Double Dealing
To Konrad and Anneka's great consternation, Griet insisted upon going to town and attempting to negotiate a peaceful and relatively painless passage of the river. After saying her farewells, the chief petty officer summoned the bum boat and, aided by the Czech, carefully climbed aboard.
Griet sat quietly in the bum boat as it sped to the bank. She limped up the gangway, her throat dry with fear and anticipation. She was betting her life on her ability to talk the boat out of a potential death trap and given the fact that she couldn’t even convince her crew it was the right move, she was suddenly afraid she’d bitten off too much.
She hoped being wrong would be a short and painful lesson- if she was lucky; she tried not to think about what might be her fate if she was unlucky. She walked with her escort into the shelter of a bankside tavern, she took one last look at the Queen and mentally bade farewell to her home.
Inside, a medic, presumably, ordered her to strip to her undergarments and examined her thoroughly. Perhaps he lingered just a little too long here and there and perhaps he was just a little too thorough but Griet bore it stoically. After the examination she picked up her pistol belt and rolled it up carefully.
“Shall I leave this here?” she asked her escort, “I’m hardly going to take you all out with it and it’s dead weight if we’re going far.”
“I’ll carry it for you.” the escort offered.
“That’d be great, but wait a second, I’m pulling it out.” Griet opened the holster and ejected the magazine. She showed the full mag to her escort.
“There isn’t one in the chamber. Do you recognize the make? It was my Grandfather’s pistol, he was a Colonel in the Polish Army before the Germans invaded the last time. It’s a Wz35 Radom pistol. Probably the finest handgun in the world, I have three spare mags for it and I’d like to make a gift of it to the Hetman.”
The escort’s eyes widened, such pistols were prized indeed, “I’m sure the Boss will be very impressed,” he said.
OCC: With a few minor edits, the text above was written by Mark101.
Taking the pistol in hand, the escort and another man in Polish army fatigues led Griet out into the street and towards the center of town. After only a block or two walking over the cobblestones, Griet began to feel physically exhausted. She slowed noticeably and began to breath heavily. The escort stopped and helped her sit down on the curb, sending the other man to fetch a conveyance. He returned a few minutes later pushing an old wheelchair.
The subsequent ride was rather bumpy- probably more painful than walking- but instead of worrying about keeping her footing, Griet could concentrate on taking in the surroundings. Tarnobrzeg was an old, rustic town, with solid, quaint architecture predominating the further inland they moved. As they approached the town center, Griet noticed more and more civilians. All of them looked clean and well fed. For every two or three civilians, there was one IPAT soldier. They were clad in camouflage patterns from nearly every NATO and WARPACT nation and armed with almost equally varied set of weapons.
Passing close by to a parked OT64 wheeled APC, the trio emerged into the main town square. Dominating the square was a large central platform- like a gallows- atop which was mounted a crude metal cage. Inside were three men, all wearing bits and pieces of filthy, tattered Polish Army fatigues- far too little clothing for the recent near freezing temperatures. They all looked too downtrodden to care, unwashed hair and bruised faces. Civilians passed by, giving them a wide berth but otherwise ignoring them. Those that seemed to notice them at all, glanced at them with barely contained hatred. The cobblestones around the platform appeared splashed with dark stains. Several similarly stained wooden frames were placed at various points around the square. It all looked earily like an outdoor museum display of medieval torture devices.
They bumped along past the cage and headed for a three story building with a fairly ornate facade on the far side of the square. Hanging from a second story building was a large banner bearing a white angel, sword wielded in its right hand, on a background of maroon. Two guards, both wearing West German "flecktarn" camoflage and sporting maroon arm-bands, stood on either side of the front door. Griet had to get out of the wheelchair to climb the steps to the entrance.
Inside, the building was no less ornate. It's decor was somewhat happhazzard, with various older pieces of furniture seemingly recovered from various different buidlings placed about with amaturish flair. The escorts, holding on to both of Griet's arms, led her up a long stairway and to an office on the second floor. Another German guard stood sentry at the door. He stepped aside and the the escorts led Griet to a chair facing a large desk of dark, polished wood.
Sitting opposite Griet was a man somewhere in his mid to late forties. Grey stubble topped a wide, leathery face, pierced by bright blue eyes above a unremarkable nose and thick pink lips. The man was clad in American woodland pattern BDUs over which was draped a broad, maroon sash. An AKS-74U with a wide, cylindircal Bulgarian muzzle-brake lay conspicuously on one side of his desk.
"Welcome. Please have a seat. You speak English? Good. My Polish is not very good."
"I'm Major Richard Florek, Hetman of Tarnobrzeg. Do you know what a Hetman is? No? It is the traditional title of the leader of a Cossack warband. In 17th century Poland it was used to describe any officer of one of the semi-independent, semi-feudal armies."</i>
"“I’m sure you are aware that Poland used to be a more… multicultural nation-state. In the 16th century, Germans, Swedes, Lithuanians, Russians, Cossacks, even Tatars, lived here together in relative harmony. That was Poland’s 'Golden Peace'.
"She was a European superpower then, her legendary Winged Hussars were considered the finest cavalry on the continent. Her armies helped beat back the Muslim Ottoman hordes from Europe’s doorstep, effectively saving Christendom. That peace and prominence can be reestablished, given the right kind of organization and leadership. We- the IPAT is the English acronym- aim to do that, starting by bringing law and order back to this region. Once the destabilizing elements- marauders mostly, and communists, of course- are eradicated, that peace and prosperity can be restored. Poland will be ready for its Renaissance, and we will be its chief patrons.
Are you familiar with the Greek political theorist, Plato? He was a smart man. In his masterwork, the Republic, he proposes the ideal form of government. It’s not a democracy or, oddly enough, even a republic. He believed that the ideal government was what was later coined an enlightened despotism. Rule by philosopher-king. I am conducting my own little test of his hypothesis here, my own social and political experiment. I started with just an A-team. In just a few short months, we’ve created an army. We’ve liberated this town, rebuilt it. People- civilians- are flocking here from miles around. They appreciate what we have done, what we are still doing. They are true believers. They have a great deal of love and respect for me and my men. Our influence is spreading. Our agenda is becoming a movement.
"Now, here’s where you come in. Your boat represents a significant military asset. With it, we could pacify the river and reclaim the other nearby towns that have been overrun or abandoned. We’re not interested in your cargo. Although I’m sure that my people would appreciate a few bicycles and sewing machines, what they really want- what they crave- is peace and security. Your tug can help us provide them with those all-too-rare commodities.
"I propose an exchange. You turn the boat and the barge over to us, along with all of its crew-served weapons; keep the cargo. In return, we provide you with trucks, armored cars, even drivers, and all the fuel you can haul to transport it to your destination. And, to compensate you for the loss of the tug, this."
He reaches under the table and removes a large, hard-shelled, silver briefcase. He lays it on the desk and unsnaps the lid, lifting it slowly to reveal a single layer of shining, thin gold bars.
"This case and its contents literally washed ashore a week ago. Some would call that luck; I call it divine favor. Even in this day and age, in more civilized parts of the world, the contents of this case represent considerable wealth. In these parts, its value is negligible at the moment so I’m offering it to you. Your tug for the gold and all the vehicles and fuel you need to transport your cargo safely to Sandomierz. You complete your trade mission. We continue our campaign of liberation and state-building. Everyone is happy; no one gets hurt.
"Consider carefully the alternative. We cannot allow your boat to proceed north. The intentions of the Sandomierz ORMO towards us are still unclear. In fact, we captured an ORMO spy just two days ago, a spy which you now harbor on board the tug. The Sandomierz ORMO could use the boat to interfere with our project and I can’t allow that to happen. You understand our position, I hope. Take some time to think about it- say, two hours. At that time, I will require your decision or we will be forced to take action to accelerate matters. I hope that I’ve made myself clear."
Griet sat in quiet contemplation for quite a while- to the point where the silence became uncomfortable, before responding.
"I think the boat Captain will agree to your... proposal. But it would be unsafe to dock here in your town with all of the sick on board. The American medic you gave to us thinks it is either plague or tuber... tuberculosis. Is there a spot downriver where we could make the trade?"
Major Florek sat silently for an almost equally long time, looking at Griet over steepled fingers held under his nose.
"OK, there's a spot about 2km from here, on the east side of the river where the bank is relatively low and the ground is solid. It could work. We will have the trucks waiting for you there. You have the manifest? Good, let me take a look. No problem. We have a liberated HEMTT 10-ton truck, a large URAL, an old OT65 we can part with, and a couple of UAZs. That should do the trick, wouldn't you say.
Now, I need something to assure your good faith. Hmmm. I'm going to place a few of my men on board. They won't be happy about that but I can't keep you here, now, since you've got to relay this message. Make sure you tell your people that if they have a change of heart, I will be very cross. Oh, and your boat will have an escort. Well, that should be all now. I will get the convoy prepped and my man will radio when you are ready to depart. It was a pleasure to meet you."
With that, the meeting is adjourned. Griet is escorted back to the dock, and from there to the boat. The Czech and the two Polish escorts sit in the boat, waiting to come aboard while Griet quietly relays the details of her meeting with the Hetman of Tarnobrzeg.
Actions?
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:22, Tue 18 Mar 2008.
