(The brass ashtray Taras had been looking at.)
Just before embarking, the beat-up CBC news van pulled into the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club's parking lot. Kelsey changed into her kilt; like everyone, she had appropriate clothing because they had been temporarily billeted at the Yacht Club for the duration of the Op and needed to be able to go at a moment's notice.
Everyone was showered, scrubbed and shaved (as necessary) and in clean uniforms and kit. They'd even brought in a hair stylist still living in Kits (having worked in a salon on West 4th) to give everyone a haircut before leaving, and they all felt great.
Kelsey was wearing her OD combats with duty kilt and Glengarry (armed with C8 carbine and manning the Prick-77), Clarke her khaki Navy coveralls and dark blue Navy Beret, with Sig P226 sidearm, Lee and Taras in RCMP freshly laundered regular duty uniforms (khaki shirts, Navy trousers with yellow side stripe, police hat with yellow band, patrol vest under Gore-Tex windbreaker) with 9mm S&W M5906 sidearms but no longarms.
"Hey, didn't think you were going to leave me, eh?"
Climbing out was Tricia, the intrepid girl reporter with the Uni's nasent 5th Estate. Formerly with BCTV but now essentially an unpaid reporter with the "Mother Corp", CBC.
"Curtis is staying on shore, here. I'll stay out of the way, trust me! Can't let this historic occasion go unrecorded for posterity!"
She was carrying her own TV camera with battery packs, dressed sensibly in jeans, utility vest over a sweater. As agreed by Belanger, she was to accompany the team to the West Van town of Horseshoe Bay.
Tricia warmly greeted the team members she knew, including Kelsey and of course her good friend Taras. Although she was sharp enough to notice Jagelis' and Fox's absence, she didn't comment.
Instead she introduced herself to Clarke, asking for some kind of statement on what was going to happen that day, and so on.
The whale-watcher was a fast, rigid-inflatable boat. The stiff side cells were Kevlar-Nomex, which was a good thing when they were covered in burning gasoline! The comfortable seats had been removed and replaced with benches to fit more people. There were 2 powerful outboard Mercuries at the back, and Clarke stood at the open "pulpit" style console just in front of them, controlling the helm. Above her and to the right, a ring pintle mount had been fitted to the overhead "utility" bar where lights and Radar were normally fitted (Radar long gone). The Mk. 19 GL had been mounted there, manned by 2 UBC militia in surplus US-pattern camouflage fatigues and bright orange life jackets.
Clarke grinned, feeling the power under the throttles as she piloted the nimble boat.
The wind and spray was cool on Kelsey's bare legs under her kilt. Taras remembered his own trip down on the rust-bucket of the
GB Church. This was a lot different circumstances, for sure!
The day was dawning beautifully, sun rising in the east in a luxurious golden-orange glow.
As Stanley Park was silhouetted to the east, it loomed dark and mysterious. They swung in a little to get a look at the Lion's Gate Bridge (not too close, mind) and from where they were it looked none the worse for wear, no suspension cables dangling or supports ajar. However, any damage from a nuclear strike in towards the city wouldn't be visible from where they were, and of course the deck was unseen from this angle.
They could also see at least a half-dozen small fishing vessels out in the eastern part of Burrard Inlet, oar or sail-powered. Tricia panned her videocamera around, taking in the idyllic scenery.
Lee peered through her own binoculars further to the east.
"Oh shit... it's gone. Yeah, fuck, I think it's gone."
She lowered her binos and explained.
"The Second Narrows bridge at the mid-point of Burrard Inlet, I can't see it. I think you can, from here. Maybe I'm wrong. God, I hope so."
Having lived here a while, Kelsey knew the Second Narrows (or "Ironworkers' Memorial Bridge", named after the workers who died in an accident during construction) was the main road link to the North Shore. It carried the Trans-Canada/Upper Levels highway across the water, and next to it was the only rail bridge across the Inlet.
After studying different maps of the city, Clarke had a sinking suspicion as to what had happened. The nuclear strikes on the city hadn't been over the downtown core or airports (YVR or Abbotsford International, up-valley) as the general pattern for Soviet strikes had to cut transportation links and the liquid petroleum refining and storage infrastructure instead of directly targeting population centres.
In that general area in the middle/eastern end of Burrard Inlet were clustered several refineries (Chevron on the southern shore and Imperial Oil on the north, plus the Shell Oil tank farm in Burnaby), as well as one of the city's 2 east-west rail lines. Plus the main Highway 1 bridge and only rail bridge linking the railroad to the North Shore and beyond (Squamish, Lillouet, Prince George). A MIRV or MRV strike pattern of 200-300kt airbursts over the north and south shores of Burrard Inlet could take them all out at once and not only cripple the city, but sever critical supply lines to forces fighting the Soviet invasion to the north. Residual radiation would be non-existant by now, although at one time there would have been fallout to the east as the wind carried it inland up the valley.
With the Ironworkers' Memorial gone, that left the Lion's Gate as the only functioning road link to the North Shore communities of North and West Van and points further north. The rugged North Shore mountains and fjords like Indian Arm had prevented building other roads to the east, so literally without access to the Lion's Gate bridge driving to the North Shore would entail a detour of several hundred kilometres going up and around through Prince George, Lilloet, down through Whistler, and so on.
Mulling this over, everyone also soon saw billows of white smoke rising in a narrow column from somewhere to the east of the northern end of the Lion's Gate Bridge. It was coming from somewhere in the shopping/business district of Lonsdale Quay. This was on the opposite shore from Stanley Park, so perhaps the Stickmen had crossed over the bridge some time last night and exacted some measure of vengeance on someone living there?
Over in Whiskey Cove, it was quiet and still dark because of the bulk of the mountain to the east. However the sky above had lightened, stars disappearing.
The silence was broken by the lap of tiny wavelets against the stony shore and the chirping of birds.
It was quiet enough that Andy and Mac heard what sounded like a vehicle driving up from the south. However, it was a ways away and they weren't in a position to observe the road. It got louder as it approached, but strangely enough at some point instead of continuing to draw near, the sound of the engine began to... echo? Then fade.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:10, Mon 05 May 2008.
