Craig stayed in the boat with his rifle resting across his lap. He causally looked around the ruins trying to spot the watchers while casting a look up and down the river every now and then.

It did not seem any warmer being this close to the river either so he did his best not to freeze to death.

Ewa's posture and expression (it's all in the eyes) relax markedly when she sees that she's dealing with a woman. Although she continues to throw worried glances at the small boat fairly loaded with armed men, she seems much more eager to talk now. She listens intently as Connolly attempts to strike a deal, but she practically cuts the American off at the mention of a doctor.

"You have a doctor?" Ewa asks (in Polish). Her demeanor changes, she drops all pretense of being a man (although she's naturally got a fairly low voice for a woman). She proceeds with a poorly concealed desperation,

"We can trade more- more food. We have sick. It's nothing contagious. If you could send someone with me? I'll... we'll leave a... hostage with you. One for one? If you want to bring another for... security, that is fine. If you bring a couple of rifles- to trade- we'll send back some food."

-

Connolly nods.  "I think we can help each other.  Let me get our doctor on the radio."  Staying in Polish, she keys her microphone.  "Sunray, Boots.  The town has sick people and needs medical services.  Please have Coyote listen.  I will try to get a description.  Over."

Turning back to Ewa, she says, "I am sorry.  My Polish is still weak.  Please tell us more about your village and what it needs, and about the - Mariusz, 'symptoms?' - symptoms your sick people have.  Mariusz will help translate for me."  She tilts her head toward the heavily-armed teenager.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:41, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

Mariusz smiled at the older woman, "Dominique is asking what sort of symptoms your sick have. That way our doctor can come prepared for treatment. We'll get some guns ready for you too."

He looked over at Boots and said, "I think we should give them the weapons and ammo for what they offered us after we check how many tins are in a box and then negotiate for more after our medic has had a look at the sick."

He translated anything else that Ewa and Boots needed to know.

Standing on the deck, watching the shoreline, Bayer turns and motions for Larue to stand beside him. "Listen..." he says, holding up his radio handset so the two can hear the chatter coming in over the airwaves.

Ewa seems reluctant to tell Connolly the symptoms that her sick friends are experiencing.

"It's hard to describe. Get your doctor and come and see them."

After Connolly insists, Ewa shares a few details, "They're sick! No appetite, problems when going to the bathroom, tiredness- that sort of thing. They're not getting better on their own." That's about all she'll say, but it seems likely that there's worse. The woman abruptly changes the subject.

"You need metal for your boat? I can help with that... if you help us. Fair trade, yes?"

-

Danny trots over to Bayer, pulling his notebook from his aid bag.  He poises a pencil stub but, as Mariusz' translation crackles from the radio, frowns rather than scribbling.  When the transmission pauses, he cocks an eyebrow at Bayer and murmurs, "Radiation."

Connolly nods.  "Fair trade, yes.  We need food, wood or coal for fuel, metal for protection.  You need weapons and a doctor.  We can help.  But you need to understand that just having a doctor can't fix every sickness."  And why do I think you're not telling us everything?  She glances at the surrounding rubble, still feeling like someone's lining up for a missile lock on her.  "Ewa," she says quietly, turning her head so the fall of her hair masks her lips from the unseen observers farther inland, "is anyone forcing you to talk to us?"

Ewa narrows her eyes, incredulous or offended, maybe not both.

"No, I'm not being forced. No one tells me what to do. You didn't steal our stuff and you offered to trade. And there are women on your boat. I came of my own free will."

-

"Good.  Some of the places we have seen..." Connolly makes a throwing-away motion with her hand, then smiles grimly.  "I think you know.  If you were being forced, we would help anyway, but we would work with it differently."

She glances over her shoulder at the Princess, still holding position offshore, throws Tuck a quick thumbs-up, then turns back to Ewa.  "I will send for our doctor.  He will have an escort.  If you have anyone here who knows medicine, or who wants to learn, he will want to talk to them as he looks at the sick."  She glances sideways.  "Mariusz and I will stay here.  I will see what else you need, and what you can offer.  He will translate for me."

"We also will bring two rifles as a sample of what we have to trade, if you will bring equal value of food.  Agreed?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:19, Fri 20 Sept 2013.

"Alright. I agree. Bring two rifles- and ammunition- and we will pay you in food, one tin each of milk, tomatoes, and meat. For your doctor to look at our sick, we will give you more. After that, we'll see. I'll wait here."

She glances over her shoulder, as if to find someone, but catches herself and whips her head back around like nothing just happened. Since you expect there to be someone amongst the ruins, providing overwatch, this isn't something to be terribly concerned about.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:42, Fri 20 Sept 2013.

"Agreed."  Connolly suppresses a sigh of relief at being able to switch back to English and keys her radio.  "Sunray, Boots.  The deal is two rifles for three tins of food.  They're offering more for a medical survey.  Send in Coyote with one escort, please."  She pauses, keeping the channel open for a moment.  "Pick someone non-threatening.  Part of why they're willing to talk to us is the fact that we have women on the crew.  Over."

Danny frowns at Bayer's radio.  "Great.  Sounds like a bunch of PTSD cases and me without my DSM-IV.  If I can recommend..." he glances around the tug.  "Minh?  Or Jan, maybe?  I'll need a good translator and the sling makes him look less dangerous than he is."

Quyen loiters around one of the DSHKs just in case they're needed. Her rifle is slung and she does her best not to look too aggressive for a "trading boat" crewman though. Eventually she lights up a smoke letting the brief flicker of fire warm her hands. She hated this... the cold. The metal of the tug only made things worse too.

Quyen then flicks the cigarette butt over the side and watches it float downstream. They'd be heading that way soon again. She then hugs the Russian tanker jacket against her. It was nice but she'd kill for more warm clothes.

Bayer nods but says nothing on the matter of suspecting the illness to be radiation sickness "Not Jan..." he then replies quietly regarding the escort. "I don't want us to look aggressive... but not banged up either. Quyen will do." He then steps away from the railing and calls over to Jay, "Draw two AK-74s from the armory."

Bayer then toggles his radio, "Sunray. Two rifles being brought over with the medical team. How many are staying with us as an exchange? Over."

"Yessir."  Danny begins to turn away, then pauses.  "How's her Polish?  I'm probably gonna need a translator."

Connolly blinks hard as she tries to translate Bayer's question diplomatically.  "Ewa, my ship is getting the doctor and rifles now.  Who from your town will stay with us while the doctor and I are with you?"

"I can't recall. Have to ask. Let me know if it's a problem." Bayer answers. He then waves up to Griet in the wheelhouse and calls up, "One or two are coming aboard as an exchange. Need you to talk to them about downriver... if they know anything."

As Tucker is keeping the meeting under his watchful eye and his binoculars, he is relieved when Boots gives him a thumbs up signal meaning that all is going good so far.  He goes to his radio and transmits, "Sunray, Tuck.  Be advised, have a good contact signal from Boots.  I say again, good contact hand signal from Boots.  How copy and how do you want us to proceed with transfer?  Over."

OOC: I need a call sign for Tucker
This message was last edited by the player at 01:48, Sat 21 Sept 2013.

"Okay.  If she can't translate, I'll grab Mariusz and ask her to back up Boots.  It looks like the major has enough Polish to handle the casual stuff."  Danny pulls off his helmet and hangs it from his aid bag by its chin strap.  He extracts his baseball cap from his thigh pocket, snaps it open with a flick of his wrist, and, after a moment's thought, slaps a PJ morale patch onto the velcro swath.

Pulling on the cap, he steps over to Minh near the Dishka.  "Hey, you ready to take a walk?"  He nods shoreward.  "I gotta go act like a doctor and I need a responsible adult to be my chaperone.  How's your Polish?"

Griet nodded to Bayer, "I'll do that."

She got out some of the charts for the next stretch of river and got some tea on the boil. The visitors would probably be nervous but hopefully some tea might reassure them somewhat.

Mariusz wasn't happy trading a rifle for what amounted to a little less than a days' food for one person, but he consoled himself by thinking of the near hundreds of rifles they'd collected over the last few weeks and given away for much less. The fact they weren't asking for ammunition was interesting.

He kept smiling pleasantly and waited for the decisions to be made about the next phase of the trade.

Quyen is about to put another smoke in her mouth when Daniel stops next to her. Instead she lowers it and says "I don't speak it."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:41, Sat 21 Sept 2013.

Ewa refuses to leave a hostage with the tug, but she does agree to leave someone on the shore. She waves towards someone to the northwest and, a couple of minutes later, a young woman, probably close to Mariusz's age appears atop a rubble pile, a WWII-era Soviet submachinegun in her hands and a long rifle slung over her shoulder. She waits near the princess while the med team accompanies Ewa back to her shelter.

Ewa leads the medical team through the rubble towards the improvised chimney, taking a roundabout way. She points out a crawl space under a large slab of canted concrete and towards a hatch of sorts in the floor. She bangs twice on the metal door, then thrice more. The sound of a bolt scraping against metal is followed by the creak of the hinges. A young woman of about 20 pushes lifts the door and Ewa pulls it the rest of the way open.

There's a stair, pieced together with various pieces of scrap, leading into a basement of sorts. It's fairly large, at least 20 feet a side, with several improvised support beams propping up sections of sagging ceiling. There's some furniture here, and lots of blankets, and a pot-bellied stove that does a good job of warming most of the room. Several ersatz rooms have been sectioned off with hanging carpets or blankets, and a low, Japanese-style table and large wash basin near the stove serve as the shelter's kitchen. Two women, one in her teens and one near middle age sit near the stove, preparing some sort of tea-like beverage. The teenager who opened the door cradles a Polish PM-84 submachinegun in her thin arms. She eyes the med team wearily. Ewa, though, says a few words to calm her younger friend down.

"Tea?" Ewa asks, "It's not real tea, but it's pretty close."

She leads the med team down a short curtained hallway to a room in the far corner of the basement and peels back the drape that serves as a door.

"This is Greta; she's by far our worst."

Greta looks to be a woman of about 70, but after closer inspection, she's revealed to be much younger- 20s or early 30s at the oldest. She's lost most of her hair and her eyes seem drained of color. Only thin grey irises ring her dilated pupils. The woman looks to way about 70lbs. "She can't hold anything down anymore." Ewa whispers. She lowers her voice even more, "I know there's nothing to be done for her. We just don't want her to suffer anymore. The others are over here." She leads the med team out and to another vestibule across the hall. Neither of these other two women are as far gone as Greta. One just looks like she's got a bad cold, maybe bronchitis, the other has a cut on the heel of her palm- it's red and swollen and leaking milky fluid.

OOC: If anyone wants to continue to search the city, just let me know. Whoever stays on the bank with Ewa's teenage bodyguard can engage her in conversation (but she only speaks Polish).


Next Moves?

-

As the medical team enters the basement, Danny starts at the sight of the teenage guard, then recovers and gives her a tentative smile.  "She kinda reminds me of my daughter," he murmurs to Mariusz.  "Ewa, tea would be very good."

He politely finishes the tea, privately grateful that the past weeks of drinking Walter's vile brew have hardened him against lesser evils.  He's also grateful for the opportunity to mull over the local social dynamics.  Setting the teacup aside, he turns back to Ewa.  "Thank you, ma'am.  If your patients are ready for me, I'll see them now.  I'd like you to stay with me while I examine them.  If you have a midwife or nurse or anyone else who knows medicine, she can join us, too."  In an aside to Mariusz, "Thanks, man.  You're savin' my ass here."

He works his way through the examinations, introducing himself to each of the women in turn and narrating his intentions and actions through Mariusz.  He occasionally questions Ewa about the patients' medical history and recent activities.  As the examinations and questions continue, he focuses more on local geography and resources, trying to tease out as much information as he can on Ewa's little survivor community.

When he's done, he washes his hands, then glances around to ensure Ewa is the only local within earshot.  "Okay.   Here's what we have.  You said Greta and the others have been doing salvage work near the nuke crater.  I think that's exposed them to more radiation than the rest of you, probably from breathing fallout particulates - ahh, shit, Mari, translate that as 'radioactive dust' - that they've stirred up while moving things."

"There's not a lot I can do for Greta other than," his eyes flick sideways, "give her mercy.  I have morphine.  She'll just go to sleep and... stop.  The others aren't as heavily dosed, but the radiation sickness is interfering with their white blood - uh, their ability to heal.  I can give you antibiotics, and depending on the food supplies you have on hand, we probably can make some broth that will help them recover."

"The real solution, though, is to stop fuckin' around in the hot zone, and Mari, translate that however seems best to you.  I can do a survey with the Geiger counter and mark the worst areas.  But the best thing to do is gonna be to let us help you rebuild somewhere that the land itself isn't trying to kill you."