054: Answers Don't

Eddie's Journal, September 27th, 2000

Ms. Alice got nothing on us.  We're going down that rabbit hole and puling it in after us.  Doc did the honors on Czarny with the 'assistance' of Aldon Teporski former vet and de facto doc of Sielce.  I took shorthand.  The report's disappeared into the Krowola's safe.  I probably shouldn't be writing this down here.  Security and all.  Forget about it.  You can take this as the ramblings of a man who should have been drawn out of service a long time ago.

I'll give them this, Doc and Aldon stayed clinical throughout.  Clinical, see what I did there?

Doc says, if his head wasn't missing, you'd have thought he'd spent a week in the hospital.  The gunshot wounds were closed and well on their way to full healing.  The knife wounds had scabbed over and stopped bleeding.  Hell, maybe we could stitch his head on and say, "Carry on Colonel!"

They had a hard time opening the body cavity.  Thick blood welled out of the incisions.  Neat trick when your heart has stopped and gravity's the only thing working on you.  It scabbed fast.  Trying to seal the wounds.  Doc and Vet had to keep reworking the Y.  They elected to remove the organs and examine them individually instead of in situ.   

The organs are odd.  Yeah, right, odd.  I've seen the insides of a man before.  Too many.  Slick, pink/red/dark blue, smooth and lumpy.  These were scabrous, rough and discolored, with greys and yellows layered over the innards.  I thought cancerous?  Doc wouldn't WAG.

She scapaled off thin slices and put them under the scope.  Cells were similar to the host organs, but more compact and tightly grouped.  They formed spirals and mandalas.  They went all the way down out of sight.  All the way down the hole.

They had a purpose.  Czarny had been shot multiple times in the torso.  His liver and one of the kidneys had been heavily damaged.  On them the growths had blossomed.  They were absorbing the damaged organ.  replacing it.  Was it the same?  Or something else.  I'm not volunteering.


Other, anomalous, structures are independent of the organs.  Some distributed above the diaphragm in conjunction with the lungs and heart.  Others eeling through the intestines.

Most, similar to blood marrow, little production factories for the things in his blood.  Little black things swimming about.  They're too small to resolve with the crap high-school microscope Teporski carried over, but they're there.  All over the major wounds and the scabs and swimming in the blood. 

We kept samples of the blood, organs, his whole fucking brain, for shits and giggles.  Doc wanted formaldehyde.  We pickled them in Eth.  I was ready to drink it down by the end.  Hope command respects my sacrifice.

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Captain Paterson

Filip can tell his people whatever lies he wants.  The kids are safe at home in their beds.  There's been sporadic gunfire and vehicle traffic moving away since the raid.  He's happy on both counts.  Meanwhile, Doc's down in the pantry.  Czarny has his spot in hell.  I have a date with a shower and a bunk.  Not to be.

"Welcome back, major," greetings from the deck watch.  "Corporal Chilson has returned to duty.  He brought a guest.  Radio shack reports attempted contact at 12 last hour.  They're asking for you by name."

"Thanks.  Have someone chase Moonpie and his friend down to the galley.  I'll debrief them there.  Tell the shack to immediately inform me if they have any other contact.  Do we have any coffee left?"

"Yes, ma'am and no, but I'll see if anyone's holding out."

Below decks.  Black tea, bitter, no sugar.

"Corporal Chilson, reporting for duty."

"Sergeant Jon Schmidtz, 82nd Airborne, reporting."

"Not for duty, I note."

"No ma'am.  I've been sent by Major Emowitz to," he searches for an appropriate word.

"Evaluate our capabilities, ascertain our intentions, see if I'm a mad woman?  Any would do Sergeant.  I understand and applaud his caution.  I'm in the same fix."

"Ma'am?"

"I'll get to that.  Moonie, what's the situation?"

Moonie lays out Praga as he saw it.  American positions, quarters fanned out between the rubble wall and the river.  Pirates, crews with their boats (no more than a dozen) and support behind the defensive wall.  They're able to take position, with machine guns, overlooking the Americans if they got frisky.  The Baron's personal overseers, further back from the wall, safe among the fields and with easy access to civilians.  New/Old Town has the Americans in a more centralized position with the Baron's men integrated.  Split about 150 in Praga and 75 in New/Old.

In return I lay out our successes.  The gun, destroyed.  Czarny, dead.  His coalition, splintering.  "Someone's going to pick up the pieces and soon.  We need to keep hitting them.  Not give them the time to stabilize.  I want your people to be part of that step."

"Look, I came downriver because I knew American prisoners had been sold to this 'Baron'.  I didn't expect to find you working as janissaries.  We can change that.  I've been on my own since July.  I started with half a dozen.  Today, I'm commanding a detachment of fifty and have another two hundred prepping winter quarters in Krakow.  Come summer we're heading west. Will you be with us?"

He's hungry.  I can see it.  He wants out of the ruins.  As far as he can from this desolation.  He licks his lips, sits forward, "I, I'll need to talk with some of your men."

"Take your pick Sergeant.  Crew or locals too.  I've got nothing to hide."

"And your 'fix', Captain?"

"Major Emowitz, Captain Paterson.  Water isn't the only thing flowing downhill.  By rights, once I've liberated him, he's over me.  I'm not going to let him waste my men.  We need an accommodation."

His eyes glaze, "Do you need him dead?"

"Jesus Christ, no!  I didn't want him dead!  Get that out of your head.  He needs to understand.  I have the plans, the contacts, and the people to get us all out of here.  He needs to follow my lead until we can get back.  After that, he can bring my ass up on charges.  Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

A sharp rap on the galley door.  Ed sticks his head in before I can answer.  "Ring, ring.  Spark's needs you on the bridge."

"Ed, show these two to my bunk.  It's small.  One of you'll have to take the floor.  Good night."

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On the bridge specialist Dixon is waiting on radio watch.  The radio is murmuring.  This is Lt. Zajac, Barony of Warsaw.  Come in Captain Paterson.  Over.  His English has a British accent.

I take the mike from Dixon, "How long."

"Third repetition.  He gave us six last hour."

This is Lt. Zajac, Barony of Warsaw.  Come in Captain Paterson.  Over.

"Captain, keep it short.  You don't want him triangulating your position."

"I'll keep that in mind.  But between you, me and that big building over there."  I towards Place of Culture, a dark shadow against the sky.  "He knows."

This is Lt. Zajac, Barony of Warsaw.  Come in Captain Paterson.  Over.

"Zajac, this is Paterson.  Over."

Captain,  I wish to open negotiations.  Over.


"I gladly accept your surrender.  Over."

The American sense of humor.  No.  I want the Baron returned.  Over.


"To what point.  He's dead, Zajac.  Over."

I, I knew as much.  I want to negotiate a transfer of remains.  The bodies of two of your assault team for his.  Over.

Two, should be three.  "Why?  Over?"

You don't know the people you're working for.  The depths of barbarity they're capable of.  I want him taken home for a proper Christian burial.  Do you understand?  Over.

Oh, do I ever.  Nothing like having me give back your hibernating, healing leader on a platter for a couple of corpses.  Jokes on you.  "I understand.  Provided we can arrange a meeting, I agree to your offer.  Over."

It is good we can reach an agreement.  Very reasonable.  I would broach another.  Over.

"Go ahead.  Over."

George, say hello to the nice Captain.  His voice is broken, riddled with pain, but it's George.  I do hope Rukowski is still with us.  Over.



"Yes, yes he is.  Over."  Shit yeah, you've got a deal.