It had rained hard all day, and looked like it was going to continue to do so all evening. The rain depressed Rob a little because although it's not like it never rained back home it wasn't this wet in Texas, even on the Gulf Coast.

He was down by the boat dock, ostensibly checking on the group's small craft and the sailboat that had delivered them here, but really he was trying to get some space from the people all cooped up on this tiny islet. Including Cherie, his girlfriend and "significant other".

Rob considered going fishing, maybe taking a skiff out into Burrard Inlet and catching some fresh salmon or ling cod. Fish they had plenty of, as well as preserved food from the wreck beached not too far away, but fresh vegetables were hard to grow on the rocky little islet.

In the 6 months, the only action he knew of around here occurred about 6 months ago, during late fall (it was April). An armed merchant convoy had tried to force the ground route through the park that led to the bridge on the far side. The bridge was the only surviving route north out of the city, so it was vital. But the Stickmen held the southern approach (which was through the heavuly forested park) and didn't let people pass for anything, not even a toll. The convoy of several trucks, some armoured "technicals" and even a couple of bikes had been ambushed and destroyed on the narrow 3-lane causeway through the thick forest that covered most of the park. Burning wrecks had been pushed out into the street that fed the causeway, and men (mostly alive) had been hung from the girders of the bridge. There had been screaming for days, after. Primitive they may be, but they were organised and vicious.

At least under the hand of their leader, "Cyrus". There had been some clashes between the two groups, survivalists and Stickmen. Once or twice a grudging trade had been made where the Stickmen traded fresh food and fuel for medicines, but mostly they ignored one another.

Something was happening around here, finally. About a week ago someone had tried some kind of probe or night recon of the large adjoining park, and engaged the gang that held the territory. It all happened on the far side of the park, near the bridge that spanned the wide inlet (Burrard Inlet) they were on. It had ended with a few flares being launched and what Rob knew was several bursts of 30mm autocannon or 40mm grenades fired on autofire, probably suppression fire to cover the withdrawal of whoever had trespassed.

Since then the Stickmen had been more active, preparing their well-honed defences for a siege, or perhaps some kind of retaliation. They had been mostly practicing and "drilling" at night, as if that's when they expected an attack by police or military to come. They had also traded the survivalists for some gas masks, so they expected tear gas in the near future, too.

Then a few days ago Ed (with Rob and Ed's son Tyler covering) had met with some Canadian government officials. The federal government had established an enclave in the city, and convinced Ed that it was wisest to help them out. Ed wasn't too crazy about the idea, but he could see the Stickmen were a dead end and if they wanted to continue living around there they would have to come to some kind of accommodation with the authorities. At least if they could clear the park, then the little band of expatriots could move around a little, get out of their tiny island bastion/prison, maybe do some trading.

After the meeting, radio communcations between the two enclaves (government and survivalists) were established. Ed had sent his son, Tyler, to scope out the government enclave to see if they were worthy of earning his trust, and to act as personal liaison.

Rob could hear someone coming down the dock and he looked up. It was Ed. Ed had known his father in Vietnam, both were in the Air Cav in '68-'69. Ed wasn't some weird hippie-looking guy or crazy vet, he looked like (and was) a former forestry company executive. Although he now wore a beard it was neatly trimmed, and the rims of his glasses were gold.

He walked up and pulled back the hood of his long Gore-Tex rain jacket, practically standard-issue for these rainy latitudes.

"Rob, how's it going, man? Look, can I ask something from you? It's kind of dangerous. The government guys, they want to arrest Cyrus, and you know I think that's a good idea. Those gas masks I traded to the Stickmen aren't going to work they way those assholes think they are."

Ed and Rob had talked quite a few times about how they'd like to bust the little primitive Hitler and his gang, but even if they were to snipe Cyurus, there was almost a hundred others (including women and children); who's to say someone more vicious and more active wouldn't quickly replace him as leader? It was a good idea to have the local government do their dirty work for them.

"We know the Stickmen have a source of fuel, kerosine and gasoline, in the park. We trade them for it, every once in a while. They don't make it themselves, of course, so they must have a supply."

"I want you to locate it for me. If we get it first, maybe the Canuck federales will want to cut us an even better deal. You in?"

Rob knew that Cheyenne, one of his nieces, needed an operation that only the government could provide with it's hospital in their enclave at the University of BC (UBC), so they already needed the government's help. But it would be much better to deal from a position of relative strength, not weakness.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:52, Sat 07 Mar 2009.

Conklin thinks on the offer only for a second and then starts to ponder the idea of  actually having something fun to do for a change.

" I don't see why not. Any clue as to a possible location? Old fuel depot, gas station or something?" And what do you plan to do when I locate it? I doubt we can bring it back here. We'd have to destroy it or envelope it and defend it. The Canucks are just going to lay claim to it otherwise."

Conklin considers the possible answers for himself while he waits for Ed to elaborate a bit more. Only more questions greeted his thoughts.

"Do we know when the Canucks are planning their jaunt in the park? If we can take over the fuel supply while the stick dicks are fending them off it might work. I'd love nothing more then taking out Cyrus just before or during the attack as well. Just for ole times sake. But we better make damn sure the Canucks are prepared and not half-assing this. There will be hell to pay if we go this route and the Cunucks dick it up. Any word from Tyler on their capabilities?"

Hoping not to overwhelm Ed with even more questions he turns back to the bay as if the answers were somewhere out there while he waited for a response.

In reply to Robert A. Conklin (msg #2):

Ed shrugged, not knowing a lot.

"Tyler seems to think their plan will work. It will happen in the next couple days, they're waiting on something. We're supposed to help out, secure our patch of the park, and doing a little recon will help a lot. Ty can't say a lot over the radio. We have a cypher and I don't think the Stickmen are listening, but he hasn't given me a lot of details due to operational security. He did say they thought they could take Cyrus and most, if not all his crew alive. I don't know if I buy that, but Ty didn't think this was going to be another Waco."

They had discussed over the last couple days their assigned objectives, and if things went well Ed thought it was achievable.

"According to the tourist maps and some satellite photos of the park, there are no gas stations, but there was a police station. If it's an underground tank we can't take it, but if it's a truck..."

He looked out at the rain, took his hands out of his pockets and fumbled with his pipe. "My contact in the city, Shepherd, says that merchant convoy that got creamed had a fuel truck. Makes sense; kerosine is jet fuel and there is no heliport in the park, no reason for them to store it."

"Worse comes to worse we can find out."
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:59, Sat 07 Mar 2009.

Conklin turned back toward Ed again with a smirk on his face.

"I guess we will find out then. I will gather my stuff and get going. Do you have a secure radio that you can use?"

Conklin pauses for a second before waving off the question.

" Nevermind. I will give you one of my spare handhelds once I set up the Freqs. I'd prefer to report to you and you alone if that is possible. Don't need some sleeper selling me out while I am in there.  Just tell anyone that asks that I am doing some fishing and scrounging in the city."

Trying to think of anything else he'd need to ask about then continues.

" Am I going to stay out until this thing goes off or just get eyes on, report and then return? I am guessing you have at least one good mechanic in mind to bring along in case this is a truck."

Conklin considers his last question trying to remember if any of the folks he'd met said anything along the lines of auto mechanics. He'd honestly avoided or ignored most the folks he found himself living with. He wasn't yet used to the fact that he was now a part of a community. People tended to keep their distance without much encouragement from him. Being armed and acting rather stand offish was enough for most. Cherie being the main exception. He was still amazed the lady saw anything in him. Maybe he could ask Cherie if she knew anyone that could act as a mechanic if the need arose. He logged that away in the back of his mind with the thousands of other things he needed to do.

Snapping back to the fact that ed was still standing here patiently, Rob finishes up.

"Let me get my stuff together and I'll meet you in your quarters in say an hour or so?"

In reply to Robert A. Conklin (msg #4):

"Yeah, that'd be awesome."

He puffed on his pipe, looking for all the world like a college professor.

"A couple things. We don't want to fight the Canucks over anything we find. Most likely, we're going to give it all back anyways to get a better deal, so don't risk your life for it. It's not worth it."

"Also, Tyler says they are going to try and do thing police-style, so that means a minimum of killing. Preferably none. Even if you got that peckerwood Cyrus in your sights. Maybe if he's raping a little girl... well, use your judgment, you know what I mean. We don't want to tip the Stickies there's something up, they are already keyed-up as is. Worst comes to worse, the government could use any information you can provide."

Ed shook his head. "Man, this is a little too much like 'Nam. Do a recon and risk your life, but it's only for an objective we're planning on giving up, anyways. I'm also basically telling you if this thing goes wrong this conversation never took place, and we don't know who you are. That's not far from the truth; if you get in the shit it's not like we can come in and get you!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:50, Sun 08 Mar 2009.

Conklin smiles at the Nam comment.

"Well I guess we both should be used to it by now.  Can't keep the ground you bleed and died to take. Can't kill the enemy your trained to kill and is trying his damnedest to kill you. Can't count on the cavalry to come save the day when your in the suck. Just like the good ole days. Well, good ole, ole, really ole days for you."
Conklin couldn't resist some good natured ribbing.

In reply to Robert A. Conklin (msg #6):

Ed coughed dramatically. "Yep, if I weren't so dang old, I'd paddle your behind with my cane!" In fact, there was less than a generation between them, as Ed was in his late 50's. Rob's father had been Ed's platoon NCO when the latter was a wet-behind-the-ears "brown bar" in the central highlands of Vietnam.

Ed took the radio. "Stay as long as you like, and yeah, we have a couple guys who are mechanics. Are you waiting for dark or going now?

GM Note: sorry, I couldn't seem to see where a timeline was posted or not. It's currently mid-afternoon, and raining hard.

In reply to helbent4 (msg #7):

Rob looks up at the sky and the heavy rain.
"I am hoping this rain holds through the night. It will help. I'd like a water insertion ASAP near the East shore. And if possible to have my ride waiting when I am done in the west shore of town or close. I can flash him a light to signal I  need a taxi ride."

Conklin figures if the stickies are drilling alot at night then they are sleeping in the day. Depending on the visibility due to heavy rain an evening insertion may be best.

"let me gather my gear and I'll met you in a bit. Gotta tell Cherie I am going fishing and stuff. Arrange for me a driver you trust if you can and we will speak more on details when in a bit."

Rob rolls his eyes with the Cherie comment and heads off towards his quarters.

In reply to Robert A. Conklin (msg #8):

Rob finished telling Cherie he was just doing some fishing in the evening. She had learned not to be too clingy and indeed was independent in her own right. She sensed that there was more to the story, but didn't want to push for more.

The sky was starting to get dark, and the rain didn't seem like it was going to let up at all. Ed met him at a quite corner of the compound, out of sight. It wasn't hard; everyone was inside due to the terrible weather.

"Okay, we can have the zodiac parked across the water at, ah North Vancouver. Signal using an IR light. I'll lend Chris and DeShawn my NVGs." They were two of Tyler's buddies from the VA hospital, fellow members of "the Herd", the 82nd Abn, and Ed trusted them.

"They'll drop you off, go to their laager point, then wait until 30 minutes before dawn to either pick you up or RTB. That will give you time to get back. At the laager point they'll keep their eye out for the train*, but it left a couple days ago so we think there won't be anyone in the area."

After it was dark, Rob met Chris and DeShawn at the dock. Not a lot was said as they loaded up and pushed off. Burrard Inlet had picked up a little chop, although there wasn't a lot of wind to really get things going. Rainfall on the water created a constant unheard background "Shussshhhhhhhhhhhhh.....".

They rounded the massive rounded hulk of the stern section of the capsized freighter.

It looked inaccessible, and on the surface it was. In fact Rob had been on many dives where he'd entered the scorched superstructure underwater, and entered the flooded passage that led to the one hold that was actually resting above water level. From there, he had made many trips to salvage the supplies stored there, mainly preserved food and some ammunition. These salvage trips had to be done at night to avoid tipping off the Sticken and others who would be equally interested in the riches still remaining in the shattered hold and in the bowels of the wreck. Still, it always gave him nightmares after, even thourgh he'd moved the pitiful scattered remains of the crew trapped belowdecks to an empty stateroom, then sealed the hatch.

After passing the lighthouse on Lighthouse point, they traveled past the open agricultural areas surrounding the structure known as "Lumberman's Arch".

Finally, they pulled into the outlet for the medium-sized stream.

It had been extensively improved before the war. There was a bridge for the jogging/bike trail where went over the stream at the mouth, near Burrard Inlet. Upstream for several dozen metres, the stream continued under a long shed-like structure that supported the road bed above. The concrete sides of the stream bed were wet and sloped, but passable. Railings lined the tops of the sides, and at the upstream end the creek issued from a wide echoing concrete culvert.

*GM Note: I forgot to mention, but for the last several months you've been observing what appears to be an honest-to-God steam train (lots of smoke, old-fashioned looking locomotive, some different passenger and cargo cars, including armoured security cars made from APC hulls) traveling back and forth on the tracks running along the North Shore. They use that roudabout loop to turn the trains around, and you figure they keep the locomotive and cars in the rail tunnel that runs under the downtown of Lonsdale/the Quay in North Vancouver, a little further to the east. They seem to make a major excursion up north every month or so. You haven't bothered them, and they haven't bothered you!

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