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Smoke and Mirrors: The Other War: Part II
Posted By: houseoftang<houseoftang@sbcglobal.net>
Date: 19 January 2007, 12:55 pm
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Author's Note:
This is another example of what deadlines will do to you. Yes, the ending is abrupt, but it's better than a cliffhanger, no? The actual mission will be up soon, so leave your much-appreciated comments and check back in a couple weeks to see if I've managed to post it by then.
The Other War
Part 2: Smoke and Mirrors
0915 hours, March 19, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Delta Pavonis System, planet Windfall, City of Fortune
Infiltration had been, perhaps, the easiest they'd ever had. Arriving in-system via the stealthed corvette Capaq Nan, they had simply transferred to the frigate Chinatown and taken a routine Pelican flight to one of the space elevators, like crew going on shore leave. They had all brought and donned the street clothes they had worn in Boston. On the ground, they had rented a hotel room with a newly-issued credit card in the name of a day-old corporation, dumped the majority of their gear there, and gone shopping. They picked up a set of business clothes each, a few briefcases and other accessories. Lucente, the sniper and unofficial fasion expert of Blue Team, had needed to make a few suggestions.
Jonas was the first to require a little guidance. He had grabbed the first suit hanging on the rack nearest the door and walked toward the register.
"Aren't you going to try it on first, sir? It looks a little small for you," one of the salesmen had cautioned, but Jonas ignored him.
Yi and Lucente were chatting by the register while the men selected their clothes; the women had made their purchases first, and with the efficiency of trained professionals. The Colonel had also managed to secure a 20% discount; apparently a sale had ended the day before, but the management was willing to give some leeway to a potentially significant customer.
"That won't work, Jonas." Yi stated it bluntly.
"We make it work, den," he replied.
"Only if you brought your sewing kit. That suit must be five sizes too small for you, and the style. . . ." She held the youth-sized jacket up to Jonas' 1.83m-tall frame and shook her head. Lucente eyed it with equal suspicion.
"It jus' de clothing," Jonas protested in his thick "Caribbean" accent. They had never gotten a definitive answer about his planet of origin, but it certainly wasn't Earth.
"And we have a part to play. Costume is important. Wearing that would be like going on recovery op in your bathrobe," advised Yi, quietly. "Let Ramona find something better for you. I need you to lead Fire Team Omega on the recon, and this is an important part."
The large man huffed something affirmative and followed Lucente back onto the shop floor.
"Shall I measure you, sir?" asked the salesman who had spoken to Jonas before.
Lucente answered for him. "That would be a good idea."
Chief Warrant Officer Banken, the communications and computer specialist, had taken the most time selecting his suit.
"I can't decide," Banken declared as he exited the dressing room. "This one feels better, but I like the pattern on the first one. . . . Ramona, what do you think?"
Lucente had been waiting for him as he came out for the fifth time. "That one, Tor. It's you."
"Really? The other one looked better. . ." he said, uncertainly.
Suppressing a glance at her watch, Lucente answered decisively. "The other one looked like the kind of thing some old man would wear. It's the Fifties now, not the Twenties. Go with that one."
"Well, I guess so. Thanks, Ramona." The two headed toward the register, where the other four members of Blue Team were waiting anxiously.
"Is that everything, Ramona?" the team leader asked.
"I think so. Wait." The younger woman chose a pair of sunglasses from a display near the register. "For you, Tor."
As the clerk rang up their purchases, she glanced at the credit card Yi had given her. "Yang Enterprises? Looks like you're starting a new business."
"Yes, we are," answered Yi.
"May I ask what type of corporation Yang Enterprises is? If you'd like to leave a few business cards here, we have many kinds of clients who come through every day," the clerk offered.
"Yang Enterprises is a real-estate investment firm. We choose our clients according to our own criteria." Yi decided to change the subject. "I did happen to find a copy of your advertisement earlier. I believe it had a coupon for 15% off the entire purchase. . ."
1423 hours, March 19, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Delta Pavonis System, planet Windfall, en route to the Hawkins farm
Yet another monstrous pothole in the dirt road caused the Hog2 to bottom out.
"Ryder, slow it down a bit," ordered Colonel Yi, sternly. "Damage to the rental car would create a paper trail, not to mention the cost. They'd remember us."
"Almost there, anyway. Thought this ute'd be a right pearler for bush bashing. Being a Hog an' all. Shoulda just bought a farm truck," he commented. His accent got thicker when he was irritated.
"And I thought he was Rodgers. John Rodgers. Bad form to break character until you're done. . ." Lucente grinned for a moment at the inside joke, and then adjusted her suit slightly, flattening out Yi's lapel after she was through. "I guess we get to keep these? I'd prefer a skirt, though, not pants."
"That could draw attention, too. Especially the kind of thing you usually wear, and especially when it's you that's wearing it. But you're right, I don't think I'll be wearing this particular outfit very often. The dress uniform works for any occasion I've been to for the past ten years. At least anything this would do for."
Ramona snorted. "For what you need it to do. Nothing chases away the boys faster than campaign ribbons. Except maybe the Gold Comet."
"That's exactly why I like it."
"Works just the other way for a bloke. This one time, I was on the pull on Gilgamesh. . ." Ryder's story fell flat, as it was obvious the women weren't interested in it, and probably wouldn't believe it even if they were.
After a minute of awkward silence, Lucente spoke up. "Queen's Closet had a nice selection," she mused. "You can't find anything like that at the bodegas on Coral."
Yi thought for a moment. "No, not ready-made. But the seamstress on that side-street by the fountain off Canton Ave could make anything they had on the racks. Cheaper, too, and it'd fit perfectly."
"Which one is that? The blonde woman who always has the skirts in the window?"
"No, I mean the one next to the baker with the little dog. Across from the tea shop."
Ramona smiled at the reference. "The bubble tea there. . ." It was inexpressible. "That's near the knife maker, right? What's his name?"
"Raja Kami. Now that's something you'll never find in a strip mall. It's hard enough to find decent kitchen knives on these commercialized worlds."
A skeptical look crossed Lucente's face. "I've never given it much thought–almost anything works for cutting vegetables."
"No, once you've used a real tool for a bit, you never want to go back to the toys."
"Well, that's just what it was on Gilgamesh, right? It was me and a bunch of ground-pounders. . ."
Ryder paused before he continued his story, and a driveway appeared around the curve of the road. A battered sign which read Hawkins was nailed to a tree. "Ah, well, maybe later. Looks like this is it."
The driveway was more of a tiny dirt road that wound on for a kilometer before a farmhouse appeared on the right side. It continued on, toward a grain silo that was visible in the distance. Chickens were scratching at the dirt in the front yard, and they squawked and flapped away from the unfamiliar vehicle as Ryder parked in the wheel ruts, next to a battered Warthog pickup truck.
Ryder jerked his head toward the old truck next to them. "Looks like a retiree, not surplus. Probably older than any of us. They made 'em better then, not like this bucket of scrap.
"We're in character as of now. We don't want to be remembered," Yi reminded him.
"Dunno what you're talking about, Ms. Yang. Lemme get your door, ma'am," he replied, exiting the vehicle. He donned sunglasses and walked around the front of the vehicle to hold Yi's door open. The Colonel stepped out of the vehicle, took a moment to look around, and then proceeded toward the pathway at a fast walk, leaving Ryder to carry the briefcase she'd left on the back seat, next to Lucente. Lucente was already on the way with her own briefcase in hand, following Yi.
Lucente's briefcase contained little in the way of documents. She toted an M6D, a few spare clips, and a compact surveillance device especially designed for finding enemy encampments. Mainly it monitored electromagnetic signals. Four of them had been in long-term storage at Chawla Base for the past half-century, forgotten. Ryder carried a navigational positioning computer which would record their movements and reference it to a topographical map of the area, an M7, and a spare clip among his peripherals. In her tiny purse, Yi carried a "FUBAR stick", commonly known as a panic button, which could have passed for a cigarette lighter or a tube of lipstick in a passing examination. The latter was standard issue for covert ops units–two programmable buttons, one of which could send a signal through a quarter kilometer of solid concrete. Only the latter button was programmed, and it would bring the local police and nearby UNSC forces in at a dead run. Aside from that, she carried an EVA line to serve as an emergency weapon.
Yi waited for Ryder to catch up before she knocked on the door. There wasn't a doorbell. After about thirty seconds, Yi knocked again, impatiently.
A young man's voice shouted from inside. "Coming! I got it, Mom!"
Something fell with a thump and a shatter, and a woman called something scolding from a distant room.
"Sorry, Mom!" The door opened without the sound of any locks cycling other than the doorknob itself, revealing a massive young man with his hand on the knob. He looked surprised to see well-dressed people on the doorstep. The door-to-door religious groups had a hard time on Windfall, just because of the distances between each house. "Uh–hi. Can I help you?"
"Yes, we're from Yang Enterprises, a real-estate investment firm. May we take a look at your property?" Yi had just the right balance of pushiness and politeness for a real-estate scam artist. "We'll need to speak with the property owner, please."
The youth was taken aback for a moment. "Um, well, Pa's in the North Field running the tractor. What do you need him for?"
"We'd like to discuss the possibility of future investments. A number of our clients have expressed interest in properties in this area." Yi tried to walk a very fine line between sounding interesting enough to get a tour of the property, but not interesting enough to be the talk of the town.
Ryder knew better–they would likely be dismissed as a bunch of crazy off-world folk, but talked about for years to come. The real key was to seem innocuous enough that no one said anything except over a tumbler of whiskey."Y'understand, we're not draggin' in suitcases of money here, it'll take years if it happens at all. Don't let your old man think he's gonna send you through college on this deal, mate."
"Oh, I wasn't planning on going to college, sir. I'm going to join the Marines right after I graduate. If you want to go see Pa, I can take you out there, but it's probably better if we take my truck. I don't think yours would hold up too well."
The four piled into the older Warthog, with the women in back and Ryder in the passenger seat. Yi gave a feigned look of distaste at the vehicle before climbing in and sitting on the side of the cargo bed.
"I'd hold on tight if I were you, ladies, it's gonna be a pretty bumpy ride," called the young man, who then spun the vehicle around and headed at a frightening pace down the rudimentary dirt road. It was ten minutes of bouncing and shaking before the Warthog passed anything other than row after row of crops. Ryder passed the time in lighthearted conversation with the youth, Mike Hawkins, mainly making small talk about trucks and the many modifications Mike Hawkins made to the M12 LRV they were riding in. Lucente and Yi kept a sharp lookout for anything unusual, searching for even minute details.
Their efforts were unnecessary. When they turned onto a dirt road which ran along a wire fence, the quality of the road suddenly changed from poor to good, though it was still hard-packed earth. Both women looked up suddenly as the crops gave way to an overgrown field and the fence dead-ended into a similar barrier perpendicular to it. The road branched off, one leg going straight through a gate in the fence and the other following along the near side of the barrier. Hawkins made a right and followed the new fence.
Squinting a little, Lucente saw what looked like a satellite dish in the distance beyond the fence, and entered a command into her handheld computer.
Trying to sound casually interested, Yi spoke up. "Does this fence mark the edge of your property?"
"Yeah, kind of. The one in back is on the far side of the Peterson's farm–they're a big commercial operation. Over on the left is the new one, belongs to the Science Facility over there. It turns again up ahead a bit–they bought forty-two acres from us and fenced it off. I think they bought about the same from Peterson's." The young man waved with his left hand to point out what he was referring to.
"A science facility? UNSC, or a private corporation? And what are they studying there?" The story sounded more than a little weak.
"Government, yeah. They told us what they were doing once, hydro-dyno-thermo-something. I'm not good with science. Just they said it wouldn't bother the cattle or the crops, and it hasn't, not that I've seen, and they've been there five years. That dish they have out there gets hit by lightning almost every storm, though, I don't know why they don't shield it or something. The fence, too, that's why we've always used wood for ours."
Lucente thought of something. "Do they have their own generators, or do they tap off your power?"
"They dug up a big trench right through the barley field and up along that road of theirs when they bought the property, and I remember them laying down all kinds of wires there. I'm pretty sure they tap off ours." Amazingly, the Warthog didn't swerve at all when the young man gestured. As he'd stated, the fence turned after a few hundred meters, and the road branched off again. The texture and ride quality went from smooth to shaky again as they continued straight ahead.
Soon they turned off among the rows of tall crops, keeping to the rough paths among them, and came up on a sturdy older man cursing at a tractor, with a spraying machine in tow behind it. He had the cover off the tractor's engine and was apparently engaged in a field repair, without much luck. The man looked up as the Warthog pulled up and wiped his greasy hands on his overalls.
"Hey, Mike, tractor's broke again. Keeps stalling, an' no matter how I goose the throttle she won't catch for more'n a minute. They done sold us a lemon." The visitors climbed out of the Warthog as the young man pulled a hefty tool box from the cargo bed and carried it effortlessly to the side of the tractor, putting it down with a crash of loose wrenches.
Mike cocked his head for a moment, looking at the engine, and then tried to start the tractor. It caught, sputtered, and stalled, as the farmer had said. The smell of gasahol filled the air. "Pa, could you try the ignition for me, I wanna see what's going on under the hood there," requested the young man.
The older man complied, and the young man frowned as the engine repeated its performance. Then he grabbed a nearby pair of pliers, pushed a few loose wires into connectors, and picked up a screwdriver. "Try it again, Pa." This time the engine caught, and ran for a bit, but roughly.
"The choke," offered Ryder.
But the young man was ahead of him, turning a screw one way, then another, and finally dialing it in so the engine sounded right. He put the tools away in his father's small tool box, and took out a roll of electrical tape. The youth hadn't even needed to touch his own tools. After he had secured the wires which had come loose, he commented, "I think that'll be the last time that happens, Pa."
Yi cleared her throat, impatiently, as the older man made to climb into the tractor without acknowledging them.
"Oh, yeah! Pa, these folks here wanted to talk to you about real estate I guess."
Before the older man could get further into the tractor, Yi introduced the character she was playing. "I'm Julie Yang, of Yang Enterprises. We're a real estate investment firm, and we'd like to explore the possibility of purchasing a portion of your property for investment purposes. I understand that you recently sold a small parcel already?" She had to raise her voice to be heard over the rumble of the tractor.
"D'ya mean those Science Facility folks?" The older man seemed to shout naturally, poised on the side of the tractor.
"Yes, Mr. Hawkins. Do–" Hawkins the elder cut in before Yi could even start the sentence.
"Naw, they didn't buy. They rent it. They like to keep it easy, they don't bother with paperwork. Suits me just fine–if the Guv'ment don't wanna tax me on money they're givin' me, I ain't gonna complain."
Yi paused, thinking for a moment. This wasn't quite where she wanted the conversation to go. "Do they pay you separately for the utilities? I understand they tap into your electricity."
"Ayuh, we rigged 'em up a meter an' all. Jus' tell 'em how much it is, an' they pay, no argument. Good folks. You lookin' for sometin' along those lines?" Mr. Hawkins began to fiddle with the controls of the tractor, but he didn't climb all the way in yet.
"We're more interested in buying than renting, sir, but we can discuss the possibility." It was time to end the conversation; they'd gotten all the information they needed, and every minute was now a minute which could stick in the Hawkins' memory, or a minute the rebels, likely based at the "science facility" could figure out who they really were.
"I s'pose you'd be wantin' to build condy-miniums, too?" It was quite clear the farmer didn't care for the idea any more than he cared for livestock diseases.
"More than likely, but–"
"Thought so." Mr. Hawkins climbed the last few steps into the tractor and put it into gear. The interview was over.
As the farmer drove away, his son started the Warthog. "Sorry about Pa, he's not very talkative. I guess he wants to keep the land around for me someday." He sounded genuinely apologetic.
"Would you mind taking us back to the house a different way than we came out? I'd like to see what these farms are like," Yi asked, as she and Lucente climbed into the cargo bed again.
The youth acknowledged with a thumbs-up.
"So you're lookin' to be a farmer, are ya, mate?" Ryder asked Mike.
"Maybe, but not for a bit. I'm planning to join the Marines when the fall comes. I'll do my four years, maybe take a few courses over at the University, and then come back to the farm." It was clear that he enjoyed his lifestyle.
"I hope it works that way, Mike, I hope it does," commented Ryder, as they turned onto the dirt road again. He looked up at the clouds moving in from the west. "Gonna get dirty tonight, I'd say."
"A little water never hurt anyone," commented Yi, with a tiny smile.
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