McRae sat comfortably at the prow of the Zodiac. His kit was stowed away securely and his rifle was held firmly at his side. He waited calmly for the mission to begin.

Kelsey spent the rest of the day familiarising herself with the Russian radio.  It would be set to re-transmit the signals on the team net, and she wanted to have some skill with the foreign set.

She updated the team call signs, making sure all the subunits were on the same page and same channel. After that she checked the various hand-held radios that people would be using.

Also, she updated HQ on the call-sign changes, in case they needed to use the long-range net.

Call Signs:

Ruby-1: recce element (McRae, MacDonald)

Ruby-2: Zodiac transport (2 Militia)

Amber-1: main team element (Jagelis, Fox, Lee, Champlain, Shevchenko)

Amber-2: RIB (3 Militia w/ Mk19)

Diamond-1: PBL (6 Militiia w/C6)

Diamond-2: PBL (6 Militia w/PK)

Topaz: UBC Militia/RCMP
This message was last edited by the player at 14:06, Wed 05 Mar 2008.

Sleeping most of the day, Chris awoke before dark and got his kit ready.

After months of inaction during the winter, it was good to get back in what was clearly the field.

Andy provided a few good tips about how to prepare for the patrol. Mostly not washing with soap or using detergent, and making sure he had his last cigarette before boarding the raft.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:05, Wed 05 Mar 2008.

Lee climbs aboard the boat after accepting the helping hand of Fox. Taking a seat she unslung her SMG as instructed. She was excited. In the back of her mind she figured it would be just a quiet sneaking around OP, then head home... no big deal. But her heart pumped rapidly anyways.

Lee wore her ERT cammo uniform under her laden tactical vest. Her helmet, attached to the vest dangled near her hip. Lee's balaclava, was folded up over her face to cover only the top of her head like a toque. She had opted not to bring her shotgun.

"Got it" she says to Fox, regarding the order of march.

Belanger's last briefing echoed in their ears.

"Shepherd said that once all bridge traffic was choked off a year or so ago, the market in Lonsdale in North Van dried up as the merchants relocated, probably to Eagle Harbour. There are still people and families living in and around the North Shore, probably hundreds (so keep your eyes open), but no actual communities there aside from Eagle Harbour."

"No one's disturbed the bandits in Stanley Park for several months, at least from before the winter, and they apparently don't come out of the park. Last summer in June, a convoy tried to run the causeway from the West End through the forest in the park and make it north across the bridge. A couple of semis, a few bikes and a some technicals (pickups with MGs). They never even got to the bridge, and no one came out alive. Almost twenty armed men just vanished. The pickups and bikes were rolled outside the park that night and set on fire on the bridge and on West Georgia in the  West End. At least a dozen bodies were hanged from the bridge supports a few days after. People say they heard screaming for days before that...."

"After that, every few months there's a new body hanging there. Probably lone travelers trying to slip through the park and didn't make it."

---

Out on Burrard Inlet, the pair of blacked-out small craft headed for Ambleside Park. On approach from the southwest, the Lion's Gate loomed menacing and dark off to the right.

It was 2148, 2 hours after sunset. The night air was cool and moist, around 7 degrees (C).

A lack of maintenance by the District of West Vancouver engineering hadn't done Ambleside many favours. The natives had called it the "place of the dangerous waters" due to the ferocious tides that ripped through the narrows between it and the tip of Stanley Park twice daily. The mouth of the Capilano River was now choked with marshes, and sand bars formed offshore.

The receding water of the slack tide left extensive areas of mud flats near the mouth of Capilano River, alternating with rock-filled shallows. There was little in the way of natural wave action, although tiny wavelets from the boats' own wakes and the offshore breeze quietly shushed against the shore.

There was a quiet scrape as the zodiac glided in engine-off and grounded on barnacle-covered rocks. The night air smelled of brine, seaweed and decaying marine life.

MacDonald and McRae slipped over the side into the shallow water, wading in over the rocks, stumbling a little in the uneven bottoms until they hit the mud flats and the narrow strip of sand above them.

Then they were gone into the trees of the park. A short radio message confirmed that all was in order, and the boats quietly pulled away.

---

Meanwhile, out on the water of Burrard Inlet:

Splitting away from the larger boat, the small zodiac headed back to their point of origin, the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club. The engine faded in the night, although the team could follow it as it sped away in the grainy green glow of their NVGs.

Moving slow to keep engine noise to a minimum, the RIB nuzzled up to the rocky beach that bordered the Seawall. At high tide the barnacle-covered rocks were submerged but for now they were bare. The rubber cells of the boat 's hull rasped against the stone, driven up against it by the light offshore breeze from the NNW.

The Seawall itself was 15 feet of sheer, dressed stone and cement. The lower part was choked with seaweed and kelp up to the high water mark. Steps down to the water and the rock the wall sat on were placed periodically.  To get there required a quick scramble across wet barnacle-encrusted rocks that were usually submerged except for now, at low tide.

There was a minimum of quiet talk and other noise as the team got organised, then moved off towards the nearest blocky stairs. The boat pilot really knew her stuff and had held the craft steady as they disembarked.

Now they stood on the Seawall itself, weapons nervously trained on the forested cliffs above them.

On the seawall itself, straight ahead of them was sheer cliff. Off to the right Siwash Rock normally stood a little offshore but was presently connected by stone at low tide. To the left they could see the bike path/walkway disappear around the side of a tree-topped bluff.

In that direction hulked the silent suspension bridge, traditionally lit up beautifully in Hockey Night in Canada establishing shots, an icon of the city. From this angle it looked alien, immense, a relic of another time.

Atop the Seawall, the twin Bike Path and walkway was carpeted by a thick mat of fallen branches and loose rock. The debris had either been eroded or dislodged by weather from the cliffs towering almost a hundred feet above them. Normally it would be quickly cleared by diligent park personnel.

It was quiet and still, save for the spatter of water draining down the walls, pooling where the drainage gaps spaced along the top of the Seawall were plugged. It would be slow going among the shifting debris, if quiet and avoidance of injury were the goal.

[Edit Added: Some details of the landing site.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:18, Thu 06 Mar 2008.

Ben disembarked from the boat carefully, wary of the slippery nature of the seawater soaked rocks and loaded with most of his usual load. His only real concession to the stealthy nature of the mission was swapping the usually loaded belt for a magazine in his C9. Even so, two belts were stored within his webbing, packed out with lightly oiled rags to prevent the belts moving about inside their cases and making noise.
Right hand on the pistol grip, he quickly tapped over his body, checking everything was still where it was supposed to be, strapped down tight and secure over his everpresent kevlar. Then, a quick motion was made, indicating north.
"Just until we can get off the path," he said, just loud enough to be heard over the waves.

Fox waits until everyone is confirmed to be ready. He then heads off north. After a short distance they arrive at a more concealed and secure position. He waits a moment to allow Champlain to make any reports on their arrival. Digging out his compass, he sets the bearing to take them to their first leg of the move (which will eventually lead them to where Ben wants to conduct the recce).

Taras decided to leave the heavy Arbalets radio set in the boat as the signaller already was already equipped for the task. Feeling 8 kilos lighter was good for a foot patrol. The moonlight reflected in the white crests of the waves crushing against the rocks was enough to see without using the NVG. The heavily forested area ahead was a different story. The woods were one of the least desirable areas to recon. Something felt strange and made the red haired man uneasy. Too silent for his taste. Natural fauna are commonly heard through a rich natural environment like a large park. The menacing shadow of the Lions Gate bridge was impressive. Spanning 1,517 meters and towering 111 meters it offered 61 meters of clearance for large ships, amongs them the famous cruise liners that used to head for Alaska. The ukrainian had previously catched a glance of it from the distance and as a combat engineer gathered some technical information that may be useful for the reconstruction program. If things were to go bad in the Stanley Park area, the fact that the bridge will not support traffic of vehicles above 14 tons didn't make him happy either. Close enough for a BTR-80 but not safe for a fully loaded LAV III.

Lieutenant, it appears that quite a bit of equipment is going to be left at the boat. Do you think that somebody should stay here to protect it? If something goes wrong towards the bridge I can get the engine started and ready to go plus I can contact the militia and signal them from here. I'm going to leave my radio in the boat anyways...

The chill of the spray gave way to a numbing cold as McRae clambered through the water. The mud flats were open but easily crossed and soon he and MacDonald were into the cover of the trees. Andy paused to inform the main team everything was OK and then unslung his rifle and checked his weapon was OK.

Once they were both ready, they slipped like ghosts through the night.

They moved north to the BC Rail tracks, then turned east. The tracks arrowed straight through the woods and bushes of the various foreshore parks, moving occasionally past and between darken apartment and office buildings. They moved past a sopping mall, Royal Centre, parking lots screened by trees and hedges. The pair covered each other when they had to move past open areas, but mostly their travel was well-screened by the foliage along the rail bed.

McRae was just in the middle of thinking that while MacDonald may not yet be in his league, the man was almost ready to be called up from the minors. With a little more instruction...

The other man stopped and looked at the tracks, squatting down.

"Master Corporal... something's bugging me. There's no weeds, eh? Along the track. And look... fuck... someone's been using the tracks with maybe some kinda rail or maintenance car,  spraying weed-killer onthe rail bed." His voice was a whisper.

Squatting down himself on one knee, McRae could see the twin bands of steel of the single-gauge tracks were indeed polished, shiny surfaces free of rust. The metal felt smooth and cold, not corroded and pitted from disuse.


[OOC: moved and slightly altered this text here to make for better continuity. Also, both groups are at roughly the same narrative point.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:29, Thu 06 Mar 2008.

McRae clapped his hand on his companion's shoulder, "Good call, man, I'd completely missed that. As we move along, keep looking for the following: horse dung will show us they're using horse drawn carriages, leaked motor oil will suggest converted autos or trucks and ash and soot a coal or wood powered loco. I doubt it's the latter, someone would have spotted the smoke plume, then again, they just might not have mentioned it."

Lee falls into place behind Fox and follows him, ensuring those behind did the same (and were not left behind). After moving up in the more secure area she put on her helmet and adjusts her NVGs. She wondered how the other two were doing on their own recce. As long as it doesn't rain again... she thought.

"You got it, Master Corporal."

"No one's visited here for around a year... so yeah, I'll buy that. Also, before the war I seen small rail vehicles for inspection, and pickup trucks with rail-running gear used by the rail companies, like you say."

They checked as they went along, but there were no signs of dung or leaked motor oil. The ties still smelled of creosote. It was impossible to look for soot or ash in the greenish light of the NVGs, so they continued on their way westward.

Kelsey made sure the radio was set to retransmit, then she joined the main group.

Looking at the dark cliffs above them she thought, Lord save us.

... davai, davai...

Waiting for the team to assemble, Fox found a part of the bluffs where there was an overhang, and bushes grew partway down, concealing them from above. This being basically a seawall, there was naturally no cover from the direction of the water or up or down the path (aside from the bluffs themselves.

Fox checked his compass out of habit. After all, with the water on one side and bluffs on the other, heading for a major landmark, how could they get lost? Still, anything could happen and he verified where the North Shore mountains were so that he could always orient himself to north. Once done, he led the way.

It was about a 1200m from where they landed to the Bridge, and a little farther on to the stairs up to the abutment level.

The little file carefully picked their way among the debris littering the seawall, each watching their sectors. Large chunks of the clay parts of the cliffs had sloughed off in sections, dumping small boulders that they had to pick their way through. Branches, leaves and pine needles also formed small drifts.

Near the bridge, the debris got very heavy. It didn't slow them down too much, but it would be difficult to move quickly without tripping or making noise.

Finally, they came to "Lookout Point". There was a shoulder of the cliffs above them where a lookout had been built, behind it was a parking lot and gift shop/restaurant. (These were at the top of the cliffs, and therefore unseen by the team below.)

Down by the water the path passed between the bluffs and a small automated lighthouse on the seawall at the farthest point of land (Prospect Point), then curved back under the bridge abutment. Coming around Prospect Point, they could see the dark mass of the suspension bridge looming over them. It looked structurally sound, no cables or supports hanging down. The blast of the nuclear attacks at the eastern end of Burrard Inlet must have swayed it but not seriously damaged it.

They stopped for a moment, scanning the scene for threats. It was quiet except for a few small waves slapping on the rocks and sand uncovered by the low tide. The bridge creaked softly in the light breeze. There was a few calls from night birds, but otherwise nothing. Starting again they began passing under the bridge. Off to their left was the enormous concrete foot of the south support for the bridge; normally standing in water but connected to the base of the seawall at low tide.

A flare shot out and up into the night sky from somewhere along the top of the bluffs above and a little behind them (around about the top of Lookout point), bathing the top of the seawall where they were located, the top structure of the bridge, and the wooded bluffs around them in a hellish reddish glow.

As if on signal (as if) dozens of torches were lit and a long low chorus of wolf howls broke out along from inside the trees at the tops of the cliffs above them, feral hungry cries and moans full of madness and hunger. The guttural sounds coming from along hundreds of metres in each direction.

Their radios crackled in their ears. "Ahhh, Amber One from Amber Two, be advised that... HOLY SHIT!" There was the sound of panicked bumping and crashing, then the radio went off the air.

---

McRae and MacDonald followed the BC Rail tracks through a series of parks along the waterfront. They paralleled Argyle St. a little ways, then followed the shoreline. There was about an 8-foot bank, then rocks to the high tide mark, then wet sand and mud flats at low tide.

Even across Burrard Inlet they could clearly see the red flare climbing into the night and the orange sparks of torches lit all along the trees on the tops of the bluffs by the south end of the bridge. There was a smaller cluster of torches a ways away, towards Siwash Rock.

They also heard the panicked radio call from from Amber two that cut off in mid-transmission.

"What the fuck?" MacDonald started reaching for his image intensifiers to see what was happening across the water.

McRae had his ELCAN Black Cat telescopic night sight attached to his C3A1 rifle. At 3.1x magnification it was much less than the usual 10x Unertl day time scope but good enough for the job.

---

Tactical Options

Note: there are presently no visible targets, and no attacks (yet) so ROEs are technically still in effect. The entire park area is heavily wooded and so far whoever it is are staying back a little in the woods, as far as you can see.

• Stay put and seek cover at the base of the cliff directly under or near the end of the bridge. There are some small boulders and deadfall laying about, enough for a little cover from the people on the top of the bluffs but better than nothing.
  
• Go back the way you came (west). Either to seek cover at the small 2m hight lighthouse on the seawall at the tip of Prospect Point (but you would be directly under the Lookout) 50m away, or even further back towards Siwash Rock (west, then south).
  
• Go forward (east) towards the stairs up 300m away, or even further east to where the ground slopes down to meet the seawall.
  
• Seek shelter behind the foot of the bridge support. This would mean climbing down the seawall (3m), running across rocks and mud, and then getting behind the enormous concrete block sunk into the bedrock. Excelled cover from the bluffs, but you're pretty much pinned down there with your backs to the water.

This message was last edited by the GM at 11:16, Fri 14 Mar 2008.

McRae used his scope to scan the area. It looked as though Amber team had found trouble already. He tried to discover the exact extent of what faced his comrades before trying to contact them. Perhaps splitting the team up and then still going for the biggest reported concentration of bad guys had not been a great plan after all.

Lee crouches down into a kneeling/squatting position and brings her MP5 up into her shoulder. Scanning up the cliff she tries to make out any "targets". She doesn't speak but waits for orders.

MacDonald switched on the image intensifiers and looked through them.

"Huh... that's our backup. Maybe if they're pinned down, we can go back to help 'em out?" He was only being a little facetious.

Swallowing, looking spooked, Kelsey knelt down and shouldered her carbine. It didn't have a round chambered, but hitting the bolt release would do the trick. She aimed at the trees aboe her, looking for something.


Aiming to Southwest for Opportunity Fire

This was bad, very bad. He'd hoped to have gotten off the exposed seawall well before reaching anywhere near the bridge and observe both it and it's approaches from the hilltops. Of course if he'd only read the map correctly he'd have seen that there were no paths leading from the seawall until well after the bridge.

There were few options, all of them bad, but moving had to be better than staying put and hoping the locals were friendly.

"Back, fast as you can," he hissed his order, simultaneously ejecting the magazine from his C9. Thirty ready rounds were fine while it had been purely a recce, but Ben was certain that they'd very shortly be fighting for their lives.

Staying still, he allowed his team to pass him by while slotting the magazine away in it's web pouch. Almost in the same movement, the plastic box containing 200 belted rounds was pulled free, the oiled rag carefully loaded with the belt fluttering away on the breeze as the first round was fed into the weapon.

"Weapons to Action."

At any moment, Ben expected to be pelted with rocks and debris from above, along with shots from both the bridge and the trees. Sure their orders had specified weapons to only be Loaded, but that had assumed they'd be in amongst relatively friendly people, not suprised and out manouvered by a force strong enough to destroy a heavily armed convoy.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:50, Sun 09 Mar 2008.

Fox utters a quiet "Shi..." and crouches. The lights disorient him and he pauses in half crouch. After a moment of hesitation, he sorts himself out and heads off the direction they came.

Moving Back (after hesitating)
This message was last edited by the player at 11:59, Sun 09 Mar 2008.

Shevchenko was surprised and unable to react quickly. the amazing display of lights and sounds pretty much caught him off guard. A flare in the sky could only mean one thing. A well organized military force. Certainly the last thing that a recce team will like to face. The stealth element was gone. The exposed location, the "enemy" covering the high ground,...

Moving back (after hesitating).

As the team moved towards the bridge, a red flare shot into the sky and a clamour arose around them. Torches were lit in the woods at the top of the cliffs above and to either side of them.

Shevchenko froze where he was, caught in the bloody glare of the flare, as did Fox. Jagelis ordered them all back the way they came and to ready their weapons, and he commenced to load a belt into his own Section Automatic Weapon. Lee and Champlain were close enough to the side of the cliff to take some cover by crouching down, and they both charged and trained their weapons on the bluffs above them.

A few scattered rocks and branches rained down, obviously unaimed as they didn't even come close to anyone. Some clattered onto the pavement, a few thumped into the mud below the seawalk.

The radio burst with a panicked transmission from the RIB. Alerted, Fox swung his own rifle around towards the far end of the bridge across the water. He flipped up his NVGs and peered through the starlight scope, after switching it on. It was difficult to determine any details of what was happening kilometres away, but it looked in the greenish-white scope like a flare was going up over the north end of Stanley Park and pinpricks of light were dancing within the treeline. It would take a few seconds to steady his weapon a little more time to make sense of the situation. MacDonald finished taking out his own light-intensifier binoculars and switched them on.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:46, Sat 15 Mar 2008.

Recovering from the initial shock, everything was pointing towards a quick retreat. Since the team was not under fire it could be done at least in good order. Shevchenko will wait for Fox and Lee to pass him while covering them and as soon as possible he will proceed under the cover of Champlain. This will leave Lt. Jagelis as a last man standing. Not an option but the impressive amount of firepower at the Lt. fingertips could be of great help to stop an attack.


Take Cover/Aiming
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:38, Wed 12 Mar 2008.