Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
Excellent! Funny enough a coincidence (again!), I was actually listening to Kraftwerk as a background music while reading this chapter. The 2017 3D mix of Radio-Aktivität, but close enough
That's true, but something will emerge that will resemble punk. I wonder if Johnny will still marry Nora?
Part 135, Chapter 2315
Chapter Two Thousand Three Hundred Fifteen
19th August 1974
Los Angeles, California
The day was relatively cool for this time of year. High seventies or low eighties. The weather report said that it was supposed to heat back up tomorrow and that was bad news considering everything that was going on.
“It’s a euphemism” Big Mike said from the passenger seat.
“I know what it means” Ritchie replied, “So does everyone else, they just don’t want the press running with someone stupidly using a loaded term.”
That was the main concern that the Department Brass had was that someone somewhere was going to say or do something stupid. There was more than just the regular tension that existed every summer in LA as hot weather dragged on for week after week. The city was overdue for what they were calling a “mass disturbance” which was the euphemism that Mike was talking about. They knew that the term they had been ordered not to use was riot. Ritchie had also heard from the Headquarters of the 160th Regiment that the 40th Division was on alert so that they could react swiftly in the event of an emergency, so he should be prepared to come in if needed. That meant that even the Army was expecting something to happen, no one was quite sure what though. Just a bad feeling that was hanging in the air. The obvious question, one that no one had asked as far as Ritchie knew; Was there something that the Brass knew that they were not telling them?
“This time of the year makes me wish I worked out in the Western Division” Mike said, “Cool ocean breeze, cruising along the beach, such a hard life out there.”
“More like the same bullshit we put up with here, except in swimsuits” Ritchie replied.
“Who pissed in your Wheaties today?” Mike asked.
“No one” Ritchie replied as he turned a corner. “Trouble in the air.”
“Like every summer since forever” Mike said.
“I guess” Ritchie said, “Summer, winter, what do those terms even mean here? That is what I miss about the East Coast, you have actual seasons there.”
“Didn’t you tell me that you hated winters in Upstate New York?” Mike asked in reply, “And that the summers are super muggy?”
“Spring and fall are nice though.”
Mike had no reply to that.
Ritchie knew that it was one of those grass is always greener on the other side of the fence sort of situations. The thing that Upstate New York really had going for it was that it wasn’t Los Angeles, and it was about as far away from where he presently was as he could get.
Montreal, Canada
There was a bit of fun for Kat in sitting with Gloria in Margot’s parlor. This was mostly due to Gloria standing in direct opposition to most of what Margot stood for. Not that it presented too many issues. When Margot found out who Kat’s guest was, she suddenly had errands to run on the other side of Montreal.
Gloria was absolutely giddy with delight as she saw what Kat was giving her this time. An accordion file folder that contained the newly declassified details of her wartime exploits. That included many things that Kat had thought would remain secret forever, things that she personally felt no one should see but now couldn’t stop. The thing was that people like Gloria were about to learn some unpleasant things about Kat. She had thought about what she would do when all of this came out and the one hard truth was that she was tired of hiding from the past.
“These are the citations from you getting the highest medals for bravery in your nation” Gloria said, “Why were these secret?”
“Read them and you might understand” Kat replied.
Gloria sorted through them until she found the one that Kat expected her to. She saw the Imperial seal in black wax attached to parchment, say what you will about Louis Ferdinand, but he did go all out when it came to bestowing awards. As Gloria read the citation the look on her face became increasingly puzzled.
“This is absolutely insane” Gloria finally said, “You volunteered to get shot?”
“You can see why I didn’t want it released during my lifetime” Kat replied, “We had to make it look real to draw Beria out.”
“You were actually hurt, I heard that you have serious problems because of that incident” Gloria said. Kat wondered who had told Gloria that, she really wished they had kept their mouth shut.
“If I hadn’t done that, all the pain and suffering, all the death, would have been for nothing” Kat said, “The war would have ended with the same players still on top in Moscow, the figurehead would have been different is all. We would have won the war but lost the peace.”
“That is not what I was expecting?” Gloria replied as she looked through the hundreds of pages.
“It is just the truth” Kat said, “And I am tired of hiding it.”
“You certainly are not hiding anything” Gloria replied, “Your detractors are going to have a field day trying to present this in an unflattering light.”
“Let them” Kat said, “They have been tiresome little boys for ages, saying all sorts of terrible things and everyone knows this. Do you honestly think this will make a difference with them?”
19th August 1974
Los Angeles, California
The day was relatively cool for this time of year. High seventies or low eighties. The weather report said that it was supposed to heat back up tomorrow and that was bad news considering everything that was going on.
“It’s a euphemism” Big Mike said from the passenger seat.
“I know what it means” Ritchie replied, “So does everyone else, they just don’t want the press running with someone stupidly using a loaded term.”
That was the main concern that the Department Brass had was that someone somewhere was going to say or do something stupid. There was more than just the regular tension that existed every summer in LA as hot weather dragged on for week after week. The city was overdue for what they were calling a “mass disturbance” which was the euphemism that Mike was talking about. They knew that the term they had been ordered not to use was riot. Ritchie had also heard from the Headquarters of the 160th Regiment that the 40th Division was on alert so that they could react swiftly in the event of an emergency, so he should be prepared to come in if needed. That meant that even the Army was expecting something to happen, no one was quite sure what though. Just a bad feeling that was hanging in the air. The obvious question, one that no one had asked as far as Ritchie knew; Was there something that the Brass knew that they were not telling them?
“This time of the year makes me wish I worked out in the Western Division” Mike said, “Cool ocean breeze, cruising along the beach, such a hard life out there.”
“More like the same bullshit we put up with here, except in swimsuits” Ritchie replied.
“Who pissed in your Wheaties today?” Mike asked.
“No one” Ritchie replied as he turned a corner. “Trouble in the air.”
“Like every summer since forever” Mike said.
“I guess” Ritchie said, “Summer, winter, what do those terms even mean here? That is what I miss about the East Coast, you have actual seasons there.”
“Didn’t you tell me that you hated winters in Upstate New York?” Mike asked in reply, “And that the summers are super muggy?”
“Spring and fall are nice though.”
Mike had no reply to that.
Ritchie knew that it was one of those grass is always greener on the other side of the fence sort of situations. The thing that Upstate New York really had going for it was that it wasn’t Los Angeles, and it was about as far away from where he presently was as he could get.
Montreal, Canada
There was a bit of fun for Kat in sitting with Gloria in Margot’s parlor. This was mostly due to Gloria standing in direct opposition to most of what Margot stood for. Not that it presented too many issues. When Margot found out who Kat’s guest was, she suddenly had errands to run on the other side of Montreal.
Gloria was absolutely giddy with delight as she saw what Kat was giving her this time. An accordion file folder that contained the newly declassified details of her wartime exploits. That included many things that Kat had thought would remain secret forever, things that she personally felt no one should see but now couldn’t stop. The thing was that people like Gloria were about to learn some unpleasant things about Kat. She had thought about what she would do when all of this came out and the one hard truth was that she was tired of hiding from the past.
“These are the citations from you getting the highest medals for bravery in your nation” Gloria said, “Why were these secret?”
“Read them and you might understand” Kat replied.
Gloria sorted through them until she found the one that Kat expected her to. She saw the Imperial seal in black wax attached to parchment, say what you will about Louis Ferdinand, but he did go all out when it came to bestowing awards. As Gloria read the citation the look on her face became increasingly puzzled.
“This is absolutely insane” Gloria finally said, “You volunteered to get shot?”
“You can see why I didn’t want it released during my lifetime” Kat replied, “We had to make it look real to draw Beria out.”
“You were actually hurt, I heard that you have serious problems because of that incident” Gloria said. Kat wondered who had told Gloria that, she really wished they had kept their mouth shut.
“If I hadn’t done that, all the pain and suffering, all the death, would have been for nothing” Kat said, “The war would have ended with the same players still on top in Moscow, the figurehead would have been different is all. We would have won the war but lost the peace.”
“That is not what I was expecting?” Gloria replied as she looked through the hundreds of pages.
“It is just the truth” Kat said, “And I am tired of hiding it.”
“You certainly are not hiding anything” Gloria replied, “Your detractors are going to have a field day trying to present this in an unflattering light.”
“Let them” Kat said, “They have been tiresome little boys for ages, saying all sorts of terrible things and everyone knows this. Do you honestly think this will make a difference with them?”
Kat has to be just so done with just about everything... and her negative attitude about it is going to be interesting to read about compared to what the rest of the world thinks of her exploits. You know that there is going to be enough masonry in the Langley privy to build a whole new city when they figure out just what the Germans were willing to do to win, and then ask themselves just how much of that attitude has remained.
I have this idea of someone in Langley when they actually get around to reading things and cross checking against what they know saying in a Steve Urkle voice: "Did I do that"
Steve Urkle
Steve Urkle
By this time Kat is a worldwide icon that any new information on what she did in the past is just confirmation of the legend that she has become.
All around the world the various intelligence agencies are going to go through the newly released information and cross match it with the information that they already had and fill in some of the missing pieces but otherwise it really changes nothing.
The reason for the new releases from the German Archive is that is this is the Fortieth Anniversary of the end of The European War and none of the information is "Operational" or currently relevant, of course it will be embarrassing if information came out that Johann von Schimdt aka "Creepy", aka "The Spider" broke the USN codes and learned that the USN broke the Japanese Diplomatic and Naval codes and was able to use them to his advantage.
Look for Vladimer the Idiot to be cut off from the Romanov Family funds if he is still alive and a warrant for his arrest for Treason if he ever steps foot in Russia again.
All around the world the various intelligence agencies are going to go through the newly released information and cross match it with the information that they already had and fill in some of the missing pieces but otherwise it really changes nothing.
The reason for the new releases from the German Archive is that is this is the Fortieth Anniversary of the end of The European War and none of the information is "Operational" or currently relevant, of course it will be embarrassing if information came out that Johann von Schimdt aka "Creepy", aka "The Spider" broke the USN codes and learned that the USN broke the Japanese Diplomatic and Naval codes and was able to use them to his advantage.
Look for Vladimer the Idiot to be cut off from the Romanov Family funds if he is still alive and a warrant for his arrest for Treason if he ever steps foot in Russia again.
Part 135, Chapter 2316
Chapter Two Thousand Three Hundred Sixteen
25th August 1974
Boston, Massachusetts
In just a few days she was supposed to get on an airplane that would take her “home” where a bit of clever footwork would cause Anne Morgan to disappear, and she would be Tatiana von Mischner-Blackwood again on a train bound for Berlin from Paris. Instead, Tatiana was in the small room she had rented for the summer terrified that American Federal Agents were going to kick in her door at any second.
Of course, it was because of her mother. It was always about her mother. It had taken Tatiana a long time to understand why it was that her mother always needed to make a huge splash in whatever she happened to be doing. Simply put, Katherine von Mischner, essentially the reigning Queen of Berlin loved to show off. Normally that had little effect on Tatiana but today the front page of the New York Times had featured the explosive story about her mother’s wartime exploits. How her actions had shaped the postwar world. The trouble for Tatiana came in the photograph that came with the story. It was the one taken by her father at the start of their relationship, the one of her mother at the Inn in Judenbach when she was roughly the same age as Tatiana presently was. It was a face that was shockingly similar to the one that Tatiana saw every day as she looked in the mirror.
Fortunately, Tatiana had finished her last week at the restaurant otherwise she would have had a major problem on her hands. She had been looking forward to spending her last few days in Boston exploring the city. Going places that tourists didn’t normally venture into. That wasn’t going to happen though. Instead, she had taken one look at the front page of the newspaper and had fled back to her room and like a small child she was laying in her bad with a blanket over her head in the hope that it would hide her from whatever was coming her way.
She would somehow have to find the courage to leave this room and go to Logan Airport on Tuesday. At the moment, that felt like it was walking into the lion’s den.
Reims, France
For lack of anything better to do, Sjostedt found himself traveling from Verdun to Reims. It was the start of the infamous “East Road” that had figured so prominently in the Second Battle of the Marne that ran from Reims to Paris along the river. It was actually a series of battles fought up and down the same stretch of road as the changing nature of warfare was playing out over a period of months as both sides introduced new technology to gain an advantage. That was the same battle where aircraft and armored vehicles had come into their own. The verdict from Historians was a bit odd with them concluding that Germany had ultimately lost that particular battle but had won the war in the process. It was the same as with the rest of the bloody First World War, a whole lot of suffering and death just to reach a disputed inconclusive conclusion. He couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t the only old man riding on this train. As Sjostedt was walked through a crowded dining car, he saw another man his age wearing the tri-color cockade popular with French veterans pinned to his suit saw him and nodded when he caught his eye before moving on. Long ago they had gotten to the point where they recognized each other by sight regardless of nationality, there was an aspect of a man who had survived the trenches that was impossible to shake.
He figured that he would take the train to Paris and from there get on the express train home. To his deep annoyance, the trip from Reims to Paris was only about a hundred and fifty kilometers, only a bit more than an hour by train. Much of it covering the same ground he had trudged across and never did make it into Paris. Sjostedt figured that he would probably never figure out what Coyote had been getting at. It seemed to him that if his vision were about anything concrete then it wouldn’t have been so cryptic.
Sjostedt was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he hardly noticed the figure that was siding up to him until out of instinct he grabbed the wrist of the hand that was in his pocket. The hand belonged to a boy… No, Sjostedt thought to himself once he got a better look at the thief’s face and that was under the dirt, she was a girl even if her close cropped dark hair made it difficult to tell, who was trying unsuccessfully to break Sjostedt’s grip on her arm.
“You know that it is bad luck to rob a Priest?” Sjostedt asked in French and the thief stopped thrashing around.
“You don’t look like a Priest” The girl said, “And I’ve never heard that about it being bad luck.”
“I was a Lutheran Pastor before I retired, truth be told” Sjostedt said as he plucked his wallet out of the girl’s hand. “And of course, it’s bad luck, you just got caught.”
The girl looked at Sjostedt angerly.
“You let me go or else” The girl demanded.
“Or else what?” Sjostedt asked, “Do they still break of the thumbs the pickpockets they catch in this region?”
The girl became frantic, unable to break his grip as the train pulled into a station.
“Gabin!” The girl called out, only to see the tough looking young man who Sjostedt assumed was the muscle who backed these forays of hers disappear out the door. He had to know that there was little he could because she had gotten nabbed inside a crowd of people.
“Keep yelling and draw more attention to yourself” Sjostedt said, “If the Gendarme ask about you, do you think that I will hesitate to hand you over to them?”
The girl fell silent, and she looked at him in fear. Sjostedt knew the reputation of the French Police, that they would probably not be gentle with this girl, or worse. He could hardly just throw her to the wolves in good conscience. What did he do though? He also noticed that she had grey-blue eyes which was unique.
25th August 1974
Boston, Massachusetts
In just a few days she was supposed to get on an airplane that would take her “home” where a bit of clever footwork would cause Anne Morgan to disappear, and she would be Tatiana von Mischner-Blackwood again on a train bound for Berlin from Paris. Instead, Tatiana was in the small room she had rented for the summer terrified that American Federal Agents were going to kick in her door at any second.
Of course, it was because of her mother. It was always about her mother. It had taken Tatiana a long time to understand why it was that her mother always needed to make a huge splash in whatever she happened to be doing. Simply put, Katherine von Mischner, essentially the reigning Queen of Berlin loved to show off. Normally that had little effect on Tatiana but today the front page of the New York Times had featured the explosive story about her mother’s wartime exploits. How her actions had shaped the postwar world. The trouble for Tatiana came in the photograph that came with the story. It was the one taken by her father at the start of their relationship, the one of her mother at the Inn in Judenbach when she was roughly the same age as Tatiana presently was. It was a face that was shockingly similar to the one that Tatiana saw every day as she looked in the mirror.
Fortunately, Tatiana had finished her last week at the restaurant otherwise she would have had a major problem on her hands. She had been looking forward to spending her last few days in Boston exploring the city. Going places that tourists didn’t normally venture into. That wasn’t going to happen though. Instead, she had taken one look at the front page of the newspaper and had fled back to her room and like a small child she was laying in her bad with a blanket over her head in the hope that it would hide her from whatever was coming her way.
She would somehow have to find the courage to leave this room and go to Logan Airport on Tuesday. At the moment, that felt like it was walking into the lion’s den.
Reims, France
For lack of anything better to do, Sjostedt found himself traveling from Verdun to Reims. It was the start of the infamous “East Road” that had figured so prominently in the Second Battle of the Marne that ran from Reims to Paris along the river. It was actually a series of battles fought up and down the same stretch of road as the changing nature of warfare was playing out over a period of months as both sides introduced new technology to gain an advantage. That was the same battle where aircraft and armored vehicles had come into their own. The verdict from Historians was a bit odd with them concluding that Germany had ultimately lost that particular battle but had won the war in the process. It was the same as with the rest of the bloody First World War, a whole lot of suffering and death just to reach a disputed inconclusive conclusion. He couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t the only old man riding on this train. As Sjostedt was walked through a crowded dining car, he saw another man his age wearing the tri-color cockade popular with French veterans pinned to his suit saw him and nodded when he caught his eye before moving on. Long ago they had gotten to the point where they recognized each other by sight regardless of nationality, there was an aspect of a man who had survived the trenches that was impossible to shake.
He figured that he would take the train to Paris and from there get on the express train home. To his deep annoyance, the trip from Reims to Paris was only about a hundred and fifty kilometers, only a bit more than an hour by train. Much of it covering the same ground he had trudged across and never did make it into Paris. Sjostedt figured that he would probably never figure out what Coyote had been getting at. It seemed to him that if his vision were about anything concrete then it wouldn’t have been so cryptic.
Sjostedt was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he hardly noticed the figure that was siding up to him until out of instinct he grabbed the wrist of the hand that was in his pocket. The hand belonged to a boy… No, Sjostedt thought to himself once he got a better look at the thief’s face and that was under the dirt, she was a girl even if her close cropped dark hair made it difficult to tell, who was trying unsuccessfully to break Sjostedt’s grip on her arm.
“You know that it is bad luck to rob a Priest?” Sjostedt asked in French and the thief stopped thrashing around.
“You don’t look like a Priest” The girl said, “And I’ve never heard that about it being bad luck.”
“I was a Lutheran Pastor before I retired, truth be told” Sjostedt said as he plucked his wallet out of the girl’s hand. “And of course, it’s bad luck, you just got caught.”
The girl looked at Sjostedt angerly.
“You let me go or else” The girl demanded.
“Or else what?” Sjostedt asked, “Do they still break of the thumbs the pickpockets they catch in this region?”
The girl became frantic, unable to break his grip as the train pulled into a station.
“Gabin!” The girl called out, only to see the tough looking young man who Sjostedt assumed was the muscle who backed these forays of hers disappear out the door. He had to know that there was little he could because she had gotten nabbed inside a crowd of people.
“Keep yelling and draw more attention to yourself” Sjostedt said, “If the Gendarme ask about you, do you think that I will hesitate to hand you over to them?”
The girl fell silent, and she looked at him in fear. Sjostedt knew the reputation of the French Police, that they would probably not be gentle with this girl, or worse. He could hardly just throw her to the wolves in good conscience. What did he do though? He also noticed that she had grey-blue eyes which was unique.
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Oh Tatiana… Not everything that your mother is about you.
There is no reason for anyone to take a second look at you because Anne Morgan is just another Irish student working a summer job, in fact your actions may alert someone who may stumble on to something.
Now your sister Marie Alexandra von Mischner-Blackwood with her red hair going to McGill University in Montreal is getting some interests from the various intelligence agencies but only to keep track of her and nothing more.
That is what why her mother Kat and Grandfather Malcolm is going to tell her not to go to cross the border into the United States without clearing it first with the Canadians and German Consulate.
There is no reason for anyone to take a second look at you because Anne Morgan is just another Irish student working a summer job, in fact your actions may alert someone who may stumble on to something.
Now your sister Marie Alexandra von Mischner-Blackwood with her red hair going to McGill University in Montreal is getting some interests from the various intelligence agencies but only to keep track of her and nothing more.
That is what why her mother Kat and Grandfather Malcolm is going to tell her not to go to cross the border into the United States without clearing it first with the Canadians and German Consulate.
This is a big learning moment for Tatiana. People will not be looking for something they don't expect to see. Even the FBI, if they come snooping around, won't be looking for her. They might be looking for fund raisers for one of the "Loyalist" terror/organised crime groups working in Ulster*, but not looking for her as they currently have no interest in her.
Hell, her legend won't be good enough to try for a job with the FBI, but it will pass any local PD checks on her.
Once she learns that lesson, she'll be much more confident and far less likely to give herself any problems working as an illegal anywhere.
*IIRC, one of the upshots of the butterflies from this story is that Ireland is united and independent, and that the Loyalists ITTL have replaced the IRA as the terrorists of choice. Again, IIRC, I think JFK had to act as defence solicitor for one of them in a previous chapter?
Hell, her legend won't be good enough to try for a job with the FBI, but it will pass any local PD checks on her.
Once she learns that lesson, she'll be much more confident and far less likely to give herself any problems working as an illegal anywhere.
*IIRC, one of the upshots of the butterflies from this story is that Ireland is united and independent, and that the Loyalists ITTL have replaced the IRA as the terrorists of choice. Again, IIRC, I think JFK had to act as defence solicitor for one of them in a previous chapter?
I posted in the first thread the possibilities that there was a large number of Irish Protestants who emigrated to the United States, and as White English Speaking Protestants from Northern Europe they were welcomed with open arms.
IOTL the main driver of the ani-immigration movement was antisemitism, anti- Catholicism, and anti-Slavic from Southern Europe.
With that in mind the theoretical immigrants from Ulster would have faced far less prejudice and discrimination then fellow immigrants who were Jewish, Catholic, Slavic from Eastern and Southern Europe.
The Ulster immigrants would have found more job, education, and social opportunities that would have allowed them to assimilate much easier and as a consequence they won't form the tight knit neighborhoods and communities that other ethnic and religious immigrants were forced to form.
With that in mind a large number of hard- core Orangemen would probably choose to take their chance going to a new life in a Protestant-friendly United States then remaining in an united Ireland dominated by "the heathen Papists' in Dublin.
On another note, the publication of the picture that Doug took of Kat that ran in the New York Times, may spark renewed interests in his works, especially the picture he took of all the Crown Heads of States at the wedding of Crown Prince Frederich and Princess Suga, which could lead him to publish a table book collection of the famous and not so famous people he took over the years that could become the perfect gift for Mom and Dad this Christmas.
Part 135, Chapter 2317
Chapter Two Thousand Three Hundred Seventeen
25th August 1974
Paris, France
“Why are you doing this?” Monique asked for the dozenth time as they stepped into the small hotel room.
“Helping you seems like the least I can do after the scene on the train” Sjostedt replied, “I have met few in your position who would turn down a free meal and a safe place to sleep for one night.”
“Oh” The girl replied, with a tone that suggested that she didn’t believe that for a second.
It was easy to understand why she thought that everyone had an ulterior motive whenever they did something for anyone else. She wasn’t the first runaway who Sjostedt had helped like this, there had been dozens of them over the years and they had all behaved in roughly the same way. He had been helped by Flensburg being way out at the end of the line, the last major city before the Danish border. By the time most of them got out that far they were at the end of their means. A hot meal, a chance to get cleaned up, and a place to sleep were usually what they wanted more than anything. Then the painstaking process of figuring out what to do with them could begin. Sjostedt was well aware that many of them were running from something, so it was never easy, and there many questions. It usually started with; Could they go home? If they couldn’t, why not? And finally; If going home wasn’t an option then what were their alternatives.
This time though, he did have a motive that he wasn’t about to tell the girl about. It was nothing harmful. Just that her name was Monique Chanson, and over the course of his life Sjostedt had learned that names had far deeper meanings that the people who carried them realized. In this case, Monique’s name literally meant One Song and considering the series of events that had caused Sjostedt to go on this mad quest with how one of Coyote’s names translated to “Song Dog.”, that was a bit too much of a coincidence. Of course, it was far more likely that he was a lonely old man grasping for meaning where there was none to be found. The logical part of his mind wanted to believe that, but the part of him that had never really left the Mesa desert disagreed. It believed that every single thing in the world was connected and there was no such thing as a coincidence.
“I’m stepping out to run an errand” Sjostedt said, “Feel free to use the bathroom and then we’ll see about finding some clean clothes for you.”
“How do you know I will still be here when you get back?” Monique asked.
“That is on you” Sjostedt replied, “It would probably make things far easier for me if you did.”
Monique said nothing in reply to that. The expression on her face suggested that Sjostedt’s words, however much truth there was in them, had had the desired effect though. The easiest way to get a teenager to stick around was to tell them that it would easier for you if they left. It had turned out that she was a couple years younger than he had initially thought. What that meant was that her ability to tell when an adult was playing her was still somewhat lacking. Sjostedt suspected that it was something that that young man, Gabin, had been taking advantage of.
Baltic Sea
SMS K024 Grindwal was in close formation with two of her sister ships and pair of Destroyers out of Kiel. The five ships were racing north at flank speed as they practiced maneuvers. The crew was in General Quarters and the gun crews were waiting for the order to open fire. Standing in the Command-and-Control Room, Louis Ferdinand Junior was interested in seeing the new 30mm autocannons in action. The Operator sat in the Control Room. He had discretion over shooting at surface or stationary targets but when the system was armed, it would react to anything it detected that resembled an incoming missile or aircraft by shooting at it faster than a human could even perceive the threat. Louis knew that there were many things that could go wrong with such a system, that it might be a bit too effective in its intended purpose. That was why he had ordered the pilot of the small reconnaissance helicopter that the Grindwal carried to keep his distance when that system was active until they were absolutely certain that there wouldn’t be any accidents.
Louis saw a television screen looked like in was in black and white. However, it was an image that had been processed to see through night and inclement weather so that even the thickest of fog could not render the Grindwal blind. When the target came into range, the 30mm on the starboard side opened up. Louis had heard the autocannons several times over the last couple weeks as they had been calibrated and test fired. To him they sounded like ripping cloth, and it was clearly audible even through several bulkheads. Each shell was high explosive and while the hulk wasn’t armored, its hull plates were made of steel that was several centimeters thick. Even so, they punched fist sized holes through it.
“Anyone aboard that ship would not be happy” The Portside Operator said looking over the shoulder of his counterpart.
“Closed caskets” Louis opined, “Though Manila envelopes would do the job.”
The Operator looked back to his own screen suddenly remembering that the Captain was observing them directly during this exercise.
25th August 1974
Paris, France
“Why are you doing this?” Monique asked for the dozenth time as they stepped into the small hotel room.
“Helping you seems like the least I can do after the scene on the train” Sjostedt replied, “I have met few in your position who would turn down a free meal and a safe place to sleep for one night.”
“Oh” The girl replied, with a tone that suggested that she didn’t believe that for a second.
It was easy to understand why she thought that everyone had an ulterior motive whenever they did something for anyone else. She wasn’t the first runaway who Sjostedt had helped like this, there had been dozens of them over the years and they had all behaved in roughly the same way. He had been helped by Flensburg being way out at the end of the line, the last major city before the Danish border. By the time most of them got out that far they were at the end of their means. A hot meal, a chance to get cleaned up, and a place to sleep were usually what they wanted more than anything. Then the painstaking process of figuring out what to do with them could begin. Sjostedt was well aware that many of them were running from something, so it was never easy, and there many questions. It usually started with; Could they go home? If they couldn’t, why not? And finally; If going home wasn’t an option then what were their alternatives.
This time though, he did have a motive that he wasn’t about to tell the girl about. It was nothing harmful. Just that her name was Monique Chanson, and over the course of his life Sjostedt had learned that names had far deeper meanings that the people who carried them realized. In this case, Monique’s name literally meant One Song and considering the series of events that had caused Sjostedt to go on this mad quest with how one of Coyote’s names translated to “Song Dog.”, that was a bit too much of a coincidence. Of course, it was far more likely that he was a lonely old man grasping for meaning where there was none to be found. The logical part of his mind wanted to believe that, but the part of him that had never really left the Mesa desert disagreed. It believed that every single thing in the world was connected and there was no such thing as a coincidence.
“I’m stepping out to run an errand” Sjostedt said, “Feel free to use the bathroom and then we’ll see about finding some clean clothes for you.”
“How do you know I will still be here when you get back?” Monique asked.
“That is on you” Sjostedt replied, “It would probably make things far easier for me if you did.”
Monique said nothing in reply to that. The expression on her face suggested that Sjostedt’s words, however much truth there was in them, had had the desired effect though. The easiest way to get a teenager to stick around was to tell them that it would easier for you if they left. It had turned out that she was a couple years younger than he had initially thought. What that meant was that her ability to tell when an adult was playing her was still somewhat lacking. Sjostedt suspected that it was something that that young man, Gabin, had been taking advantage of.
Baltic Sea
SMS K024 Grindwal was in close formation with two of her sister ships and pair of Destroyers out of Kiel. The five ships were racing north at flank speed as they practiced maneuvers. The crew was in General Quarters and the gun crews were waiting for the order to open fire. Standing in the Command-and-Control Room, Louis Ferdinand Junior was interested in seeing the new 30mm autocannons in action. The Operator sat in the Control Room. He had discretion over shooting at surface or stationary targets but when the system was armed, it would react to anything it detected that resembled an incoming missile or aircraft by shooting at it faster than a human could even perceive the threat. Louis knew that there were many things that could go wrong with such a system, that it might be a bit too effective in its intended purpose. That was why he had ordered the pilot of the small reconnaissance helicopter that the Grindwal carried to keep his distance when that system was active until they were absolutely certain that there wouldn’t be any accidents.
Louis saw a television screen looked like in was in black and white. However, it was an image that had been processed to see through night and inclement weather so that even the thickest of fog could not render the Grindwal blind. When the target came into range, the 30mm on the starboard side opened up. Louis had heard the autocannons several times over the last couple weeks as they had been calibrated and test fired. To him they sounded like ripping cloth, and it was clearly audible even through several bulkheads. Each shell was high explosive and while the hulk wasn’t armored, its hull plates were made of steel that was several centimeters thick. Even so, they punched fist sized holes through it.
“Anyone aboard that ship would not be happy” The Portside Operator said looking over the shoulder of his counterpart.
“Closed caskets” Louis opined, “Though Manila envelopes would do the job.”
The Operator looked back to his own screen suddenly remembering that the Captain was observing them directly during this exercise.
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Boys and their toys...
The SMS Grindwal is going to get more use out of the latest conventional weapon system then any of the latest guided missiles they have.
The firing of the auto cannon must have brought back memories for Louis Ferdinand when he was a boy on the Imperial yacht and he wanted the crew to fire off the mounted heavy machine guns on the deck.
Monique must have some sort of distance connection with an earlier main character which would be interesting if that character is still alive.
It would make sense that the Good Father Sjostedt's Spirit Guide, (more likely some long forgotten memory being recalled due to the stress of his recent heart attack) The Coyote would lead him to this situation in which he can help and make things right.
The SMS Grindwal is going to get more use out of the latest conventional weapon system then any of the latest guided missiles they have.
The firing of the auto cannon must have brought back memories for Louis Ferdinand when he was a boy on the Imperial yacht and he wanted the crew to fire off the mounted heavy machine guns on the deck.
Monique must have some sort of distance connection with an earlier main character which would be interesting if that character is still alive.
It would make sense that the Good Father Sjostedt's Spirit Guide, (more likely some long forgotten memory being recalled due to the stress of his recent heart attack) The Coyote would lead him to this situation in which he can help and make things right.
Just to jog my memory, Sjostedt was the priest friend of Emil's who he fought in Verdun with, right?
