Ed's Journal, October 26th, 2000
Made Warsaw by the afternoon. I'd like to say the locals threw us a huge going away party. They were more scared that we'd come to stay the winter. I gather their stores were going to be just enough and another 300 mouths would have been unwelcome. It was good to get out, walk more than 100 feet in any one direction, and get out of sight of some faces.
Three more days downstream.
October 27th, 2000
Karl Uller was transferred into custody this morning. He'll be breaking rock for spring plantings. I wonder if he'll last that long. I imagine an accident is heading his way when Rataj isn't looking.
Leo came back a made man. He sported Captain's insignia, two tan bars trimmed in red with four small stars, very styling. A present of paperwork recording his field promotion by Major General Koronov of 10th Guards Tank was presented to Cap'n Kat. I am to file it away under jumped-up BS.
Leo thinks he will be more valuable to the Army as a Captain than a Senior Sergeant. Might work.
October 28th, 2000
Easy sailing. Nothing to report.
October 29th, 2000
Best laid plans. We had intended to dock at Torun to offload the tank and truck before shuttling men and materials to the train. Not to be.
We spotted a cav patrol along the north river bank some 20 kilometers out. Two of the men trotted ahead and flagged us. We could see they were Russian regulars by the uniforms, so Leo and Alphabit took the power boat over to talk.
Once they realized they were talking with a American unit I am told they became quite strident that we could not continue downstream and under no circumstances would we be allowed to disembark at Torun.
Leo worked his magic with them and their young LT told him that Torun was occupied by a Russian CavD. They didn't want a fight, too fucking cold and too much bloodshed, but there was no way we'd be allowed into their operational area.
Eventually our Russian friends broke out their radio. Their CO and Leo had a long distance heart to heart. If we wanted to disembark of the south side of the river that was outside is area of operations he didn't give a fuck. If we headed north he'd have a hot reception waiting. He'd be maintaining a watch the whole time. Leo agreed and so his scouts told us of a dock on the south side some two kilometers ahead.
The dock looks sound. We'll spend the night in the middle of the river. Walking again come morning.
October 30th, 2000
Tank's off the barge and perimeter secured. The first truck load of supplies and men piled on top are on the road. They have a 10 klick drive, unload, and back. Rinse, repeat.
Truck came back. Train's there, no crew. Load and go.
Truck came back. Signs of fighting reported, bullets no blood, UAZ tracks. Someone grabbed our engineer. Cap'n Kat says, "Eddie, you can run a steam engine, right?" Yeah, right.
Truck came back. Alphabit found two charges on the train. One, pretty obvious, on the main drive axle underneath. The second affixed on the bottom of the boiler. We also have a "ransom" note instructing us to monitor frequency 50.50. Joy.
Five wet Russians on horseback with remounts in tow approached our perimeter. Our LT from the cavalry and some of his men. They defect. Cap'n Kat figures we can use the horse meat and another five won't stretch supplies. They're in and under watch.
Our group decamps with the last truck load. I get to tank ride.
Leo has been broadcasting on the the freq. Still no reply.
Maybe they're waiting on nightfall.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
070: A Quiet Trip
Paterson, October 23rd, 2000
Two quiet days down the river. Ed lets himself into my cabin cum office. Locks the door behind him. I knew it was too good to last.
"Cap, I need to talk with you."
Sigh, "You're doing a good job of it."
"Yeah, look, I had the most interesting conversation with Uller this morning. You know I've spent a lot of time with Iosef on the trip back up. He's a good sort once you get past the fuck-off exterior. We got to talking shop and he decided he could trust me enough to show off the engines and the boiler. He's an unsung genius."
"Ed, Uller, please."
"Yeah, Uller. Well the first mate asked me up at the end of his shift. Was telling me how Captain Rataj was planning on leaving the river once we were gone and settle with his family in Warsaw. And how Iosef wasn't getting any younger either. He's offering me a spot on the new crew due to my mechanical competence and all."
Ed wound down looking uncomfortable at anywhere but me.
"You thinking of taking up the offer."
He runs his hands through his hair. "No, no, no. It was just the way Uller was talking. Not so much about how to increase trade and unite the river communities, though that was there, but how it was a dangerous time and he'd need strong men who were willing to do what it takes. I kept giving him encouraging noises. He thinks we won't find a landing to offload the tank and we'll need a tank crew, at least a gunner, and some rifles. You know, it reminded me of Rutkowski and Czarny."
He got me thinking. Karl would be sleeping right now. He stood watch from double-oh early into the morning hours. There was plenty of time to get things done.
"Ed, you can tell Karl next time you see him that you've been hearing Leo's having cold feet about leaving Poland. If he wants a hard man I'll give him one."
-------------------------------------------------
Leonid, October 24th, 2000
The cold never goes away. Even with the early morning sun a hand above the horizon our breath steams up from the barge. We are making our own fog.
"Leonid, my friend, may I have a word."
Clock work. The little puke is off his watch and scuttling down the whole length of the barge to talk. Cockroach.
"First Mate Uller. For you, I have much time. What brings you to my station?"
"I'll be plain. Ed Cutter tells me you're having concerns about following the Americans home. Is this the truth?"
"Ed, as they say, runs his mouth. But yes, I am having 'second thoughts' as they say. What can a man with my accent expect? If I stray from the sides of my comrades," I mime aiming a rifle. "Bang, another dead commie."
"There are always options. Look at myself, a German in Poland, next in line for the command of the Korowla! You could go as far yourself."
"You have another ship in your pocket?"
"Close. Let us go inside and talk. I have given our situation much thought. There is a killing to be made on the river and I think you can help us do it."
"Us?"
"Edward, myself, a few others. They'll be enough, once the Captain retires, to run this river. It will be decades before Poland recovers. Those who control the trade will have more than enough power to live comfortably once it does."
"Clever. Yes, let us go and discuss this. Convince me we have a shot. Better than being shot by some Amerikanski yokel."
--------------------------------------------------
Hours later I'm repeating the tale to both the Captains. Captain Rataj seems not to understand what's happening. Kat leaves it all on me
"In summary, he doesn't expect us to be able to offload the tank. It is the linchpin of his dream. With the T-80 riding on the bow the Krowola would be 'untouchable' by most river traffic and communities. He left the details deliberately vague. He was especially keen on Ed's knowledge of the boiler and my own understanding of Tadeuz's sounding tasks. He kept telling me Rataj and the others would retire, but I expect loyal crew would have been disappeared before Warsaw."
Kat turns her eyes to Rataj. "Captain, were you planning on leaving the Krowola?"
"No. I had discussed retiring, once, when my family was safe in Krakow. But with the situation as it is the Warsaw communities need the river traffic and trade. I planned to continue on. I had told him that." Rataj stumbles and mutters, "I told Karl that when we left the Krakow docks."
"Captain, this is your ship and man. What do you need us to do?"
Rataj sits, looking every one of his fifty plus years, as the silence grows. He takes his cap from his head. His hands absently mutilating it as he runs through scenarios in his head. Decision made he returns it to his crown.
"By rights I should have him up on charges and executed for inciting mutiny. Fortunately for Karl, he hauled me out of the wreckage of the Ksiezna this spring. We'll take him under arrest. I'll beach him in Warsaw and let all the boat people know what he planned. He'll never work this river again."
"More than he deserves, I think," Kat answers. "Do you have a place for him?"
"I'll have Iosef clear a storage closet below. We can chain the door. It'll only be two days. He can have a bucket. I'll fill it with water to start. He can do the rest."
"Do you want us to take him into custody."
"Yes. It would be the best."
"I'll do it," I tell Rataj. "He's expecting an answer from me today."
-----------------------------------------------------
Early evening, Karl should just be rising. I give Alphabit the ready sign. My new Stethkin pistol, a parting gift for myself, held low beside me as I knock on the cabin hatch. "Karl, we need to talk. It's important."
He fumbles with the hatch. "Leo, my friend, what is the problem." The steel squeals as it opens.
I straight arm him as soon as there's room. He stumbles back. Fool isn't even carrying a gun. A second strike backs him into the wall of his small cabin. I'm sure he can see the round at the bottom of my pistol as it fills his face.
"You, comrade, are the problem." Alphabit enters behind me. "Please cause a fuss. I'd like to spare the old man the pain of trying your worthless black ass."
Two quiet days down the river. Ed lets himself into my cabin cum office. Locks the door behind him. I knew it was too good to last.
"Cap, I need to talk with you."
Sigh, "You're doing a good job of it."
"Yeah, look, I had the most interesting conversation with Uller this morning. You know I've spent a lot of time with Iosef on the trip back up. He's a good sort once you get past the fuck-off exterior. We got to talking shop and he decided he could trust me enough to show off the engines and the boiler. He's an unsung genius."
"Ed, Uller, please."
"Yeah, Uller. Well the first mate asked me up at the end of his shift. Was telling me how Captain Rataj was planning on leaving the river once we were gone and settle with his family in Warsaw. And how Iosef wasn't getting any younger either. He's offering me a spot on the new crew due to my mechanical competence and all."
Ed wound down looking uncomfortable at anywhere but me.
"You thinking of taking up the offer."
He runs his hands through his hair. "No, no, no. It was just the way Uller was talking. Not so much about how to increase trade and unite the river communities, though that was there, but how it was a dangerous time and he'd need strong men who were willing to do what it takes. I kept giving him encouraging noises. He thinks we won't find a landing to offload the tank and we'll need a tank crew, at least a gunner, and some rifles. You know, it reminded me of Rutkowski and Czarny."
He got me thinking. Karl would be sleeping right now. He stood watch from double-oh early into the morning hours. There was plenty of time to get things done.
"Ed, you can tell Karl next time you see him that you've been hearing Leo's having cold feet about leaving Poland. If he wants a hard man I'll give him one."
-------------------------------------------------
Leonid, October 24th, 2000
The cold never goes away. Even with the early morning sun a hand above the horizon our breath steams up from the barge. We are making our own fog.
"Leonid, my friend, may I have a word."
Clock work. The little puke is off his watch and scuttling down the whole length of the barge to talk. Cockroach.
"First Mate Uller. For you, I have much time. What brings you to my station?"
"I'll be plain. Ed Cutter tells me you're having concerns about following the Americans home. Is this the truth?"
"Ed, as they say, runs his mouth. But yes, I am having 'second thoughts' as they say. What can a man with my accent expect? If I stray from the sides of my comrades," I mime aiming a rifle. "Bang, another dead commie."
"There are always options. Look at myself, a German in Poland, next in line for the command of the Korowla! You could go as far yourself."
"You have another ship in your pocket?"
"Close. Let us go inside and talk. I have given our situation much thought. There is a killing to be made on the river and I think you can help us do it."
"Us?"
"Edward, myself, a few others. They'll be enough, once the Captain retires, to run this river. It will be decades before Poland recovers. Those who control the trade will have more than enough power to live comfortably once it does."
"Clever. Yes, let us go and discuss this. Convince me we have a shot. Better than being shot by some Amerikanski yokel."
--------------------------------------------------
Hours later I'm repeating the tale to both the Captains. Captain Rataj seems not to understand what's happening. Kat leaves it all on me
"In summary, he doesn't expect us to be able to offload the tank. It is the linchpin of his dream. With the T-80 riding on the bow the Krowola would be 'untouchable' by most river traffic and communities. He left the details deliberately vague. He was especially keen on Ed's knowledge of the boiler and my own understanding of Tadeuz's sounding tasks. He kept telling me Rataj and the others would retire, but I expect loyal crew would have been disappeared before Warsaw."
Kat turns her eyes to Rataj. "Captain, were you planning on leaving the Krowola?"
"No. I had discussed retiring, once, when my family was safe in Krakow. But with the situation as it is the Warsaw communities need the river traffic and trade. I planned to continue on. I had told him that." Rataj stumbles and mutters, "I told Karl that when we left the Krakow docks."
"Captain, this is your ship and man. What do you need us to do?"
Rataj sits, looking every one of his fifty plus years, as the silence grows. He takes his cap from his head. His hands absently mutilating it as he runs through scenarios in his head. Decision made he returns it to his crown.
"By rights I should have him up on charges and executed for inciting mutiny. Fortunately for Karl, he hauled me out of the wreckage of the Ksiezna this spring. We'll take him under arrest. I'll beach him in Warsaw and let all the boat people know what he planned. He'll never work this river again."
"More than he deserves, I think," Kat answers. "Do you have a place for him?"
"I'll have Iosef clear a storage closet below. We can chain the door. It'll only be two days. He can have a bucket. I'll fill it with water to start. He can do the rest."
"Do you want us to take him into custody."
"Yes. It would be the best."
"I'll do it," I tell Rataj. "He's expecting an answer from me today."
-----------------------------------------------------
Early evening, Karl should just be rising. I give Alphabit the ready sign. My new Stethkin pistol, a parting gift for myself, held low beside me as I knock on the cabin hatch. "Karl, we need to talk. It's important."
He fumbles with the hatch. "Leo, my friend, what is the problem." The steel squeals as it opens.
I straight arm him as soon as there's room. He stumbles back. Fool isn't even carrying a gun. A second strike backs him into the wall of his small cabin. I'm sure he can see the round at the bottom of my pistol as it fills his face.
"You, comrade, are the problem." Alphabit enters behind me. "Please cause a fuss. I'd like to spare the old man the pain of trying your worthless black ass."
Sunday, May 20, 2012
069: Going Home
Paterson, October 17th, 2000
Rataj was ignorant of the changing situation. He'd been too involved with shutting down and selling out his property in Krakow to pay attention to any rumors. His face split into a broad smile when I told him of our news and recent turn of fortune. He readily agreed. The Wistula Krowola could sail by the 20th. It would probably take that long to scare up the crew, especially Tadeuz, from where they had hidden themselves to enjoy a well deserved rest and reward. If all else failed there was himself and Iosef, who lived on the Krowola, to form a scratch crew with us for strong backs and hands. It would take us 7 days to reach a landing to within walking distance of the train. That counted a one day stop in Warsaw for us to stretch our legs and make our goodbyes.
Ed pestered me mightily on the trip back. Even after our return we'd been running so fast we'd had no time to relax. Alphabit and him wanted to shop and spend some of their ill gotten gains. Tomorrow was Wednesday, a market day, I promised the boys a day to themselves while I hunted us food for the trip. We had armor to sell. The BMP, first, then the OTs and other wheels. The tank would travel downstream and onto a flatbed if it could fit.
That night Emowitz and I once again gathered the men. We told them circumstances had changed. We had transport. Martens, our mysterious stranger, gave them the briefing on the train. We let the excited response persist for a few minutes before Emowitz bellowed them down. We went over the dangers again. The chance that something had happened to the train or would happen on the trip. We'd likely have to fight our way out of Poland. And if something happened, we'd be stuck far from Krakow with little food and no transport. It was one very chancy roll of the dice and no one would be looked down upon if they decided not to risk it and stay.
Gunny Walters shouted for attention. He had the some men help him up and over to us. He gave me a steely eyed stare and a firm handshake. In his best DI voice he addressed the assembly. "I'm staying. Captain's right, this is a low odds run. If you're thinking on staying too know that I'm going to be here to run this compound and haul your sorry asses out of trouble. I'm going to be in the next room over. Come along if you're staying."
A slow drip left in his wake. Faces I'd left in Krakow when I'd gone downriver. They'd taken wives in our absence, put down their roots. Others, a few from the Major's POW company, sick, infirm, or frightened. The rest we gave the night to think it over.
Will, Arlan and I stayed up late into the night. We drank local brew and kept the doors open for the men who had questions. Many, many questions.
Paterson, October 18th, 2000
Two hundred and eighty-seven will be going home. Ninety-seven made the hardest call they'd ever had and decided to stay.
I took a fire team for security and made my way up to the castle to speak with my mutual acquaintance Lt. Adom. He was intrigued with my offer of armor for food. He pulled a pair of mechanics off duty and went with us on an inspection tour. We talked as the techs clambered over the armor.
"So, Captain Kat, why us? Why not them?" He gestured negligently at the ORMO security post.
"We don't get along that well," I told him. "They're in it for the shakedown."
"They do that part well enough."
He spoke with the techs after the inspection. As they took him around, pointing out details complementary and derogatory, a UAZ pulled up. An ORMO Captain, by his tabs, leaped out and got into a screaming row with Adom. Adom gave as good as he got before pushing past. "The BMP, eleven tons."
I countered at twenty. We worked out way to fifteen. The ORMO officer, furious at being ignored, wormed his way between us and tried to poke me in the chest. Very wrong move.
I'd spent years down in South America before the war teaching sexist miners their manners regarding women. I turned that experience on him now. I caught his hand and gave it a twist. "I am talking to the man. If the ORMO wishes to make a bid it starts at thirty tons." I shoved him away. "Do you wish to bid?"
From the ground he glared. "Warta is not to have armor. You cannot sell to him."
"No," Adom replied. "We gave you what we had to aid the mutual defense of the city. There is nothing between us regarding future acquisitions." ORMO sputtered back.
"No bid then. Get the fuck out."
He did to the jeering of the watch.
"Fifteen it is Adom." Nine hundred kilos a day, 287 men, roughly 17 days. Oh, yes, quite a deal.
--------------------------------------
I should not let my boys loose on the town. Alphabit brought back swords. Crappy ceremonial sabers for Doc, Emowitz, and I. He presented his gifts with a serious little lecture.
"No officer is fully dressed without a sword. With this no one will be able to accuse you of being any less than a proper military officer."
It'd break his heart if I threw it out. Fortunately, Emowitz informed him with equal seriousness, "Thank you, but until we get out of the field we'll have to keep this stowed away properly. We don't want to get singled out by a sniper."
He took that as a proper precaution and went back to tend to Rex. The cat's been inseparable since we returned. Doc's speculated on how, maybe, the cat may have been affected as well. I told her I wouldn't stand in her way or in Alphabit's way either after she was done. Doc dropped thread of thought quickly.
-----------------------------------
I put a heavy footlocker beside Gunny and took myself a seat. He was stretched out on his sickbed. I noticed yet another ceremonial saber against his leg.
"You didn't have to medically invalid yourself out. I'd carry you myself if you needed it."
He grinned back. "I didn't. These boys need a strong hand on the tiller. Whether down in bed or up and about, I'll be that. I'll keep them safe."
"I know you will. That's why I brought this." I slap the locker. "I've told you about the Madonna? This something more than half the gold we have left from that incident and a good chunk of Krakow script. You keep an eye on this. Use it as needed."
"Understood. You know, Lt. Caruthers is the highest ranker staying behind. You're not going behind his back."
"Never, he's a good logistical officer and he's got got the balance of the script for food and fuel this winter. This is, a gift, from one marine to another. You'll have it as you need it. Semper fi."
"Always, Captain."
"Now, there's also letters in there. One to Filipowitz in Raciborz. He may have appointed himself King by the time you need it, but he'll still owe me one. If things get too hot here, it is one way to go. Another's to Warsaw, they owe you personally and us collectively."
"Captain, I got it in hand." He pats his blade.
"Alphabit got you one too. Caruthers going to be striding around with one on his hip as well."
"No, Alphabit told me he was only leaving it with officers in charge." He drew the blade and handed it over. It had heft, an edge, and a well worn handle. The real deal. "Cossack cavalry saber. NCOs count as real officers in his world."
I gave him his sword back respectfully, "I think he's telling you, in his own twisted way, that your in charge and you have the means to enforce it."
"Won't come to that."
"Anything you'll be wanting before we go?"
"Just one. I'm giving you four years. If your not back by then to pick us up. I'm coming after you. You let those rear echelon weenies know we're not deserting or abandoning our country. We need to stay so you can make it back. I'm overseeing operations."
"I won't let them tar you with that. I promise, somehow, we'll get you out." He's got 73 effective, 20 physical casualties, and three mentals. I'm being weak letting them 'volunteer' to stay.
"I think you got some other fellas to visit. I'll leave you to it. Semper fi, captain."
I salute him before I leave. Semper fi.
Paterson, October 21st, 2000
I negotiated passage of the Krowola upstream to Krakow. We loaded directly from food warehouses on the river shore and embarked our troops. The tank waited a few kilometers downstream at Nowy Hut. Spirits are high. As the Krowola slipped her moors some wag on the deck started to shout out
Krakow's docks echoed to the refrain as the company picked it up.
Rataj was ignorant of the changing situation. He'd been too involved with shutting down and selling out his property in Krakow to pay attention to any rumors. His face split into a broad smile when I told him of our news and recent turn of fortune. He readily agreed. The Wistula Krowola could sail by the 20th. It would probably take that long to scare up the crew, especially Tadeuz, from where they had hidden themselves to enjoy a well deserved rest and reward. If all else failed there was himself and Iosef, who lived on the Krowola, to form a scratch crew with us for strong backs and hands. It would take us 7 days to reach a landing to within walking distance of the train. That counted a one day stop in Warsaw for us to stretch our legs and make our goodbyes.
Ed pestered me mightily on the trip back. Even after our return we'd been running so fast we'd had no time to relax. Alphabit and him wanted to shop and spend some of their ill gotten gains. Tomorrow was Wednesday, a market day, I promised the boys a day to themselves while I hunted us food for the trip. We had armor to sell. The BMP, first, then the OTs and other wheels. The tank would travel downstream and onto a flatbed if it could fit.
That night Emowitz and I once again gathered the men. We told them circumstances had changed. We had transport. Martens, our mysterious stranger, gave them the briefing on the train. We let the excited response persist for a few minutes before Emowitz bellowed them down. We went over the dangers again. The chance that something had happened to the train or would happen on the trip. We'd likely have to fight our way out of Poland. And if something happened, we'd be stuck far from Krakow with little food and no transport. It was one very chancy roll of the dice and no one would be looked down upon if they decided not to risk it and stay.
Gunny Walters shouted for attention. He had the some men help him up and over to us. He gave me a steely eyed stare and a firm handshake. In his best DI voice he addressed the assembly. "I'm staying. Captain's right, this is a low odds run. If you're thinking on staying too know that I'm going to be here to run this compound and haul your sorry asses out of trouble. I'm going to be in the next room over. Come along if you're staying."
A slow drip left in his wake. Faces I'd left in Krakow when I'd gone downriver. They'd taken wives in our absence, put down their roots. Others, a few from the Major's POW company, sick, infirm, or frightened. The rest we gave the night to think it over.
Will, Arlan and I stayed up late into the night. We drank local brew and kept the doors open for the men who had questions. Many, many questions.
Paterson, October 18th, 2000
Two hundred and eighty-seven will be going home. Ninety-seven made the hardest call they'd ever had and decided to stay.
I took a fire team for security and made my way up to the castle to speak with my mutual acquaintance Lt. Adom. He was intrigued with my offer of armor for food. He pulled a pair of mechanics off duty and went with us on an inspection tour. We talked as the techs clambered over the armor.
"So, Captain Kat, why us? Why not them?" He gestured negligently at the ORMO security post.
"We don't get along that well," I told him. "They're in it for the shakedown."
"They do that part well enough."
He spoke with the techs after the inspection. As they took him around, pointing out details complementary and derogatory, a UAZ pulled up. An ORMO Captain, by his tabs, leaped out and got into a screaming row with Adom. Adom gave as good as he got before pushing past. "The BMP, eleven tons."
I countered at twenty. We worked out way to fifteen. The ORMO officer, furious at being ignored, wormed his way between us and tried to poke me in the chest. Very wrong move.
I'd spent years down in South America before the war teaching sexist miners their manners regarding women. I turned that experience on him now. I caught his hand and gave it a twist. "I am talking to the man. If the ORMO wishes to make a bid it starts at thirty tons." I shoved him away. "Do you wish to bid?"
From the ground he glared. "Warta is not to have armor. You cannot sell to him."
"No," Adom replied. "We gave you what we had to aid the mutual defense of the city. There is nothing between us regarding future acquisitions." ORMO sputtered back.
"No bid then. Get the fuck out."
He did to the jeering of the watch.
"Fifteen it is Adom." Nine hundred kilos a day, 287 men, roughly 17 days. Oh, yes, quite a deal.
--------------------------------------
I should not let my boys loose on the town. Alphabit brought back swords. Crappy ceremonial sabers for Doc, Emowitz, and I. He presented his gifts with a serious little lecture.
"No officer is fully dressed without a sword. With this no one will be able to accuse you of being any less than a proper military officer."
It'd break his heart if I threw it out. Fortunately, Emowitz informed him with equal seriousness, "Thank you, but until we get out of the field we'll have to keep this stowed away properly. We don't want to get singled out by a sniper."
He took that as a proper precaution and went back to tend to Rex. The cat's been inseparable since we returned. Doc's speculated on how, maybe, the cat may have been affected as well. I told her I wouldn't stand in her way or in Alphabit's way either after she was done. Doc dropped thread of thought quickly.
-----------------------------------
I put a heavy footlocker beside Gunny and took myself a seat. He was stretched out on his sickbed. I noticed yet another ceremonial saber against his leg.
"You didn't have to medically invalid yourself out. I'd carry you myself if you needed it."
He grinned back. "I didn't. These boys need a strong hand on the tiller. Whether down in bed or up and about, I'll be that. I'll keep them safe."
"I know you will. That's why I brought this." I slap the locker. "I've told you about the Madonna? This something more than half the gold we have left from that incident and a good chunk of Krakow script. You keep an eye on this. Use it as needed."
"Understood. You know, Lt. Caruthers is the highest ranker staying behind. You're not going behind his back."
"Never, he's a good logistical officer and he's got got the balance of the script for food and fuel this winter. This is, a gift, from one marine to another. You'll have it as you need it. Semper fi."
"Always, Captain."
"Now, there's also letters in there. One to Filipowitz in Raciborz. He may have appointed himself King by the time you need it, but he'll still owe me one. If things get too hot here, it is one way to go. Another's to Warsaw, they owe you personally and us collectively."
"Captain, I got it in hand." He pats his blade.
"Alphabit got you one too. Caruthers going to be striding around with one on his hip as well."
"No, Alphabit told me he was only leaving it with officers in charge." He drew the blade and handed it over. It had heft, an edge, and a well worn handle. The real deal. "Cossack cavalry saber. NCOs count as real officers in his world."
I gave him his sword back respectfully, "I think he's telling you, in his own twisted way, that your in charge and you have the means to enforce it."
"Won't come to that."
"Anything you'll be wanting before we go?"
"Just one. I'm giving you four years. If your not back by then to pick us up. I'm coming after you. You let those rear echelon weenies know we're not deserting or abandoning our country. We need to stay so you can make it back. I'm overseeing operations."
"I won't let them tar you with that. I promise, somehow, we'll get you out." He's got 73 effective, 20 physical casualties, and three mentals. I'm being weak letting them 'volunteer' to stay.
"I think you got some other fellas to visit. I'll leave you to it. Semper fi, captain."
I salute him before I leave. Semper fi.
Paterson, October 21st, 2000
I negotiated passage of the Krowola upstream to Krakow. We loaded directly from food warehouses on the river shore and embarked our troops. The tank waited a few kilometers downstream at Nowy Hut. Spirits are high. As the Krowola slipped her moors some wag on the deck started to shout out
First to fight for the right,
And to build the Nation’s might,
And The Army Goes Rolling Along
Proud of all we have done,
Fighting till the battle’s won,
And the Army Goes Rolling Along.
Krakow's docks echoed to the refrain as the company picked it up.
Then it's Hi! Hi! Hey!
The Army's on its way.
Count off the cadence loud and strong
For where e’er we go,
You will always know
That The Army Goes Rolling Along.
Emowitz clasped me around the shoulders, "Anchors Aweigh would be more appropriate. I'll just say this, morale is high."
Thursday, May 17, 2012
068: New Faces, New Plans
Ed's Journal, October 16th, 2000
Somebody talked. Stark to put pressure on us? One of our guy's bed partner? Or maybe a broken transmission caught on short wave? In any case they started knocking on the compound's doors by mid afternoon. That trickle became a flood by evening. We were leaving. So everyone outside said.
Cap tried to see everybody. Give them a fair shake. I got to be the fly on the wall and hear the rejections. "Really, really, you're going to try to convince me you're American with English that broken? Really, you've been in Krakow how long and you're just talking to me now? Really, another refugee from the 5th, you're like the 200th today."
Cap finally lost it. "Tell them all we're staying! I don't want to see another mooch! Let the door hit them on the way out!"
One notable exception to the petitioners was a German Signals team. They'd been attached to 3rd Panzer and found themselves on the wrong side of the lines after Corps hung us out to dry. They still had their commo gear, a semi-functional shortwave, and a UAZ to ship it all in. Bonus points for the UAZ having a half-full tank of gas and a full 20L Jerry. Krauts struck it good. Their leader, a Lt Shultz, was disappointed to hear we weren't leaving until next year, but asked for a spot so they could ride home with us when the time came. Cap has some plans and a few more skilled electricians are a plus. Heh.
Paterson, October 17th, 2000
"Cap, front door says they have someone for you."
"Again? Ed, didn't they get the message the first time. I don't need another sob story. I got enough of my own."
"He knows your name." Ed's being sly doesn't work well.
"So did everyone else. Kind of getting famous here."
"Served with you." Trying to hide a smile.
"Spit it out. You keep playing around and I'll have you up on the post. 50 lashes. Woosh."
"Captain Martens."
Damn. "Will Martens?" Ed grins and nods happily. "What are
you waiting for?"
Will and I had served together closely during the last hectic week as the 5th fell. we set up crossing, torn them down, built barricades, planted mines, and all the other things needed to keep us alive. He'd been rock solid throughout the ordeal; encouraging, cajoling, and screaming as needed to get the troops working beyond their limits. We'd been separated during the breakout. I'd figured he'd died with the so many of the others. I was glad to be wrong.
Five minutes later, after the shaking, back slapping, and rib crushing hug,
Martens is seated and trying to regain his breath. Ed brings us cups of weak
Russian tea. I apologize as it is the best we've got. Martens waves me off with
a grin. "Best I've had in some time. God, I'm glad its really you."
After a grimace and a swallow he lunches into his tale. He'd had the Devil's
own luck during the confused fighting as the HQ was overrun. He'd slipped
through the cordon, like a seed between fingers, to be spat out to the
north-east. He'd spent weeks dodging enemy patrols and making his way north.
He'd gathered a few fellow stragglers to him and, eventually, fell in with some
friendly locals.
"I'd been resigned to going native until a Russian cavalry patrol came
through the town a few weeks back. They'd told the village headman that the war
was ending. The Americans were leaving Europe! I've seen the faces of your men,
you know exactly how I felt."
"We found out days ago Will. We're still dealing with it."
He nods in commiseration. "I'd made some close friends with one of the locals. Jan Strazinski used to be a train engineer before retiring in '85 when they mothballed the last of the steam locomotives. He'd done make work for the museum and preservation society. When the war started the Polish government pulled everything they could out of their stashes and dispersed them in the event of a nuclear exchange. Either it was forgotten or those who knew died. Its still there, engine, work car, flatbeds, box cars, the works."
"Where?"
"You remember that village on the south bank of the Vistula? The one we
didn't enter because of the plague warnings? I see you do."
"Ed! Maps!"
"This one?" Martens nods. Shit, fuck, damn, and all those other
words mother told me to never use. Right there, near where the Vistula turns to
the north for the final run into the Baltic, is a train. Shit, damn, fuck.
"Why are you here instead of leaving?"
"I have four men, small arms only. There's no way the rails will be
intact. I need workers and soldiers. I figured I could find them here in Krakow
and still get back in time to get the train moving for Bremerhaven."
"How many? How fast?"
"If the rails were intact, two days. Since there not we need to figure
in time for clearing and replacement. I'm WAGing here, but seven to ten days.
As for men, fifty with some heavy weapons would be nice."
"How about four hundred?"
"Maybe, pack them in like cordwood and ride on the roofs. We can do it.
You have that many?"
"If they all leave. Some of them are resigned to going native."
"Do you have the transport to get them all there? I can't see moving
that many men and supplies on foot all that way."
"Never you mind about transport. I got a man who owes me a favor."
"Ed, I know you're listening. Get over here. Get me Emowitz and Leo.
Will, we're going to go over this again with them sitting in."
"Not a problem."
Martens performs his song and dance for the Major and Leo. I don't have to ask Emowitz what he thinks. He's nearly bouncing in his seat. Leo gives it more consideration.
"Food. We're bringing in script for it. But we have small outflow from war chest, da? We'll need to part with vehicles to get food for the trip."
"I'm sure someone will want a BMP or OT. I'm keeping the tank. Tank beats everything."
We adjourned. Emowitz to talk with our logistics geeks. Will, Leo and I to go see Rataj. The old man promised me a spring trip. I hope he doesn't mind leaving early.
Somebody talked. Stark to put pressure on us? One of our guy's bed partner? Or maybe a broken transmission caught on short wave? In any case they started knocking on the compound's doors by mid afternoon. That trickle became a flood by evening. We were leaving. So everyone outside said.
Cap tried to see everybody. Give them a fair shake. I got to be the fly on the wall and hear the rejections. "Really, really, you're going to try to convince me you're American with English that broken? Really, you've been in Krakow how long and you're just talking to me now? Really, another refugee from the 5th, you're like the 200th today."
Cap finally lost it. "Tell them all we're staying! I don't want to see another mooch! Let the door hit them on the way out!"
One notable exception to the petitioners was a German Signals team. They'd been attached to 3rd Panzer and found themselves on the wrong side of the lines after Corps hung us out to dry. They still had their commo gear, a semi-functional shortwave, and a UAZ to ship it all in. Bonus points for the UAZ having a half-full tank of gas and a full 20L Jerry. Krauts struck it good. Their leader, a Lt Shultz, was disappointed to hear we weren't leaving until next year, but asked for a spot so they could ride home with us when the time came. Cap has some plans and a few more skilled electricians are a plus. Heh.
"Cap, front door says they have someone for you."
"Again? Ed, didn't they get the message the first time. I don't need another sob story. I got enough of my own."
"He knows your name." Ed's being sly doesn't work well.
"So did everyone else. Kind of getting famous here."
"Served with you." Trying to hide a smile.
"Spit it out. You keep playing around and I'll have you up on the post. 50 lashes. Woosh."
"Captain Martens."
Will and I had served together closely during the last hectic week as the 5th fell. we set up crossing, torn them down, built barricades, planted mines, and all the other things needed to keep us alive. He'd been rock solid throughout the ordeal; encouraging, cajoling, and screaming as needed to get the troops working beyond their limits. We'd been separated during the breakout. I'd figured he'd died with the so many of the others. I was glad to be wrong.
"We found out days ago Will. We're still dealing with it."
He nods in commiseration. "I'd made some close friends with one of the locals. Jan Strazinski used to be a train engineer before retiring in '85 when they mothballed the last of the steam locomotives. He'd done make work for the museum and preservation society. When the war started the Polish government pulled everything they could out of their stashes and dispersed them in the event of a nuclear exchange. Either it was forgotten or those who knew died. Its still there, engine, work car, flatbeds, box cars, the works."
"Where?"
"Not a problem."
Martens performs his song and dance for the Major and Leo. I don't have to ask Emowitz what he thinks. He's nearly bouncing in his seat. Leo gives it more consideration.
"Food. We're bringing in script for it. But we have small outflow from war chest, da? We'll need to part with vehicles to get food for the trip."
"I'm sure someone will want a BMP or OT. I'm keeping the tank. Tank beats everything."
We adjourned. Emowitz to talk with our logistics geeks. Will, Leo and I to go see Rataj. The old man promised me a spring trip. I hope he doesn't mind leaving early.
Monday, May 14, 2012
067: New Orders
Paterson, October 15, 2000
Two full days in Krakow. I've been eyeball deep in details. Paying off the ORMO, getting the troops settled, and inspecting the greenhouses and hoop gardens. The locals must think us strange. We're buying garbage and making compost.
Emowitz tells me we're turning into a Napoleonic era army. We've got camp followers just across the street and some of the men have taken 'wives'. I'm supposed to decide if they can come inside the compound. We're going to have children crawling on the floorboards come spring.
We've also acquired a preacher. Brother Lang, a Franciscan, holds mass and confessional twice weekly in a room Sergeant Hernadez assigned him. From what I understand, he's been telling the men that these are not the End Times, that God has not turned his face from us, and that Jesus died for all mankind. When we spoke he impressed me with his earnest desire to comfort the distressed and that included soldiers lost in a foreign land.
Now, in this time, George had left to report to Colonel Stark. Reassure him the box was still safe and we were planning to head out, with it, in the spring. George was away for more than a day and I figured this was a settled point. I should have known better. Life enjoys fucking me over.
Ed let him into my office. Seems even after the bombs drop we need paperwork.
George pulled his sidearm holster from his belt and set it on the table. "I'm bearing orders and information from the Colonel. I'd rather avoid any misunderstanding, Captain. I'm just delivering, not enforcing."
"So, it isn't happy news." I take his sidearm and put it in my desk drawer.
"No, do you want it alone? Or should we wait for Major Emowitz?"
"Was he supposed to receive this?"
George looks aside and nods.
"Ed! Get the Major, Doc and Leo in here. George is dropping a bomb."
Major Emowitz is the last to arrive. Doc and George make small talk in the meantime. He's still having headaches and trouble concentrating. Doc tells him to come by after the meeting. "I can't do more than treat the symptoms, but I can give you some ibuprofen for the head."
Once Emowitz gets seated George hands over our new orders. Typewritten pages from a faded ribbon. "Operation Omega, Stark received these via coded shortwave on September 20th. We were already in Warsaw. The short story is the American military believes the Pact is spent. Germany can hold on it's own. All troops are to assemble at Bremerhaven no later than November 15. They're going home."
Emowitz is the first to respond. He slams his fist on the table. "Fuck them!" He snarls. "They're abandoning us here. They've written us off."
"Yes, Major, they have. The summer offensive was a failure. Even if they knew you were here, they couldn't get to you."
I redirect back to the orders. "You aren't here just to dash our hopes, are you George? Tell us the rest."
"Yes, Captain Paterson, that's just to set the circumstances. I've been told to inform Major Emowitz that he's to assume overall command. Due to the short time frame available to get the RESET materials to Bremerhaven for transport to America, Stark is ordering you to institute the helicopter plan."
"Like hell he is." Its my turn to snarl.
Emowitz holds up placating hands. "What plan is he talking about."
"The one where most of the men get killed and 15 lucky souls helicopter to safety," I answer hotly.
"Yes, the Colonel believes you can assault the Wawel, capture both the heads of the city, and hold it until you get their MI-8 Hip fueled and loaded. Using the heads of the city you gain free passage for the Hip and negotiate their return for safe passage out of Krakow for the remaining troops."
"And where would we go?"
George shrugs, "Decision for the commanding officer."
In the silence I ask, "And where was I suppose to be in all this?"
"Captain," quietly, "according to the orders I was to pass to the major either you're giving willing cooperation or you were to be placed under arrest pending courts martial."
I can feel Leo tensing beside me. I know all I need is to give the word and the major's dead.
All eyes turn to Emowitz. He puts his head in his hands while his shoulders shake. At first, I think he knows what could happen next and he's crying. Soon I realize he's shaking with silent laughter. He wipes his eyes. "Whew, that's a good one. You really had me going there. I don't really appreciate the joke, but you sure had me."
"I'm sorry," George starts, "but it is re..."
"It is a fucking joke," Emowitz interrupts. "Anything else and I might have to do something about it." He pats his balding head. "Yes, assault a real life castle, steal the last functional copter in Poland, and fl;y to safety with the top secret materials and a girl or two. I am not James Bond."
"Yes, major, I have a sick sense of humor. However, the Omega packet is real." George swallows thickly, "I am so sorry."
Emowitz picks up the briefing materials. "We got 30 days. Let's bust out the maps and see if there's any way to get there in time."
Leo rocks back in his chair. "Why bother. Six hundred plus klicks with enemy units in between. Not enough motor transport and not enough fuel if we did."
"Because Mr. Padgory, this is going to get out to the men. They need to hear it from us first. They need to know we looked into every possible permutation before calling it quits. Moral's going to hit rock bottom as it is. If they though we had phoned it in this command would break. Am I clear."
I smile, "Couldn't say it any better Major. Ed! Get me the map case would you?"
I turn to George, "Now what about you and Stark?"
"He's got his own orders ma'am. Command told him to stay behind. Disrupt any developing government as much as possible and harass the hell out of any remaining Soviet units. I think he's looking for a blaze of glory. Don't be in the blast radius."
"That's Stark, what about you?"
"Told you before, my money's on you and box out of Poland in a year. I'd like to come along for the ride."
"Fine then," I remove his sidearm from the drawer, stand, and hand it back. "Welcome back George."
-----------------------------------------------
We spent the day working all the angles from a month long forced march to jacking the ORMO motor pool. I even bounced the thought of 'borrowing' a herd of horses from Margraf Filipowitz seeing as he still owes us. None of them worked out for all of us.
We might be able to get there if we peeled off the OT-64s and the Deuce-and-a-Half with full trailers of fuel. But that would get no more than thirty and and box out. Both the Major and I wanted all out.
The two of us took it to the men that night. Ed did a spectacular sketch of Poland and northern Germany in chalk on the wall. We marked where enemy units were according to Stark's data. We pointed out all the places we knew units were, Lodz, Kalisz and other cities. I pointed out the wide swaths of unknown from the mouth of the Oder and all points east. We'd been cut off by Pact formations moving behind us. God knows where they were now.
The two of us alternated plans. Each one hamstrung by lack of time and materials. I could read the despair growing. We cut it short and gave them two options.
One, any man who wanted to give it a try could make a go of it. We wouldn't part with any of the vehicles, but they'd get a pack full of rations and out best wishes. God speed.
Two, stay with the unit through the winter. Come spring, we'd head back to Germany. There was no way this would be the last boat from the continent. It would take longer, maybe years, but we'd get home together.
It wasn't the military thing to do, but we gave them the choice. Most went to think it over. A small group stayed up well into the night looking for flaws in our reasoning. They couldn't find one. Others told us to get their packs ready, they'd be leaving in the morning.
The morning came cold with heavy snow. No one left.
Two full days in Krakow. I've been eyeball deep in details. Paying off the ORMO, getting the troops settled, and inspecting the greenhouses and hoop gardens. The locals must think us strange. We're buying garbage and making compost.
Emowitz tells me we're turning into a Napoleonic era army. We've got camp followers just across the street and some of the men have taken 'wives'. I'm supposed to decide if they can come inside the compound. We're going to have children crawling on the floorboards come spring.
We've also acquired a preacher. Brother Lang, a Franciscan, holds mass and confessional twice weekly in a room Sergeant Hernadez assigned him. From what I understand, he's been telling the men that these are not the End Times, that God has not turned his face from us, and that Jesus died for all mankind. When we spoke he impressed me with his earnest desire to comfort the distressed and that included soldiers lost in a foreign land.
Now, in this time, George had left to report to Colonel Stark. Reassure him the box was still safe and we were planning to head out, with it, in the spring. George was away for more than a day and I figured this was a settled point. I should have known better. Life enjoys fucking me over.
Ed let him into my office. Seems even after the bombs drop we need paperwork.
George pulled his sidearm holster from his belt and set it on the table. "I'm bearing orders and information from the Colonel. I'd rather avoid any misunderstanding, Captain. I'm just delivering, not enforcing."
"So, it isn't happy news." I take his sidearm and put it in my desk drawer.
"No, do you want it alone? Or should we wait for Major Emowitz?"
"Was he supposed to receive this?"
George looks aside and nods.
"Ed! Get the Major, Doc and Leo in here. George is dropping a bomb."
Major Emowitz is the last to arrive. Doc and George make small talk in the meantime. He's still having headaches and trouble concentrating. Doc tells him to come by after the meeting. "I can't do more than treat the symptoms, but I can give you some ibuprofen for the head."
Once Emowitz gets seated George hands over our new orders. Typewritten pages from a faded ribbon. "Operation Omega, Stark received these via coded shortwave on September 20th. We were already in Warsaw. The short story is the American military believes the Pact is spent. Germany can hold on it's own. All troops are to assemble at Bremerhaven no later than November 15. They're going home."
Emowitz is the first to respond. He slams his fist on the table. "Fuck them!" He snarls. "They're abandoning us here. They've written us off."
"Yes, Major, they have. The summer offensive was a failure. Even if they knew you were here, they couldn't get to you."
I redirect back to the orders. "You aren't here just to dash our hopes, are you George? Tell us the rest."
"Yes, Captain Paterson, that's just to set the circumstances. I've been told to inform Major Emowitz that he's to assume overall command. Due to the short time frame available to get the RESET materials to Bremerhaven for transport to America, Stark is ordering you to institute the helicopter plan."
"Like hell he is." Its my turn to snarl.
Emowitz holds up placating hands. "What plan is he talking about."
"The one where most of the men get killed and 15 lucky souls helicopter to safety," I answer hotly.
"Yes, the Colonel believes you can assault the Wawel, capture both the heads of the city, and hold it until you get their MI-8 Hip fueled and loaded. Using the heads of the city you gain free passage for the Hip and negotiate their return for safe passage out of Krakow for the remaining troops."
"And where would we go?"
George shrugs, "Decision for the commanding officer."
In the silence I ask, "And where was I suppose to be in all this?"
"Captain," quietly, "according to the orders I was to pass to the major either you're giving willing cooperation or you were to be placed under arrest pending courts martial."
I can feel Leo tensing beside me. I know all I need is to give the word and the major's dead.
All eyes turn to Emowitz. He puts his head in his hands while his shoulders shake. At first, I think he knows what could happen next and he's crying. Soon I realize he's shaking with silent laughter. He wipes his eyes. "Whew, that's a good one. You really had me going there. I don't really appreciate the joke, but you sure had me."
"I'm sorry," George starts, "but it is re..."
"It is a fucking joke," Emowitz interrupts. "Anything else and I might have to do something about it." He pats his balding head. "Yes, assault a real life castle, steal the last functional copter in Poland, and fl;y to safety with the top secret materials and a girl or two. I am not James Bond."
"Yes, major, I have a sick sense of humor. However, the Omega packet is real." George swallows thickly, "I am so sorry."
Emowitz picks up the briefing materials. "We got 30 days. Let's bust out the maps and see if there's any way to get there in time."
Leo rocks back in his chair. "Why bother. Six hundred plus klicks with enemy units in between. Not enough motor transport and not enough fuel if we did."
"Because Mr. Padgory, this is going to get out to the men. They need to hear it from us first. They need to know we looked into every possible permutation before calling it quits. Moral's going to hit rock bottom as it is. If they though we had phoned it in this command would break. Am I clear."
I smile, "Couldn't say it any better Major. Ed! Get me the map case would you?"
I turn to George, "Now what about you and Stark?"
"He's got his own orders ma'am. Command told him to stay behind. Disrupt any developing government as much as possible and harass the hell out of any remaining Soviet units. I think he's looking for a blaze of glory. Don't be in the blast radius."
"That's Stark, what about you?"
"Told you before, my money's on you and box out of Poland in a year. I'd like to come along for the ride."
"Fine then," I remove his sidearm from the drawer, stand, and hand it back. "Welcome back George."
-----------------------------------------------
We spent the day working all the angles from a month long forced march to jacking the ORMO motor pool. I even bounced the thought of 'borrowing' a herd of horses from Margraf Filipowitz seeing as he still owes us. None of them worked out for all of us.
We might be able to get there if we peeled off the OT-64s and the Deuce-and-a-Half with full trailers of fuel. But that would get no more than thirty and and box out. Both the Major and I wanted all out.
The two of us took it to the men that night. Ed did a spectacular sketch of Poland and northern Germany in chalk on the wall. We marked where enemy units were according to Stark's data. We pointed out all the places we knew units were, Lodz, Kalisz and other cities. I pointed out the wide swaths of unknown from the mouth of the Oder and all points east. We'd been cut off by Pact formations moving behind us. God knows where they were now.
The two of us alternated plans. Each one hamstrung by lack of time and materials. I could read the despair growing. We cut it short and gave them two options.
One, any man who wanted to give it a try could make a go of it. We wouldn't part with any of the vehicles, but they'd get a pack full of rations and out best wishes. God speed.
Two, stay with the unit through the winter. Come spring, we'd head back to Germany. There was no way this would be the last boat from the continent. It would take longer, maybe years, but we'd get home together.
It wasn't the military thing to do, but we gave them the choice. Most went to think it over. A small group stayed up well into the night looking for flaws in our reasoning. They couldn't find one. Others told us to get their packs ready, they'd be leaving in the morning.
The morning came cold with heavy snow. No one left.
066: RESET
The RESET Lab Notes
The book is a set
of standard scientific log book with several pages and additional reports
stapled into it. The book is roughly
divided into six sections.
SECTION 1: Contains details
on final prototype construction of a modified Flieshmann-Pons cold fusion
generator. The generator sandwiches a
nickel reaction plate between two micro-perforated copper plates. Tolerances are very close and require the use
of specialized machine tools to manufacture.
Activation of the generator requires a “jump” from an external power
source, but is self-actuating beyond that point. The unit is the size of a brick and produces
power equivalent to a D-cell.
SECTION 2: Faded carbon
copies of a shoot down report by Polish Air Defenses in 1998, salvage reports of
“experimental western aircraft”,
medical reports and autopsies of several of the salvage crew. Salvage crew suffered from hallucinations,
blindness, or severe pain during ops.
During medical treatment exhibited signs of severe radiation sickness. Autopsies revealed damage to the visual
cortex inconsistent with radiation exposure as well as eyes and CNS trunk. Examples of damage include “burnt
out”, “overload”, and “cascading neurological failure”.
SECTION 3: Abbreviated copies of earlier research - Ties
the SECTION 2 reports with a particular area of the intercepted craft. The craft contains a fractured torus and a
massive “trunk” running through the torus’ core. The harness loops back upon itself connecting
to the torus and other portions of the craft’s electrical system. Marginalia
in the SECTION 1 author’s hand notes similarities to the self-sustaining
features of the cold fusion device.
Portions of the torus, described as sigils, are end points of the
electrical system. The placement of the
sigils appears to focus on the trunk.
Experiments with one of the sigils produced electrical flow in the
trunk.
Activation and deactivation of the sigil produced
short term visual and tactile hallucinations in a lab assistant. Very minor radiation levels were observed
during operation. Through trial and
error multiple sigils could be focused on the trunk to increase power
flow. Speculation that original device was capable of 5 Megawatt power
levels. Each activation,
deactivation , and interruption of power produced higher order effects on lab personnel
as the number of sigil increased.
SECTION 4: Notes in SECTION
1 author’s hand
Due to declining
health of sigil research team the cold fusion team is transferred. Using the prototype fusion device, secondary
effects due to activation, deactivation and intermittent power loss are
minimized. We’ll turn it on and keep it running. Examination of damaged sigils and the careful
deconstruction of one of the four remaining sigils allow the construction of a
crude, but functional, sigil. A detailed
doping scheme and diagrams show the process.
The diagrams are eye watering,
showing 16 terminus points resulting in 9 overlapping isosceles triangles, a
geometrical impossibility. Sigil
doping recommends silver as the primary material due to conductive properties.
SECTION 5: Prototype
Construction
The Sigil
Generator is constructed as a ring of 21 units with a central trunk of
industrial grade copper power transmission cabling in the trunk. The entire assembly was sealed in a lead
lined case along with the cold fusion brick.
The case contains three breaches; a wiring egress on the top, water
ingress on the lower right side, and a small drainage hole on the bottom in
case of accidents. The generator was
completed in late June and entered endurance trials. Power output is 100+ kilowatt range. Theoretical maximum for the unit is 500
killowatts.
SECTION 6: Secondary Effects
1.
Sigil fiend christened “Tillinghast” radiation
by researchers
2.
Tillinghast radiation registers as low levels of
Gamma on Geiger Counters.
3.
Exposure to radiation causes stimulation in the
nervous system resulting in visual and tactile hallucinations. Most commonly reported as blurred vision,
luminous blobs, and sporadic pain.
4.
Continued exposure results in permanent
neurological damage and death.
5.
For unknown reasons, levels spike sharply during
powering and depowering. Intermittent
power faults and loss magnify this effect.
6.
The use of multiple sigil units has a geometric
effect on this effect.
7.
Tillinghast radiation is blocked by lead. The lead thickness required is a square root
function of the number of sigil units.
8.
Speculation on the effects of violent
deconstruction of the sigil generator
a.
Much like a damaged nuclear device, the rapid
deconstruction of the generator will result in dirty short range effects, but
not a detonation. The effects will be
much less than the geometric failure effects observed to date.
b.
Conversely, all aspects of the sigil generator
defy conventional scientific thought.
The chaos of deconstruction may amplify, exponentially, the
effects.
c.
Plans to construct a 3 sigil generator for rapid
deconstruction (not completed)
9.
Speculation on the use of sigils as directed
energy weapons. All Wild-Ass-Guesses.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
065: Flashbacks
Paterson in Warsaw, October 3rd, 2000
The thing is crushing Alpha. His legs flailing wildly. Ed and I pour fire into it's side and back. The damned thing just soaks it up. Black blood leaks for cracks in the scales. Die! Die! Why won't you die?
"Paterson, Captain Paterson!"
That thing has my shoulder and the teeth dig in. I attack, grabbing the limb, and pulling it forward and down to break before fully waking. I've got Emowitz on the ground with his arm at full extension. It takes a moment to get back in the driver's seat and let him go.
Ed, up on the scree with his rifle, chortles, "I told you not to touch her."
The major climbs to his feet working the strain out of his shoulder. "Yes, yes you did."
I give him a grudging apology. He waves it away. "Your man's right. My fault." He grins ruefully, "I came as soon as it was light."
If so left at the twilight. The sun's barely peaking over the horizon as it is.
"We got hit last night Major. A raid on my quarters."
"Any casualties?"
"Dead, both our guards and them. Doc got seriously hit. She's a tough bird. Give her time. My engineering assistant was nearly crushed."
"Crushed? Is he alright? Was the structure unstable?" He looks nervously around at the submerged dwellings.
"Structure's solid. He's walking. Medic wrapped his ribs good. Nope, I just had to have you see what did it before we finish taking it apart."
"See it? What it?"
"No, no major. I wouldn't want to ruin your surprise." Laugh at my little joke. Choke it down once I note the hysteria rising up in it. "Stress."
We start walking back towards my quarters. Not going to ever sleep there again. Ed scrambles down the slope and follows. He keeps flicking the selector back and forth. Little clicks in time with our pace. Soon they're overcome by the thuds of ax work.
Alphabit has one of the Rat Dogs. He's working the head off. Told me he's going to boil it down. Keep the skull. Maybe put it over the mantle. He asked me if I wanted the other one. I could use it for our Company's standard he'd suggested. I politely declined. Maybe he'll take two home.
Rutkowski's finished with the back of the thing. The skin, split down the spine, and flayed out to the sides. He looks like he was just a getting ready to flip it over. The guards stand well back from him. He's got a knife.
"What the hell is that?"
"Just wait till we get this brute flipped. Ed lend me a hand." I join Rutkowski. He wipes sweat from his face. His pits are soaked through. "Rough work?"
"Yes. It does not want part. With the skin." He breaths heavily. I wave Alphabit back. No need to strain himself more.
Together, the three of us wrestle it off it's belly. Emowitz gags at the sight of it's face. Bald, gray, wrinkled, from the eyes up it could have been an old man. Below that. Not a chance. No nose. No structure to hold a nose. Instead the bones help anchor a tentacle an elephant would be proud of. Damn thing is over a meter long.
I hold up the end and force the skin back so Emowitz can see. Two long curved piercing teeth and a ring of inward pointing jagged triangles. I show Emowitz the details. The muscles pull them outwards and then let them snap back in. Whatever went in would be stuck or tear itself apart if it fought off. "He's not from around here."
"No, no, what is it?"
"Don't know. It led the last of the Baron's Lieutenants and those dog things directly after us. Close as I can track, it came up through the sewers."
"Not possible. The sewers are rat infested. Hoards of them."
"Take a good look at this," I wriggle the tentacle, "and those doggies. And then check yourself for preconceived notions." I drop it and stand. "I need every man to come by here today and get a good eyeful. I don't want anyone doubting what's real and what isn't. Cuz they aren't going to believe this at High Command."
Amazing, an officer at a loss for words. He nods.
"You need to speak with Rutkowski here after his jobs done and the tank crew we captured yesterday. Just remember this thing when what they say sounds crazed or wrong. Remember it. Let me know your conclusions later today."
"Right, Captain. I'll do that."
"Arlan," I use his first name, "I need everyone to know that something like this exists. We can't assume it was alone."
Leonid, October 5th, 2000
"You asked for me Comrade General?"
"Please, Leonid, when we are alone you may use Alexi when we are alone."
"I remember." I nod at Commissar. "We are not alone."
"Ah, Illya is like a brother to me." He gathers us both into his arms. "Tonight, we are family, yes?"
"Yes."
"Of course."
"Now then, let us drink!"
Harsh burning all the way down. Not the best, not even close, but good enough to light the fire inside. Relax into the piles of blankets and packs.
"That thing. Paterson thinks there might be more?"
"So she says. Can you see there being only one?"
"No. Illya, you are creative. We need a name. Cannot keep calling thing."
"Call it Zver."
"Da, Brute. Sounds right. It was wasn't it?"
I rub my shoulder where the Zver clamped down. The puncture has healed to a pinkish scar. "Truly a brute. I hope to never see another. I don't feel that lucky."
"Drink more my friend. That will bring you cheer."
"Truth! That and leaving Warsaw. I'll be glad to see the last of this place."
"So, you are really leaving?"
"Yes, Alexi, really. In a day or two. We've accomplished our mission. We have our men. Time to go."
"I had hopes of asking you to stay. I could use you with me again."
"I will tell you. Seeing you again, knowing you'd survived, and that we were on the same side in this madness. It has done much to warm my heart. I wish I could. I have a duty here with Kapitan and to these men. It has been so long since I've used my native tongue for more than hate or anger." The fumes from the liqueur sting my eyes. Nothing more.
The General sniffs. Knocks back his cup. The fumes, they get to him too. "I wish you good travels Leonid Vladimirich. May our paths cross again. To your health!"
He knocks back the empty cup. "Illya! There is a hole in my cup! My drink has all leaked away."
"Yes, my General," Illya smiles as he passes the bottle. "It is on the top."
Moon Pie, October 6th, 2000
"Captain Stone. You can take this 'loyalty oath' and wipe your ass with it. We're outta here. Come on guys."
"Private, you do not address a superior officer in that manner. You need to sign this and fall in. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to consider you a traitor to..."
Palm to face. He's down in the dirt before he knows it. "Shut the fuck up. One, I'm a god damn Corporal. Two, you're not in my chain of command. You got a problem with me, take it up with Paterson, see where that gets you."
"Three," I place my hand on the big .45 in my holster, "you are NOT calling me a traitor. Are you?"
He shakes his head vigorously. No.
"Get out." I give the others my hardest look. "Anybody want to join Captain CIA?"
J-boy grins, "Nah. At least not till he cleans his pants."
General laughter.
Alphabit, October 7th, 2000
Captain Paterson found the little can a the back of galley's fridge. "McGilavery, what the blue hell is this?"
"Just a little snack Cap. Honest."
"Meat, days old too. When were you planning on eating it."
"Oh, it's not for me. I'm saving it for Rex."
"The cat?"
"He's a great mouser Cap. I'm sure he'd like it."
"Its the..."
"Right. Off those big rattie things in Warsaw. Did you forget?"
"Forget. Forget what?"
"I asked if I could. You said I could bring a few souvenirs home. I thought he'd like a taste."
"Er, yes. Yes, I think I did."
"I still got that second skull if you want it. Boiled the flesh right off. Maybe Rataj would like it. He could put it on the mast. Would you ask him?"
"Sure, sure. Look. Wrap it up. Make some freezer space. And label it! I'll go ask Rataj about that skull. thing. Right now."
The thing is crushing Alpha. His legs flailing wildly. Ed and I pour fire into it's side and back. The damned thing just soaks it up. Black blood leaks for cracks in the scales. Die! Die! Why won't you die?
"Paterson, Captain Paterson!"
That thing has my shoulder and the teeth dig in. I attack, grabbing the limb, and pulling it forward and down to break before fully waking. I've got Emowitz on the ground with his arm at full extension. It takes a moment to get back in the driver's seat and let him go.
Ed, up on the scree with his rifle, chortles, "I told you not to touch her."
The major climbs to his feet working the strain out of his shoulder. "Yes, yes you did."
I give him a grudging apology. He waves it away. "Your man's right. My fault." He grins ruefully, "I came as soon as it was light."
If so left at the twilight. The sun's barely peaking over the horizon as it is.
"We got hit last night Major. A raid on my quarters."
"Any casualties?"
"Dead, both our guards and them. Doc got seriously hit. She's a tough bird. Give her time. My engineering assistant was nearly crushed."
"Crushed? Is he alright? Was the structure unstable?" He looks nervously around at the submerged dwellings.
"Structure's solid. He's walking. Medic wrapped his ribs good. Nope, I just had to have you see what did it before we finish taking it apart."
"See it? What it?"
"No, no major. I wouldn't want to ruin your surprise." Laugh at my little joke. Choke it down once I note the hysteria rising up in it. "Stress."
We start walking back towards my quarters. Not going to ever sleep there again. Ed scrambles down the slope and follows. He keeps flicking the selector back and forth. Little clicks in time with our pace. Soon they're overcome by the thuds of ax work.
Alphabit has one of the Rat Dogs. He's working the head off. Told me he's going to boil it down. Keep the skull. Maybe put it over the mantle. He asked me if I wanted the other one. I could use it for our Company's standard he'd suggested. I politely declined. Maybe he'll take two home.
Rutkowski's finished with the back of the thing. The skin, split down the spine, and flayed out to the sides. He looks like he was just a getting ready to flip it over. The guards stand well back from him. He's got a knife.
"What the hell is that?"
"Just wait till we get this brute flipped. Ed lend me a hand." I join Rutkowski. He wipes sweat from his face. His pits are soaked through. "Rough work?"
"Yes. It does not want part. With the skin." He breaths heavily. I wave Alphabit back. No need to strain himself more.
Together, the three of us wrestle it off it's belly. Emowitz gags at the sight of it's face. Bald, gray, wrinkled, from the eyes up it could have been an old man. Below that. Not a chance. No nose. No structure to hold a nose. Instead the bones help anchor a tentacle an elephant would be proud of. Damn thing is over a meter long.
I hold up the end and force the skin back so Emowitz can see. Two long curved piercing teeth and a ring of inward pointing jagged triangles. I show Emowitz the details. The muscles pull them outwards and then let them snap back in. Whatever went in would be stuck or tear itself apart if it fought off. "He's not from around here."
"No, no, what is it?"
"Don't know. It led the last of the Baron's Lieutenants and those dog things directly after us. Close as I can track, it came up through the sewers."
"Not possible. The sewers are rat infested. Hoards of them."
"Take a good look at this," I wriggle the tentacle, "and those doggies. And then check yourself for preconceived notions." I drop it and stand. "I need every man to come by here today and get a good eyeful. I don't want anyone doubting what's real and what isn't. Cuz they aren't going to believe this at High Command."
Amazing, an officer at a loss for words. He nods.
"You need to speak with Rutkowski here after his jobs done and the tank crew we captured yesterday. Just remember this thing when what they say sounds crazed or wrong. Remember it. Let me know your conclusions later today."
"Right, Captain. I'll do that."
"Arlan," I use his first name, "I need everyone to know that something like this exists. We can't assume it was alone."
Leonid, October 5th, 2000
"You asked for me Comrade General?"
"Please, Leonid, when we are alone you may use Alexi when we are alone."
"I remember." I nod at Commissar. "We are not alone."
"Ah, Illya is like a brother to me." He gathers us both into his arms. "Tonight, we are family, yes?"
"Yes."
"Of course."
"Now then, let us drink!"
Harsh burning all the way down. Not the best, not even close, but good enough to light the fire inside. Relax into the piles of blankets and packs.
"That thing. Paterson thinks there might be more?"
"So she says. Can you see there being only one?"
"No. Illya, you are creative. We need a name. Cannot keep calling thing."
"Call it Zver."
"Da, Brute. Sounds right. It was wasn't it?"
I rub my shoulder where the Zver clamped down. The puncture has healed to a pinkish scar. "Truly a brute. I hope to never see another. I don't feel that lucky."
"Drink more my friend. That will bring you cheer."
"Truth! That and leaving Warsaw. I'll be glad to see the last of this place."
"So, you are really leaving?"
"Yes, Alexi, really. In a day or two. We've accomplished our mission. We have our men. Time to go."
"I had hopes of asking you to stay. I could use you with me again."
"I will tell you. Seeing you again, knowing you'd survived, and that we were on the same side in this madness. It has done much to warm my heart. I wish I could. I have a duty here with Kapitan and to these men. It has been so long since I've used my native tongue for more than hate or anger." The fumes from the liqueur sting my eyes. Nothing more.
The General sniffs. Knocks back his cup. The fumes, they get to him too. "I wish you good travels Leonid Vladimirich. May our paths cross again. To your health!"
He knocks back the empty cup. "Illya! There is a hole in my cup! My drink has all leaked away."
"Yes, my General," Illya smiles as he passes the bottle. "It is on the top."
Moon Pie, October 6th, 2000
"Captain Stone. You can take this 'loyalty oath' and wipe your ass with it. We're outta here. Come on guys."
"Private, you do not address a superior officer in that manner. You need to sign this and fall in. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to consider you a traitor to..."
Palm to face. He's down in the dirt before he knows it. "Shut the fuck up. One, I'm a god damn Corporal. Two, you're not in my chain of command. You got a problem with me, take it up with Paterson, see where that gets you."
"Three," I place my hand on the big .45 in my holster, "you are NOT calling me a traitor. Are you?"
He shakes his head vigorously. No.
"Get out." I give the others my hardest look. "Anybody want to join Captain CIA?"
J-boy grins, "Nah. At least not till he cleans his pants."
General laughter.
Alphabit, October 7th, 2000
Captain Paterson found the little can a the back of galley's fridge. "McGilavery, what the blue hell is this?"
"Just a little snack Cap. Honest."
"Meat, days old too. When were you planning on eating it."
"Oh, it's not for me. I'm saving it for Rex."
"The cat?"
"He's a great mouser Cap. I'm sure he'd like it."
"Its the..."
"Right. Off those big rattie things in Warsaw. Did you forget?"
"Forget. Forget what?"
"I asked if I could. You said I could bring a few souvenirs home. I thought he'd like a taste."
"Er, yes. Yes, I think I did."
"I still got that second skull if you want it. Boiled the flesh right off. Maybe Rataj would like it. He could put it on the mast. Would you ask him?"
"Sure, sure. Look. Wrap it up. Make some freezer space. And label it! I'll go ask Rataj about that skull. thing. Right now."
Sunday, May 6, 2012
064: End Game
Eddie's Journal, October 3rd, 2000
The 3rd dawned bright, for once, and cold. We heard vehicles moving in and around the Palace. By mid afternoon there was pitched fighting. Not sure what sparked it, but with dear leader and his closest lieutenants gone there wasn't anyone to stop it. Cap ordered us to maintain our perimeter and wait it out.
She left Leo in charge at New/Old and made her way to the boat that evening. Our worst wounded, including Doc, had been transfered aboard. Aldon was in charge of the wounded with the help of a few field medics. He may have only been a vet, but he'd dealt with more illness, injury, and innards on more species than any GP. He'd been working his trade on men all year. He took Cap aside to brief her. I played fly on the wall.
The man wanted us to know that Doc was stable. Better than she had any right of being. He'd downplayed the severity of the damage to the other medics and taken sole charge of her. As far as he was concerned nobody had to know that Clark Kent was Captain America and he sure didn't need to know who had been bit by the spider. Czarny was dead, the enemy falling apart, and we were leaving once our job was done. Good work, God speed. While he mangled a bunch of continuity he managed to take the worry off of Cap's mind. The way he spoke so earnestly and open, he managed to convince us both he'd keep it quiet.
Doc looked shallow and pale. Aldon told us it was to be expected. Her vitals were good. She needed the rest. Cap sat with her a bit before heading back to shore.
October 4th, 2000
The fighting dies down after dark. The sounds of at least one light track and a few wheels moved off into the night. Nothing tried out walls. The sentries reported all quiet.
At first light cap called the leadership together. We'd push slowly, supported by the one functional tank, up the road to the Palace, securing dwellings as we passed. Slow, obvious and loud, so anyone with a gun would think twice about that nice, open, southern road.
The troops cleared the hovels and holes. Civilians were passed back. They'd be held until we could get a chance to question them. Doubtless a few of Czarny's men would try to sneak out with them. Individual questioning would ferret them out. We even had a few in uniform surrender. Cap said she'd let Filip deal with them.
Leo and Moonie scaled the palace's outer wall. It had been the site of heavy fighting. The smoking remains of a BTR and a BMP were in the courtyard. The east gate was blocked by an M113 sporting this season's swiss cheese style. The ammo bunker was surrounded by the radial swaths of directional mine explosions and scattered bodies. It looked intact.
A short conference later, Leo and Moonie escorted Rutkowski up the wall. He stood on top, identified himself, and hailed the bunker. A Sgt Dern limped out of the bunker to report. They'd held against three assaults after the Palace fell. He'd prevented any Czarny's 'Free Companies' from obtaining the chemical munitions and he was damned if he'd just hand them over to a dead man.
Rutkowski asked for permission to approach, granted. Leo and him descended the wall and made their way to Sgt Dern. Leo promised the men good treatment. Rutkowski concurred he'd been treated well as had others captured in the tank assault. 'They weren't monsters,' he'd said. Dern requested that Rutkowski formally relieve him at his post. Rut did so.
Dern returned to the bunker. Leo told me later he fully expected to hear a gunshot. Instead, Dern's men slowly emerged. There were three effectives and two wounded. They also had their women and children, another 12 bodies. They'd packed in like sardines when everything fell apart.
The palace stood abandoned. The looted harvest lay scattered from the storage cellars to the exits. Even with all they could carry away much still remained. The surviving locals would need it.
We'd completed our sweep well before dark and took the remaining populace back with us to New/Old. A strong detachment kept the bunker secured.
October 5th, 2000
Coordinated with Filip. Offered terms to the die hards in the cut off communities. They had a choice, leave now with what they could carry or surrender to us. They'd be worked over the winter clearing fields for the spring planting. If they worked well and hard and there were no outstanding charges, rape or murder, against them they'd be offered a place in one of the communities. Otherwise they'd be freed to leave. To my surprise some took the offer. Others left through the rubble. They ran a gauntlet of Filip's militia and other locals. I doubt any of them made it through.
October 6th, 2000
Cap sat down with Emowitz, Filip and Koronov. They split the new acquisitions. Cap laid claim to the T-80. The tank on the barge was to be dragged off at the Praga docks. Koronov would loot it for parts and remove the engine before draging it back to Sielce where it would serve as a bunker. He'd use the track to repair the T-80s. In exchange, they got the other functional T-72 and a choice selection of items from the bunker, mainly mortar rounds and parts. No one wanted the riddled M113, Sielce received it by default. They'd be able to use it as an earthmover or tractor. They split out the remaining small arms and explosives as evenly as possible.
The blood agents were a problem. None of the participants wanted them loose and none had the means to destroy them. Instead the bunker would be filled with earth and the site buried with the rubble from fields cleared over the winter. If anyone wanted them, they'd be a long time digging.
October 7th, 2000
Despite many teary good-byes and promises of eternal friendship Rataj got us underway by midmorning. Cap gave orders not to be disturbed unless Emowitz led a mutiny or the sky fell. It was time for her to catch up on her beauty rest.
I spent most of the day below decks with Iosef talking shop. He grudgingly allowed as how I knew a thing or two.
Doc's up and took a tour of the deck I'm told.
October 8th, 2000
Cap held morning meetings with Emowitz and Rataj. It is going to be another five days to Krakow. Going upstream is slower than down. Wonders never cease.
Iosef proudly shared the 'boiled lobster' divert on the steam engine that he'd used to great effect on the pirate boarders. A five count clears the deck and only lost him a fifth of the pressure. Rataj still had maneuverability even if he lost some top speed.
October 9th, 2000
Cap set me down in her cabin with an empty notebook and the RESET notes. She told me I probably had the best physics background on the boat. Today, I should read them. When I was done, I was to make a complete copy them. I was relieved of all other duties until finished.
This is some serious X-files shit here.
October 12th, 2000
Been writing so much I haven't been keeping up on this or wanting too.
Doc's declared herself fit for duty and is raising all sorts of grief among the new men. Physicals and dietary plans. Turn your head and cough.
Iosef's the only one keeping me sane. I spend my few free hours down in engineering. I take a turn at whatever project needs machining. On this boat, something always needs tending. We talk about tolerances, strain, and simple machines.
Tomorrow we should make landfall at Nowy Hut. Krakow's a short march away.
The 3rd dawned bright, for once, and cold. We heard vehicles moving in and around the Palace. By mid afternoon there was pitched fighting. Not sure what sparked it, but with dear leader and his closest lieutenants gone there wasn't anyone to stop it. Cap ordered us to maintain our perimeter and wait it out.
She left Leo in charge at New/Old and made her way to the boat that evening. Our worst wounded, including Doc, had been transfered aboard. Aldon was in charge of the wounded with the help of a few field medics. He may have only been a vet, but he'd dealt with more illness, injury, and innards on more species than any GP. He'd been working his trade on men all year. He took Cap aside to brief her. I played fly on the wall.
The man wanted us to know that Doc was stable. Better than she had any right of being. He'd downplayed the severity of the damage to the other medics and taken sole charge of her. As far as he was concerned nobody had to know that Clark Kent was Captain America and he sure didn't need to know who had been bit by the spider. Czarny was dead, the enemy falling apart, and we were leaving once our job was done. Good work, God speed. While he mangled a bunch of continuity he managed to take the worry off of Cap's mind. The way he spoke so earnestly and open, he managed to convince us both he'd keep it quiet.
Doc looked shallow and pale. Aldon told us it was to be expected. Her vitals were good. She needed the rest. Cap sat with her a bit before heading back to shore.
October 4th, 2000
The fighting dies down after dark. The sounds of at least one light track and a few wheels moved off into the night. Nothing tried out walls. The sentries reported all quiet.
At first light cap called the leadership together. We'd push slowly, supported by the one functional tank, up the road to the Palace, securing dwellings as we passed. Slow, obvious and loud, so anyone with a gun would think twice about that nice, open, southern road.
The troops cleared the hovels and holes. Civilians were passed back. They'd be held until we could get a chance to question them. Doubtless a few of Czarny's men would try to sneak out with them. Individual questioning would ferret them out. We even had a few in uniform surrender. Cap said she'd let Filip deal with them.
Leo and Moonie scaled the palace's outer wall. It had been the site of heavy fighting. The smoking remains of a BTR and a BMP were in the courtyard. The east gate was blocked by an M113 sporting this season's swiss cheese style. The ammo bunker was surrounded by the radial swaths of directional mine explosions and scattered bodies. It looked intact.
A short conference later, Leo and Moonie escorted Rutkowski up the wall. He stood on top, identified himself, and hailed the bunker. A Sgt Dern limped out of the bunker to report. They'd held against three assaults after the Palace fell. He'd prevented any Czarny's 'Free Companies' from obtaining the chemical munitions and he was damned if he'd just hand them over to a dead man.
Rutkowski asked for permission to approach, granted. Leo and him descended the wall and made their way to Sgt Dern. Leo promised the men good treatment. Rutkowski concurred he'd been treated well as had others captured in the tank assault. 'They weren't monsters,' he'd said. Dern requested that Rutkowski formally relieve him at his post. Rut did so.
Dern returned to the bunker. Leo told me later he fully expected to hear a gunshot. Instead, Dern's men slowly emerged. There were three effectives and two wounded. They also had their women and children, another 12 bodies. They'd packed in like sardines when everything fell apart.
The palace stood abandoned. The looted harvest lay scattered from the storage cellars to the exits. Even with all they could carry away much still remained. The surviving locals would need it.
We'd completed our sweep well before dark and took the remaining populace back with us to New/Old. A strong detachment kept the bunker secured.
October 5th, 2000
Coordinated with Filip. Offered terms to the die hards in the cut off communities. They had a choice, leave now with what they could carry or surrender to us. They'd be worked over the winter clearing fields for the spring planting. If they worked well and hard and there were no outstanding charges, rape or murder, against them they'd be offered a place in one of the communities. Otherwise they'd be freed to leave. To my surprise some took the offer. Others left through the rubble. They ran a gauntlet of Filip's militia and other locals. I doubt any of them made it through.
October 6th, 2000
Cap sat down with Emowitz, Filip and Koronov. They split the new acquisitions. Cap laid claim to the T-80. The tank on the barge was to be dragged off at the Praga docks. Koronov would loot it for parts and remove the engine before draging it back to Sielce where it would serve as a bunker. He'd use the track to repair the T-80s. In exchange, they got the other functional T-72 and a choice selection of items from the bunker, mainly mortar rounds and parts. No one wanted the riddled M113, Sielce received it by default. They'd be able to use it as an earthmover or tractor. They split out the remaining small arms and explosives as evenly as possible.
The blood agents were a problem. None of the participants wanted them loose and none had the means to destroy them. Instead the bunker would be filled with earth and the site buried with the rubble from fields cleared over the winter. If anyone wanted them, they'd be a long time digging.
October 7th, 2000
Despite many teary good-byes and promises of eternal friendship Rataj got us underway by midmorning. Cap gave orders not to be disturbed unless Emowitz led a mutiny or the sky fell. It was time for her to catch up on her beauty rest.
I spent most of the day below decks with Iosef talking shop. He grudgingly allowed as how I knew a thing or two.
Doc's up and took a tour of the deck I'm told.
October 8th, 2000
Cap held morning meetings with Emowitz and Rataj. It is going to be another five days to Krakow. Going upstream is slower than down. Wonders never cease.
Iosef proudly shared the 'boiled lobster' divert on the steam engine that he'd used to great effect on the pirate boarders. A five count clears the deck and only lost him a fifth of the pressure. Rataj still had maneuverability even if he lost some top speed.
October 9th, 2000
Cap set me down in her cabin with an empty notebook and the RESET notes. She told me I probably had the best physics background on the boat. Today, I should read them. When I was done, I was to make a complete copy them. I was relieved of all other duties until finished.
This is some serious X-files shit here.
October 12th, 2000
Been writing so much I haven't been keeping up on this or wanting too.
Doc's declared herself fit for duty and is raising all sorts of grief among the new men. Physicals and dietary plans. Turn your head and cough.
Iosef's the only one keeping me sane. I spend my few free hours down in engineering. I take a turn at whatever project needs machining. On this boat, something always needs tending. We talk about tolerances, strain, and simple machines.
Tomorrow we should make landfall at Nowy Hut. Krakow's a short march away.
Friday, May 4, 2012
063: Very Little Rest
Leonid, October 2nd, 2000
So many thoughts spinning round my head. I have questions and questions, but Rutkowski doesn't have the answers. Not really. Oh, he has what he thinks are answers. We know it is not true. Angels and Demons and God's Will are not a part of the plans for Poland. Only men and something not-men. I can't stop rolling it around my head.
The troops have us set in a basement dwelling. It must have belonged to some of Czarny's minders. The room is well apportioned. Two cubicles blanketed, one with a raw wood bunks and the other with double mattresses on the floor, a number of piles of bedding near a oil drum stove, and a table with four rickety chairs. High living by the local standards. The Doc and Kapitan take the bunks. Eddie grabs the other mattresses. Alphabit takes a bundle of blankets near the small fire in the stove. I take a chair. I don't have lice or fleas yet. Like to keep it that way.
The others are soon snoring. I lean back in the chair, MP5 on my chest, try to sleep. My mind keeps going in circles. I need a drink. The good vodka's back on the boat. Maybe I should talk to our guards about some rotgut. No, last thing I need is to be drunk if there's a night action. Head down, I try to sleep.
Maybe I succeeded. There's a sound by the stairs. One of our guards, Henry or Tom, looks around. He motions for silence and waves me up. I pinch at a growing headache as I go to him. He holds the drape over the entrance aside so I can pass. I squeeze past, damn, he's a big man.
"Your wanted topside," he growls.
I head up. Damn if I'm going to sleep now. Where does Doc stash the aspirin?
I'm almost at the top of the stairs when the guard grabs me from behind and lofts me out into the open. My breath stolen as I slam into the ground. A foot kicks me over before I can inhale. It's clawed, grey hands rip the MP5 away. Nonexistent God, Rutkowski was right.
I bat feebly as one hand grips my throat and hauls me upright. The restless tentacle where it's mouth should be strikes into my shoulder. I feel a numbness spreading from the wound. I'm slammed back into the ground as it wretches out a mouthful of my blood.
From the ground I can see two more men clutching guns. AKR and HK-CAW a part of me catalogs. The slim form of greyhounds stand ready at our door. The things contemplates me with disgust. "Wrong," it snarls.
I have only a pistol and scarce seconds left to act. I convulse. Give out shuddering breaths, convulse, arch my back, beat my feet against the pavement. A final shudder and a hissing breath. Be still. Be dead.
The men step back. The thing lashes that tentacle about. The end moves forming harsh words. "Not right. You," points at AKR, "watch it.
Turns to HK, "You, finish this." It spits and chitters at the dogs. They head down.
It stands at the entrance to our quarters, listening, as the gunfire begins. It seems relaxed.
Alphabit
Trying to sleep. Leo keeps fidgeting. Finally, he decides to go take a walk. I roll onto my back and listen to the small sounds of the fire. Now, maybe, some sleep. Closing my eyes I give out a happy sigh. Yes, now some sleep.
Except Da let the hounds in. I hear them racing down the basement stairs. Ma is going to be so angry with the man. I love our hounds and they love me. They're coming now to jump and bark and lick my face.
Some other part of me knows what's a dream and what isn't. My hatchets in my hand as the chitter and squeal of rats close. I swing an arm up under a throat forcing snapping teeth away from my face. The hatchet swings in at an awkward angle scrapping at it's thigh. My bellow over powers it's screech.
It's the size and weight of a hound, but the sounds and teeth scream rat. With an effort I throw it away and roll to all fours. Another one closes from the left. It meets my hatchet face first as it charges. It scream as the steel bites. I clutch at its hide and raise the axe.
The one I'd lofted away skids against the cement as turns back towards me. Gathers speed for a charge. the sharp crack of Doc's M-16 smacks it back to the ground. Pinned the one in my hand I bellow as the axe rises and strikes again.
Doc's M-16 cracks again and again in controlled semi-automatic before the deafening roar of a shotgun drowns it out. Doc staggers back under the impact. She crumples to the ground mewling in pain. I scramble on all fours behind the stove as the shotgun speaks again.
The shotgunner showers the dark with harsh Polish obscenities. A shadow running low to the ground, a third rat-dog, rushes towards Doc and the curtain. Damn, my gun's back in the bedding.
The Pole strokes the trigger twice. Buckshot rattles off the stove and wall above me. Blind bursts from Ed's M-16 answer him. The shotgun roars back, too fast for a pump or semi, firing a long burst into the curtains. The Pole curses again. In the sudden silence I hear something, a magazine, hit the floor.
In the pause I Throw my hatchet at the shotgunner. He jerks at the impact and drops the spare mag in his hand. Someone else will get him. I rush the rat-dog as it bites into Doc. I take it in the shoulder. Arms lock around the trunk. We roll over the concrete. I end on top. With both hands I force away it's snarling snout. I bring in a knee and let my full weight fall on it's ribs. The bones crunch. Again and a third time. Blood splatters from it's mouth as it slowly stills.
While I struggled, Ed's M-16 fired burst after burst. I turn in a crouch. The Pole and his shotgun are on the floor. Ed's replacing his magazine. I hear Cap yelling for light and a medic. Ed covers the stairs while I grab my weapons. Once armed I snap on a flash.
Captain Paterson has a both hands on Doc's abdomen holding things in. I know I'm next to useless with wounds. "Ed, help Cap. I'll get the stairs." We swap. Another light switches on.
"I'll get her pack!" Ed shouts.
"Hurry, God damn you!" Cap reaches out, grabs one of my blankets, and uses it as a compress. I can see red and grey things slither under Doc's skin. That's bad. Worse, I'm not watching the stairs.
My M-16 is wrenched from my hands. A thick grey arm smashes it into the ceiling. The butt stock shares raining hard plastic shards down over me. It's big.
I'm so jumped up on adrenalin that I don't think, just react. Pulling my pistol I step under the out thrust arm. I shove it into the middle and start pulling the trigger. Great arms surround me in a bear hug trapping my arms close in. But the pistol's still in it's gut and I empty out the Makarov's magazine.
I try to keep all my chest muscles tight, but I can't beat it's strength. My breath hisses out painfully and I can't draw another in. Shouts and screams, orders, echo around me. Head swimming I kick and thrash to no effect. In the dark basement a greater darkness closes in around me.
Distantly I hear Cap and Ed shouting. I wish they would shut-up. I need my sleep. The buzz of the alarm grows to a growl then a hammer of automatic fire. The floor, I'm on the floor. I stare numbly as silhouettes approach me. Cap, "Don!" She never calls me Don. "Don, can you move?"
"Ta," I answer in the Mother tongue, "Ta."
"He's delirious," was that Ed or Leo?
"No," I struggle to say, "I can move." To show them I put my hands on the pile of grey sacks beside me and lever my self up. They come back covered in sticky black blood. "Oh, damn."
Leonid
What do the Americans call it. Yes, I have the time to think, playing possum. The thing stands at the stairs enjoying, somehow I can tell, the death and violence it's man is visiting on us below. The throaty crash of the HK-CAW is overridden by the bark of one or more M-16s. The M-16s win. It's shoulders tense with anger. Down it goes.
The last man's nervous. I watch him in my peripheral vision. He licks his lips compulsively, attention switching from me to the stairs. As the gunfire resumes he gives me one last look and turns to the stairs. I may have lost the MP5, but I've got that big 1911 strapped to my waist. The snap of the holster is lost in the reports from below. I shift to a sitting position. Two hands steady the automatic. I space my fire. Two into the back, another in an arm as he twists in his fall. One in the side. One in the upper chest. His head rolls back to face me as he settles on the ground. Shock writ large on features. The last two into the face.
The monsters down there with my comrades. This must be one of the blessed; Wozniak or Zajac, I don't give a fuck which. I reload as I stand and walk to him. Blood seeps from his ruined face. It sticks to my hands as I unbuckle his helmet and toss it aside. Empty the new magazine, all seven rounds, into his head. Not enough left to even resemble a head.
I take the AKR. From the stairwell I hear Cap and Eddie shouting. With my back to the remains of the houses wall, clear of the stairwell, I shout down. "Kapitan! It Leo! May I come down!"
She snarls back, "Stay there! A patrol should be coming at a run. Tell them we need a medic. Now!"
I leave the AKR by the wall at the sound of running feet. Taking no chances, I drop to my knees in the open with my hands on my head. I explain who I am to the bright glare of flashlights and the open mouths of guns. Fortunately, one of our men from the 5th is with them and I stand with his help.
Paterson
A stretcher crew takes Doc away. We don't have the competency to care for her. She's in the vet's hands now. I wonder what it'll take to buy his silence. Fuck.
Alphabit, his ribs taped, sits by the stairs. Ed stands look out. Leo's down below helping haul up the bodies. I'm going to chew someone a new one. I'm never going back into a hole with only one way out. Never.
They drag the corpse of Rutkowski's demon up the stairs. It takes five men to move it. They'd be better with a block and tackle. Sure, maybe you should have told them.
"Lieutenant!" I'm still barking. "Bring me our high value prisoner. You can make him walk, but keep his hands bound." He jumps to it.
Three rat-things, two men, and one demon. I keep the anger on. The other troops keep stealing looks at the things. I snarl. Put them back to their tasks.
God damn it! I suddenly lash out. Kick the shotgunner savagely in the head. Leo pulls me back after I start stamping on his groin. He's beyond feeling it. But by god I can. If Doc dies? Who am I going to kill. The murdering motherless sons are right fucking here. There's always Rutkowski. He's one of them.
I have to let the anger go. Visualize a clench fist. L:et all the rage fill it. Open it wide. Just let it fall to the ground. Mist into the air. The adrenaline slowly ebb away.
"So, Lieutenant Rutkowski," I ask as he approaches, "this your angel?"
He stares. I have to repeat it for him. Empty eyes, "Yes."
"Good," I draw my knife, "now turn around."
He looks from the bare blade to me and back. "Be quick about it." He turns lifting his head to bare his throat.
I'm not gentle. He leaves some skin and a bit of blood behind as I cut through his bonds. With his back to me I ask, "Ever skinned a buck?"
He carefully steps back and around. He stands there, studying me as he rubs his wrists. He nods once.
I flip the knife around offering him the hilt. "Good, start with the big one."
So many thoughts spinning round my head. I have questions and questions, but Rutkowski doesn't have the answers. Not really. Oh, he has what he thinks are answers. We know it is not true. Angels and Demons and God's Will are not a part of the plans for Poland. Only men and something not-men. I can't stop rolling it around my head.
The troops have us set in a basement dwelling. It must have belonged to some of Czarny's minders. The room is well apportioned. Two cubicles blanketed, one with a raw wood bunks and the other with double mattresses on the floor, a number of piles of bedding near a oil drum stove, and a table with four rickety chairs. High living by the local standards. The Doc and Kapitan take the bunks. Eddie grabs the other mattresses. Alphabit takes a bundle of blankets near the small fire in the stove. I take a chair. I don't have lice or fleas yet. Like to keep it that way.
The others are soon snoring. I lean back in the chair, MP5 on my chest, try to sleep. My mind keeps going in circles. I need a drink. The good vodka's back on the boat. Maybe I should talk to our guards about some rotgut. No, last thing I need is to be drunk if there's a night action. Head down, I try to sleep.
Maybe I succeeded. There's a sound by the stairs. One of our guards, Henry or Tom, looks around. He motions for silence and waves me up. I pinch at a growing headache as I go to him. He holds the drape over the entrance aside so I can pass. I squeeze past, damn, he's a big man.
"Your wanted topside," he growls.
I head up. Damn if I'm going to sleep now. Where does Doc stash the aspirin?
I'm almost at the top of the stairs when the guard grabs me from behind and lofts me out into the open. My breath stolen as I slam into the ground. A foot kicks me over before I can inhale. It's clawed, grey hands rip the MP5 away. Nonexistent God, Rutkowski was right.
I bat feebly as one hand grips my throat and hauls me upright. The restless tentacle where it's mouth should be strikes into my shoulder. I feel a numbness spreading from the wound. I'm slammed back into the ground as it wretches out a mouthful of my blood.
From the ground I can see two more men clutching guns. AKR and HK-CAW a part of me catalogs. The slim form of greyhounds stand ready at our door. The things contemplates me with disgust. "Wrong," it snarls.
I have only a pistol and scarce seconds left to act. I convulse. Give out shuddering breaths, convulse, arch my back, beat my feet against the pavement. A final shudder and a hissing breath. Be still. Be dead.
The men step back. The thing lashes that tentacle about. The end moves forming harsh words. "Not right. You," points at AKR, "watch it.
Turns to HK, "You, finish this." It spits and chitters at the dogs. They head down.
It stands at the entrance to our quarters, listening, as the gunfire begins. It seems relaxed.
Alphabit
Trying to sleep. Leo keeps fidgeting. Finally, he decides to go take a walk. I roll onto my back and listen to the small sounds of the fire. Now, maybe, some sleep. Closing my eyes I give out a happy sigh. Yes, now some sleep.
Except Da let the hounds in. I hear them racing down the basement stairs. Ma is going to be so angry with the man. I love our hounds and they love me. They're coming now to jump and bark and lick my face.
Some other part of me knows what's a dream and what isn't. My hatchets in my hand as the chitter and squeal of rats close. I swing an arm up under a throat forcing snapping teeth away from my face. The hatchet swings in at an awkward angle scrapping at it's thigh. My bellow over powers it's screech.
It's the size and weight of a hound, but the sounds and teeth scream rat. With an effort I throw it away and roll to all fours. Another one closes from the left. It meets my hatchet face first as it charges. It scream as the steel bites. I clutch at its hide and raise the axe.
The one I'd lofted away skids against the cement as turns back towards me. Gathers speed for a charge. the sharp crack of Doc's M-16 smacks it back to the ground. Pinned the one in my hand I bellow as the axe rises and strikes again.
Doc's M-16 cracks again and again in controlled semi-automatic before the deafening roar of a shotgun drowns it out. Doc staggers back under the impact. She crumples to the ground mewling in pain. I scramble on all fours behind the stove as the shotgun speaks again.
The shotgunner showers the dark with harsh Polish obscenities. A shadow running low to the ground, a third rat-dog, rushes towards Doc and the curtain. Damn, my gun's back in the bedding.
The Pole strokes the trigger twice. Buckshot rattles off the stove and wall above me. Blind bursts from Ed's M-16 answer him. The shotgun roars back, too fast for a pump or semi, firing a long burst into the curtains. The Pole curses again. In the sudden silence I hear something, a magazine, hit the floor.
In the pause I Throw my hatchet at the shotgunner. He jerks at the impact and drops the spare mag in his hand. Someone else will get him. I rush the rat-dog as it bites into Doc. I take it in the shoulder. Arms lock around the trunk. We roll over the concrete. I end on top. With both hands I force away it's snarling snout. I bring in a knee and let my full weight fall on it's ribs. The bones crunch. Again and a third time. Blood splatters from it's mouth as it slowly stills.
While I struggled, Ed's M-16 fired burst after burst. I turn in a crouch. The Pole and his shotgun are on the floor. Ed's replacing his magazine. I hear Cap yelling for light and a medic. Ed covers the stairs while I grab my weapons. Once armed I snap on a flash.
Captain Paterson has a both hands on Doc's abdomen holding things in. I know I'm next to useless with wounds. "Ed, help Cap. I'll get the stairs." We swap. Another light switches on.
"I'll get her pack!" Ed shouts.
"Hurry, God damn you!" Cap reaches out, grabs one of my blankets, and uses it as a compress. I can see red and grey things slither under Doc's skin. That's bad. Worse, I'm not watching the stairs.
My M-16 is wrenched from my hands. A thick grey arm smashes it into the ceiling. The butt stock shares raining hard plastic shards down over me. It's big.
I'm so jumped up on adrenalin that I don't think, just react. Pulling my pistol I step under the out thrust arm. I shove it into the middle and start pulling the trigger. Great arms surround me in a bear hug trapping my arms close in. But the pistol's still in it's gut and I empty out the Makarov's magazine.
I try to keep all my chest muscles tight, but I can't beat it's strength. My breath hisses out painfully and I can't draw another in. Shouts and screams, orders, echo around me. Head swimming I kick and thrash to no effect. In the dark basement a greater darkness closes in around me.
Distantly I hear Cap and Ed shouting. I wish they would shut-up. I need my sleep. The buzz of the alarm grows to a growl then a hammer of automatic fire. The floor, I'm on the floor. I stare numbly as silhouettes approach me. Cap, "Don!" She never calls me Don. "Don, can you move?"
"Ta," I answer in the Mother tongue, "Ta."
"He's delirious," was that Ed or Leo?
"No," I struggle to say, "I can move." To show them I put my hands on the pile of grey sacks beside me and lever my self up. They come back covered in sticky black blood. "Oh, damn."
Leonid
What do the Americans call it. Yes, I have the time to think, playing possum. The thing stands at the stairs enjoying, somehow I can tell, the death and violence it's man is visiting on us below. The throaty crash of the HK-CAW is overridden by the bark of one or more M-16s. The M-16s win. It's shoulders tense with anger. Down it goes.
The last man's nervous. I watch him in my peripheral vision. He licks his lips compulsively, attention switching from me to the stairs. As the gunfire resumes he gives me one last look and turns to the stairs. I may have lost the MP5, but I've got that big 1911 strapped to my waist. The snap of the holster is lost in the reports from below. I shift to a sitting position. Two hands steady the automatic. I space my fire. Two into the back, another in an arm as he twists in his fall. One in the side. One in the upper chest. His head rolls back to face me as he settles on the ground. Shock writ large on features. The last two into the face.
The monsters down there with my comrades. This must be one of the blessed; Wozniak or Zajac, I don't give a fuck which. I reload as I stand and walk to him. Blood seeps from his ruined face. It sticks to my hands as I unbuckle his helmet and toss it aside. Empty the new magazine, all seven rounds, into his head. Not enough left to even resemble a head.
I take the AKR. From the stairwell I hear Cap and Eddie shouting. With my back to the remains of the houses wall, clear of the stairwell, I shout down. "Kapitan! It Leo! May I come down!"
She snarls back, "Stay there! A patrol should be coming at a run. Tell them we need a medic. Now!"
I leave the AKR by the wall at the sound of running feet. Taking no chances, I drop to my knees in the open with my hands on my head. I explain who I am to the bright glare of flashlights and the open mouths of guns. Fortunately, one of our men from the 5th is with them and I stand with his help.
Paterson
A stretcher crew takes Doc away. We don't have the competency to care for her. She's in the vet's hands now. I wonder what it'll take to buy his silence. Fuck.
Alphabit, his ribs taped, sits by the stairs. Ed stands look out. Leo's down below helping haul up the bodies. I'm going to chew someone a new one. I'm never going back into a hole with only one way out. Never.
They drag the corpse of Rutkowski's demon up the stairs. It takes five men to move it. They'd be better with a block and tackle. Sure, maybe you should have told them.
"Lieutenant!" I'm still barking. "Bring me our high value prisoner. You can make him walk, but keep his hands bound." He jumps to it.
Three rat-things, two men, and one demon. I keep the anger on. The other troops keep stealing looks at the things. I snarl. Put them back to their tasks.
God damn it! I suddenly lash out. Kick the shotgunner savagely in the head. Leo pulls me back after I start stamping on his groin. He's beyond feeling it. But by god I can. If Doc dies? Who am I going to kill. The murdering motherless sons are right fucking here. There's always Rutkowski. He's one of them.
I have to let the anger go. Visualize a clench fist. L:et all the rage fill it. Open it wide. Just let it fall to the ground. Mist into the air. The adrenaline slowly ebb away.
"So, Lieutenant Rutkowski," I ask as he approaches, "this your angel?"
He stares. I have to repeat it for him. Empty eyes, "Yes."
"Good," I draw my knife, "now turn around."
He looks from the bare blade to me and back. "Be quick about it." He turns lifting his head to bare his throat.
I'm not gentle. He leaves some skin and a bit of blood behind as I cut through his bonds. With his back to me I ask, "Ever skinned a buck?"
He carefully steps back and around. He stands there, studying me as he rubs his wrists. He nods once.
I flip the knife around offering him the hilt. "Good, start with the big one."
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