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.