CA-4 MISSION FILES: March 17th, 2161 part 1
Comments (0) MISSION FILE : RECON CA-4 – CA2 COMMAND GROUP – WESTERN REGION
DATE: 3/17/2161 (12:30am)
LOCATION: Black Feather Ranch
Fred dropped the salvaged gear off with Vod. It was getting on, and he was coming down from the buzz of his joint and the freely-shared beer. Not to mention the high of simply surviving a vicious close-in fight.
He sighed and smiled, rolling a cigarette (tobacco) from his poke (leather shoulder bag). Popping alight a sputtering sulfur match off his thumbnail, he lit it and smiled again.
“Here you go, hand.
“It’s up to you, but I could sure use one of the Imperial “black guns” and the room-broom, plus ammo. Hanna Maria could use the vest, too. As well, if you got more of that pre-war 7.62mm ammunition that would sure come in handy.”
“I don’t think you’re gonna need these Saturday Night Specials,” he indicated the various black powder weapons, “but they’re yours, anyways.”
“Look, we should talk about what you want for the rifle, shotgun and ammo. But I gotta go get my rig, nodamene? Take about an hour, there-and-back, think about it.”
While the others are working on the gathering gear and going over Intel George will be making his rounds. He will be pulling bullets, cleaning wounds, setting bones if needed, and going over what will need to be done to keep the wounded on the mend and to minimize further infection or complications. Once this is done he will take a look at this note that was given to them again. Two words stick out to George from his past Ballarat and Eagles. Ballarat was an old ghost town he and the friends from his youth would go to and 4×4 as well as 4 wheel around. He looks at the teams map and points out where he remembers it being. It is located in the direction mentioned and around the Death Valley area. The Eagles he thinks could mean aircraft or it could be a lodge. He is a mason and knows the there were lodges all over this area. Like the elks, Shrines, EST. It could be that they will find the aircraft or ever the commanders in an eagle lodge. He will inform the team of what he has come up with. The town he is sure would be a good place to look as they were in ruins when he use to go there and it would have been easy for the project to install a base or cashes there. The Eagles reference he is not as sure of but offers the suggestion. Hell there could be an old town or site that was called Eagle for all he knows, but it was a thought.
Vod let the team relax some, feeing that Jake was someone he could trust. He enjoyed the local brew, but not too much since they had just woken up a day or so before. He had George check out his foot injuries and the deep bruising to his chest and arm, while writing up his report as team leader. He sits up as Fred comes into his room carrying in various gear apparently scrounged or traded for, and listened to what he had to say. Over the next hour, he finished up his report, and came to the realization that CA-4 is going to need some local help to get things done. And Fred n Hannah fit the bill exactly.
Upon Fred’s return he asked him to talk a bit. “Fred, its good to see you. Tonight could have gone much worse for many people without your help and advice. We are just starting to get a feel for this new time and how much has changed since we went to sleep over 150 years ago.” Sigh, Vod realizes that his original mission is just so far out of touch with reality he will have to figure out how to shape it into something new to give the team direction.
Vod spies the G3 m203 combo Fred is sporting now, “Seems like you did ok for yourself trading and talking yourself into that G3 there. I assume it probably cost you some of your stores to get it. Couple of my the guys from the team are pretty good gunsmiths, perhaps if you want, they could help you take a look at it and help clean get it in more reliable order. I appreciate the LMG, and Im sure we could put it to good use in the future.”
“The future, wow… strange though it may seem but this isn’t like the future we were expecting. What are you doing with yourself for the foreseeable future? I could sure use people like you and Hannah helping us out. Perhaps you would consider hiring on with us. Help us figure out this cryptic note, and getting information about some specific areas we are tasked to check out on our mission here in the high Desert. In exchange, you can have the extra G3, the shotgun, ammo and Hannah can have the vest. If you agree to work with our team, you can use a pair of our Resistweave BDUs for each of you as well. Ill check our stores and see what 7.62mm prewar ammo we can provide you with as well while your with the team. Ill have Tim dig thru the commo gear and see about coming up with a couple of our radios too. Wish I had some extra armor plates, but as you can see.” Vod shows the shattered plate pieces from his chest, “The plates do their job and their done. I don’t have any replacements, but at least im still alive” Vod stretches his shoulder… “hurts like a sonofabitch though… eehh”
“This note here… it puts a new spin on what we need to do. There is too much to be coincidence that it is addressed to me here, now. We have to take it seriously and do what it says. It says time is critical so we gotta get movin. It mentions Ballarat, which is about 200 clicks northeast of here. ” Vod pulls out the pocket PC, and shows Fred where we are in relation to Mojave and Ballarat. ” On the way is Mojave, which you mentioned had some sorta group called Eagle Air Freight. Well I guess the first thing we need to do is head that way and check to see what kind of group that is. If they do fly… then this note says to check Ballarat from the air. So there are a lot of puzzle pieces which sorta seem to fit together. The Dead of Ballarat, could refer to a graveyard, or the old Morgue in town.”
“So, what do you say, you with us?”
After recovering the Scout and returning to the ranch, Fred was still feeling a little euphoric.
“Well, I did trade the Marines a couple cases of Tequila, a pound of tobacco and a ‘58 Merlot for the Black Gun and meatball-thrower (G3/M203), plus the LMG (HK21E).”
“My wife is better at using a rifle and the grenade launcher than I am. As for the LMG, you guys could really use a Pig-Man (or my truck can use a heavier weapon than the SAW). Plus, we know the area and the people, we have connections.”
“I talked it over with her already, hand, if you let us use the vests, plus the auto-shottie, a G3 and ammo, you got yourself a deal. The vests need cleaning, but it looks like we shot ‘em everywhere but in the chest! I do hear these things kind of “go bad” over time, so those Bee Dee You’s will help. I’d love it if you were to take a look at them Black Guns, see if you can fix ‘em up, specially the LMG, it really took a beating. I see you use 7.62mm NATO, it was painted on the box of ammon with the MG on the V-150.”
“How I think we can fit into your team on foot is Hanna’s good with a rifle and she’ll have the grende launcher, plus she’s a Lieutenant in the militia so she’s had some training. You guys really need a Pig-man, that one the Mexicans had almost took a couple of you down! I can carry the HK21, fill that role for you. when it comes to the vehicle, Hanna seems like she would work pretty well as a backup gunner, I know how to drive, I could be a backup driver for you.”
“Now, for the future, things aren’t looking too promising. My truck was made in 1978, something called an International Harvester Scout. They aren’t makin’ ‘em any more, nodamene? Some places are, but most aren’t. One day the salvage is going to run out, and if anything is going to be rebuilt it’ll be ten times harder.”
“Once this used to be a nation, the strongest and best country in the world. Look at us now, High Desert Federation is a collection of towns that pay the Marines “protection” and there’s no government or “Constitution” those boys swear to protect. Bakersfield has oil, folks say they murdered tens of thousands, maybe a hundred thousand refugees after the war and made the survivors into slaves, and no one’s held them to account for it. Californai Coastal Republic is a maybe a bit better and better organised, but still, they’re doing their own thing. Not all people in the Deadlands are evil, but they live under the Bangers.”
“Then you got the Mexican Empire comin’ up. Who’s gonna stop ‘em? The Marines are tough, but they got no real industry to back ‘em up. They’re gonna run outta ammo and vehicles long before the Mexicans do.”
“My vision of the future? If we don’t get people organised, one day soon we’re gonna be slaves under the Mexicans. And it’s not enough to throw some bullshit alliance together to stop ‘em for now, then go back to the status quo unitl the try again.”
“I think we need to get back to where we were: a country, not as High Desert Federation or CCR or Bakersfield or whatever, but as Americans. We had a good thing once, the United States of America, they called us a “superpower”, whatever that means. People all over the world looked up to us as examples, they say we walked on the Goddamn MOON! I don’t see why we can’t have that again! Democratic and constitutional government, of the people, by the people, for the people. Equally important, a mechanised industrial society. Where you can just buy a fucking car using “money” like in the old days, instead of salvaging a 150 year-old piece of shit or making one by hand in a workshop!”
He slowed down, then finished rolling his cigarette and lit it.
“That note, pretty strange. I don’t know much about Ballerat. Could mean that, sure. It’s certainly important, maybe really crucial. Nothing to do but see what’s there, huh? I mean, someone did some freaky shit to get this into your hands, right?”
Fred looked over at Hanna, who’d been pretty quiet until now, “what do you think, baby?”
“I’d kinda like to know why the Old-timers woulda sent this note to the Marines, insteada leavin’ it with someone around here.”
Turning a chair around and sitting on it, Hanna reached for the bottle of tequila, holding it by the neck. She used it to sketch a small salute to Pacheco, then tipped it and took a long swig, her neck bobbing as she swallowed.
She turned to hand the bottle to Fred and saw him staring at her, a slightly puzzled look on his face. Her expression softened, “Gotta say, though, gettin’ that vest for me was downright roman’ic, sweet ass.”
Leaning an elbow on the chairback, Hanna carefully surveyed the men around her. “Seems to me,” she said flirtatiously, “You men might need a pretty face to brighten things up around here.”
She paused, and then grinned up at the TL. “Fred here’s awful cute, I reckon he’ll do. Me, I’m a right good shot and I can make myself pretty useful as a guide. What say we hook up for a few weeks, see how things go?”
Fred replied, “awright, good neighbor, looks like that’s settled.”
“First order of business, in the morning Hanna and I have to have a little talk with Big Jake. He asked us to come, might as well see what he’s got to say, nodamene?”
He took the bottle from Hanna. “Can’t have too much, but I’ll have a sip. A toast to our little “arrangement”. What do you think, hon?” Fred asked Hanna. She replied, “in the Good Book them folks break bread, I figure sharing a bottle is good enough for us to seal the deal!”
After Fred took a swig, he wiped his mouth and handed the bottle to Vod.
Vod takes the bottle, looks at both Hanna and Fred. “Consider it sealed”, and took a good pull from the bottle, handing it back.
Vod sighs a bit feeling the effects of the alcohol on his aches and pains.
“Good to have you with us.”
Hannah, you said you were surprised about the note, who else do you think should have held the note for all these years?
One things for sure, if we are going to work together, we are going to need more room in the LAV.
Boy.. sure was cozy getting here on just the short drive from where we left the Scout tonight. No way we can do that with all our stuff on a long term trip.
We have a bunch of gear, most of it priceless in this time. Do you have any thoughts on where we can stash it safely? I was thinking here with big Jake, but the way Vivianna was eyeballing some of it.. I don’t know how much would be left when we return.
Do you two own the lazy 8 ranch? Or just work there?
“Lazy Eight? You mean the Circle Lazy Eight.” Fred smiled, having him on a little. “It’s what you call a brand, a mark you use on cattle to tell the owners apart. You describe that kind of symbol going outside-in. So start with the Circle, then the Eight, which is on it’s side, so it’s a “Lazy” eight.”
He thought about the interior of the V-150, and looked in the hatch.
“Let’s see, you got 2 up front, 2 in the turret. With Hanna and I plus your five, that’s three in the passenger compartment. Most of the room back there in the passenger compartment is taken up with your packs and personal gear, the, uh, computer TeeVee thingy is up front out of the way by the passenger seat and up in the turret by the commander’s seat, one of the radios and the map TeeVee thingy are also up front between the driver and passenger and another radio is up in the turret, so that seems okay.”
“You can hang a lot of your personal gear off the sides of the LAV and in the turret basket. Ammo boxes for the MG can be stored on top of the turret. It’s flat, which helps, but you’d want to weld on some brackets. The spare food and that other crap can be moved out of the rear passage, and then you have access to the rear hatch and the rear roof hatch. I’d stick a post mount back there with a gunshield, so you’d have another gunner topside.”
“We can do welding like that at my family’s Truck Stop, which isn’t too far from the Circle Lazy-Eight.”
“Speaking of the Circle-:Lazy-Eight, no, we don’t own it, exactly. Hanna’s part of a group of families that own it, they all got a stake. I don’t, ’cause I married into the clan, nodamene? They’re pretty rich, Big Wheels, like I said, so our kids will be well off. I’m part of Inland Empire, like I said, and we’re pretty well off too. My family runs our Truck Stop, which is kind of a home base of sorts, but I live out at the Ranch.”
“As for where to drop off your extra stuff like them cases of grenades, your food, the, um, “trade pack”… well, with all due respect to Big Jake, he just got ass-surfed by the Mexicans and the Bangers. Maybe he was caught with his pants down and it won’t happen again, but either way I wouldn’t really call this “safe” territory, nodamene? What if they send a platoon or a company up here next?”
“I would talk to Hanna’s people or my family at Inland Empire. They’re close together, and we work together for mutual defence. Plus, we’re a ways away from here.”
Hanna looked at her husband and then dropped her eyes, unable to hold his gaze.
“I think that it might be best to drop this extra stuff over at the Truck Stop for now.” She struggled with a feeling of disloyalty to her family, but knew that it would be better to leave the additional supplies with her in-laws, for other people to hear about this new Morrow team and have access to their equipment.
“Fred, I want you to place a call for me, put out the word that I’m calling a Family meeting at the Circle Lazy Eight, with Poppa and the rest of the elders. They need to know about this letter and they need to meet this latest team. Make it clear that these folk’ll be attending as my guests, and that I’ve offered them my help and support.”
Fred was mildly surprised. It sounded like Hanna meant to host this meeting, to present these Morrow men to Poppa, her grandfather and a patriarch of the Families. Outsiders weren’t usually privy to the happenings of these meetings. He’d attended one shortly after he and Hanna had become engaged, to ask for the blessing of her Family. He’d not been invited to the entire proceeding, and he knew that Hanna’d been upset when she brought him in, partway through.
Hanna was thinking about that same Meeting. She’d been sixteen years old to his nineteen, and she’d been ready to take on the world. She’d been born into a Family, not just a family, and she’d been groomed to take a spot on the Council, to help guide and shape her community.
The Families had been in the area for generations. The world had been pretty rough, and they’d worked hard to build the ranch, to create a home that was both an economic base and an example.
Change was slow. Sometimes she thought the old folk were gettin’ too settled in their ways. She knew it’d been tough coming up for them, but they’d had advantages and they’d carved out a nice little piece of real estate in the valley. Now they seemed ready to settle in, and almost loathe to let the next generation take up the banner.
Hanna knew that the area was significantly more settled than it had been, and that it was time they started to reach feelers outward, toward other communities and folk further from the valley. Her husband-to-be was a Trucker. She wanted to tell him everything, make him a full member of the Families. She’d even suggested a full alliance with his family’s Truck Stop. She figured that the two of them could hit the road together, Morrow missionaries of a sort.
Her Poppa hadn’t had no patience for that. He told her flat out that she’d be endangering everything they’d worked for over the past hundred years. Their job was to work slow, set an example and grow outward, rebuilding the US of A one person at a time, one year at a time, and one mile at a time. This wasn’t a revolution, this was long-term project. They were teachers and leaders, they had credibility and a reputation to protect. They weren’t crazy folk to wander the roads and tell stories.
They’d argued back and forth and Poppa had threatened to call off her marriage to Fred if he couldn’t trust her to keep the peace, to maintain her loyalty to her Family above all. Hanna had been furious.
In the years since her marriage, she’d done a lot of thinking about that Meeting. The Families had done a lot of good in the community, they’d created a lot of jobs and worked hard to prosper in this challenging time. Maybe they were right, she thought. And if not, if they’d grown too complacent, how was she to counter generations of history and tradition. She was just one girl.
Looking a little puzzled, Fred replied, “Sure thing, baby.” He noted she had avoided Vod’s question, so he added, “maybe they got something to say about this letter, huh? Your folks are pretty smart, they could be a real help, nodamene?”
He wanted to say more but stopped himself. Clearly there was something going on here, some kind of business with Hanna’s family he was only partially aware of. He knew they had some kind of secret, something handed down from generation to generation that was at the core of the Families that owned and ran the ranch, something that bound them tightly together and kept them apart from others. Maybe he’d find out what that secret was, maybe they all would. He didn’t know what the comment “latest team” was supposed to mean, but he hadn’t made a living down in the Deadlands trading with the Crip and Blood nations and the other Bangers for car parts without being able to read the writing scrawled on the broken walls and interpret the handshakes and secret signals that could mean the difference between life and death.
Deciding to change the subject he said, “sure, I guarantee Inland Empire’s gonna love you folks. You sure got a nice Rig here, man! I think you’re a lot like us Truckers, like me, believe in commerce and free trade, in the flow of goods and services between communities. We Gypsy Truckers own the road, those Biker pussies just rent it! We ain’t afraid to go anywhere, take a risk, see what’s over the next hill, that’s a big Ten-Four!”
