"Sounds good."

He then gives a thumbs up ready to move off.

The scavenging team decides to ignore the heat pipe for the time being and use the last few hours of daylight to search the canal banks for the supply warehouses they suspect to be located nearby. They move out cautiously, trying to move parallel to the canal and all-the-while keeping their eyes peeled for observers or other signs of possible inhabitants.

Most of the town wasn't built up to the canal so the going is relatively easy along its banks. Still, there's ice and snow to contend with, as well as the odd rubble field, so it takes about 15 minutes to reach the first warehouse.

It's more or less flattened. The overpressure of the nuclear warhead wreaked havoc on the simple sheet metal building. A couple of seasons of rain and snow likely finished it off. There are plenty of openings in the building and a few of you do a little crawling in order to get a look inside. Rotting wood and cardboard boxes carpet the cracked concrete floor. It looks like a swarm of rats tore through the place at some point, but a couple of trails appear to have been cleared through the debris. There are bare spots here and there, and they appear to have been mad-made. Someone has beaten you here, and it's likely they've cleaned the place out of any useful materials. To further discourage a more thorough search, the corrugated tin roof is already battered and holed and, with snow weighing it down, looks ready to buckle at any second.

You move on to the next warehouse. Rusted and crushed equipment dot the spaces in between structures. This one is in slightly better shape. One corner somehow managed not to collapse completely. This building is full of large wooden crates. Many of them appear to have burned but there are a few that appear to have been spared the worst of it. Craig punches through the wood of one of them to reveal machine parts of some sort- nothing that could be used for armor. Perhaps one of the tug mechanics could find something of use here, but it doesn't seem particularly likely.

The third warehouse is the proverbial charm. It looks older than the first two- it's also partially collapsed but the brick and concrete wall facing the canal is still standing, creating a sort of giant lean-to. A foot path winds from the landward loading dock around the side to an opening that was probably once intended to serve that purpose. In the shadows just a couple of meters within the building, Tuck finds a heavy wire device resembling and old-fashioned bear trap sitting in the pathway. It hasn't been sprung. Anyone unlucky to step on it would find him or herself in considerable pain, and possibly with a broken ankle. You skirt around the trap and into the building. It too looks like its contents have been picked over, but there are still of few stacks of relatively undisturbed boxes. The first one you open contains tins of condensed milk. The next stack over looks like it's built of stewed tomatoes. Shifting one of those boxes in order to verify its contents, Craig disturbs a heavy metal orb. It falls to the concrete floor, landing with a dull clang. By that time anyone watching has recognized it for what it is- a hand grenade.

While most of you scramble for you cover, Jan's mind picks up on one important detail that everyone else has missed. The grenade has no fuse. It's just the fragmentation sleeve. A dud.


Next Moves?

"GRENADE"

Craig yells as he flings himself behind the stack of boxes or any available cover. It took him several seconds to realise the grenade was a dud. Rising from the floor he tried to mask his own embarrassment, as trained combat engineer the mistake was pretty unforgivable.

He then went over the stacks with fine tooth comb trying to locate any other traps or unexploded munitions. Once he thought he was done he asked Minh to check.

 "Looks as if someone knows this is here, they probably won't be happy with us taking it. Just a heads up for when we leave."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:44, Tue 10 Sept 2013.

Jay was relieved to see that the grenade was just a dud and did no damage to Craig. Still, it served as a good warning to be more vigilant.

Mariusz looked at the traps which seemed to be warnings rather than meant to be fatal.

"Do we have to loot?" he asked, "This is obviously claimed so we would be stealing not salvaging. Why don't we contact the owners and offer something in trade?"

Even though Jan had spotted that the grenade was just a fragmentation sleeve he still ducked into cover, though he kept alert for anything else happening.  He was conscious that the grenade had just worked as an effective alarm, prompting calls of warning to be yelled by the team, quite possibly warning whoever had set it up.

"It has no fuse," Jan hissed to the others.  "Mariusz is right.  This salvage has been found by someone else and the trap and this alarm," he indicated the fragmentation sleeve as he spoke, "show that they have marked it as theirs.  Trading with them for some of it would be a good idea if they will speak to us.  We could just take it so we are trading from a good position and we could just do that if we do not find them.  Maybe also they have information about what is downriver or they want to travel on the Queen."

He kept scanning around, trying to spot whether the noise they had made had attracted any attention.

"How far are we from the heat pipe that Tuck saw?  Maybe this salvage site and that are by the same people."

As the team enters the building, Danny finds a protected position in the lee of the partially-collapsed wall and faces outward, scanning the surrounding area for movement or the glint of the lowering sun on lenses.  At Craig's warning, he rolls sideways, letting his armor and pads take the impact of the bricks.

"Hey," he warns in a low voice as he regains his footing, "don't forget there's still a grenade fuse around here that might be hooked to something worse."  With that, he resumes his previous post, hunkering down a little farther into the rubble.  Winona settles across a collapsed roof beam, her barrel idly twitching back and forth like the tail of a lazy cat.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:08, Thu 12 Sept 2013.

"Might all be connected by the sewer system."

Bayer glances over at Mariusz for a moment before turning his gaze back onto the foodstocks. "Alright..." he says quietly, before looking back at the Pole. It was only a matter of time before they would have to take what was not theirs in order to survive. There wouldn't always be the helpful stranger or friendly town with suplus to trade. Not with winter underway. Today wasn't that day though. Things weren't quite that desperate. Not yet. When the time did come though, he's have to remember to keep Mariusz on board the Queen.

"Alright... leave it." he says to the group, louder this time and waving everyone but Mariusz back outside. Before he follows the others out of the hidden cache, he removes a piece of paper from his field message pad and hands it to Mariusz. "Someone will come to see what we took. Leave them a message. Offer them an opportunity to trade... by the riverside tomorrow before noon. Remind them of our good faith in not takikng anything like we could have."

"Make it quick... we're stepping off in a minute or two."

Once Bayer is back out in the open air, he takes note of the sun then says, "Sergeant Tucker, take us back to the boat. Put us on a slightly different route and sacrifice speed for security. Signal back for any danger areas where ambush may be likely... I want proper obstacle crossing drills at each of them."

"Thank you," Mariusz said.

He quickly scribbled a note:

To the people who have claimed this salvage,

We are crew members of the Vistula Queen, a trading boat on the river. We found your salvage and are keen to trade for food and whatever other goods you have to sell. We apologise for disturbing your stash but we have taken nothing, we are traders, not thieves. If you wish to trade, hail us from the shore and we will send a party to you.

We have small arms and ammunition to trade and a special offer that I will not divulge but is rare and potentially very valuable if not immediately useful to you.

Our priority is food but we will consider other goods.

May your route in life be easier than it has been,

Mariusz Tokarski XXXX

PS I enclose a grenade to replace the dud we disturbed XX
He translated the note into Russian and English and left it with one of his grenades.

"OK," he said, "I'm good to go."

Quyen starts to give the place a check for more traps without touching anything. She used to have a little mirror taped to a telescopic car antenna that worked well for that sort of thing but like most of what she owned it was long gone now. She reminded herself to get a new one for times like this. She doesn't get very far into her check though when Konrad cancels the salvage and orders everyone outside.

When she is back outside Minh quickly sparks up a smoke. She'll dab it out (but not throw it away of course) if the time comes to leave before it's finished. If any other smokers like Tucker or Jan are standing near her she will offer them a puff too. "I forget what tomatoes taste like." she mumbles in a halfhearted complaint.

On the way back if she pass any old cars she will snap off an antenna and mirrored glass to make her new search tool.

Jan reluctantly put back the tins of tomatoes, forcing himself to not think about what Mariusz would be able to cook with them.

When the patrol set out again he resumed his position at the rear.

December 2, 2000
0700 hrs.
Bydgoszcz, Poland
30F, mostly clear


The scavenging party leaves the contents of the warehouse more or less undisturbed and returns, empty handed, to the Krolowa. On the way back, just about everyone gets the feeling that the group is being watched, but no one sees anything that would confirm that this is the case. A few pairs of eyes study the chimney pipe with as much subtlety as can be managed. The heat ripples that were visible before, when Tuck first spotted the contraption, and for a while shortly thereafter, are no longer apparent.

The rest of the day is spent back aboard the tug. There's plenty to do- laundry, cleaning, minor repairs, sleep. The tug also needs more fuel. The unburned crates from the second warehouse the scavenging team checked would serve. There's probably more fuel elsewhere in the ruins, but finding it is going to be tricky. The nuke that flattened the city also set a good deal of it alight.

The night is quiet and cold. The Krolowa's engines can heat the vessel by sending steam and hot water through the pipes that wind around the tug, but to do so requires that the boiler be constantly manned and fed. The alternative is to let the boiler go cold. This saves fuel but leaves the tug much colder and more vulnerable, should the need to flee expeditiously arise.

Morning dawns clear but no less cold. The stand-to watch is still at its posts when a figure is spotted moving through the rubble towards the riverbank. The individual is bundled up in layers of civilian clothes and holds a rifle- probably bolt-action- at the low ready. The person stands there, waves by way of greeting, and waits.


Next Moves?

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:44, Sun 15 Sept 2013.

Mariusz looked up at Bayer and said, "Kaptain, if possible I'd like to help advise the negotiations. I have a good idea how much value each type of food they have. Condensed milk is six hundred and fifty calories a can whilst the tomatoes are only one hundred and twenty. Given the vitamins in the tomatoes though they are slightly more valuable than their calorific value, say five to the cans of tomatoes to one of condensed milk. We'll need at least three thousand calories every day in this weather. With luck they'll have different foods to trade. If I'm there I could work out relative values for you though I could probably do that over the radio if there isn't room in the boat."

With his head hidden in his smock he tried not to think of the cold. It had been the height of summer when he had grabbed the jacket an its arctic insert and many of his fellow soldiers had laughed at him for the extra weight.

He thought of those guys most dead or lost like him, scattered in the wind across Europe. His watch was coming to an end when the figure was spotted on the bank. He raised his field glasses and tried to get a better look at the individual.

Jan waved back at the figure on the riverbank in a friendly manner, leaving his rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Who is going ashore to discuss this trade?" he asked aloud.

"I'm in."

"Aye, I could always use a walk."

He flapped his arms against his chest trying to get the blood flowing.

Jay nodded to indicate he was happy to go back ashore. He might not be much use in the negotiations, but he could provide security. Besides, he preferred to be on land rather than on the boat.

Connolly emerges on deck, pulling on her Nomex gloves and wincing at the morning chill.  She steps to the rail beside Jan and waves to the presumed negotiator.  After a moment's thought, she pulls off her watch cap, letting the wind sweep her hair back from her face.  "We don't want to send too many people at first," she says in response to the legionnaire's question.  "Where's -- ah," as Konrad makes his appearance.

"Captain, if I may recommend... let's go with a slightly lower threat posture for this.  We're probably not dealing with a military force here and they only sent one person to talk.  I'd say..." she glances around, "One officer or NCO as lead negotiator. Mariusz as," she smiles, "nutritional advisor and translator.  Two shooters as a security element.  And either Minh or I should be on the team.  Showing a mixed-gender crew will help convince them that we aren't pirates."

"And, yes, there are probably snipers, which is why our own should be ready.  But let's hope we don't go there."

"As far as trade, what are we thinking?  Spare AKs, technical services, Larue's Médecins Sans Frontières act.  What else?  Do we want to offer passage downriver for a limited number of people?"

"Mornin', kids.  How we doin' on this beautiful winter's day in scenic icy Poland?"  Cradling a mug of tea in his hands - and far too perky for the break of dawn - Danny arrives in time to hear his name mentioned.  "Huh, what?  What'd I do?  Whatever Tuck said, he's a damn liar, ma'am.  You know you can't trust that fuckin' Yankee."  He grins hugely at Tuck, then sobers slightly as he catches sight of Bayer.  "Aaaand I mean 'that fuckin' Yankee platoon sergeant and NCOIC,' of course.  Good morning, Hauptmann."

In reply to Daniel Larue (msg # 62):

Robert smiles when he hears Daniel come out with his cup of tea and witty comments.  "Damn liar huh?  I was trying to convince everyone that you didn't like middle school boys but, you heard the man!

The NCOIC Yankee shit is cute too Danny.  Morning, suck up!"

Her name is Ewa- at least, that's the name she gives you. She's alone, as far as you can tell, but there are others- you haven't seen them, but you've got that uncomfortable being watched feeling. You guess that she's about 30. It's hard to tell these days- this world tends to make people old beyond their time. It's something about the eyes, how she seems to be looking through you, the way she speaks, her choice of words, spare and measured and straight to the point. She hides most of her face behind a scarf. She tries to sound like a man, but she's not fooling anybody. Her weapon is an SKS rifle, the kind issued to bottom-of-the-barrel reserves and local People's Militias (ORMO).

She's clearly uncomfortable with the number of people sent to meet her. She retreats from the bank and shouts that she will only treat with two of you; the rest must wait in the boat.

She wants guns and ammunition. Half a dozen military-style weapons and a couple hundred rounds. She's willing to trade a box of condensed milk, a box of stewed tomatoes, and a box of potted meat (something you didn't see in the warehouse)- enough food to stretch your dwindling rations a few more days into the future. The numbers seem to be negotiable. More weapons and ammo most likely will net you more food.


Next Moves?
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:36, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

"Okay, time for some hearts and minds action."  Connolly makes a show of looking around the boat but she's already decided.  "Mariusz, you look the least threatening to anyone who doesn't know you.  You're with me."  She keys the radio she swiped from Larue.  "Sunray, Boots.  Locals are willing to trade but they're as nervous as we expected.  Mariusz and I are going ashore.  Over."

Releasing the microphone, she turns and hands Tuck her AIMS-74.  "Once we're over the side, I want you to pull back into the river and hold station.  My duress code is my call sign.  If I keep using 'Boots,' everything's okay.  If I use 'Seagull,' I'm being coerced.  If things go totally to shit, we'll pop smoke and run toward that barge."  She jerks her chin at a beached, rusted hulk that once carried grain before running afoul of a NATO iron bomb.

With that, she swings her feet over the side of the Princess and crunches ashore, adroitly keeping her balance on the icy gravel.  "Good morning," she says nonchalantly in her best Polish, offering her hand to Ewa.  "I am Dominique.  This is Mariusz.  Thank you for meeting us.  We can offer rifles and ammunition.  Maybe some other tools or supplies.  If you need work, we also have several - Mariusz, what's Polish for 'mechanic?'  Thank you.  We have several mechanics and a doctor."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:32, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

In reply to Dominique 'Boots' Connolly (msg # 65):

Tucker takes the Russian assault rifle from Boots as she gets ready to get out of the boat with Mariusz.  "I'll keep her safe for you Major," he says making sure the rifle is still on safe as he rests it in the bottom of their boat.  "We got your back ma'am.  Anything goes wrong where you got to di-di out of there, we'll try to give you a base of fire and meet you there.  Good luck to you both!"  Tucker has the boat backed off and waits to see what unfolds before them.