Eternity RPC Board
07-08-2018, 01:48 AM
MT5 Bogand smiled despite himself. The domestic success of MANAOI was inspiring foreign imitators! This would be worth a chuckle at his next report to the MT1s, if he lived that long.
He got serious when he saw the location. A small harbor near Zeebrugge. A very particular civilian storage facility lay in an unassuming small town outside that city, one unlikely to be remembered by Soyabar forces. In fact, it had been chosen by covert operations teams during the Blockade Against Foreign Undecency for that very reason. The details were in a section of his briefing that he remembered solely because he had laughed at how unlikely it would be that he should get the chance to use it. And in several shipping crates in that storage facility...
"Golden Wrench," Bogand murmured.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, tempered by practicality. It would be a hell of a stunt, extremely difficult to pull off. And it would only work once, for once news got out every other site would be compromised. But if it did work, my, how it would work!
"This is no problem," Bogand said to the man, pointing to the location he had in mind. "We just need to make a little stopoff here first, well outside any Soyabar attentions. We have a little pinch of spice, shall we say, something to make matters something more interesting there."
Bogand reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a Vestian cigarette, taking a long whiff of the fine tobacco before lighting it. Vestians were true greasers: if there were two things they painstakingly cared for more than anything in the world, it was their vehicles and their tobacco.
"I assume there is transport, preferably civilian? The Soyabar will not tolerate the existence of this airfield and its military vehicles for long, but in cars and trucks they may strain to distinguish us from other civilian traffic. Penal brigadiers will always march, of course, but I fear the war would be over before we could reach Zeebrugge by foot."
He got serious when he saw the location. A small harbor near Zeebrugge. A very particular civilian storage facility lay in an unassuming small town outside that city, one unlikely to be remembered by Soyabar forces. In fact, it had been chosen by covert operations teams during the Blockade Against Foreign Undecency for that very reason. The details were in a section of his briefing that he remembered solely because he had laughed at how unlikely it would be that he should get the chance to use it. And in several shipping crates in that storage facility...
"Golden Wrench," Bogand murmured.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, tempered by practicality. It would be a hell of a stunt, extremely difficult to pull off. And it would only work once, for once news got out every other site would be compromised. But if it did work, my, how it would work!
"This is no problem," Bogand said to the man, pointing to the location he had in mind. "We just need to make a little stopoff here first, well outside any Soyabar attentions. We have a little pinch of spice, shall we say, something to make matters something more interesting there."
Bogand reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a Vestian cigarette, taking a long whiff of the fine tobacco before lighting it. Vestians were true greasers: if there were two things they painstakingly cared for more than anything in the world, it was their vehicles and their tobacco.
"I assume there is transport, preferably civilian? The Soyabar will not tolerate the existence of this airfield and its military vehicles for long, but in cars and trucks they may strain to distinguish us from other civilian traffic. Penal brigadiers will always march, of course, but I fear the war would be over before we could reach Zeebrugge by foot."