Marco Domici: Town visit
"That's what they say, junior." Harriet replied. She knew the type. A bony finger pushed back an errant strand of thin grey. "Max, huh? I knew a Max or two before. Little bit older, I rekon. And that was a long time ago."
"I still don't think he's all that." Max said. His shoulders were hunched against the cold.
They were in the back of the pickup; Max, Harriet, Monika, and Jonathan on the two and a half. It was cold but Monika had rigged some tarp to protect them from the wind. The back window was opened to the covered area so they got a little heat.
Unlike the others, Harriet, or just Hair, was old as dirt. Her fingers were twisted and thin, she walked with a limp. Her travel gear was load of hand-off soldier wear that didn't fit her small frame at all, but kept her warm. Patrick had promised better clothes, if they survived.
Of course, Patrick had promised last year to leave her all and well alone. She was tired of him. When he showed up at the North ward drunk tank looking for her, well, she almost shot him on the spot. Hair rubbed the bundle cradled next to her stomach. She might still shoot him. He would understand. He was good that way.
"Harriet." He had started, and she had reached for her gun. He always used her proper named when he wanted to talk her into something. He had gone straight, found a girl, and was working on a family. She was well known at the cesspool that was the North Ward. Not well liked, but at least known.
There he was again, pulling her out. They had run some scams together; he was the face and she 'conned the targets. He got caught. Never ratter her out though. That's probably why she didn't shoot him. He was good that way.
"I need you." Was how he had started. "Just like old times, but better. I need your sight."
She had the sight, all right. Not like her grandmother, who could probably read minds like you'd be scared of. At least that's what people paid her lot for, telling their futures, reading the minds of straying husbands, and lucky numbers for the lottery. Hair hadn't gotten the sight quite the same, but she could look at a person and know a lot by how they walked, how they talked, and how they handled their money. How they looked at you, too. That was important.
She had still been debating about whether or not he ought to be shot when he dumped a pile of clean clothes on her. "Your bath is paid for. We have a table at Club Brianna and your plate will be full. No time to waste here, you in for a new game?"
A couple pairs of arms had pulled her up. She new a couple of the others with Patrick. Older folk, like her. Not as old, but they had been known to work together now and again.
"Who's the mark?" She had started, and saw Patrick's grimace. "What's the game, junior?"
Patrick looked around. "Harriet, it's big. Really big. I need a few people who are willing to do some...work. Not just mean people, though, Hair. I need, you. I need someone who can tell a lie from the truth."
"I ain't been no interrogator, junior." She had replied, even as her feet carried her to the chance of food. If nothing else he was good for a meal.
"You'll see, Harriet, I'll explain as we go. You'll see."
The truck's rapid decel brought Hair out of her reverie. She smiled. "What about you, girly girl. What do you think of that Marco fella?"
"She got his hair cut, I bet she's after him." Max snickered.
"Tala said the other soldiers do it." Jonathan blushed. He had gotten the high and tight just like Monika. "She did too. A bunch of us did."
"A bunch of you look like chagum girls, that's what you did." Max said, and then hushed when he felt the cold of a barrel mashing his cheek sideways.
Hair nudged with her gun. "I was a chagum dancer before your granny got out of diapers, junior. You watch your mouth or I'll rearrange your teeth from the back of your head." Her gun went back into her belly pack. Slowly. "You got a cute little set of beads there, junior. Still, when you try to give an order, what happens? People look at you and walk away. Some might be impressed with your little bit of art, but real men won't."
"I've killed..." Max started, and then Hair snorted.
"Yeah, I know the type. You've killed a lot of people. So? You may have even killed more than Marco. Notice he doesn't feel the need to wear gangle and brag about hisself. I noticed your leaders listen intently when Marco speaks. So does almost everyone, 'cept you. Might wanna think about that. Tell the truth, there's a lot you might want to think about. Like why the kid on the gun as a cute girlfriend awhile you're talking to an old crone."
"She isn't my girlfriend." Jonathan said. He looked at Monika.
"Yeah, I know the type." Hair winked at Monika.
"Five minutes." Someone from up front called back.
Jonathan charged the two and a half and started to slowly swing it back and forth. Like Captain Marco had showed him, he lifted it up slightly when crossing the vehicle in front.
"Besides, I don't care if Marco did get lucky with some old fat bouncer at a bar. That don't mean nothing."
"Captain Marco." Jonathan said. He continued to scan for targets but spoke down to them. "It's been decided. The People of the Path will refer to him as Captain Marco, until otherwise revealed."
"I don't..." Max began.
"You don't, or didn't, know Harry. All muscle, all mean. Known to handle three big drunks at a time. Known to kill for pleasure." Hair sat back and stamped her boots to get her legs back in gear. "Yeah, it might have been luck. Maybe that same luck that kept him through a ship crash, too. Was it luck that let him shoot Rasmus from five hundred meters?"
"What?" Monika and Jonathan said in unison. "No!"
"Yup." Hair nodded. "One of the Mountain Men had paced it off. Body hit, moving target, at night, no less than five hundred twenty meters. In the woods. Even Verner was impressed!" She leaned forward to Monika. "It might be just luck. But if so, I'd rather have the lucky guy on my side, know what I mean?"
They sat quiet for a while. "One minute." Balt's voice was clear.
"No enemy in sight, sir." Jonathan called down. "All vehicles in the convoy proceeding as planned. Wait...one vehicle moving off to the side." Jonathan looked through the enhanced sights. "Oscar Three dismounting and moving to position."
"You sound like a war vid." Max grumped. Right before Monika smacked the back of his head.
"Ten seconds." Balt called back. Their truck had passed Oscar Three, one of the over watch sniper teams. It veered off slightly. "Let's go! Move!"
Max was first out as Balt come from the front. Monika started out, and then quickly turned and pulled Jonathan around for a kiss. Then she was out the back and followed by Hair, who grunted when she landed and fell.
Balt helped her up and the four of them quickly moved to a defensive position and started digging for cover. Max found a gully full of rotted grass and they used that for their foxhole.
"Good find, Max." Balt said as he looked around. "Monika, help him reinforce that berm. If things happen you'll appreciate a few extra rocks and logs between you and whoever is shooting at you."
"Ain't nothing gonna happen." Max said. He snuggled in with his carbine. "Are we really gonna freeze out here while everyone else gets to party?"
Balt muttered under his breath. "We protect the over watch team if something happens, Max. That's what this is about." He ran the scope all around, as well as up and down. Their truck and the transport vehicle for Oscar Three circled opposite directions around town while the rest of the convoy rolled in.
"We may not be in a friendly place, folks." Balt said, keeping his scans going. "Besides, this is a chance to try out new tactics and comms. The vehicles scout around the city, we keep the escape route clear, and the Guide learns new tactics."
"I still say this ain't nuthing." Max grumbled.
"Okay, everyone, let's move." Patrick licked his lips and looked around yet again. The transition to team lead had been hard enough. He cared about his kids and wife. Yet now he led a team to protect dignitaries and to rescue hostages. Worse, he was one of the supposed dignitaries to protect. Patrick moved forward with Verner and Jozu. They were flanked by Tala and the others from Hotel One. Except Jillia, she was on Marco. If Patrick was responsible for protecting important people, then Marco had to accept being one of them too. Like it or not.
Marco had detailed Verner, Jozu, and Patrick to meet the Fagersta representatives, do any deals they felt best, and communicate with them. That last bit was Patrick's job. These were his type of people.
He saw what Marco was pulling, though. Patrick was close to these folks but their eyes would be on Verner. Then, when introductions were made the merchants would be hounding Jozu. Patrick opens the door and the big guns come rolling in. He was good with that. Well, for the moment. Kim and the girls deserved more. He wanted more for them, and for his unborn child. Marco had told him to start organizing the North Warders. Patrick had no idea what he was supposed to do with them once they were organized, but he'd passed on Marco's recommendations for those that like to fight to form teams, those who can care for the sick and injured to band together, and for those who were able to "find" or build things, to start talking to each other. It was going to be a big thing, whatever Marco had planned.
"Patrick, Jozu. Couple requests." Marco's comm came through to all three of them. "If that construction company has any good blasting materials, we could use some boom. Also, I see a bunch of boarded up buildings here. Could you offer to pay for some damages so the teams can get a little exercise? Mostly doors and such."
"Gotcha...err...roger, Sam One." Patrick replied. "Hey, another thought, if you guys think it's good. I'll spread the gossip while Jozu bargains and Verner talks to the mayor. That okay?"
There was a long pause. Patrick looked at Verner, then at Jozu. Finally, Marco's comm came back. "Hotel One, I think you're finally figuring out why I consider you such a find. Get on it! We're gonna go make noise."
When Patrick and Jozu had arranged for the damage compensation, the comms lit up. "Charlie One, find the building and establish visual. Place Oscar Two and direct Sam Two and Hotel Two to come into the town and perform the assault. I'm in observer mode. Sam One, you have the convoy."
"Don't you have a real job, like protecting the important people?" Marco said to Jillia as they jogged towards the target building. His first order of business was to evaluate Charlie One's selection of station and to see if the strike and hostage teams had integrated the few lessons they had had time to hear.
"I asked Patrick to assign me to you." Jillia replied. She trotted slightly behind, rifle at the ready. "Dad was less than happy with the haircut. I think he still sees me as his little seven year old with a bouncing pony tail."
"I've seen you with a pony tail. Not a bad look for you." Marco pointed. "This way. I want up there so we can see."
"Gotcha." Jillia sprinted to a wall and braced herself like Marco had taught. She huffed a bit; a grown man in combat armor was not something her legs were used to lifting. She heard the scrapes as he slid over the edge. A quick jump and he helped her up the rest of the way.
They both had guns up and scopes on. "Charlie One is almost in place." She said.
"See what they're missing?" Marco asked.
Jillia looked again. She frowned, and looked again. "Not really. Sorry."
"Good answer, Pony Tail." He continued to scan. "Sam Two moving in and dismounting. Hotel Two following. The basic urban combat course is a solid week reserved for teams who are already fully functional and integrated. Our guys have had about twenty minutes on each of a dozen topics and are running around with people they just met. For what time they've had, I'm impressed. I'm impressed with you, too. Pony Tail."
"You've got to lose that name." Jillia replied. "And thanks. I think."
"You were honest. Sam Two almost at the building. Let's get closer so we can watch the house clearing." They hung off the ledge and then dropped the few feet to the dirt. As they jogged to the assault site, Marco added. "I can teach a lot of things, but not integrity. Or duty. You have to have that yourself, and be willing to serve. Not everyone does."
"A lot of girls your age are bouncing from one boyfriend to another and swapping college majors as often as the rest of us do laundry. You're jogging along with a shotgun and wearing a full loadout like it's a sun dress. Hotel Two needs to stick closer, see that?"
"Yup. Most of them are older and not used to running around like this. Would you look at me differently in a sun dress?"
The night lit up with a blue white flash as the heavy plywood covering the missing door disintegrated.
"Put endurance training on the list. Sam Two going in hot. Nice." Marco said. "Hotel Two has closed up. Nice. I've watched you in bulky cold weather hunting gear and my thoughts would not please your dad. Don't torture me with the visual of a sun dress."
"You deserve it. How far back do we stay? Tala and I talked; she's up two serious kisses and a heavy snuggle."
"I've got a snuggle for you. Double time!" Marco switched on his comm. "Assault team, freeze in place. You're about to have a hostage to recover." Comm off, he added "Come along Pony Tail, you're now a prize to recover."
She caught up to him and stuck out her tongue. "Coward! You're just avoiding the issue! I have a bright red sun dress at home. Daddy doesn't like it 'cause the material is so thin." She took off. "Clear the way, hostage coming through. Clear the way."
Marco gave her a couple minutes to settle in. "Okay, assault team, resume!" He walked along behind them, sensors dialed up. Gabbie was directing her team well. What they lacked in urban experience they made up for in cohesion. The hostage team needed some work, though. However, their role was totally new to pretty much everyone but Marco.
With some effort they located Jillia. The hostage rescue team fumbled for how to carry her out and secure her load. Eventually they just parceled out bits and drug her out to the command vehicle.
"Good job everyone." Marco started. They had moved the command vehicle and the truck to the house so everyone could be in the debrief.
"We did lousy." Milton replied, snorting. He was the second eldest of Hotel Two.
"You could have done better, Milt." Marco nodded. "You will do better with practice and training. Since you just volunteered to be the S-seven for the Hostage Recovery teams, be thinking of what lessons were learned."
"What's an S-seven?" Milt asked.
"Training section. Jillia, lay down." A few of the troops snickered and made 'ooh' sounds. Jillia blushed but lay flat. "Okay, Milt, work with your people on what's called a rescue carry. It goes like this." Marco pulled Jillia up by the armpits and draped her over his shoulders. "With practice it goes smoothly and you get used to the weight."
Jillia smacked him from behind. "Even if the weight is as light and shapely as private Pony Tail here." Marco added. Several people laughed. "Okay, time to practice. Jo, back to the convoy for protection. Gabbie, you've got the truck, lead the way slowly. Hotel Two, pick up a member of your Sam team. We're walking back to the convoy. By the time you get there you should have the basic idea."
Marco stood there with Jillia still draped over his shoulders. Gabbie winked at him and went for the truck, everyone else was heading back.
"Am I staying up here?" Jillia asked.
"You wanted a cuddle, right?" Marco asked, pulling off his helmet. He wiped the sweat off his forehead.
"Not quite the same, but I'll take it. Hey!" She cried out as he pulled her face close and kissed her. Instantly it was mutual.
"The others are well ahead of us." Marco said, between lips.
"Yeah..uh...huh...mmm" Jillia replied. "Mm...mmm..."
"Okay, air time." Marco pulled back, but not before Jillia bit him on the lower neck. Hard. "Hey!" he said. "Time for some armor!" Putting his helmet back on, he readjusted Jillia. "Sorry if this gets you in more trouble with your dad."
Jillia pulled him close as he carried her back to the convoy.
