Amazon river, 29 December 2050
I wake up feeling a little queasy, whether from the tree worms or the local hooch I can't really say. Some water and a few pills from the medkit sort me out and we wave goodbye to the locals. Before they head off downstream, they warn us about 'demons' upstream. Dances says we should be there by nightfall, assuming the map in his orientation system is correct. He says it's been getting further off the further we go.
He's also got a clock in his head and lets us know when it's noon, when Zero is due to call. She doesn't. By the time she does, Finlay is pretty twitchy and the conversation doesn't go down well. And it's no lover's tiff either. Seems Zero has taken another job and for the Russian fixer Maxim, no less. Not a man to cross according to Finlay. Zero claims the other run will be done before midnight and she'll be online to cover us in the matrix. She better be!
We row pretty much all day. I think I'm finally getting the hang of canoeing. As evening falls, Dances announces we're as close as we can get by river. We pull the canoes ashore, deflate them and stash them just in case. It's always good to have a plan B.
We trek for about an hour through the jungle. Dances is leading the way, his orientation system keeping us on track. Suddenly, another bunch of natives appear out of the bushes around us. I didn't hear or see them coming and the rest of the team seems equally surprised. These dudes ain't too friendly and the shrunken heads on their belts make that clear. Their chief makes it pretty clear they don't want us on their land, gesturing back the way we came. They got us cold, so we back off slowly until they are out of sight, then take another path that will hopefully bring us around them and back to the target.
Let's just say it was a good plan. About a half hour later Finlay warns us that he can smell them and then they are all over us again. For whatever reason, they seem to pick on me. Maybe because I'm the only elf, only woman or only white person on the team. Whatever it is, two of them try to pig-stick me with their spears. I feel one of them penetrate the armor, but it's not deep. Then a third one shoots me with a fragging arrow. Praise the Lord for plastic bone lacing, cause that's all that stops it puncturing a lung. I take a wild swing at the nearest spear-chucker but he dodges out of the way.
The others ain't exactly getting off light either. Dances has another spearman stabbing at him and Finlay's fighting off a spider the size of a fragging horse. Fortunately, Henry Leon or Ju-Ju as Dances has taken to calling him gets off a spell that frags up the two injuns trying to stab me. They don't seem to like that and hightail it back into the jungle. Arrow boy takes another pot shot at me but I'm ready for him now and it bounces harmlessly off my armor jacket. I return the favour, putting a couple of gel rounds into him and he drops.
Finlay takes down the spider and Dances puts a shotgun round into the injun trying to gut him. And just like that the fraggers are gone. Dances patches me up as best he can and we move on. Lucky for me, my 'special talents' include the ability to ignore a fair amount of pain, so I ain't hurting too bad.
With the help of a spirit smmoned by Ju-Ju, we shake the injuns and head on to the compound. It's pretty much as Zero's surveillance showed it, with the exception of the ex-military chopper sitting next to the hangar. According to Finlay, it can transport up to a dozen fully equipped soldiers. I sure hope we don't end up having to take them on. We're early, so me and Ju-Ju rest up while the others scout the perimeter. Seems that casting them spells and summoning them spirits took its toll on him. Getting stabbed and shot has the same effect on me.
Around an hour or so later, it hits midnight and we're just waiting for Zero to call in do her matrix voodoo on their comms. We're still waiting an hour later, when Finlay gives the go. I take down one of the barghest hounds with the tranq gun when its hidden from the rest of the compound by the hangar. Finlay cuts the fence, without tripping the alarm, and the three gents move in while I cover them. When they reach the hangar, I follow them in. Ju-Ju's takes a little astral walk to check the hangar. According to him there are four people sleeping and one woman up and around. We sneak in to find her resting her eyes in a hammock. Couple of tranq darts later and she is out cold. We tranq the others too just as a precaution and tape them up for good measure. Can't be too careful when you need to be quiet.
Unfortunately one of the guards patrolling the house calls in to check on our sleeping beauties. Too bad none of us speak Spanish. Radio boy is getting pretty agitated. Ju-Ju thinks he's telling the other guard to come over and check on them. So, I slip outside to take a bead on radio boy, while Finlay and Dances wait to ambush the other one. The plan goes smooth as silk. As soon as the guard enters the hangar, Finlay takes him down while I drop the one on the roof. Finlay then runs a quick pre-flight check on the plane, while Ju-Ju disables the helicopter.
Then we sneak across to the greenhouse. Barghest number two is asleep just inside the door and a couple more tranq darts makes sure he stays that way. Dances locates the plant and transfers it to the special container we have for it. And then we fly out, without anyone trying to shoot at us. Only thing we forgot was to disable the radio, so we do hear them calling for help a bit sooner than we would of liked. We cross the border, dump the gear and the plane and pick up our connecting flights back to Seattle. Almost too smooth.
Seattle, 30 December 2050
Back in town, we place the call and arrange a meet to transfer the goods. Some prim corp bitch turns up to pick it up, not Helms. She basically drops it on us that there is a follow-up mission that will require us to leave the following morning for St. Louis to snatch some corp bint. I point out I still got a couple of holes in me but she seems to think what we are being paid should cover that. I guess 350k split five ways with Ju-Ju only taking a 20k cut kinda does. Especially if there is more like that coming our way.
We head back to the garage to clear out our stuff. The place is way beyond compromised. We take the gear to a contact of Seaside's first to get it scrubbed and I accompany Zero to a streetdoc to get her headware checked. The doc finds some dodgy code in her glasses and headware and after rebooting her head or whatever, gives a copy of the code to Zero on a chip. I notice that Zero is covering up marks on her neck that look like someone tried to strangle her but she's not willing to talk about it. Unfortunately Billie sees them too and it's only the fact that we are too busy shifting gear to Seaside's place that stops her doing something about it right then and there. It still takes me the rest of the day to get myself back under control.
Even then , I don't sleep too good which means I'm in a bitch of a mood when we leave for the airport the next morning. While the rest of the team are wondering why we need to extract this Jane Foster, I'm just hoping some fool man tries to stop us.
June 15, 2012
March 28, 2012
Billie's journal - row your boat
Fonte Boa, 25 December 2050
Looks like we aren't quite there yet. We have one more leg to go before we're on our own.
We are met at Fonte Boa's crumbling docks by a very English gent called Green. He's wearing one of those white suit and hat combos that you only see in ancient black and white flatvids. He is the perfect gentlemen, even helping me haul my bags to his van. Creeps me out so I sit in back with Dances while Finlay and Henry-Leon schmooze with him up front.
Green seems to think we are here for bird-watching or some bulldrek cover story. I've shot a few in my time but don't know much anything about different species, just what bits not to eat. He drops us at the crumbling town's only remaining accomodation to freshen up.
I take advantage of the shower and rinse out some of my clothes. I reckon this will be last chance to get clean before we get out of here with the flower. Green turns us up around 6 PM, just as it's getting dark and takes us out for a meal. The food is simple, but real. The jungle might be taking over but whatever magic is behind it makes the food taste great. Or maybe it's just that anything fresh is better than the pre-packaged soy and krill crap I normally eat.
It quickly becomes clear to me that Green knows we're no bird watchers and is fishing for information. Finlay and Leon try to keep up the facade, while Dances just makes their task more difficult. I just keep quiet and enjoy the food.
Towards the end of the evening, Finlay gets a call on the satellite phone. Only Zero has that number and we only just checked in with her so something is up. Finlay takes me aside and tells me that Zero thinks someone has broken into our garage. He makes a couple of calls and I use the sat-phone to drop a message to Sharif to see if maybe he can help out. But he's pretty much retired these days and it could be a day or so before he even checks the dropbox. Finlay finally gets ahold of one of his contacts through Martha and sends him over to babysit Zero. She wont like that and calls to tell him so a couple of hours later. From the way she's shouting at him over the phone, seems she's none the worse for wear.
Fonte Boa, 26 December 2050
We're up before dawn. The boys, all being ex-military, seem unfazed but this is way too early for me. Green takes us out of town to a hidden bay and a camouflaged seaplane. Seems he managed to keep if from being consficated by the locals and uses it for taking foreigners like us upriver. He keeps the plane low, skimming just over the treetops for most of the journey. It's like flying over a green carpet that stretches to the horizon in all directions.
He finally drops us off on a sandbank in the middle of the river. From now on it's all human power. Dances and Finlay take one canoe, me and Leon the other. We paddle for several hours upstream until the late afternoon then camp out on another sandbank, sleeping under the stars in the canoes just in case the water level rises.
Amazon river, 28 December 2050
I can feel the last two days of rowing in my meat arm, back and shoulders.
Earlier this morning I got caught with my pants down, literally. I had taken off a little from our camp and was hunkered down by a tree when I spotted this naked woman and kid lying in the branch of a big tree not fifty metres from where I was. The woman was staring straight at me. Then she shifts into a big cat, growls and picks up the baby before disappearing into the trees. I'd a wet my pants if they weren't already down round my ankles. Needless to say I finished up quick and hussled back to camp.
Now we're enjoying the company of some local natives. A bunch of them came canoeing downstream right at us this afternoon. Fortunately Dances has been studying up on the local lingo and was able to talk them out of killing or eating us or whatever. I had to eat some disgusting tree worm that made them all laugh and drink some of their local liquor. The stuff was so bad it actually made me glad I've mostly given up on the booze.
Looks like we aren't quite there yet. We have one more leg to go before we're on our own.
We are met at Fonte Boa's crumbling docks by a very English gent called Green. He's wearing one of those white suit and hat combos that you only see in ancient black and white flatvids. He is the perfect gentlemen, even helping me haul my bags to his van. Creeps me out so I sit in back with Dances while Finlay and Henry-Leon schmooze with him up front.
Green seems to think we are here for bird-watching or some bulldrek cover story. I've shot a few in my time but don't know much anything about different species, just what bits not to eat. He drops us at the crumbling town's only remaining accomodation to freshen up.
I take advantage of the shower and rinse out some of my clothes. I reckon this will be last chance to get clean before we get out of here with the flower. Green turns us up around 6 PM, just as it's getting dark and takes us out for a meal. The food is simple, but real. The jungle might be taking over but whatever magic is behind it makes the food taste great. Or maybe it's just that anything fresh is better than the pre-packaged soy and krill crap I normally eat.
It quickly becomes clear to me that Green knows we're no bird watchers and is fishing for information. Finlay and Leon try to keep up the facade, while Dances just makes their task more difficult. I just keep quiet and enjoy the food.
Towards the end of the evening, Finlay gets a call on the satellite phone. Only Zero has that number and we only just checked in with her so something is up. Finlay takes me aside and tells me that Zero thinks someone has broken into our garage. He makes a couple of calls and I use the sat-phone to drop a message to Sharif to see if maybe he can help out. But he's pretty much retired these days and it could be a day or so before he even checks the dropbox. Finlay finally gets ahold of one of his contacts through Martha and sends him over to babysit Zero. She wont like that and calls to tell him so a couple of hours later. From the way she's shouting at him over the phone, seems she's none the worse for wear.
Fonte Boa, 26 December 2050
We're up before dawn. The boys, all being ex-military, seem unfazed but this is way too early for me. Green takes us out of town to a hidden bay and a camouflaged seaplane. Seems he managed to keep if from being consficated by the locals and uses it for taking foreigners like us upriver. He keeps the plane low, skimming just over the treetops for most of the journey. It's like flying over a green carpet that stretches to the horizon in all directions.
He finally drops us off on a sandbank in the middle of the river. From now on it's all human power. Dances and Finlay take one canoe, me and Leon the other. We paddle for several hours upstream until the late afternoon then camp out on another sandbank, sleeping under the stars in the canoes just in case the water level rises.
Amazon river, 28 December 2050
I can feel the last two days of rowing in my meat arm, back and shoulders.
Earlier this morning I got caught with my pants down, literally. I had taken off a little from our camp and was hunkered down by a tree when I spotted this naked woman and kid lying in the branch of a big tree not fifty metres from where I was. The woman was staring straight at me. Then she shifts into a big cat, growls and picks up the baby before disappearing into the trees. I'd a wet my pants if they weren't already down round my ankles. Needless to say I finished up quick and hussled back to camp.
Now we're enjoying the company of some local natives. A bunch of them came canoeing downstream right at us this afternoon. Fortunately Dances has been studying up on the local lingo and was able to talk them out of killing or eating us or whatever. I had to eat some disgusting tree worm that made them all laugh and drink some of their local liquor. The stuff was so bad it actually made me glad I've mostly given up on the booze.
February 28, 2012
Billie's journal - Leaving on a jet plane
Seattle, 13 December 2050
Seaside's was a bust. The medbay needs an overhaul we don't have time for right now. Instead I set up a meet with Dances with Wolves, our new injun medic. Maybe he can mojo some information out of it. I also talk to Martha about a replacement for the padre. She says she might have someone suitable, so I set up a meet for that too.
Martha also warns me that the yaks have been sniffing around looking for me. They don't have my name but do have my description down pretty pat. Guess I need to stick with the goth girl disguise for a bit. I call Sharif and give him a heads-up and also drop a message to Aurora, the decker who dug up the dirt on them for me.
We spend the rest of the day reviewing the briefing files and drawing up lists of gear we might need, everything from camouflage outfits and weapons to camping gear and bug spray. Amazonia has gone back to nature in big way, with whole cities lost to jungle and more paracritters than you ever want to meet.
Seattle, 14 December 2050
The next morning, before heading to my meets with Dances and the potential new recruit, I drop by the coffee shop across from the office where Danny works. I join him in the queue and mutter a cryptic message about 'indians on the warpath' and 'circling the wagons'. He manages to keep a straight face, returning just the briefest of nods to indicate he got the message. I get a large black soykaf and add a little Jack to keep out the cold.
Then I head down into the Barrens to Cleo's. Cleo's used to be a decent place for a beer but it lost the 'decent' a long time ago. Now the rooms in back can be rented by the hour, mostly for shady meetings like mine or other nefarious / sleazy activities that I don't really want to think about. Their gun policy is also pretty lax, as in they don't really have one, which isn't always a good thing.
I buy a beer and a burger and pay for a room for a couple of hours. When Dances shows up, I explain about the container and what it contains. He tells me he would need a lab to analyze the specimen but he can have a look at it astrally to see if he can see anything obvious.
He stares at the container and his eyes begin to glow. I only seen magic like this close up a couple of times. The last time was in some backwoods bar up in Salish. I clocked the old injun who was staring at me like that. Turned out he was the local witch doctor and the resulting bar fight got me locked up overnight in the local jail.
My mind is pulled back to the present by a light knock at the door. Seems the new recruit has arrived early. He's tall for a breeder. A big black fella, with a broad nose. He's bald as a baby with a long goatee that looks like it's got a mind of it's own. He's wearing one of those dress robes you sometimes see African dignitaries wearing on the trid. Sort of thing that would get you robbed in this part of town if he wasn't wearing a well-worn military combat jacket over it and carrying an beaten up AK over his shoulder.
Dances looks up at that moment, his eyes still glowing and the two lock gazes for a second. Then I break the moment by introducing myself. The goth outfit seems to catch him momentarily off-guard but he hides his emotions well. From hanging with Finlay, he fairly reeks of military, which matches with what Martha told me of him.
He introduces himself as Henry, then says that most folks just call him Leon. Not used to running our Henry-Leon, but guess we all gotta start somewhere. I introduce Dances as our medic and magical fixer upper. Henry claims to be more the put them down type than patch them up, so sounds like a good match. I lay out the deal as general as I can and try to get some more details on him. He hints at some ops down in Africa and other places. Most don't mean much to me but Dances gives an appreciative nod here and there.
Having covered the basics I ask if he's interested. He says he is and keeps cool when I mention the amount on offer. I had agreed with Finlay and Zero that we would offer 30k, a little less than our shares but then we need to take Martha's ten percent into account. Doesn't faze him so he's either good at covering or used to this sort of pay. I give him a chip with the rest of the details and a number to contact me on, and tell him to be ready by the end of the week.
Seattle, 16 December 2050
Been busy rounding up supples for the last couple of days, mostly camping stuff from various hunting and outdoor stores. Now I'm on my way to pick up the guns with Finlay. We arrive at the warehouse in Tacoma docks late at night. There's a couple of asians waiting outside and Finlay notices me stiffen as I spot them. He tells me to be cool, that the dudes are Koreans not Yaks, but I mentally ease off the safety on the SMG just in case.
Fortunately, the Korean dudes are on the level and the gear is all there. We check it out as their boss checks the certified sticks Finlay used for payment. Some nice stuff too. A couple of combat rifles, a SPAS shotgun for Dances, a nice M42 for me, heavy pistols all round, some grenades and plenty of ammo. The bossman makes a joke about us starting a war. We laugh obligingly as his men load the gear into the van. Still, I only relax when we make it safely back to the garage.
Seattle, 20 December 2050
Jamal picks us up in a rental van and we load the gear and ourselves in the back. We pick up Dances and Leon on the way to the airport and clear security without any problems. The Johnson, Helms, isn't at the hangar. In his place, we are met by some severe nordic skirt with platinum hair. She introduces herself as Erika and shows us where to stow our gear while she runs her preflight checks. Within thirty minutes, we are on the runway and ready to roll. Amazonia here we come.
The first leg of the flight takes about four hours. People nap, check gear and I share a Jack with Leon, mixing mine with a soyacola. We land, refuel and take off again. This time I sleep for a bit, and then we are landing again. Some little scrap of land barely big enough for the Learjet to land on, although Erika brings it down smooth enough. While she refuels for the return journey, a beat up old flatbed comes to pick us up. The driver, Freemont, will be our pilot for the next leg. His bird is an equally beat up twin prop seaplane, a Catalina according to Finlay.
We form a line to load our gear from the dock into the hold and then we are off again. I drift off for a bit, losing track of time. When I wake we are touching down in the dark. At first it seems there is nothing around us but open sea, then the dark shadow of a ship appears before us. We move our gear again, this time into the hold or more likely the bomb bay of what looks to be a decommisioned Russian VTOL nuclear bomber. The steel haired pilot's accent only confirms that suspicion.
Then we are off again, lifting out of the ships hold in a roar of jet turbines. Ilyusin, the pilot, explains we will be coming in hot and need to clear the LZ, landing zone explains Finlay, quick. Seems the Amazonians don't like foreigners sneaking into their lands and have a habit of sending out feathered serpents to deal with trespassers.
We suit up and as soon as the plane touches down on the beach we move out. The heat and humidity hit like a wall as we leave the plane. Ilyusin is in the air with a roar of engines even before we reach the trees and as we do we hear another roar, this one not from a jet but a feathered serpent that screeches overhead and after the rapidly disappearing bomber.
We wait in cover until we are sure it ain't coming back then hightail it towards our next contact. A GPS beacon leads us through the forest to a small village on the banks of the river. A couple of local girls are being chatted up by a two unsavoury looking types on a low boat. Another man comes on deck and chases the girls away. I don't grok the lingo, which Leon says is Portuguese. The guy in charge is wearing a red bandana round his left arm and the GPS is pointing in his direction so he must be our guy.
He welcomes us on board in bad English, which is still way better than my non-existant Portuguese and directs us to the boat's only cabin. We crash as they cast off, having been on the road now for over twenty hours.
Manaus, 23 December 2050
It takes us three days to get to Manaus. Three days of heat and bugs. The captain complains that we look more like commandos than 'touristas'. The others change in their other gear, but I only packed one outfit for the return trip and it would stand out even more so I stick to the armor's camo pants and olive undershirt. The captain makes some comment about getting me into a bikini. Him and his crew have been leering at me for the last two days so I kinda lose it and show him the blade, snicking it out and back into my hand. One of the crew crosses himself but the captain looks angry and tells me to keep it out of sight. He suggests I get some new clothes in Manaus so that I blend in and even offers to show me around. Creep!
Still with this heat and humidity, I guess I can put up with him if it gets me a couple of changes of clothing. As it turns out, he doesn't try anything on and does know his way around. And he speaks the local lingo so that helps a lot. I pick us a couple of pairs of knee-length khaki shorts, a few white microfiber t-shirts and a couple of long-sleeved linen shirts to conceal my arm. With all the sun, I am starting to pick up a tan. I already have a light dusting of freckles on my face and real arm, but the realskin on the cyberarm doesn't tan and the difference is beginning to show.
Manaus is bustling and more modern that I thought, but seems to be fighting a losing battle against the jungle. There are few cars with most people on foot or bicycles and everyone seems poor. I also see a couple of shifters openly walking the streets. They'd be shot and skinned if they tried that in Seattle. And even though the captain told us to leave our weapons on the boat, many of the locals carry a handgun or knife.
Fonte Boa, 25 December 2050
We arrive at our final drop off point on Christmas day. At least I think it's Christmas this time even though we have been on the road long enough that the days are starting to blur together and I can't get a signal on my phone. From here on, we go by canoe and we'll be on our own.
Seaside's was a bust. The medbay needs an overhaul we don't have time for right now. Instead I set up a meet with Dances with Wolves, our new injun medic. Maybe he can mojo some information out of it. I also talk to Martha about a replacement for the padre. She says she might have someone suitable, so I set up a meet for that too.
Martha also warns me that the yaks have been sniffing around looking for me. They don't have my name but do have my description down pretty pat. Guess I need to stick with the goth girl disguise for a bit. I call Sharif and give him a heads-up and also drop a message to Aurora, the decker who dug up the dirt on them for me.
We spend the rest of the day reviewing the briefing files and drawing up lists of gear we might need, everything from camouflage outfits and weapons to camping gear and bug spray. Amazonia has gone back to nature in big way, with whole cities lost to jungle and more paracritters than you ever want to meet.
Seattle, 14 December 2050
The next morning, before heading to my meets with Dances and the potential new recruit, I drop by the coffee shop across from the office where Danny works. I join him in the queue and mutter a cryptic message about 'indians on the warpath' and 'circling the wagons'. He manages to keep a straight face, returning just the briefest of nods to indicate he got the message. I get a large black soykaf and add a little Jack to keep out the cold.
Then I head down into the Barrens to Cleo's. Cleo's used to be a decent place for a beer but it lost the 'decent' a long time ago. Now the rooms in back can be rented by the hour, mostly for shady meetings like mine or other nefarious / sleazy activities that I don't really want to think about. Their gun policy is also pretty lax, as in they don't really have one, which isn't always a good thing.
I buy a beer and a burger and pay for a room for a couple of hours. When Dances shows up, I explain about the container and what it contains. He tells me he would need a lab to analyze the specimen but he can have a look at it astrally to see if he can see anything obvious.
He stares at the container and his eyes begin to glow. I only seen magic like this close up a couple of times. The last time was in some backwoods bar up in Salish. I clocked the old injun who was staring at me like that. Turned out he was the local witch doctor and the resulting bar fight got me locked up overnight in the local jail.
My mind is pulled back to the present by a light knock at the door. Seems the new recruit has arrived early. He's tall for a breeder. A big black fella, with a broad nose. He's bald as a baby with a long goatee that looks like it's got a mind of it's own. He's wearing one of those dress robes you sometimes see African dignitaries wearing on the trid. Sort of thing that would get you robbed in this part of town if he wasn't wearing a well-worn military combat jacket over it and carrying an beaten up AK over his shoulder.
Dances looks up at that moment, his eyes still glowing and the two lock gazes for a second. Then I break the moment by introducing myself. The goth outfit seems to catch him momentarily off-guard but he hides his emotions well. From hanging with Finlay, he fairly reeks of military, which matches with what Martha told me of him.
He introduces himself as Henry, then says that most folks just call him Leon. Not used to running our Henry-Leon, but guess we all gotta start somewhere. I introduce Dances as our medic and magical fixer upper. Henry claims to be more the put them down type than patch them up, so sounds like a good match. I lay out the deal as general as I can and try to get some more details on him. He hints at some ops down in Africa and other places. Most don't mean much to me but Dances gives an appreciative nod here and there.
Having covered the basics I ask if he's interested. He says he is and keeps cool when I mention the amount on offer. I had agreed with Finlay and Zero that we would offer 30k, a little less than our shares but then we need to take Martha's ten percent into account. Doesn't faze him so he's either good at covering or used to this sort of pay. I give him a chip with the rest of the details and a number to contact me on, and tell him to be ready by the end of the week.
Seattle, 16 December 2050
Been busy rounding up supples for the last couple of days, mostly camping stuff from various hunting and outdoor stores. Now I'm on my way to pick up the guns with Finlay. We arrive at the warehouse in Tacoma docks late at night. There's a couple of asians waiting outside and Finlay notices me stiffen as I spot them. He tells me to be cool, that the dudes are Koreans not Yaks, but I mentally ease off the safety on the SMG just in case.
Fortunately, the Korean dudes are on the level and the gear is all there. We check it out as their boss checks the certified sticks Finlay used for payment. Some nice stuff too. A couple of combat rifles, a SPAS shotgun for Dances, a nice M42 for me, heavy pistols all round, some grenades and plenty of ammo. The bossman makes a joke about us starting a war. We laugh obligingly as his men load the gear into the van. Still, I only relax when we make it safely back to the garage.
Seattle, 20 December 2050
Jamal picks us up in a rental van and we load the gear and ourselves in the back. We pick up Dances and Leon on the way to the airport and clear security without any problems. The Johnson, Helms, isn't at the hangar. In his place, we are met by some severe nordic skirt with platinum hair. She introduces herself as Erika and shows us where to stow our gear while she runs her preflight checks. Within thirty minutes, we are on the runway and ready to roll. Amazonia here we come.
The first leg of the flight takes about four hours. People nap, check gear and I share a Jack with Leon, mixing mine with a soyacola. We land, refuel and take off again. This time I sleep for a bit, and then we are landing again. Some little scrap of land barely big enough for the Learjet to land on, although Erika brings it down smooth enough. While she refuels for the return journey, a beat up old flatbed comes to pick us up. The driver, Freemont, will be our pilot for the next leg. His bird is an equally beat up twin prop seaplane, a Catalina according to Finlay.
We form a line to load our gear from the dock into the hold and then we are off again. I drift off for a bit, losing track of time. When I wake we are touching down in the dark. At first it seems there is nothing around us but open sea, then the dark shadow of a ship appears before us. We move our gear again, this time into the hold or more likely the bomb bay of what looks to be a decommisioned Russian VTOL nuclear bomber. The steel haired pilot's accent only confirms that suspicion.
Then we are off again, lifting out of the ships hold in a roar of jet turbines. Ilyusin, the pilot, explains we will be coming in hot and need to clear the LZ, landing zone explains Finlay, quick. Seems the Amazonians don't like foreigners sneaking into their lands and have a habit of sending out feathered serpents to deal with trespassers.
We suit up and as soon as the plane touches down on the beach we move out. The heat and humidity hit like a wall as we leave the plane. Ilyusin is in the air with a roar of engines even before we reach the trees and as we do we hear another roar, this one not from a jet but a feathered serpent that screeches overhead and after the rapidly disappearing bomber.
We wait in cover until we are sure it ain't coming back then hightail it towards our next contact. A GPS beacon leads us through the forest to a small village on the banks of the river. A couple of local girls are being chatted up by a two unsavoury looking types on a low boat. Another man comes on deck and chases the girls away. I don't grok the lingo, which Leon says is Portuguese. The guy in charge is wearing a red bandana round his left arm and the GPS is pointing in his direction so he must be our guy.
He welcomes us on board in bad English, which is still way better than my non-existant Portuguese and directs us to the boat's only cabin. We crash as they cast off, having been on the road now for over twenty hours.
Manaus, 23 December 2050
It takes us three days to get to Manaus. Three days of heat and bugs. The captain complains that we look more like commandos than 'touristas'. The others change in their other gear, but I only packed one outfit for the return trip and it would stand out even more so I stick to the armor's camo pants and olive undershirt. The captain makes some comment about getting me into a bikini. Him and his crew have been leering at me for the last two days so I kinda lose it and show him the blade, snicking it out and back into my hand. One of the crew crosses himself but the captain looks angry and tells me to keep it out of sight. He suggests I get some new clothes in Manaus so that I blend in and even offers to show me around. Creep!
Still with this heat and humidity, I guess I can put up with him if it gets me a couple of changes of clothing. As it turns out, he doesn't try anything on and does know his way around. And he speaks the local lingo so that helps a lot. I pick us a couple of pairs of knee-length khaki shorts, a few white microfiber t-shirts and a couple of long-sleeved linen shirts to conceal my arm. With all the sun, I am starting to pick up a tan. I already have a light dusting of freckles on my face and real arm, but the realskin on the cyberarm doesn't tan and the difference is beginning to show.
Manaus is bustling and more modern that I thought, but seems to be fighting a losing battle against the jungle. There are few cars with most people on foot or bicycles and everyone seems poor. I also see a couple of shifters openly walking the streets. They'd be shot and skinned if they tried that in Seattle. And even though the captain told us to leave our weapons on the boat, many of the locals carry a handgun or knife.
Fonte Boa, 25 December 2050
We arrive at our final drop off point on Christmas day. At least I think it's Christmas this time even though we have been on the road long enough that the days are starting to blur together and I can't get a signal on my phone. From here on, we go by canoe and we'll be on our own.
November 29, 2011
Billie's Journal - New look, new run, old enemies
Seattle, 12 December 2050
I wake to an empty garage. The Padre moved back into his parish after our last run, although there are still a few boxes of gear in his room. Zero had other plans with the barmaid and seems like Finlay did a lot more than just escort them home.
I'm feeling a little dehydrated but not too hung over. Now that I know my nightmares are fragments of memories from before, I don't need to drink myself to sleep and am actually up and about in the morning. I recover over soykaf then work out for a bit before taking a long shower.
Around noon, I call Finlay to find out where the hell they are and Zero answers his phone. Well guess that clears up what happened to him last night. Hope that don't screw things up for the team. He already treated the girl like his kid. What's he gonna be like now he's screwing her.
I get dressed in the new gear. I still don't feel completely comfortable in it. It's just not me, but it's still better than getting bushwacked by a bunch of yaks every time I stick my nose out the door. The meet's at the fragging airport, so not a good idea to go armed. Just hope that the Johnson's smoothed things with security or my arm's gonna be a problem.
Finlay and Zero finally turn up, one sheepish and one smug. Guess which is which. They get dressed up like they're going to a corp meeting. I ask if I need to change, but Zero just grins and says I can be Finlay's rebellious daughter for today. I think I can handle that, I'm certainly feeling rebellious enough.
Finlay books a limo to get us to the airport. Seems a bit over the top, but I'm not exactly used to blending in so I go along with it. The injun doctor is waiting for us there. He tags along while I squirm under the gaze of the airport security.
Luckily it turns out the Johnson knows quite a bit about us already. Security snap a restraint on my arm preventing the use of the concealed handblade, while I chew gum and give them the finger.
We are escorted out to a hangar where a slick private jet is waiting for us and climb aboard. A voice comes over the intercom asking us to buckle up. Seems our host wants to keep this meet very private. At 10,000 ft, Mr J joins us. He old but in good shape, with a little help from cosmetic surgery by the looks of it.
He offers us drinks and even has a selection of single malts on his fancy plane. I am impressed as I guess was intended. We talk around the run for a while before getting down to details. His client wants us to steal a fragging plant from some plantation in the middle of fragging Amazonia. Some people have more money than sense. While the rest of us will do just about anything for the right price.
He does front a sizeable chunk of cred for expenses, so I'm cool while Zero is already bitching about having to traipse through 2500 klicks of jungle. I'm not too worried about getting in, but our way out is the plantation's only plane so we are gonna need a pilot. Sheer luck might have got us out of Germany in a chopper but I aint too keen to rely on luck again.
Back on the ground my phone beeps, twice. Not many people got this number. It's the padre and he sounds worried. I am just about to tell the others I think he is in some sort of trouble when Finlay gestures to the limo's built in trid player. Frag, someone blew up the mission. Reports are confused as to whether the padre was even there. Not surprising as half his congregation were chipheads and druggies.
I listen to the second message. It's the padre again. Something about leaving something for me in a safety deposit box. Details and power of attorney are attached to the message. Finlay wants to check out the mission, so I get them to drop me off at the bank while Zero and the injun go off to review the data for the run.
I get the same stares from the bank staff as I did at the airport. Maybe this new look is still too much. Need to tone it down. I chew gum loudly and blow bubbles while the bank takes its time checking my SIN. It's fake of course, Annie Oakley this time but should be good enough to fool these schmucks. Hmm, I need to lose the cowboy references there too.
I finally get access to the box. All that's in it is a flask that's cold to the touch. I unscrew the top and icy smoke billows out. Liquid nitrogen? What the frag is in there? I get out of there quick and the bank staff seem only to happy to see me go. Definitely need a less conspicuous look.
Finlay confirms that the padre is dead. The attack has Terra First written all over it. Looks like we might need to deal with them before this run. Hope whatever is in the flask will lead us to them. Zero calls and tells me to get over to Seaside's. They hope to get his medical gear up and running so we can analyze the flask's contents.
I wake to an empty garage. The Padre moved back into his parish after our last run, although there are still a few boxes of gear in his room. Zero had other plans with the barmaid and seems like Finlay did a lot more than just escort them home.
I'm feeling a little dehydrated but not too hung over. Now that I know my nightmares are fragments of memories from before, I don't need to drink myself to sleep and am actually up and about in the morning. I recover over soykaf then work out for a bit before taking a long shower.
Around noon, I call Finlay to find out where the hell they are and Zero answers his phone. Well guess that clears up what happened to him last night. Hope that don't screw things up for the team. He already treated the girl like his kid. What's he gonna be like now he's screwing her.
I get dressed in the new gear. I still don't feel completely comfortable in it. It's just not me, but it's still better than getting bushwacked by a bunch of yaks every time I stick my nose out the door. The meet's at the fragging airport, so not a good idea to go armed. Just hope that the Johnson's smoothed things with security or my arm's gonna be a problem.
Finlay and Zero finally turn up, one sheepish and one smug. Guess which is which. They get dressed up like they're going to a corp meeting. I ask if I need to change, but Zero just grins and says I can be Finlay's rebellious daughter for today. I think I can handle that, I'm certainly feeling rebellious enough.
Finlay books a limo to get us to the airport. Seems a bit over the top, but I'm not exactly used to blending in so I go along with it. The injun doctor is waiting for us there. He tags along while I squirm under the gaze of the airport security.
Luckily it turns out the Johnson knows quite a bit about us already. Security snap a restraint on my arm preventing the use of the concealed handblade, while I chew gum and give them the finger.
We are escorted out to a hangar where a slick private jet is waiting for us and climb aboard. A voice comes over the intercom asking us to buckle up. Seems our host wants to keep this meet very private. At 10,000 ft, Mr J joins us. He old but in good shape, with a little help from cosmetic surgery by the looks of it.
He offers us drinks and even has a selection of single malts on his fancy plane. I am impressed as I guess was intended. We talk around the run for a while before getting down to details. His client wants us to steal a fragging plant from some plantation in the middle of fragging Amazonia. Some people have more money than sense. While the rest of us will do just about anything for the right price.
He does front a sizeable chunk of cred for expenses, so I'm cool while Zero is already bitching about having to traipse through 2500 klicks of jungle. I'm not too worried about getting in, but our way out is the plantation's only plane so we are gonna need a pilot. Sheer luck might have got us out of Germany in a chopper but I aint too keen to rely on luck again.
Back on the ground my phone beeps, twice. Not many people got this number. It's the padre and he sounds worried. I am just about to tell the others I think he is in some sort of trouble when Finlay gestures to the limo's built in trid player. Frag, someone blew up the mission. Reports are confused as to whether the padre was even there. Not surprising as half his congregation were chipheads and druggies.
I listen to the second message. It's the padre again. Something about leaving something for me in a safety deposit box. Details and power of attorney are attached to the message. Finlay wants to check out the mission, so I get them to drop me off at the bank while Zero and the injun go off to review the data for the run.
I get the same stares from the bank staff as I did at the airport. Maybe this new look is still too much. Need to tone it down. I chew gum loudly and blow bubbles while the bank takes its time checking my SIN. It's fake of course, Annie Oakley this time but should be good enough to fool these schmucks. Hmm, I need to lose the cowboy references there too.
I finally get access to the box. All that's in it is a flask that's cold to the touch. I unscrew the top and icy smoke billows out. Liquid nitrogen? What the frag is in there? I get out of there quick and the bank staff seem only to happy to see me go. Definitely need a less conspicuous look.
Finlay confirms that the padre is dead. The attack has Terra First written all over it. Looks like we might need to deal with them before this run. Hope whatever is in the flask will lead us to them. Zero calls and tells me to get over to Seaside's. They hope to get his medical gear up and running so we can analyze the flask's contents.
October 17, 2011
Billie's Journal - Home for Christmas
Somewhere off the coast of Seattle, 28 / 29 December 2050
The Souix spooks grill us for a couple of days, not sure exactly how many. While they don't do more than ask questions, the sessions are long and they keep us separated. By the time they've finished with me, Billie is running the show. At one point, I hear her asking smoking woman if they are going to kill us now that they've finished questioning us. The old gal just looks me straight in the eye and asks me if that's what I want. I hesitate long enough that she raises an eyebrow before shaking my head and telling her that I just figured it was an easy out for them.
A day or maybe two later, she turns up at my tent. Somethings been building and she tells me they have found the HNLA terrorists and asks if I would like to see the operation. Like I got anything else in my agenda for the day. The rest of the team are there too. Finlay and Sharron seem subdued, Zero is still spitting teeth and the Padre at least has some colour, even if he is still bandaged up.
They have a couple of screens set up and anyone not on the mission is packed into the big tent. Most of it is army speak, but Finlay and Sharron translate it between them. There are choppers with commando's, scuba teams, the works. At one point there is the flicker of a spirit, but the souix mages have their own and the flickers disappear. I prod the Padre in his bad arm, eliciting a wince. That's what he should have been doing to protect us. He grumbles out what might have been a 'sorry'.
It's all over surprisingly quickly, the souix are ruthlessly effective. They scan their headcams over the corpses. Of the injuns, the only one we recognise is the mage, Wallace. Good that's at least one down. Unfortunately, we never did get an ID on Martha, but none of the caucasians seem to be more than youngsters, including twin teenage girls, the sort you would be more likely to see on a surfboard ad.
Still, a few less loons on the loose and they did at least recover some more of the Red Masque and some laptops that might help them track down the others. I hope they deal with the gas permanently and not just store it somewhere else for the next group of terrorists to steal. After the show, they haul us back to our tents but put us together this time.
Next day, the camp is being stripped down. Smoking woman pays us a visit, on her own. She admits that they considered just disappearing us, but given that we did stop the attack and that disposable assets are not always easy to find, she is gonna take a chance and let us loose. If we keep quiet, then maybe one day, she might have some work for us. I tell her in bad souix that I hope our paths will never cross again. She does smile at that, correcting my pronunciation and adding that she hopes I will see things differently in the future.
Then, we are escorted out to Osprey's plane and just like that we are free. Needless to say Osprey is rather quiet on the flight back. He keeps it strictly biz although when we finally touch down he does apologise and offers his services if we should need him in the future. There are some mumbled goodbyes and we walk along the beach to the waiting boat where Russell and Seaside are waiting. Russell seems genuinely concerned about us but is also quiet. Seaside tries some chit-chat but it falls flat.
Back at Seaside's place, the eagle shaman is waiting for us. She seems in slightly better shape and keeps on about the spirits being at rest. That must be good, because even though we tell her Martha is still on the loose, she still hands over the gold. Seaside tells us he knows someone who can help us move it and won't scam us on the exchange. I hand the heavy lumps of metal over to him.
Before we leave Cleo announces that she is not cut out for shadowrunning. She doesn't know what she is going to do, but she is not going back to the corp. The Padre also announces that this was his last run. Guess getting darn near killed can make you rethink your life choices. Problem is that takes us from two mages to none. Deal with that tomorrow.
I also leave my bike at Seaside's. The custom cowboy fittings kinda make it stand out from the crowd and now that we are back in Seattle, I have to worry about the yaks again.
Seattle, 10 December 2050
Seems like my commlink was on the fraz in Tsimshian. Turns out it's only the 10th of December. Unfortunately that means most of Seattle is out Christmas shopping along with me and Zero. The cowgirl look was just a bit too obvious, especially with the yaks out looking for me, so I agreed to let Zero take me shopping for a new look. Let's just say that we have a fundamental difference of opinion on what a girl should wear, and especially on how much skin it's okay to expose.
We sort of meet somewhere in the middle. My preferred baggy blue jeans are replaced with skinny black ones that sit too low on my hips for my liking and a pair of figure-hugging black leather pants that Zero thinks I have the legs for. The fake snakeskin boots are gone, replaced with a pair of combats and a pair of biker boots, both black. In contrast to all the black, several brightly colored tops, fitted shirts and of all things a red corset replace my preferred check shirts. A heavily buckled and studded combat jacket, black again, replaces my old duster. The new look is completed with a large pink, Hello Kitty purse, that I only agree to when Zero shows me the integrated pistol holster and ammo clip pockets.
Then there's a whole pile of makeup, about half of which I am not sure what it's for anymore. Billie never wore makeup as it tended to trigger flashbacks, but I think I can handle those memories now. We spend more time than I am comfortable with in lingerie stores, picking out new underwear including some to go with the corset that are more style than substance. Oh yeah and a haircut, short and spiky and you got it, also black. The latter is courtesy of Zero and a bottle of dye rather than a salon, so it's a little rough around the edges. By the end of the day I could use a strong drink, which I just gave up but am seriously thinking about going back on, when we get a call from Finlay.
Martha has lined up a serious run for us with a major Fixer. Could be the big time, but we are short a mage. So before we go meet the Johnson, Finlay has set up a meet with a possible replacement for Cleo and the Padre. For some reason, he's picked the Fenris, a Redmond rathole that is the preferred haunt of burnt out street sams. Zero insists I wear the corset. Maybe it's just because I'm distracted by the new outfit, but I don't immediately catch why he picked this particular joint.
I stuff one of the Kimbers into the purse along with a couple of clips, a few of the more recognisable makeup items plus my wallet, commlink and keys. Jamal picks us up in his cab and I spend most of my time on the way there resisting the urge to zip the armor jacket all the way up to my chin.
The Fenris is an unpleasant dive and we need to run a gauntlet of hookers who initially think that Zero is trying to steal their turf. Fortunately, they quickly write us off as slumming corpers. The stairs down to the bar are dank, smell of urine and poorly lit by a badly flickering holo. It's not much better inside. Cyber-metal rock rattles at my bones with a pounding subsonic bass. Pretty much everyone looks up at the strangers, but a quick word with the barman, a tall muscled man with a pair of matte-black obvious cyberarms gets a nod towards a booth at the back. Finlay and Zero take the booth while I squeeze into a space at the bar. I order a whisky without thinking.
An old sam next to me, halts my hand as I raise the drink. He shakes his head and shouts to the barman to get me some of the good stuff. I take a sniff at the rotgut he poured me. I've drunk worse, but not by much and the 'good stuff' when it arrives aint much better. I take a sip and leave it on the bar.
The old sam introduces himself as Wild Bill. That draws a smile from my lips. He wants to know if we're hiring. I tell him I'm just the muscle but that I'll put in a word with our Johnson, nodding at Finlay as I do. That seems to keep him happy. One of the twitchy locals approaches the booth and speaks briefly with Finlay. I can see the big ork shaking his head but can't hear him over the thrum of the music. The local moves over to the bar, taking a seat a couple down from me and orders a couple of shots which he downs in quick succession.
A few minutes later it becomes clear why Finlay picked this bar. A clearly out of place native american enters the bar and everyone stops what they are doing and looks up. Twitchy mutters fraggin injuns and right now I kinda agree with him, but it's 7:50 and this guy is our potential magical support. I hear the owner growl at Twitchy, telling him to keep it cool and let the 'brave' attend to his business. It sounds forced and matches with something I once heard about the owner not liking the natives. Something about how he got those cyberarms.
The dude pauses in the doorway, scanning the room, then makes a decision and heads directly towards Finlay's booth. He slips in and they have a short chat. Twitchy is muttering to himself, but looks like he won't try anything. At least not while the barman has his glowing green cybereye on him.
Seems like the Finlay and the shaman come to some sort of deal, although Finlay don't look too happy about it. Injun boy makes to leave, He makes it close to the door before I realise that Twitchy is off his stool and moving after him quickly. I finish my whisky in one gulp and turn to the barman asking him if any trouble outside his bar stays outside. He glares at me, a half sneer on his lips, then simply nods.
I move, drawing the Kimber out of the pink purse as I go. Ammo count and the gun's safety status register in my mind as I follow Finlay out the door, Zero holding it open to let me go first. I hear a pair of shots and then a crunch as Finlay takes Twitchy's legs out from under him. He falls back down the stairs landing at my feet just outside the door. I bring the Kimber up and bark at him to lose his irons. Then I notice his eyes.
He's lost it or high, or both. I hesitate but Zero fires and any chance of dealing with this without bloodshed goes out the window. He twists and rolls away, so only one of her shots hits. Even that one just clips his shoulder. He returns fire, one shot at Finlay, the other at Zero. Zero yelps and dives back into the bar. Finlay just spins on the spot and then leaps back down the steps and lands on Twitchy's chest, his spear driving into the prone sam's throat and clanging off the concrete below. Twitchy gurgles in surprise as his eyes glaze over.
A handful of corp scrip keeps the barman cool, although he does suggest we find an alternative location for our meets. Suits me. The whores are gone, in hiding till things cool off I expect. Our new recruit took a hit. It doesn't look serious but as we head out of the barrens in Jamal's cab, he does some juju and heals it up. That sort of talent certainly could come in useful. Jamal drops us off at a bar he knows. It's some sort of calypso place, full of deadheads and dreadlocks. Good cocktails though, although I switch to non-alcoholic ones after the first. Finlay and new guy trade war stories while Zero gets wasted and makes a pass at the waitress. The waitress flirts back and after new guy leaves, I end up taking a taxi home on my own while Finlay 'escorts' Zero and the waitress back to her place. A typical night in Seattle.
The Souix spooks grill us for a couple of days, not sure exactly how many. While they don't do more than ask questions, the sessions are long and they keep us separated. By the time they've finished with me, Billie is running the show. At one point, I hear her asking smoking woman if they are going to kill us now that they've finished questioning us. The old gal just looks me straight in the eye and asks me if that's what I want. I hesitate long enough that she raises an eyebrow before shaking my head and telling her that I just figured it was an easy out for them.
A day or maybe two later, she turns up at my tent. Somethings been building and she tells me they have found the HNLA terrorists and asks if I would like to see the operation. Like I got anything else in my agenda for the day. The rest of the team are there too. Finlay and Sharron seem subdued, Zero is still spitting teeth and the Padre at least has some colour, even if he is still bandaged up.
They have a couple of screens set up and anyone not on the mission is packed into the big tent. Most of it is army speak, but Finlay and Sharron translate it between them. There are choppers with commando's, scuba teams, the works. At one point there is the flicker of a spirit, but the souix mages have their own and the flickers disappear. I prod the Padre in his bad arm, eliciting a wince. That's what he should have been doing to protect us. He grumbles out what might have been a 'sorry'.
It's all over surprisingly quickly, the souix are ruthlessly effective. They scan their headcams over the corpses. Of the injuns, the only one we recognise is the mage, Wallace. Good that's at least one down. Unfortunately, we never did get an ID on Martha, but none of the caucasians seem to be more than youngsters, including twin teenage girls, the sort you would be more likely to see on a surfboard ad.
Still, a few less loons on the loose and they did at least recover some more of the Red Masque and some laptops that might help them track down the others. I hope they deal with the gas permanently and not just store it somewhere else for the next group of terrorists to steal. After the show, they haul us back to our tents but put us together this time.
Next day, the camp is being stripped down. Smoking woman pays us a visit, on her own. She admits that they considered just disappearing us, but given that we did stop the attack and that disposable assets are not always easy to find, she is gonna take a chance and let us loose. If we keep quiet, then maybe one day, she might have some work for us. I tell her in bad souix that I hope our paths will never cross again. She does smile at that, correcting my pronunciation and adding that she hopes I will see things differently in the future.
Then, we are escorted out to Osprey's plane and just like that we are free. Needless to say Osprey is rather quiet on the flight back. He keeps it strictly biz although when we finally touch down he does apologise and offers his services if we should need him in the future. There are some mumbled goodbyes and we walk along the beach to the waiting boat where Russell and Seaside are waiting. Russell seems genuinely concerned about us but is also quiet. Seaside tries some chit-chat but it falls flat.
Back at Seaside's place, the eagle shaman is waiting for us. She seems in slightly better shape and keeps on about the spirits being at rest. That must be good, because even though we tell her Martha is still on the loose, she still hands over the gold. Seaside tells us he knows someone who can help us move it and won't scam us on the exchange. I hand the heavy lumps of metal over to him.
Before we leave Cleo announces that she is not cut out for shadowrunning. She doesn't know what she is going to do, but she is not going back to the corp. The Padre also announces that this was his last run. Guess getting darn near killed can make you rethink your life choices. Problem is that takes us from two mages to none. Deal with that tomorrow.
I also leave my bike at Seaside's. The custom cowboy fittings kinda make it stand out from the crowd and now that we are back in Seattle, I have to worry about the yaks again.
Seattle, 10 December 2050
Seems like my commlink was on the fraz in Tsimshian. Turns out it's only the 10th of December. Unfortunately that means most of Seattle is out Christmas shopping along with me and Zero. The cowgirl look was just a bit too obvious, especially with the yaks out looking for me, so I agreed to let Zero take me shopping for a new look. Let's just say that we have a fundamental difference of opinion on what a girl should wear, and especially on how much skin it's okay to expose.
We sort of meet somewhere in the middle. My preferred baggy blue jeans are replaced with skinny black ones that sit too low on my hips for my liking and a pair of figure-hugging black leather pants that Zero thinks I have the legs for. The fake snakeskin boots are gone, replaced with a pair of combats and a pair of biker boots, both black. In contrast to all the black, several brightly colored tops, fitted shirts and of all things a red corset replace my preferred check shirts. A heavily buckled and studded combat jacket, black again, replaces my old duster. The new look is completed with a large pink, Hello Kitty purse, that I only agree to when Zero shows me the integrated pistol holster and ammo clip pockets.
Then there's a whole pile of makeup, about half of which I am not sure what it's for anymore. Billie never wore makeup as it tended to trigger flashbacks, but I think I can handle those memories now. We spend more time than I am comfortable with in lingerie stores, picking out new underwear including some to go with the corset that are more style than substance. Oh yeah and a haircut, short and spiky and you got it, also black. The latter is courtesy of Zero and a bottle of dye rather than a salon, so it's a little rough around the edges. By the end of the day I could use a strong drink, which I just gave up but am seriously thinking about going back on, when we get a call from Finlay.
Martha has lined up a serious run for us with a major Fixer. Could be the big time, but we are short a mage. So before we go meet the Johnson, Finlay has set up a meet with a possible replacement for Cleo and the Padre. For some reason, he's picked the Fenris, a Redmond rathole that is the preferred haunt of burnt out street sams. Zero insists I wear the corset. Maybe it's just because I'm distracted by the new outfit, but I don't immediately catch why he picked this particular joint.
I stuff one of the Kimbers into the purse along with a couple of clips, a few of the more recognisable makeup items plus my wallet, commlink and keys. Jamal picks us up in his cab and I spend most of my time on the way there resisting the urge to zip the armor jacket all the way up to my chin.
The Fenris is an unpleasant dive and we need to run a gauntlet of hookers who initially think that Zero is trying to steal their turf. Fortunately, they quickly write us off as slumming corpers. The stairs down to the bar are dank, smell of urine and poorly lit by a badly flickering holo. It's not much better inside. Cyber-metal rock rattles at my bones with a pounding subsonic bass. Pretty much everyone looks up at the strangers, but a quick word with the barman, a tall muscled man with a pair of matte-black obvious cyberarms gets a nod towards a booth at the back. Finlay and Zero take the booth while I squeeze into a space at the bar. I order a whisky without thinking.
An old sam next to me, halts my hand as I raise the drink. He shakes his head and shouts to the barman to get me some of the good stuff. I take a sniff at the rotgut he poured me. I've drunk worse, but not by much and the 'good stuff' when it arrives aint much better. I take a sip and leave it on the bar.
The old sam introduces himself as Wild Bill. That draws a smile from my lips. He wants to know if we're hiring. I tell him I'm just the muscle but that I'll put in a word with our Johnson, nodding at Finlay as I do. That seems to keep him happy. One of the twitchy locals approaches the booth and speaks briefly with Finlay. I can see the big ork shaking his head but can't hear him over the thrum of the music. The local moves over to the bar, taking a seat a couple down from me and orders a couple of shots which he downs in quick succession.
A few minutes later it becomes clear why Finlay picked this bar. A clearly out of place native american enters the bar and everyone stops what they are doing and looks up. Twitchy mutters fraggin injuns and right now I kinda agree with him, but it's 7:50 and this guy is our potential magical support. I hear the owner growl at Twitchy, telling him to keep it cool and let the 'brave' attend to his business. It sounds forced and matches with something I once heard about the owner not liking the natives. Something about how he got those cyberarms.
The dude pauses in the doorway, scanning the room, then makes a decision and heads directly towards Finlay's booth. He slips in and they have a short chat. Twitchy is muttering to himself, but looks like he won't try anything. At least not while the barman has his glowing green cybereye on him.
Seems like the Finlay and the shaman come to some sort of deal, although Finlay don't look too happy about it. Injun boy makes to leave, He makes it close to the door before I realise that Twitchy is off his stool and moving after him quickly. I finish my whisky in one gulp and turn to the barman asking him if any trouble outside his bar stays outside. He glares at me, a half sneer on his lips, then simply nods.
I move, drawing the Kimber out of the pink purse as I go. Ammo count and the gun's safety status register in my mind as I follow Finlay out the door, Zero holding it open to let me go first. I hear a pair of shots and then a crunch as Finlay takes Twitchy's legs out from under him. He falls back down the stairs landing at my feet just outside the door. I bring the Kimber up and bark at him to lose his irons. Then I notice his eyes.
He's lost it or high, or both. I hesitate but Zero fires and any chance of dealing with this without bloodshed goes out the window. He twists and rolls away, so only one of her shots hits. Even that one just clips his shoulder. He returns fire, one shot at Finlay, the other at Zero. Zero yelps and dives back into the bar. Finlay just spins on the spot and then leaps back down the steps and lands on Twitchy's chest, his spear driving into the prone sam's throat and clanging off the concrete below. Twitchy gurgles in surprise as his eyes glaze over.
A handful of corp scrip keeps the barman cool, although he does suggest we find an alternative location for our meets. Suits me. The whores are gone, in hiding till things cool off I expect. Our new recruit took a hit. It doesn't look serious but as we head out of the barrens in Jamal's cab, he does some juju and heals it up. That sort of talent certainly could come in useful. Jamal drops us off at a bar he knows. It's some sort of calypso place, full of deadheads and dreadlocks. Good cocktails though, although I switch to non-alcoholic ones after the first. Finlay and new guy trade war stories while Zero gets wasted and makes a pass at the waitress. The waitress flirts back and after new guy leaves, I end up taking a taxi home on my own while Finlay 'escorts' Zero and the waitress back to her place. A typical night in Seattle.
September 5, 2011
Billie's Journal - Boat trip
Middle of nowhere, Algonkian-Manitou Council, 27 December 2050
We take a direct route toward the HNLA base, abandoning the snowbikes about a klick away and trudging the rest of way through the snow in the bulky NBC suits. At least they keep us warm as well as safe from the virus.
We spot the base after about another hour and a half. There are about five or six buildings, but the place looks quiet. Our current approach is pretty exposed so we lose more time circling around through the trees. Place looks dead.
As we move in to scout, Sharron hisses a warning for me to stop. Hidden in the snow is a trip wire and I nearly walked right into it. It's hooked up to a claymore mine. We disarm it and perform a more careful search that turns up a couple more before entering the camp proper.
The buildings are cold and a quick search reveals that most anything of value has been taken. We find a cleared area where the snow had melted and refrozen. Seems they had their own VTOL. The rest of the team joins us and we search the place proper but all we turn up is a datachip.
Zero makes quick work of it, turning up ferry schedules between Salish and Tsimshian, the name of one of the boats 'Queen of the North' and a set of navigation vectors. Based on the data, the boat will have already left Salish and is due to arrive in Kitimat in just a few hours.
Finlay gets on the comm', calling Osprey back. He lands at the base and we pile in. If we're lucky we can pick up the Wildcats and still make it to the boat a couple of hours before it arrives in Kitimat.
On the way, Zero uses the plane's satlink to do a little bit of scouting. She manages to hack into a NSA satellite and gets us a view on the coordinates just in time to see a couple of boats pulling up alongside the ferry. One is a big zodiac speedboat loaded with barrels, the other looks to be a coastguard cutter and has a pintle mount with a pair of LMGs on its forward deck. Worse, we can also see gunmen moving around on the ferry and what could be bloodstains around its bridge. Unfortunately, we don't get to see any more, as a couple of agents jump Zero. Only Finlay's quick reactions save her from getting her brain fried by Black IC, but the dumpshock still knocks her clean out.
We pick up the Wildcats and Cleo at the island, landing barely long enough for them to get onboard. Then Osprey pushes his plane as hard as he can to get us there ASAP. The Wildcats have plans of the boat and we work out a basic plan with them going for the bridge while we secure the passengers. The rest of the flight is spent in silence, well silent if you discount the roar of the osprey's engines being pushed to their limits.
Like the others, I spend the time checking my guns and loading them for bear. HE in the Winchester, APDS in the Cobra SMG and my trusty Cavalier Deputy seven-shooter. Then after what seems like a long period of waiting, Osprey calls out that he has the ferry in sight.
The Wildcats ork gunner takes up position by the side door, while Finlay and Sharron hang out the rear ramp with their assault rifles. A first pass reveals nothing but as Osprey brings the plane in over the rear deck and we start to rappel down, I hear the sound of automatic fire and the spang of bullets against the plane's fuselage.
Osprey pulls away as the Wildcats move forward. We split into two with Sharron and Finlay taking one set of stairs down, while I take the other backed up by Zero and the padre. Yeah, he's back on his feet but still looks like shit and has his left arm in a sling.
A burst of SMG fire sends Finlay and Sharron into cover. They return fire, eliciting a cry of pain as their shots hit true. We descend carefully. I spot one of the terrorists and snap off a round from the Winchester. I ain't aiming to wound and the heavy HE round takes the back of his head clean off. As he drops, I feel Zero's hand on my back. Another one off to the side. Zero takes a shot at him and I hear the padre calling on God to smite him but he doesn't drop. I roll as he fires. Bullets chase me across the deck but none hit home and the firing stops suddenly as Finlay takes him down with a well-timed burst.
I nod as we move deeper into the boat. We don't run into any more opposition and the wildcats report that they have secured the bridge, but that the controls have been shot up. We find the passengers in the main cabin. They are all dead, mainly from execution style headshots. Further searching reveals the eight barrels positioned around the boat deck. They are all wired up and as we get close, I spot a proximity trigger and warn the others to stay back.
One of the Wildcats is a demo expert and we discuss how to disable the bombs. They are wired up with proximity sensors, a timer and what looks like a seismic sensor as well as a bunch of wires that could conceal a fragload of tripswitches and trapped circuits. I wonder what the seismic sensors are for until the wildcats confirm that we are locked on a collision course with the Kitimat ferry terminal.
With time counting down, the wildcat suggests using ultrasound to scramble the proximity sensor allowing us to get close enough to disable the bombs. Zero rigs up Finlay's ultrasound sight to her electronics kit and goes to work. As she scrambles the bombs the wildcat and I move in and with steady hands and a lot of careful timing, we do manage to disable the booby traps on the bombs. However, we are unable to shut down the timers or the seismic sensors. Instead, we feed a fiber optic cable into each of the barrels, attached to a pair of goggles. This lets the padre cast a sterilise spell directly into the barrels to kill off the virus.
By the time we are finished, we can see Kitimat in the distance. My real hand won't stop shaking and the padre looks ready to pass out. With no way to stop the boat, I attach 3 sticks of dynamite to the main fuel line in the engine room and we bug out. Once Osprey has some height, I click the detonator. There is a small explosion followed by a bigger one as the ferry's fuel and the bombs strapped to the barrels explode. The ferry starts to lose headway then starts to list, flames and smoke shooting from its deck as it begins to sink.
Osprey calls over the comm that he is low on fuel but knows a place where he can refuel without anyone asking questions. Tired but happy to be alive, we agree to land there. The tiny uninhabited island lies somewhere off the coast, I cant say I was paying too much attention to where we were flying. I step out and fish half a packet of cigarettes out of my pocket. The padre bums one off me and I light him up, then mine.
I manage one draw before Finlay mutters 'Contact' over the comm and camouflaged figures appear out of the woods all around us. They move with precision, covering us and each other as only trained military can. I drop the cigarette and slowly raise my hands. I catch a glimpse of Osprey. He looks as guilty as hell and avoids my gaze as the injun commandos strip me of my weapons.
They haul us off to a nearby building. When the padre resists, they put a hood over his head and sedate him. Zero glares at the commandos with barely concealed rage and even Finlay seems angry, although it's hard to tell if its directed at himself for walking into a trap or at the injuns for catching us in it. The injuns for their part are pretty civil about the whole thing, the wildcats commander even going so far as to apologise about 'orders from above'.
Then we get hauled in for questioning. These aint military. In addition to a couple of shamans there are a bunch of suits. They look like sararimen in cheap suits but move like professionals. Great, injun spooks. An older, chain-smoking woman does most of the talking. I might be fitted with a cyber restraint but at least I'm still dressed and no-one's called me a whore, yet. Plus I figure the wildcats would of told her most of the story by now, so I bide my time and fill in the few gaps that I can. Like the eagle shaman who hired us to stop Martha, Martha's links to Terra First and what we know about the HNF and HNLA. She asks what we planned to do with the virus and I tell her she already knows what we did about it on the boat. Put a stop to it.
During the questioning one of the shaman keeps a watch on me. Probably got some truth spell on me. He kinda reminds me of an old drunk I ran into in a bar down in Salish one time. This old fella claimed to be a shaman and that he could see my spirit. He told me I had lost my totem and that my moon needed to be reunited with my sun or I would be lost in the dark. Then he called me a bitch and I clocked him. I woke up the next day in the local slammer. A few of the local braves apparently took offence to me clocking the old geezer. I was nursing a hangover and a headache when the old fella turned up and spoke to the deputy. He must of dropped the charges as the next thing I know I'm being escorted out of the county.
That all happened back before I knew about my magic abilities or who I was. I don't why it popped back into my head now, but I swear the shaman is grinning at me when they take me back to the others.
We take a direct route toward the HNLA base, abandoning the snowbikes about a klick away and trudging the rest of way through the snow in the bulky NBC suits. At least they keep us warm as well as safe from the virus.
We spot the base after about another hour and a half. There are about five or six buildings, but the place looks quiet. Our current approach is pretty exposed so we lose more time circling around through the trees. Place looks dead.
As we move in to scout, Sharron hisses a warning for me to stop. Hidden in the snow is a trip wire and I nearly walked right into it. It's hooked up to a claymore mine. We disarm it and perform a more careful search that turns up a couple more before entering the camp proper.
The buildings are cold and a quick search reveals that most anything of value has been taken. We find a cleared area where the snow had melted and refrozen. Seems they had their own VTOL. The rest of the team joins us and we search the place proper but all we turn up is a datachip.
Zero makes quick work of it, turning up ferry schedules between Salish and Tsimshian, the name of one of the boats 'Queen of the North' and a set of navigation vectors. Based on the data, the boat will have already left Salish and is due to arrive in Kitimat in just a few hours.
Finlay gets on the comm', calling Osprey back. He lands at the base and we pile in. If we're lucky we can pick up the Wildcats and still make it to the boat a couple of hours before it arrives in Kitimat.
On the way, Zero uses the plane's satlink to do a little bit of scouting. She manages to hack into a NSA satellite and gets us a view on the coordinates just in time to see a couple of boats pulling up alongside the ferry. One is a big zodiac speedboat loaded with barrels, the other looks to be a coastguard cutter and has a pintle mount with a pair of LMGs on its forward deck. Worse, we can also see gunmen moving around on the ferry and what could be bloodstains around its bridge. Unfortunately, we don't get to see any more, as a couple of agents jump Zero. Only Finlay's quick reactions save her from getting her brain fried by Black IC, but the dumpshock still knocks her clean out.
We pick up the Wildcats and Cleo at the island, landing barely long enough for them to get onboard. Then Osprey pushes his plane as hard as he can to get us there ASAP. The Wildcats have plans of the boat and we work out a basic plan with them going for the bridge while we secure the passengers. The rest of the flight is spent in silence, well silent if you discount the roar of the osprey's engines being pushed to their limits.
Like the others, I spend the time checking my guns and loading them for bear. HE in the Winchester, APDS in the Cobra SMG and my trusty Cavalier Deputy seven-shooter. Then after what seems like a long period of waiting, Osprey calls out that he has the ferry in sight.
The Wildcats ork gunner takes up position by the side door, while Finlay and Sharron hang out the rear ramp with their assault rifles. A first pass reveals nothing but as Osprey brings the plane in over the rear deck and we start to rappel down, I hear the sound of automatic fire and the spang of bullets against the plane's fuselage.
Osprey pulls away as the Wildcats move forward. We split into two with Sharron and Finlay taking one set of stairs down, while I take the other backed up by Zero and the padre. Yeah, he's back on his feet but still looks like shit and has his left arm in a sling.
A burst of SMG fire sends Finlay and Sharron into cover. They return fire, eliciting a cry of pain as their shots hit true. We descend carefully. I spot one of the terrorists and snap off a round from the Winchester. I ain't aiming to wound and the heavy HE round takes the back of his head clean off. As he drops, I feel Zero's hand on my back. Another one off to the side. Zero takes a shot at him and I hear the padre calling on God to smite him but he doesn't drop. I roll as he fires. Bullets chase me across the deck but none hit home and the firing stops suddenly as Finlay takes him down with a well-timed burst.
I nod as we move deeper into the boat. We don't run into any more opposition and the wildcats report that they have secured the bridge, but that the controls have been shot up. We find the passengers in the main cabin. They are all dead, mainly from execution style headshots. Further searching reveals the eight barrels positioned around the boat deck. They are all wired up and as we get close, I spot a proximity trigger and warn the others to stay back.
One of the Wildcats is a demo expert and we discuss how to disable the bombs. They are wired up with proximity sensors, a timer and what looks like a seismic sensor as well as a bunch of wires that could conceal a fragload of tripswitches and trapped circuits. I wonder what the seismic sensors are for until the wildcats confirm that we are locked on a collision course with the Kitimat ferry terminal.
With time counting down, the wildcat suggests using ultrasound to scramble the proximity sensor allowing us to get close enough to disable the bombs. Zero rigs up Finlay's ultrasound sight to her electronics kit and goes to work. As she scrambles the bombs the wildcat and I move in and with steady hands and a lot of careful timing, we do manage to disable the booby traps on the bombs. However, we are unable to shut down the timers or the seismic sensors. Instead, we feed a fiber optic cable into each of the barrels, attached to a pair of goggles. This lets the padre cast a sterilise spell directly into the barrels to kill off the virus.
By the time we are finished, we can see Kitimat in the distance. My real hand won't stop shaking and the padre looks ready to pass out. With no way to stop the boat, I attach 3 sticks of dynamite to the main fuel line in the engine room and we bug out. Once Osprey has some height, I click the detonator. There is a small explosion followed by a bigger one as the ferry's fuel and the bombs strapped to the barrels explode. The ferry starts to lose headway then starts to list, flames and smoke shooting from its deck as it begins to sink.
Osprey calls over the comm that he is low on fuel but knows a place where he can refuel without anyone asking questions. Tired but happy to be alive, we agree to land there. The tiny uninhabited island lies somewhere off the coast, I cant say I was paying too much attention to where we were flying. I step out and fish half a packet of cigarettes out of my pocket. The padre bums one off me and I light him up, then mine.
I manage one draw before Finlay mutters 'Contact' over the comm and camouflaged figures appear out of the woods all around us. They move with precision, covering us and each other as only trained military can. I drop the cigarette and slowly raise my hands. I catch a glimpse of Osprey. He looks as guilty as hell and avoids my gaze as the injun commandos strip me of my weapons.
They haul us off to a nearby building. When the padre resists, they put a hood over his head and sedate him. Zero glares at the commandos with barely concealed rage and even Finlay seems angry, although it's hard to tell if its directed at himself for walking into a trap or at the injuns for catching us in it. The injuns for their part are pretty civil about the whole thing, the wildcats commander even going so far as to apologise about 'orders from above'.
Then we get hauled in for questioning. These aint military. In addition to a couple of shamans there are a bunch of suits. They look like sararimen in cheap suits but move like professionals. Great, injun spooks. An older, chain-smoking woman does most of the talking. I might be fitted with a cyber restraint but at least I'm still dressed and no-one's called me a whore, yet. Plus I figure the wildcats would of told her most of the story by now, so I bide my time and fill in the few gaps that I can. Like the eagle shaman who hired us to stop Martha, Martha's links to Terra First and what we know about the HNF and HNLA. She asks what we planned to do with the virus and I tell her she already knows what we did about it on the boat. Put a stop to it.
During the questioning one of the shaman keeps a watch on me. Probably got some truth spell on me. He kinda reminds me of an old drunk I ran into in a bar down in Salish one time. This old fella claimed to be a shaman and that he could see my spirit. He told me I had lost my totem and that my moon needed to be reunited with my sun or I would be lost in the dark. Then he called me a bitch and I clocked him. I woke up the next day in the local slammer. A few of the local braves apparently took offence to me clocking the old geezer. I was nursing a hangover and a headache when the old fella turned up and spoke to the deputy. He must of dropped the charges as the next thing I know I'm being escorted out of the county.
That all happened back before I knew about my magic abilities or who I was. I don't why it popped back into my head now, but I swear the shaman is grinning at me when they take me back to the others.
July 19, 2011
Billie's Journal - Torture
Kimano, Tsimshian, 26 December 2050
The Wildcats shaman did a good job on me and I'm back on my feet and while I still hurt a bit, I shut out the pain. Helps that I can literally shut off the pain. We help the injuns unload their gear from the osprey and then Finlay sends it off to scout for any sign of the escaped HNLA members. But they're long gone.
We turn our attention to the two that Sharron knocked out with the stun grenade. Finlay and Sharron get them sat up back to back and start asking questions. Not surprising they aint too keen on answering, so I shoot one of them in the knee. He wails on a bit while Zero and Sharron pull me away telling me to stay calm. I sulk in the corner glaring at the unhurt one, while Finlay hauls the crybaby away to patch him up and kiss his knee better.
To be honest, I'm a little shocked at myself. That was pure Billie. I feel her taking control again and light up a cigarette to calm myself down. Zero takes over the interrogation, hooking the unhurt prisoner up to the generator while whispering to him in her soft French accent. He doesn't seem to know much about where Wallace, their chief, was heading or what the target was although he does admit that they were going to make the government pay. Tsimshian's government is in Kitimat, but unless they are targeting the parliament buildings themselves, they could be anywhere in the city. And while I assume its going to happen soon, we just don't have enough to go on.
We take turns asking questions, and eventually I get Zero to 'juice him'. Unfortunately the girl has the generator set to 'fry' rather than 'juice' and kind of cooks him a bit too much. I realise we aint going to get anything more of him and pump him full of morphine to shut him up.
Luckily, Finlay has a bit more luck with the softly, softly approach and gets a possible location of their base from the one I shot. It's up on the Algonkin border in the middle of nowhere. Good place for a secret hideout.
But before we go, we still need to check out the bunker. The Wildcates brought NBC suits with them, so we suit up and take a look. It's dark and abandoned with little to see beyond the big drumlike container that's clearly the fuel-air device that never went off. We tip-toe around it. Then one of the Wildcats finds Father O'Reilly. To our amazement he's still alive. He's been shot to shit and lost a lot of blood, but he's still breathing. We carefully haul him out of there and the Wildcat shaman does what he can to patch him up. He's in a bad way and is likely going to lose his left arm, but he'll live. A fraggin miracle!
We continue our search, turning up some old computer system which Zero works on to remove some ancient storage devices called hard drives. Then Sharron almost stumbles on some vials abandoned in one of the biohazard units. I hold up one of the vials to the light of my torch but can't read it. I hear a click of a safety as the wildcat behind me asks me firmly but politely to hand it over. I aint too keen to be handling no death plague and am only too keen to hand it over along with the four other vials Sharron discovered.
We return to the surface and I breathe a sigh of relief when the Wildcats seal up them vials in a padded case. Zero hooks the 'hard drives' up to her deck and manages to pull some data off them about the facility and the 'Red Mask'. Yep, its a bioweapon. It's delivered in aerosol format and goes dormant once it infects the host and breaks down in sunlight in a couple of days. Perfect for killing people without any collateral damage. Whoever came up with this stuff was sick in the head, and as the team's resident crazy person I know what I'm talking about.
With no hard data on the target, we decide to try the hideout. Zero thinks she has located the base on satellite maps and Osprey flies us out there in his bird. Most of manage to snooze on the way. He drops us off about an hour or two's walk away and we start trudging through the snow towards the base. I'm kind of glad to have the NBC suit as the extra padding helps keep out the cold.
Then Finlay hears a noise. Sounds like motorbikes but there is no road to be seen. Then we spot headlights and take cover. Soon enough four snowbikes come into view, with two of them doubled up. They pull up 33 meters away and I can hear them talking but not what they are saying. Finlay and Sharron step out into view, Finlay calling out that we are police and they are to put their hands up. They reach for guns.
Five out of the six go down within seconds. The last stays slumped over the back of one of the bikes. As we approach its clear she is sick with the Red Mask and so were her friends. I give her something for the pain but it's clear she aint going to last long. We take the bikes and head back the way they came.
The Wildcats shaman did a good job on me and I'm back on my feet and while I still hurt a bit, I shut out the pain. Helps that I can literally shut off the pain. We help the injuns unload their gear from the osprey and then Finlay sends it off to scout for any sign of the escaped HNLA members. But they're long gone.
We turn our attention to the two that Sharron knocked out with the stun grenade. Finlay and Sharron get them sat up back to back and start asking questions. Not surprising they aint too keen on answering, so I shoot one of them in the knee. He wails on a bit while Zero and Sharron pull me away telling me to stay calm. I sulk in the corner glaring at the unhurt one, while Finlay hauls the crybaby away to patch him up and kiss his knee better.
To be honest, I'm a little shocked at myself. That was pure Billie. I feel her taking control again and light up a cigarette to calm myself down. Zero takes over the interrogation, hooking the unhurt prisoner up to the generator while whispering to him in her soft French accent. He doesn't seem to know much about where Wallace, their chief, was heading or what the target was although he does admit that they were going to make the government pay. Tsimshian's government is in Kitimat, but unless they are targeting the parliament buildings themselves, they could be anywhere in the city. And while I assume its going to happen soon, we just don't have enough to go on.
We take turns asking questions, and eventually I get Zero to 'juice him'. Unfortunately the girl has the generator set to 'fry' rather than 'juice' and kind of cooks him a bit too much. I realise we aint going to get anything more of him and pump him full of morphine to shut him up.
Luckily, Finlay has a bit more luck with the softly, softly approach and gets a possible location of their base from the one I shot. It's up on the Algonkin border in the middle of nowhere. Good place for a secret hideout.
But before we go, we still need to check out the bunker. The Wildcates brought NBC suits with them, so we suit up and take a look. It's dark and abandoned with little to see beyond the big drumlike container that's clearly the fuel-air device that never went off. We tip-toe around it. Then one of the Wildcats finds Father O'Reilly. To our amazement he's still alive. He's been shot to shit and lost a lot of blood, but he's still breathing. We carefully haul him out of there and the Wildcat shaman does what he can to patch him up. He's in a bad way and is likely going to lose his left arm, but he'll live. A fraggin miracle!
We continue our search, turning up some old computer system which Zero works on to remove some ancient storage devices called hard drives. Then Sharron almost stumbles on some vials abandoned in one of the biohazard units. I hold up one of the vials to the light of my torch but can't read it. I hear a click of a safety as the wildcat behind me asks me firmly but politely to hand it over. I aint too keen to be handling no death plague and am only too keen to hand it over along with the four other vials Sharron discovered.
We return to the surface and I breathe a sigh of relief when the Wildcats seal up them vials in a padded case. Zero hooks the 'hard drives' up to her deck and manages to pull some data off them about the facility and the 'Red Mask'. Yep, its a bioweapon. It's delivered in aerosol format and goes dormant once it infects the host and breaks down in sunlight in a couple of days. Perfect for killing people without any collateral damage. Whoever came up with this stuff was sick in the head, and as the team's resident crazy person I know what I'm talking about.
With no hard data on the target, we decide to try the hideout. Zero thinks she has located the base on satellite maps and Osprey flies us out there in his bird. Most of manage to snooze on the way. He drops us off about an hour or two's walk away and we start trudging through the snow towards the base. I'm kind of glad to have the NBC suit as the extra padding helps keep out the cold.
Then Finlay hears a noise. Sounds like motorbikes but there is no road to be seen. Then we spot headlights and take cover. Soon enough four snowbikes come into view, with two of them doubled up. They pull up 33 meters away and I can hear them talking but not what they are saying. Finlay and Sharron step out into view, Finlay calling out that we are police and they are to put their hands up. They reach for guns.
Five out of the six go down within seconds. The last stays slumped over the back of one of the bikes. As we approach its clear she is sick with the Red Mask and so were her friends. I give her something for the pain but it's clear she aint going to last long. We take the bikes and head back the way they came.
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