of Horseshoe Bay.”

Execution

The team will depart Royal Vancouver Yacht Club marina at 0500. Upon arrival in the vicinity of Whiskey Cove at between 0530 and 0600, engines are to be cut and final approach made with paddles. Insertion by the negotiation and security team will take place at a location selected by the Recce element.

Once the team has linked with the recce element and is established in a defendable position, radio contact is to be attempted with the inhabitants of the area, preferably through the individual Lieutenant Shevchenko has tentatively identified as “Bulat”. Once radio contact has been made and the locals assessed as receptive, a physical meeting is to be arranged. Exact details from this point are to be arranged between the negotiating members of the team and the local forces with reference to security.

In the event the team is detected before landing and the local forces appear to be hostile, authorization is given to make radio contact before landing in an attempt to avoid combat. Absolutely no attempt will be made to land if under fire from the shore.

If the landing is not successful due to a hostile reception from the locals, the team is directed to withdraw to a safe distance for further orders. In this event, the recce element are to attempt to move south taking all care to remain undetected. Pickup will then be arranged using the main body of the team.

Administration and Logistics

High tide will be at approx 0502 hours. Sunrise will be at 0640 hours with first light approximately one hour before.
Two boats will be used for this mission. One will carry the team plus boat crew while the second will be armed with the Mark 19 and carry a small “ready reaction” team to be only used if absolutely necessary

The team will carry only personal weapons up to rifles, shotguns and submachineguns. Explosive munitions such as grenades will remain either here at the university or with the ready reaction team aboard the second boat

Communications and Command

"Comms will utilise standard code words with hourly check-ins, and so on. Private Champlain you are to arrange frequencies and so on with your counterparts here at the university before departure."

Sergeant Fox will be in military command of the unit with Staff Sergeant Lee as his 2IC. Starshiy leytenant Shevchenko and Staff Sergeant Lee will handle negotiations.

The team will be organised into two teams of three as follows:

Negotiations and Communcations section
"Staff Sergeant Zhang Lee"
"Starshiy leytenant Taras Shevchenko"
"Private Kelsey Champlain"

Security section
"Sergeant Robert Fox"
"Corporal Andrew McRae"
"Private Christopher MacDonald"

There, it was done. Some might not be completely happy with it, but that wasn't his concern. Safety and security of the team were his priorities and if anyone wanted to argue about it....

"Questions?"

A flash of indignation came to the face of the man from Odessa. He stood up to address the speaker. The tone of the voice was calm but firm:

Lieutenant Jagelis. A few hours ago I suggested otherwise. I also gave enough reasons to attempt radio contact before the landings. If security is your main concern, may we know why you insist in make contact after a team of six is landed in an area occupied by 130 combat ready troops with armor and, supposedly, antitank rockets?

"With the presence of light armour, you sure you want me to leave behind my M72?" Fox asks. "We won't have a means of protecting ourselves from it, if they become hostile."

"No questions." Lee responds without looking up from her notes. "The plan is understood, and I'm ready to go."

*Kelsey leans back in her chair into the radio, bumping the table and having to use her hand to steady it, after hearing what she just heard, hands touching it before sitting up and answering*

*Kelsey jerks her thumb at Fox*

"That.  THAT.  That is exactly why I think it is a damn silly idea to land and then make contact.  Just use the radio rather than risk personel, or is there some other reason you wish to risk an incident before making contact"

*She eyes the Commander with a sharp amount of skepticism*

"Did you even check with the UBC on this plan?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:45, Wed 23 Apr 2008.

Ben sighed inwardly. He'd suspected there would be some resistance to his plan, but he really had researched the situation and thought it through thoroughly over many hours.
"The area selected for the landing is well outside the defended area. The landing is also to take place while the locals are still waking up, and before they have have had the chance to send out the usual morning clearing patrols. It is also believed that the landing area is well outside the area cleraed each day and only subject to irregular patrols by lightly armed three man recce units."

"Every possible landing site within miles of the objective is bounded by steep hills and cliffs. If an enemy of just a handful of people were prewarned of the teams approach, then they would be walking into a deathtrap."
Images of that nightmare Gallipolli campaign flashed through his mind.
Thousands of men had died that morning in April 1915, ultimately for almost no gain whatsoever. Many had drowned when their boats have been sunk even before reaching shore, many, many more died on the beaches, torn apart by shrapnel and machineguns from the few defenders dug in on the heights above.

"Although it is a risk to land before making ourselves known, I have weighed this against the chance that the locals may actually be hostile, and what the result might be if so. As stated, the selected landing area, as well as an alternate, have been scouted and assessed as unoccupied. If movement is detected then the landing is to be aborted in favour of the alternate site. If the team is fired upon, then radio contact may be made if it's deemed to have a chance of success. If the team comes under attack then landing is not to proceed."

"Do not forget that two of the six member team are already on the ground observing the cove. They have not reported any serious attempt to search the area over the past 24 hours and it is extremely unlikely that any such action will take place before the main body of the team has landed."

Ben paused for a few moments, considering the Sergeants words. In many ways it made sense but, ultimately, it was supposed to be a mission of peace...
"Yes. I understand your reluctance to leave heavy weapons behind, but we must appear to be as unthreatening as we can be. The reaction force will be waiting offshore and carrying extra weapons and explosives as well as the Mark 19."
"In the unlikely event armoured forces are encountered, it would be almost suicidal to try standing up to them with the numbers and weaponry we currently have available."

Ben didn't bother mentioning the 84mm they had brought along with them as most of them already knew the weapon and it's ammo were firstly a pain to carry anywhere and secondly, not exactly conducive to peaceful negotiations. Fox's M72 LAW, while capable of defeating most APC and IFVs was also probably a little much for a "diplomatic" mission.

"If you feel it necessary to carry some form of explosive weaponry, I would suggest perhaps fitting the M203 to your rifle. With the rounds we have available, the BTR should be in serious trouble. At the very least you'll be able to put a scare into them."

"In the event enemy armour is encountered, you are to withdraw as quickly as possible, taking full advantage of the terrain. This shouldn't be too difficult as according to the maps and recce reports, vehicles are restricted almost entirely to roads."

"As stated, the risks of alerting any possibly hostile forces far outweighs the benefit of prior contact. The landing will take place well outside the defended area, in fact out of their line of sight. It is also to occur in a public area. If they are truely upholding law and order, and answerable to the Canadian government, then they should have little concern over a group of government representatives utilising public land!"

Ben was getting a little annoyed that some of the team still seemed to feel anarchy ruled. Stanley park was an aberation, they'd definately walked into a trap and he had his own strong suspicions regarding it. There they had done almost everthing they could to remain undetected, yet still they had been attacked in force without warning.

Although this second mission was once again landing in public space, this time all preliminary reports showed they would be in for a completely different reception. Stanley Park had been assessed as dangerous and events had bourne that intel out. Horshoe Bay on ther other hand had been reported as friendly, BUT, until that had been confirmed by their own people, they must take all the precautions they could. If it had been an option, he'd had prefered they approach the area under armour, but with the hostiles in control of Stanley Park and it's bridge, that simply wasn't possible.

"Do you really think that is necessary, Private?" he asked rehtorically with a frown almost hidden in the darkness.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:03, Wed 23 Apr 2008.

"No. Its alright. If the terrain is as you explained, its not necessary." Fox agrees after a moments thought. He then turns and faces Champlain, "Thats not ever how a soldier introduces questions in an o-group. Or to their commander at any time for that matter."

After a chance to dig out and look at his own map, he eventually looks back at Ben and asks, "How long until an insertion point is found. What happens if they don't report one back to us in time to meet your h-hour?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:44, Wed 23 Apr 2008.

"There's two selected at this moment. If neither is suitable for some reason once you're in the area, then pull back while we reassess the situation."
"The actual insertion time was selected several days ago before MacDonald and McRae were dropped off."

An amused expression on his face, Belanger spoke up, "why yes, please, do keep us informed! You are, after all, under our authority and speaking in our name as the local government authority, are you not?"

He was asking rhetorically, although with dawning comprehension that perhaps the young LT didn't understand this after all.

"Your HQ and your orders seems clear on this point. Your HQ assured me they have talked to you, and that you understand this. There is no difference between the "federal government" and the local government in this case. As always, the federal government has chosen to devolve its powers locally."

"Remember, you are not here independently, but as an Aid to the Civil Power, under law."

"Now, agree that giving West Van plenty of time to react means giving them rope with which to hang themselves."

"After all, if you call from the North Shore, and they send out a large force towards you, who's to say if they're hostile or not? You would basically have to wait until the first shot was fired. Making your decision at the last minute means a snap decision."

"Calling now, and then seeing if they deploy in a manner to contest the landing area will give us information on their intentions, and time to make a proper decision. For example."

"Lastly, Taras is our representative here. That makes him the government's agent in this situation. Ignoring his advice, again, is unwise. We all know what happened the last time this occurred."

"My apologies for bringing up  what is no doubt a painful subject, but that was my advice as well that was ignored, regarding the Park."


[OOC: it's possible that due to his being unconscious and/or out of it, Jagelis is unaware of his latest orders clarifying the team's situation (operating under UBC's authority). Although, he had been told before by HQ to respect the local government's jurisdiction and judgement.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:53, Wed 23 Apr 2008.

I would like to say something related to the sniper team observations. I suspect what they saw is not a BTR-80 since this modern version was deployed with the front line units in China. Our Motor Rifle Division was primarily equipped with the BTR-70. I believe they saw a BTR-70M which uses the turret, diesel engine and rear hull section of the BTR-80...Still...500 rounds for the KPVT and a lot more for the PKT...This baby can swim too...

Taras voice relaxed to the point of sounding like a priest praying the Holy Rosary.

Seems that the troops were part of an anti-tank platoon of a Motor Rifle Battalion. Each has two squads. Consider now that each squad has two teams. The teams are formed by three members. Exactly what they saw. The gunner carries the launcher and tripod as a backpack. Or in this case in a horse. And each men carries two rockets each. So a minimum of 4 rockets then. There is usually 8 more stored in the BTR. The standard rocket for the anti-tank platoon is the Fagot . A fine weapon thanks to the good deeds of Directorate T of the KGB in Paris...

The time for technical explanations came to an abrupt halt.

Lieutenant. May we know why you don't want to give a coherent response to me or private Champlain about the lack of previous radio contact?

This time the tone of voice jumped into an ironic melody:

Do you really think it will be wise to use an underbarrel launcher against the BTR?

Taras sank his chin in the chest and crossing his arms started mumbling some uninteligible words.

Ben gritted his teeth.

"Sir, I understand your concerns, however, my first responsibility is to the safety of my people. Until they're on the ground and friendly contact has been made, then as far as I'm concerned, all possible steps should, no, must be taken to minimise the risk. As the locals do not appear to have standing patrols outside their perimeter specifically watching our chosen landing areas, then there is virtually no risk of them spotting our people and assuming we are hostile."

This is what you got when politics intruded on military and security issues...

"While I respect your opinion and assessment of the soviet soliders Lieutenant Shevchenko, it can only be a guess. You are probably correct, however they are equally likely to simply be the remnants of a larger unit which has pooled certain resources together. We can be fairly sure that at least one of the members of this unit is also probably Spetznaz, but again we can't be certain - they could simply be wearing a uniform scrounged from elsewhere."

"The benefits of not alerting them of our presence until the team is on the ground has to be obvious. As I have previously stated several times, contacting them beforehand and letting them know of our arrival time and place is asking for trouble. It only takes a single bullet to sink a boat and potentially kill everyone aboard. To destroy a unit on the ground and in cover, well, first they have to be found and then an assault of the prepared position undertaken."

"Again, I am not saying contact by radio will not occur before physical, or even visual contact, just that the team must be in a position from which they are able to adequately defend themselves in the unlikely event that they are attacked."

"I would also suggest that if radio contact is designed to prompt their actions and make them show their hand, then this be done after landing. They can then be told the team will be in a location which is under observation. If they act in a way that is suspicious, such as assaulting this "dummy" position, or placing support weapons such as machinguns and snipers in concealment, then the team should be able to break contact and move out of the area, possibly without ever being seen."

"If they were to be sighted before landing, then they are extremely vulnerable to attack, and their numbers and relative strength can be easily assessed by anyone with a pair of binoculars!"

It was obvious. Stealth, especially for such a small unit, was the only option. They did not have the strength, nor resources to fend off a determined assault by the local forces, even if the majority of them appeared to be civilian levies. And the reaction force he'd included in his plan would not be able to be much larger than the main team anyway due to the small space available on the boats. All they would be able to do is possibly provide cover while the main team withdrew.

"Look, this mission is essentially peaceful. The team is being sent into what is apparently no mans land and will then conduct negotiations with what is, according to the best available intelligence, a friendly force. If it comes to combat, I doubt very much that it would be wise to try to fight back at all, this is why only small arms should be taken. Six people against even just the soviet element of the settlement are unlikely to be very successful. If they get the chance to mobilise even just a dozen or so more, then there is a good chance the team would be wiped out."

And against a BTR, 40mm grenades had proved effective in the past. Besides, hadn't he suggested that if it came to it, they were to break contact rather than stand and fight?
This message was last edited by the player at 11:41, Wed 23 Apr 2008.

Andy watched the rain lashing against the glass that remained in the big house's windows. As a child he'd been fascinated by the wey that raindrops raced each othe down the panes. This rain was too heavy for that sort of liesurley pursuit, it slammed and bounced on the panes like a manically tatoo by a drunken corps of drums. He wondered what was going on at the base and how soon they'd be together again.

"You don't tell the chef how to cook." Lee says to Belanger. "UBC authority shouldn't mean directing the tactical actions of the team. You provide an objective and the team accomplishes the mission. Lt Jagelis has been given command of the unit obviously since his brigade trusts him enough to make small unit decisions just like any other platoon commander in the field. If DRI teams needed such direct control by higher powers they'd wouldn't send a lieutenant and a sergeant for a five man team."

"You are overbearing. Your talk almost seems to me as if you are responsible for what happened at the park. That it was punishment for not following your advice... "we all know what happened the last time you didn't listen to us..." I'm starting to think a similar situation is going to happen this time too, for that reason alone. For not following the UBC's railroading leadership." Lee continues.

"From the minute we stepped off the boat you have been criticizing Ben's decisions, and trying to dictate each decision yourself. Always pointing out the "consequences" that appear for not doing things your way. Only since getting off the boat, morale has plummeted." Crossing her arms, Lee waits for Belanger's expected response.

Fox leans back and gives a subtle smirk and raised eyebrow to Ben. He thought somebody around here might blow, but hadn't figured Lee to be the first.

"Need our LAV back." he says to himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:23, Wed 23 Apr 2008.

"With them here, leftenant?  Nae, but for you to push rank in my face?  I am wonderin and wonderin about you know.  I ain't in this day an age jus gonna shut up and soldier, so can address me, an leave rank in the dirt, or I can hike my arse home.  Sir."

*she growls to herself and fumbles for a cigarette*

"An tell me, if we are worried about safety and retreats.. then why we movin to a place by boat, where as you point out if we attacked we can be sunk easy easy, but that means if we have to retreats... then we can be sunk easy easy.. or be crushed with our backs to thae water?  I don't like a bit havin no retreat,  not rattlin no sabers nearby these folks at all.  This part of the mission, it's nae a military op, it politickin.

*She lights the cigarette and inhales deeply, looking at the pack and shaking her head, she knew her accent came out but she also knew it was most likely when she was agitated.*

He laughed.

"Rachel, someone orders a steak, they usually say how they want it cooked, and if it's not done to their satisfaction, it gets sent back to be done right."

"I agree, our leftenant here does seem to be quite superfluous in this situation. Although, I was led to believe that more personnel would arrive, like the ones that did yesterday, so the implication of mismatched rank becomes clearer."

"Regardless, you are here under the agreement that you will follow local direction."



The UBC personnel present looked around at each other, in concern or confusion. What was going on here?

Raising an eyebrow to math Fox's, he remained calm. "I won't dignify that with a response."

"I do understand that you've had a hard time lately, and I sympathise. A vacation might do you a lot of good, you know."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:34, Wed 23 Apr 2008.

"I agree, the initial prognosis is good. Let's not start things off with false pretenses."

"If they are friendly, calling in a "dummy" meeting place, and then a "real" meeting place, would seem rather suspicious to anyone, and difficult to explain."

"If they're not friendly, it's best to know about it beforehand."

"Are you going to make the call?"

"Are we ready to make our transmission?"

The storm looked like it was losing steam, but then started to pick up again.

Unseen in the clouds, lightning and thunder crashed.

Up on the North Shore, the snow turned to rain, leaving a slippery slush on the ground.

The solid cedar timbers of the massive house creaked in the wind.

Not shivering any more, Mac picked up a VHS case from the stained carpet. It was with some other discarded tapes and music CDs.

"Ooo! Titanic. Kate Winslet's hot. Wonder what she's doing now?"


[OOC: Doing a little research, I see that DVDs would have been unavailable during the war and VHS would still be king!]

"I don't know," Andy replied, "but I hope that little fag DeCaprio got on the wrong end of some Commie lead. Kate broke the cardinal rule, never take a leading lady role in a film where the leading man looks prettier than you. Still, at least all the crappy films on video will have degraded in about twenty more years. Think of it, a world where Stallone never existed."

Why don't we invite them to come over here instead? After all we'll be playin' at home...

Fingers could be heard taping the wood.

"From what I understand, often the place where negotiations are held are also negotiated.  Not dictated."

Veins stood out on Ben's forehead, and his face got red.

"Now just wait a fucking minute. As long as I'm in command here, I will make the decisions. Not you, Private," he snarled at Kelsey, "and certainly not an amateur like you, Belanger. But I'll tell you what. You want to make the call? Then do it yourself, I quit."

"I think Lee's right. I think you did somehow have a hand in fucking us over at the Park. Or one of the communist sympathizers you have living here in luxury got a message to them."

"I'm done here. I'm heading back to the billet, and I'm going to take some time off, and when that's done maybe there'll be something worthwhile doing, like shooting fucking reds over on the Island or up in the Yukon. Instead of listening to their bullshit," he indicated Taras with his chin, "or negotiating with them, like his ass-buddy up in Horseshoe Bay."

He grabbed his weapon and kit and stormed out, waiting for a moment in the foyer to see if anyone followed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:39, Fri 25 Apr 2008.

Fox looked at Ben leaving, weighing his options.

"Fuck it, I just work here. Call them, don't call them. Come, stay, lay or pray, whatever happens it's all the same to me."

He sat back and tried to appear relaxed, sipping a canteen cup of powdered hot chocolate.

Watching the briefing blow up, Belanger muttered and shook his head. "Magnifique, c'est la guerre."

In a louder voice he answered Ben. "For your information, leftenant, I didn't get my airborne tattoo from collecting cereal box tops but by jumping out of perfectly good airplanes, like you. I was a Major in the Van Doos when I got out in '85. So I'm not talking out my ass, here. I've been reassured by your command that reactivating my commission is still on the table, but so far I've refused."

"Sergeant Fox, it seems you're in tactical command of this unit now."

"Okay then, Champlain, please make the call. Taras, talk to them and see where they want to meet. Here is fine, or they can pick a spot. We've planned on the North Shore, so we can meet on their turf if they like."

"Corporal Lee, anything to add? Any charges you want laid? Treason? Attempted murder? Conspiracy to commit homicide on a police officer?"

She slumped down in the office chair she was sitting in, not meeting his eyes for a moment.

"No sir... I admit I was out of line. I apologize for my outburst. Getting set on fire was pretty traumatic, but that was still uncalled-for."

"I think I will take some time off myself. After we get done with the North Shore."

*She glances around, making sure nobody else had any input, then chuckles, setting up the frequency, she gets the mic handy and turns*

"Ready when you are... damn.. I can't believe he threw a hissy fit, I wonder if he is gay.. gay men can be like that when they don't get their way."

[OOC: Priceless!]

"Hey, I like Stallone! Look, here's Cobra!"

He laughed, picking up the video box, soggy cardboard mildewing and falling apart. He read, "Crime is a Disease. Meet the cure."

"But then again, there'd be no more Ah-nold."

"RRRhun! Get to se Choppah!"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:08, Fri 25 Apr 2008.

After the outburst and shock Taras paid attention to Belanger words. Once it was clear that radio contact will be made he tried to find out the best way to proceed:

Belanger...I suggest to make radio contact around twenty minutes after five. It is almost time but we have enough to prepare a message. I really want to have their boss on line. Bulat follows the muslim traditions. He will be conducting Salaat or praying and the first prayer is at five, more or less. Maybe is a small detail but I wouldn't like to interrupt his rituals...

He made a pause. Many pictures crossed his mind. He tried to focus in the task.

I'll be clear on this. This people up there have a good deal of weapons and means of living...Enough as not to be in desperate need to cooperate with us. But I also believe that somehow they want to live in peace. I have an idea. If contact is positive I will tell Bulat that we have a meeting with the Council and several representatives of the local government, RCMP, CF and native population will be present and he will be invited to join the reconstruction program. If he prefers to meet in their territory first, we can do that right away. We'll be giving options.

"Okay, good idea, give them some options."

"Champlain, you're the signaller, anything to add?"

Coming up on five, the club's chef started to get an early breakfast together.

The club building, built with central heating in mind, was cool in the pre-dawn darkness. A dark-haired teenaged boy, part of the families that ran the marina, stoked the ashes in the fireplace of the lounge where the team and the support personnel were gathered.

The odd peal of thunder rumbled, off in the distance.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:35, Fri 25 Apr 2008.

Andy chuckled, "Yeah, I heard once that Arnie and Sly were going to do a picture about the relationships between two famous Classical composers, in the cast ing meeting Sly really wanted to be Motzart, Arnie agreed and said, "I'll be Bach.""

He paused to check outside, "Crazy Americans, I'd bet that Sly or Arnie would have ended up in politics. Can you imagine a place run by Arnie?"

*She is about to say something, and she pauses, letting that thunder be heard*

"That storm will mess with the radios, so if it shows signs of picking up, or still being with them, we wait.  I suggest that we do it as a repeating message, maybe asking for your friend, pause about two minutes, then broadcast two.  If we can tape it, better, but live will be fine, it just depends on how quickly they respond.  We can always broadcast a repeating message on one channel, which tells them which one we are monitoring.

Very well, Champlain.

The coffee was not too bad. The rain was getting a bit in the nerves though. Shevchenko couldn't help but think about the snipers left out in the cold.

We shall prepare also the exfiltration of our guys up there. As soon as we get an answer we have to start planning the evacuation. They are doing a superb job. I believe they will be in need of a good rest.

The dawn over the English Bay was a beautiful spectacle. Seagulls could be seen dancing in the sky with the mountains known as "Two Lions" in the background.

*She nods and tunes the spare radio to the team*

"Weather seems good.. so ready when you are.."

She goes ahead and contacts the team, letting them know what is up.. in code, of course

"Ruby-1, Ruby-1, this is Amber-1, confirm charlie in 30 mikes, then Echo Echo, flash to reply."

She likeways sends a runner to get the extraction ready
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:01, Sun 27 Apr 2008.

Ka-BOOM!  The thunder shook Retsumeikan House, where Clarke was staying.  She sat bolt-upright in bed, wakened immediately from a sound sleep.  She panted for a moment, getting her bearings.  She was in a Japanese-style house at the Uni.  She’d arrived at her new post yesterday and met with the Council.

For a moment she wondered if there was any point to trying to go back to sleep.  Almost on cue, the alarm clock beside her started to beep.  She reached over and slapped it, then regretted it.  She was a guest here.  It wouldn’t do to go smashing an alarm clock the first morning.  She gave it a look.  Fortunately, alarm clocks were meant to take a beating.  This one seemed unscathed.

There was a tap at the screen.  “Enter,” Clarke said.  A young woman slid the panel open and brought in a tea set.  There were also some pastries, fruit and a boiled egg. “Kyoko-chan, could you have my car brought to the front? I’ll be leaving as soon as I’m done with breakfast and dressed.”

“Of course, Commander.  I’ll see to it right away,” the other woman replied.

“My apologies you had to be up so early this morning,” Clarke said as Kyoko left.

Kyoko smiled as she prepared to close the panel.  “It is nothing, Clarke-sama.”

Clarke ate, cleaned up, dressed and was at the front of the house a little after 0500.  The storm’s fury had subsided but she could see the streets were flooded.  A damp-looking young man was getting out of the SUV as she came out to the drive-through.

“Thanks for bringing this around,” she said as she climbed in.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered.

Clarke smiled to herself.  “Bet he’s back in bed five minutes after I leave,” she thought to herself.

It would normally be a ten-minute drive down SE Marine Drive to the clubhouse of the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club.  She took it a little slower going down through the flooded streets, past the checkpoint, and down Arbutus to the Marina.  By the time she had arrived and parked the SUV, it was getting close to 0530.  She walked to the front of the Yacht Club and into the foyer.

The first thing she encountered was a pissed-off looking Leftenant in the foyer.  “Has to be Jagelis,” she told herself.  She’d had some comments about him from Angela Kwan.  He growled something unintelligible and stormed out into the slackening rain.

“Looks like a good time to sit back and watch the fun,” she thought to herself.  That had been the plan, after all.  Observe the situation before deciding if there were any actions she needed to take with the team herself.

When she walked in, Belenger was directing Fox to take over command of the mission.  It looked like Taras was talking to a woman next to two radios – that would be Kelsey.  A few other soldiers were waiting for the briefing meeting to break up.  There was obvious tension in the air.  She heard a couple of the men crack jokes about movie personalities, trying to break the tension.

"Ruby-1, Ruby-1, this is Amber-1, confirm charlie in 30 mikes, then Echo Echo, flash to reply."

"Hey, that's us!"

He grabbed the radio handset and keyed down.

"Ahhhh, Amber-1, Ruby-1. Be advised we have good copy. Break. Will key down three times if unable to speak. Over."


He finished up the radio check with a SITREP, then signed off.

[OOC: Sorry if that was a little truncated, we might as well get on with the show!"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:12, Sun 27 Apr 2008.

Approaching 0530, dawn was still over an hour away. However, the masses of cumulonimbus clouds had fled inland, leaving a clear sky glowing in the west with the coming of the sun. White snow caps, visible in the lightening purple-blue sky, covered the North Shore mountains.

LT Jagelis had mumbled a greeting to Lt Cdr Sullivan when she came in, but it was obvious that he was physically and emotionally drained. His left arm was heavily bandaged as well. A UBC Militia drove Jagelis back to the Uni, where he crashed out on his bed in the apartment in Ritsumeikan House. A couple days off would do him a lot of good, then he'd see what the future held in store.

At the Marina, breakfast quesadillas were being served. People from the UBC reaction team and the Militia crew of the boats were getting ready for action. Weapons amd radios were checked, engines turned over to make sure they would start immediately.

Up on the North Shore, Mac and Andy relayed the signals from the marina to Horseshoe Bay. Transmitting on the VHF Police bands, direct transmission was blocked by the flank of Black Mountain, but the PRC-77 could monitor the local radio net.

The general plan was for Kelsey to call up Horseshoe Bay (really, the district of West Vancouver) and then see if Bulat wanted to talk to Taras. They would keep it loose, and try and arrange a meeting wherever people felt comfortable.

"Flash traffic roger, tree break confirm, good luck, lima oscar victor echo ruby1, out.



OOC:  Yes, Tree, not Three.  and she said 'L-O-V-E Ruby1 element' cause she is Kelsey

Kelsey cranks up the big boy, script at hand, the crumbs of a damn tasty quesadilla just a bit from that, a slightly crumpled cigarette dangling from her knuckle.  She gives Taras a thumbs up, then she que's the mike, taking a deep breath she speaks:


"Horseshoe Bay, Horseshoe Bay, good morning.  This is Kelsey Champlain representing civil forces of the University of Brittish Columbia reconstruction team.  We wish to chat, chat only.  We understand that Mr Bulat Ismailovitch Shailin is there with you, and our own Mr Taras Vladimirovich Shevchenko wishes to speak with him, please reply.  Message repeat two times.

*Kelsey repeats the message as promised two times, then with a nervous look to the room, she takes a long shuddering drag from her twisted cigarette.*
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:33, Mon 28 Apr 2008.

When Kelsey looked up, a woman she hadn't seen come in gave her a thumbs-up.  The woman was wearing rank marks of a Lt Cmdr. The LC didn't say anything, however, just crossed her arms and settled back into the chair she'd been sitting in, near Belanger.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:34, Mon 28 Apr 2008.

Whether that registered or not with the last hour of so's tension, is hard to tell.  Actually, no, it was easy.. all Kelsey really saw was a thumb, not the rank.  Maybe that is part of her charm, when she looks at someone, she looks at their eyes, not their shoulders (unless they have a nice set of boobies, then it might drop farther!)

I don't know, some 40-ish women have very nice boobies.  In fatigues, might be hard to tell.  Anyway, the woman had a warm, open expression.  She seemed to simply be sitting back and watching what was going on.

Well, looks like we have a visitor here!

The attention of the room turned towards the new arrival. It was believed that an Intelligence Officer was in the way to help with the mission. Certainly a very good idea concocted by the Council and military HQ. Taras was surprised initially that the officer in question was a woman, and a very good looking one by the way. On a second thought, he realized that the hand of Ms Kwan was heavier than he though and bringing some gender balance was another hat trick of the brilliant Professor.

Good Morning, Officer. My name is Taras Vladimirovich Shevchenko. Welcome to Vancouver!

The woman stood up from her chair, walked over and offered her hand.  "Good morning to you, Taras.  I'm Lt. Cmd. Andrea Clarke-Sullivan, Intellegence.  Most people call me 'Clarke'.  I got used to going by my maiden name when I was enlisted, and just never changed when I got married."

Please to meet you, Clarke. Here is part of the team that will be working with you. 

Shevchenko looked around wating for the rest of the team to introduce themshelves.

*The Blonde at the radio looks back and smirks at the new arrival*

"Kelsey, sorry to hear about your condition"

*She winks, then frowns at the static in her headset, holding one side closer to her ear as she concentrates*

Clarke raises an eyebrow.  "Condition?"

*Kelsey frowns a moment, listening to the radio, then registers the comment and grins*

"Heterosexuality"

*Taras felt embarrased and furious at the same time. Since the arrival of the troops from the Island in the GB "Church" nothing appeared to resemble discipline, respect and cohesion. The behaviour of the radio operator was disrespectul towards to the superior officer and distasteful in any case. He couldn't avoid a frozen expression on his face. A motley crew was not the right place to work. He was hoping for a strong response from the Naval Officer.*

"To each her own, Private," Clarke answered.  "Respect for each other's differences is a hallmark of our democracy, wouldn't you say?" She held our her hand.  "To whom do I have the pleasure?"

Clarke saw the look of shock on Taras' face, while Kelsey wasn't watching that closely.  She gave him an "I'll take care of this" wink.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:03, Mon 28 Apr 2008.

*Kelsey turns back slowly, apparently impressed by her poise, then grins, her hands a little busy holding a headset to her head.  Private.. well, she didn't wear rank.. hell, right now she is just wearing a sweater and fatigue pants, she guesses she already knows who she is.  You know how it is in a field op.. no one wears a proper uniform, and privates don't have any rank to wear anyway.*

"I am betting you already know, ma'm, you gave it away."

The radio crackled, and the response was "Ah, this is Horseshoe Bay, we read you! Great to hear from you. Please stand by."

After a moment, they continued.

"Mr. Shailin says he remembers his friend "Taras Vladimirovich" and would love to speak to him. Also, the Mayor of West Vancouver would like to speak to you when convenient."

*Kelsey slams her hand on the desk and whoops out loudly, standing and holding the mic*

"Roger that, Horseshoe Bay!" *She couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice*  "Lt Taras!"

Clarke smiled warmly.  "I suppose I just did, Kelsey.  I've heard good things about you."  Clarke's voice was soft and melodious, but even at low volume her diction was so perfect every word could be understood.  It was a voice that didn't need to shout or threaten to exude command.

She stepped back.  It looked like the other woman was pretty busy.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:20, Mon 28 Apr 2008.

Clarke beamed at the excited Comms.  "Very good, Pvt. Champlain," she said.  She went back to her chair and sat down, leaving "center stage" to Taras and Kelsey.

What do we have, Champlain?

For once he felt that something good could be achieved at last. The expresion in the face of the radio operator while listening through the headset was positive.

Maybe this woman is a good omen after all... The thought lingered for a while and then dissapeared.

Taras moved quickly towards the radio set. He quickly produced a pen and notebook from his pocket.

Ready for action!

Horseshoe Bay el-tee!

She turns over the mic, putting the communications on loudspeaker for everyone

Key it here. She says softly, showing him how to use the external base mic.

In the predawn, the recce element ("Ruby-1") redeployed to an overwatch position above the town for when radio contact was established. If nothing else, it would improve their radio contact with the Marina, "Topaz".

When the broadcast was made, they were in position to monitor the town and the approaches to Whiskey Cove, although from their current position they would be too far to effectively intervene and would have to relocate to provide direct cover to the proposed landing site.

Lee and Fox greeted the LT. CDR as she made their aquaintance, as did Belanger and the leader of the UBC reaction team that was  there to provide them support.

Seeing Champlain's somewhat cheeky comment to the ranking officer hadn't set her off, Fox still felt he had to comment. "Yes, let's recall that we are not to discriminate against anyone based on race, creed or sexual orientation. I for one as a conservative heterosexual male have often felt the lash of prejudice, and I deeply feel the pain felt by others."

There were chuckles, as there was a grain of truth about his comment in predominantly socially liberal Canada. Thankfully, of the social and ideological cultural wars that raged to the south in the USA was largely (but not completely) absent.

Horseshoe Bay indicated they were standing by for Sr. LT Shevchenko's transmission.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:18, Tue 29 Apr 2008.

Andy and Chris humped across country yet again. The got into position to keep an eye on the occupants of Horseshoe bay and waited for the rdaio boffins to make contact.

"Well, her heart's in the right place, even if her mouth is out of line," Clarke said.  "There have been some moral issues lately.  I'm here to change that."

This message was last edited by the player at 14:32, Mon 28 Apr 2008.

Lt. Shevchenko quickly grabbed the mic.

"Greetings North Shore! This is Taras Vladimirovich speaking...transmitting from the provisional seat of the Government in the University...We are willing to contact you and invite you to be part of the plan to return the city to normal life..."

The unscripted message was unfolding with enthusiasm.

"If you are willing to cooperate we can offer you medical, education, security support...We have full support of the miltary forces and the capital..."

Before going any further Taras needed to hear some response. He released the button and look over the shoulder to the faces of the rest of team in expectation.

Clarke glanced at Belanger.  This was his baby, but so far so good as far as she could tell.

*Kelsey stands by the radio, obviously excited now, looking around the room once, and then back to the set, her mind focused on this important mission.*

Andy and Mac could see little overt activity in town. The Russian NCO was apparently still inside his billet, the radio waves didn't go berserk.

It was clear to Andy from the delays in reply that it wasn't like they were standing by to receive this broadcast, but by the same token they didn't seem all that surprised, either.

---

"Please stand by..."

There was a few more minutes of waiting as things got sorted out on the other end.

"Ah, the Mayor isn't really awake yet but let me pass on her greetings and I'm sure she'll want to speak with you within the hour. However, Mr. Shailin is eager to speak. Wait one."

After a moment, a voice with a thick accent came on the line.

"Taras Vladimirovich? This is Bulat Izmailivitch! Old friend... is wery good to hear you! What storms we have had, yes?"

Bulat was assimilating nicely; like native Canadians, he was obsessed with the weather.

"Am being sure that Mayor will accept assistance with all great enthusiasms."

"Would be... she would be wanting meeting to discuss... much benefit of cooperation with government forces."

"Will be switch to Russian. For me, easy to talk."

His voice switched to a Russian that was arguably equally tortuous as his English, although smoother and easier on Taras' ear.

"Bulat Vladimirovich, I have question for you. Did something happen with Stickmen in Park night before last? I ask because people here are very concerned about them. The Stickmen burned down their village in retaliation some months back, and they are concerned that if the Stickmen think they had involvement in this latest clash, there will be further reprisal."

"Also, do you by chance have some kind of Razvedchiki (reconnaissance scouts) in the area? We believe that two individuals have been keeping us under surveillance. I was asked to "deal" with the potential threat by the local security forces but am reluctant to do so, as they do not appear to be an unknown quantity, not Stickmen."

By concentrating, Clarke could follow along with the voice on the speaker, barely.

[OOC: Unfortunately, Andy doesn't speak Russian.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:13, Tue 29 Apr 2008.

Clarke looked at Taras. "Lt. Taras, please confirm the Razvedchiki are ours.  We would appreciate if they let us deal with them," she said in Russian.  "As for the park incident with the Stickmen, that is something we'd like to discuss, including how to best protect the citizens in his area."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:11, Tue 29 Apr 2008.

My dear friend Bulat!...Yes, yes...As I said the military is with us and a couple of the guys is up there taking a look at the situation. They certainly spot your people and that was the reason to contact you! What a great surprise!

Taras was speaking slowly so the Intel Officer could get a hold of the tone and content of the conversation. Nevertheless, at the same time he was taking notes not to miss any point for further translation.

...but you may understand that we cannot talk much on the radio about this or what happened in the Park. We shall meet as soon as possible. You are invited to come to the University and meet the people here. There are very nice and as I said we are willing to help you...The scout party is being retrieved. Will you like to come today?

Clarke thought Lt. Taras was very cool under the circumstances.  Perhaps she had overstepped by jumping in.  She looked up at Belanger.  "From what Taras is saying to Shailin, his people up there are in touch with the locals and helping provide security.  Looks like establishing contact with him will kill two birds with one stone.  We also need to call in the recce patrol.  Shailin's people have spotted them.  They won't do anything, but it's best to get our guys out of the area."

She looked back at Taras.  "I'm impressed with Lt. Taras.  He handled that very well.  It's also good to see Pvt. Champlain making an effort to cooperate.  I'd like to talk to you about why Mr. Jagelis took his leave.

"Taras Vladimirovich, these are military scouts? Yes of course, the Stickmen do not use rifles! That we know of."

"You may withdraw them if you wish, they are of less concern now as they are no longer an unknown quantity. We have been tracking them using electro-optical and thermo-graph equipment."

"You may come here, the Mayor could go there (and bring me along if she wishes). Whichever you prefer."

This was Bulat's preferred style of maskirovka, even in conversation; he was actually saying a lot more than he seemed to be, and would give up information only in exchange for other information.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:24, Tue 29 Apr 2008.

Very well...It is the wish of the Council to invite and meet the Mayor as you can imagine. I'm also willing to meet you, my friend...We can be there to pick up the boys in a few hours and then you and the Mayor can come over here . Maybe you can pay lunch and I'll pay dinner!

Shevchenko, knowing old fox Bulat, tried to dig up some common good times in the pasr to re assure confidence on the other side.

Ah Bulat, I can still picture your face back in Sukhumi when that monkey scare the shit out of you! Ha, ha, ha...

Clarke hastily translated for Kelsey, standing by the other radio with Andy and Chris.  She was glad Taras was taking it slow, it gave her a chance to figure out what he was saying.  "Taras is telling Shailin we'll pick up the recce team in a few hours... he's setting up a meeting later with Shailin and the Mayor from up there..." she had a puzzled expression for a moment. "Monkeys?... well, anyway, Pvt. Champlain, I'm sure you can take it from here."

She got herself a cup of coffee and sat down, thinking.  It sounded like Shailin wanted assurance of his own safety for the meeting.  Taras seemed to be suggesting they'd meet him half-way.  The CF would come to get their people, meet him and the Mayor, then escort the combined party to the UCB to meet the council.  Good plan.  She was more impressed by Taras the more she listened to him.

There was still much she found disturbing.  The mention of the Stickmen, the failed recce of the park, the trouble it might cause.  That last bit was the worse.  Clarke shook her head and sipped her coffee.  "Not even my through my first cup, and I'm ready to trade it in for a whiskey sour," she thought to herself.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:41, Wed 30 Apr 2008.

*All business with peoples lives on the line*

"Right ma'm, I'll tell them two hours at the last reconned extraction point."

*She checks and does a test break to alert the team on the second radio*

"Ruby 1, Ruby 1, Amber 1.. over.  Ruby 1, Ruby 1, Amber 1.. over."
After acknowledgement she gives the instructions
"Ruby 1, advise you have wun hundred twun-tee mikes to Romeo with Topaz, location unchanged.  Repeat  romeo with topaz at location unchanged in two hotels."
*After acknowledgement*
"Roger Ruby 1, good luck.  Lima Oscar Victor Echo, Amber 1 out"

*of course, she would contact the boats to get on the same timetable*

"Good job, Pvt.," Clarke said.  These two certainly seemed capable of doing their jobs.  So what had been stopping them before?  She looked at the door to the foyer, where she'd last seen Lt. Jagelis.  To Belanger, in French, "We do need to talk.  Something is not right here."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:38, Wed 30 Apr 2008.

*She looks up, about to set up the pickup, she frowns.. private.. is all this woman sees is rank?  Damned if she was going to spend the rest of her life being called 'private'*

"Kelsey ma'm, or Champlain, I prefer Kelsey"

Clarke smiled.  "Kelsey it is, then.  I hate to assume familiarity.  You deserve more respect than that."

"Yes, that was funny! Those Armenian... "nurses"... and that vodka didn't help. Good times, my friend, good times."

"We will wait for your arrival and not be concerned with your Razvedchiki. Will you be coming by the south entry points or the harbour?"

Belanger answered her Acadian French with his Quebecois, "What do you mean? I don't understand Russian."

The CF personnel could understand French, but probably none of the civilians out here unless they, too, were from Quebec or the Maritimes.

"They're fine," she indicated Taras and Kelsey. "but... why not befo.. eh, I need to listen to this. She squeezed Belanger's hand.  "After, OK?"

Paying detailed attention to the crackling voice pouring out of the speaker.

Will go to the harbour. We'll make radio contact in this frequency when we get ready to go...

Taras waited for the confirmation. It came shortly after. He didn't waste time this time and addresed the whole team:

Ok, people. I have a good impression on this. Now we need to bring some leverage here. I wanted to bring them back with the recce team so Bulat will have the opportunity to scold the snipers. He loves to do that. He is a Sargent. Let him gain some confidence. Before they disembark in the Marina we need to have an escort of vehicles and we need to move that Infantry Fighting Vehicle out of the garage and put it near the road for them to see. We saw their BTR and we have to show our Queen maybe with some good looking militia and even the plamya .

Regarding the negotiations we are going to keep options open. We start with the fact that return to normal life is unstoppable and is only a matter of time. We propose what we have to offer and we show what they have to lose. We'll show them what are the benefits of cooperating with the Government and then they will have to make up their minds. The balance is in our favor. I'm fully confident.

Shevchenko made a pause and look at Clarke. He remembered her worries.

...Stanley Park...Best course of action is to tell the truth and put all the blame on the bad tactical decisions of the Lieutenant, which by the way...is being replaced. The stickmen is now a common enemy...of course.

After letting sink the words for a while, Taras inquired:

Any questions or suggestions?

Clarke didn't speak while Lt. Taras had his say.  She took a breath and stood a little straighter.

"As for a return to normalicy, it sounds like he's half-way there already.  Unless he's got some hold on the mayor, he's already working with the people up there and providing security.  Otherwise, why would he relay their concerns about the Stickmen?  She paused to let that sink in.  "I think you are correct about a show of force, but maybe not for the same reason.  We need to show him a strong ally, more than a force that can resist him if he won't play ball.

She waited to see if Taras had any comments or questions of his own.  "So, Stanley Park - that was one person's bad tactical decision?  I would like more detail on this.  Makes sense, really.  I wondered why you she indicated Taras and Kelsey "were so obviously compitent today, but things had gone badly in the past.  What was stopping you?  She looked at the foyer.  "Now it makes sense."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:12, Wed 30 Apr 2008.

The general plan was to withdraw the snipers for pickup at Whiskey Cover at 0730. At the same time, another boat would head to Horseshoe Bay to pick up the VIPs for transport back to UBC.

"That sounds good, my friend. I shall remind the Mayor to call you when she's more awake."

It was coming on 0600, and the sky was getting noticeably lighter in the west.

Weary, wet, cold and tired, Andy and Chris up sticks again and tramped the now familiar route back to Whiskey Cove to await pickup.

"Thank you ma'm, that is respect to me, means you know who I am."

Clarke laughed, her eyes twinkling.  "Private or Kelsey, I could never miss who you are."

Clarke laughed, her eyes twinkling.  "Private or Kelsey, I could never miss who you are."
</quote>


*She glances at Talas a moment, she had picked up on his anger at her attitude but she wasn't crumpling to it*

"I outgrew private years ago, but thank you.  I wasn't kidding about the shame part a bit, ma'm.  I'll just have to trim my roses where I may"

*She glances at Talas a moment, she had picked up on his anger at her attitude but she wasn't crumpling to it*

"I outgrew private years ago, but thank you.  I wasn't kidding about the shame part a bit, ma'm.  I'll just have to trim my roses where I may"
</quote>
She shook her head.  "You really take me back.  I can remember being a boatswain's mate and getting just the opposite kind of flack.  No one believed I was straight."

Clarke saw Kelsey look at Taras.  "You're an excellent soldier, Kelsey.  Your words should reflect that as strongly as your actions."   She looked at Taras herself for a moment, and then back at Kelsey.  "Lt. Taras is saying the Lion's Gate Bridge fiasco was a tactical error on Lt. Jagelis' part, and he should bear the brunt of responsibility.  What is your opionion?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:54, Wed 30 Apr 2008.

This message was deleted by the player at 01:10, Thu 01 May 2008.

Casting a gimlet eye Fox chimed in dryly, "yes, and let's all bear in mind any roses that need trimming can't be planted in one's chain of command."

He smiled. "Still, keep up the good work, Champlain."

At the mention of Stanley Park, Fox spoke up.

"Well, I accept my share of responsibility for that. I saw the terrain was against us but didn't advise we try in a better spot. It was my fault for not advising the LT better in that situation, even if my advice may or may not have been taken."

"When the taunting started we should have acted like we were under actual attack as per the ROEs and acted accordingly, instead of waiting for a physical attack. After all, we were in an area controlled by known or suspected hostiles. This confusion stems from the fact that we're operating in the grey area between military and civil operations, not quite sure when to react with force or not. It's not a combat zone like northern BC but not quite a rear area like the provincial capital in Duncan. The next time in another part of the city, shooting first may not be appropriate."

"I will point out that Kelsey providing suppressive fire and then popping smoke at Taras' suggestion were decisive actions that allowed us to withdraw without anything more than minor casualties."

"Moving forward, in the future we should try to be more aware of what an appropriate response will be in a given area. For example, let's give some general guidelines for operating in communities like Horseshoe Bay, whom we believe to be friendly, which will be different than Stanley Park, which we know is not. Then there's the Airport which is an unknown, New West, the "free market" on Annacis Island, the fishing village in southern Richmond, the friendly neighborhoods around here in Kitsilano, and so on."

"We don't need a big colour-coded board like this is the Republic of South Vietnam charting community allegiances and dictating allowed responses. Prior to travel or operations some guidelines just need to be laid down ahead of time so we're not making it up on the spot."
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:48, Thu 01 May 2008.

"It takes a lot of courage to accept your failings, Sgt. Fox, Clarke said.  "It's much easier to lay the blame on someone else.  She glanced at Taras.  "You said something about being in an area controled by known or suspected hostiles.  That's rather vague.  I'm looking for specifics.  Can you please tell me on what information you based that assumption?"

*She shrugs a little*

"Believe it or not, me being gay has not been an issue.. being a private for over four years grates on me, didn't matter so much part-time, but now.. well, it's not my personal identity, ma'm"



"Honestly ma'm, I didn't understand at all what we were doing there and how. If the El Tee says that it was a tactical error, I trust his judgement.  I know it went down very very badly.  Ma'm.

Please, ladies and gentlemen...We all have a share of guilt of what happened in the Park. I knew that moving a patrol in an unknown area with zero previous intelligence was a wrong move. That is why I suggested originally to deploy the snipers in the North Shore and it paid off. The young Lieutenant showed little or no appretiation for any of the advice that was given and he paid dearly. But for the shake of the negotiations with Bulat we need to play this card. Any stickmen retaliation on the North Shore goes somehow against us. They can put some blame on us and we have to be ready for this. Blaming the lack of experience of the Lieutenant now that he's been replaced is harsh but necessary.

Overall we did the best we could. Bulat is also a soldier and I believe he will understand our position and the fact that now we share a common problem.

Taras looked at the female interchange in total astonishment.

I guess I could never understand the woman's mind...

"I'll give you that, Kelsey, four years is a long time to be a Private.  From everything I've seen and heard just since I've been here, your actions have been commendable."

Clarke shook her head.  "You don't have to call me 'ma'm' all the time.  'Clarke' is OK too.  I'm just asking simple questions and so far I'm not getting any simple answers. I'm getting very tired of all the tap-dancing and double-talk."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:24, Thu 01 May 2008.

Clarke knew something wasn't right here.  One minute Taras wanted to throw Jagelis under the bus, the next he was tapdancing and backpedaling for all he was worth.  She could also tell she wasn't going to get anywhere pressing the matter further now.  It reminded her of that US Presidental crap, "Errors were made."  She just hoped what they weren't telling her now didn't blow up in their faces talking to Shailin.

Still, there were other matters to attend to.  "Lt. Taras, you had some reccomandations for preparing to receive the VIPs.  Perhaps we should scramble the boats to pick up them and the snipers, and get busy with what you suggested.

Belanger added, "there were warnings from different sources that there was serious opposition inside the park."

"My friend Shepherd, who lives downtown and knows what goes on there, said that a convoy got ambushed last summer. a couple of trucks, some technicals and motorcycle escorts got hit, 20 died, some not right away. Hung from the bridge like sides of beef in a slaughterhouse."

"This is common knowledge, I've heard this story told repeatedly from others living in the area who remember the events."

"Shepherd himself was warned off by them at the same time."

"Also, Shepherd says that there is a group of survivalists holed up in the Naval Cadet station, HCMS Discovery, on Deadman's Island. He rows out to trade with them on occasion, and they occasionally are harassed by the Stickmen."

"This is basically in my report, and of course you can interview Shepherd yourself for more in-depth information. My sources are your sources."

"We should look into getting you a computer and getting hooked up to the University network so you can have easy access to it. I'll see to it."

He paused.

"One other thing you all  no doubt are aware of, you all smelled gasoline and kerosine in those molotovs. Both are flammable liquids, neither smells like the other, so I'm inclined to believe that both were present."

"Those are really expensive fuels. I wonder where they got their hands on them?"


[OOC: this information, including everything else, is available in the Reference thread.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:49, Thu 01 May 2008.

Fox asked, "So Clarke, are you planning on following up on my request? That is, guidelines for behavior when we're on someone else's turf?"

"Are you telling me Jagelis was made aware of this information, and decided to conduct a recce of the park anyway?"Thank-you, that would be much appreciated.  It is difficult for an Intel Officer to function without adiquate informaiton.

Clarke paused for a moment.  "Hm, that does indicate that either they have a stockpile of fuel, or they are trading for supplies.  In either case it means they have valuables of one form or another in there.  I would like to interview Mr. Shepherd.  We should try to establish friendly relations with the survivalists, as we do have a mutual enemy in the Stickmen."

Clarke nodded and addressed Fox.  "By all means.  It is obvious your safety is at stake, and that should be paramount.  I'd suggest that the biggest difference is that ROE be escalated to a higher readiness to fire in areas of known agressors, while on the other hand civilian areas be treated with the strictest application possible."

"Yes, Jagelis was made fully aware of the threat."

"In fact, not to go over old news, but both Taras and I warned against any land recce of the park until at least the LAV was out of the shop. I suggested a visiual recce by water, which I think is still worth following up on."

"I will be glad to introduce you to him. Remarkable guy. It's possible that through him we may also get a line on if the Stickmen trade fule or other goods with other survivors in the West End, off their turf."

"I am on that, double time, you don't have to fuss about that"





OOC:  I am assuming that Kelsey did not know about the report that the park swallowed a 20 man team recently?  If she does, she is SOOOOO ratting him out.

Clarke crossed her arms and stood very still.  When she spoke her voice was very calm and soft.  "Thank-you for that information, Mr. Belanger.  That's what I was looking for.  When I came in, you had given Mr. Fox command of the current mission.  Do you wish to make that change permanent?"  She paused to give him a chance to respond.

After listening, she continued.  "I suggest we remove Mr. Jagelis immediately.  If at all possible he should be on his way back to the island before the VIP's arrive.  That is your decision, as you can better access the impact on moral for your personnel as well as mine.  In any case, we can inform Mr. Shailin and the Mayor that CRHQ considered this matter grave enough to remove the offending party from command and expedite the transfer of a senior intellegence officer to the theatre.  Again, releasing that information is at your discretion.  It is simply a suggestion on my part."

"Thank-you, Mr. Belanger.  I look forward to it.  I brought some trade goods with me.  I thought it might grease the wheels up here with establishing relations.  That may prove a correct assumption.

Belanger nodded.

"I think the good LT is going home soon. We could make it today."

"I would like to make the change permanent if Mr. Fox concurs."

"As for West Van... I don't see a need to air our dirty laundry like that. They don't need to know what a fuckup that was."

"Shepherd is the best source of information I have of what's going on in the downtown and West End and he's proven to be a good friend and valuable asset. He's a little squirrely, but I think that he won't turn down a few luxuries."

"Speaking of sources of information in the community, I know quite a few people living around here in Kits so nothing happens here in our "front yard" I don't know about. Also, a family that I'm on good terms with moved to New West a few weeks ago, which is the biggest community here in the Fraser Valley we know of. We could use them as a source of information there. I asked them to get in touch when they got settled-in but I've not heard from them yes."

"Lastly, the environmental sciences folk sent out a party to monitor river levels. I think they're upriver of New West, somewhere in Coquitlam. Their orders are to stay out sight and not draw attention to themselves and make weekly reports."

Belanger's official title at UBC was "Provost". This was generally considered a kind of administrative posting under the Chancellor of UBC (effectively, Angela Kwan) and the board of trustees (the Council). However, it also had a second meaning as a form of military police. In this case the position seemed to be a kind of security chief, overseeing the militia and gathering intelligence.


[OOC: Indeed, Kelsey did know of the warning beforehand. although the information is in the reference thread.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:54, Thu 01 May 2008.

Sergeant Fox looked a little ambivalent and surprised at his temporary promotion possibly being made permanent.

"Well, ah, let's just get through today. While this mission is different from what I've been doing until now, I get the feeling that maybe I could be doing more for the country doing what I do best. Long range reconnaissance and so on."

"I'd like a little time to think it over. Plus, this meet-and-greet thing is something we're going to be doing a lot of, so I'd like to see how I feel doing it before committing."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:01, Thu 01 May 2008.

"Your call, Mr. Belanger.  Shailin and the mayor want to be reasured that the incident on Lion's Gate Bridge won't be blamed on them.  We can give them that. For moral reasons, I think Jagelis should be medivac'd with all due speed.

As for Shepherd and the rest, a good network is an invaluable resource.  We'll work on that.  Trade goods should help.  More flies with honey and all that."

She turned to Fox.  "By all means, Mr. Fox, try your new role on for size and see if it fits."

"My apologies, Kelsey.  I'm more talking to get things moving than fussing.  I know you've got a handle on it, and Taras as well, I'm sure.  Sorry, I'm the one dragging her feet in this party.

*She looked glad when all the details on the intelligence came out, even adding to some of it.  Frankly, it this player had been in on this a little earlier, I would have seriously questioned that.. but I picked up the game with the landing, unfortunately.  Anyway, she looks glad, and even added a rumour or two that SHE heard*

"Thanks.. Clarke, you are a help.'

Clarke noted the shift from "ma'm" to "Clarke", and that Kelsey suddenly seemed in a better mood.  She smiled.  "You're welcome, Kelsey.  Thanks for your patience."

Belanger raised an eyebrow. "With all due respect, while we can certainly lay the blame for what happened at Stanly Park on the good LT's shoulders (both for political reasons and because it's true) it really depends on who the Stickmen blame for what happened. If I were them, I might think West Van was going for a Round 2, and obviously West Van thinks the same as well. Now, the Stickmen launching an effective terror attack against a community away from their home ground suggests thorough intelligence-gathering, organisation and ruthlessness."

"I haven't been able to develop any contacts in the Stickmen's camp so far. I don't want to risk it."

He looked at his watch.

"Still, it's getting close to Zero-Hour. I have to get back to UBC and brief the Chancellor and the Council, start making arrangements. Anything else you need me for, Clarke?"

"No, sir.  My apologies for taking up so much of your time.  See you at the port in a couple of hours.  Who will be deployed for the pick-up?"

Belanger smiled. "Certainly, no apologies necessary, Andrea. You can use whatever personnel you like. The whale watcher should hold your team, the VIPs and a 3-person crew. That leaves the 2 jetboats with our reaction team to respond from here."

"Sgt. Khandola should be arriving any time. He will carry out what you wish."

They arrived without incident. This time they set up in a different house in the same general area. They would be able to spot an approaching boat from quite a ways off.

The terrain was still quite wet, streams swollen with runoff. Water from leaking roofs had pooled on hardwood and slate tile floors.

Everywhere was a riot of green from lawns and landscaping gone riot, even starting to overgrow the homes in a few short years of neglect.

The instructions came, they were to wait for pickup at the RV point. They'd be shuttled to the small community to the north, still by boat, to pick up a few VIPs.

Then, they would head home for a well-needed shower, hot meal and probably a nap.

In the east the clearing sky continued to lighten, while more rain clouds gathered to the west above Vancouver Island.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:30, Fri 02 May 2008.

Clarke nodded to acknowlege Belanger and then turned back to her team.  "Kelsey, you've already got contact covered.  Lt. Taras, you're getting the reception underway?  Sgt. Fox, your recommendations for retreval and picking up the VIP's?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:35, Fri 02 May 2008.

I'm all ready to go, Ms. Clarke. You may consider to give the order to display the IFV somewhere along the road to the Council building and HQ. I'd also advice the TV crew to be ready. We may need them for an after meeting shot...

"Make it so, Lt. Taras.  It's your department.  The media may also want to cover the arrival of the dignatries, but I leave that at your discretion."