Featuring [@Tiberius67] [u]A village frozen in a harsh land - 7:00 local time[/u] Stumbling numbly into the long house Fontaine looked up to see the steam genny standing tall sending a warm reddish hue out with each passing second as she struggled to find a decent seat as seemingly every villager had assembled for supper each with bowls of soup whale fat alongside them while tiered frostbitten whalers sampled the fruits of their labor. Hanging her coat off the side of her chair she clipped her helmet to her belt and pulled out a MRE in another time it was fresh spaghetti and meat sauce perhaps packaged in a way that actually persevered the food many soldiers hoped. Opening the package Fontaine busted out her p38 and went to work opening the can tearing open the spaghetti and watching as everyone let out a ghastly gasp as this gelatinous mush plopped down on the tray, she poked at it and it resembled maggots far from the meal she had hoped to receive after raiding an old abandoned military crate. As one of the natives next to her got up she sniffed the meal looking to see if that was actually edible and just like to popped can of cheese and crackers it sadly was not. Immediately tossing out the pecan cake for nuts never preserved well in these types of kits she was nearly going to abandon her meal dumping everything into a trash can before she was stopped from leaving with a bowl of soup being placed out in front of her. “Have yourself a proper meal,” The man said as she began to nod furiously thanking the man without a single word. “Don’t worry it’s on me.” Setting the bowl down she grabbed a notepad [u] Thankyou [/u] setting aside the cigarettes from the MRE, Fontaine took the time and ate letting the soup and the steam genny warm her from her core. Her small frame was more visible as she slipped her coat over her shoulders buttoned it up and adjusted her helmet and set off to explore the surrounding wasteland. [u]Kodiak, Alaska - Kodiak Airport - 7:35 Local time[/u] “Sister Amanda”, the Scribe said, “It’s time to go….the aircraft is leaving for home” “Very well”, Amanda Nakamura replied, “Inform the pilot that I’m done here and he can proceed at his convenience.” Amanda sighed as she looked at the poster, holding it, on it’s plastic sheet backing one last time at arm’s length before sliding it back into it’s storage case. It was Pre-War...they had found it on one wall of the Launch Control Center of the missile silo. It said, [hider=To err is human…..to forgive is not SAC Policy] [img]http://www.bombnav.org/images/pics/OLDSTUFF/toerr2.jpg[/img] [/hider] Between the two phrases, was the heraldic emblem of the Pre-War Strategic Air Command, a shield with a medieval armored fist over a clear blue sky with a few small clouds. Where the official SAC emblem had the armored gauntlet holding a pair of lighting bolts, the gauntlet on this poster held a pair of severed human testicles by the vas deferens instead. Whether it was just black humor perpetrated by bored missile crews, or an actual official propaganda poster, she had no idea. Either way, it nicely illustrated the insanity that had taken hold of their ancestors and destroyed the Old World. Commander Fulman had noticed her looking at it every time she passed it, and had it taken down and mounted, presenting it to her as a going-away gift. She had already decided where it would be displayed in her office back at the Bunker. She closed the case, and checked the straps that held it in place with the other cargo, the metal lined boxes that held the disassembled re-entry bodies they had extracted from the missile, and the plutonium cores. Satisfied everything was properly stowed, she walked aft along the cavernous interior of the old cargo aircraft, nearly filled by the bulk of the disarmed Minuteman XI ICBM….a break in the weather had allowed it to be extracted from the silo early, so that it could be sent back to Nebraska for repurposing as a satellite booster…..and disembarked out the open cargo doors, which began to close as soon as the pilot noticed her trudging out onto the runway. Once the doors closed, the crew began to prepare for the long flight hole, the engines starting with a whine. Amanda walked towards the smaller aircraft waiting for her, a C-130, without looking back, shivering in the cold as she noticed the first rays of dawn over the horizon. One mission was accomplished, but another was beginning…..another faction in Alaska asking for Brotherhood to cope with the remnants of the past. She would take charge of the mission, as the needs of the War Effort made it inefficient to send another Scribe of her rank out to relieve her...and if Chinese strategic weapons were recovered, she was best qualified to deal with them anyway. She didn’t mind, though, the work was important, she would do her duty as always. At least the flight to Anchorage would be relatively short, just a couple hours. Anchorage Airport- Several Hours later Amanda crinkled her nose for a moment as the rear cargo doors opened, letting the cold in, relaxing as she got used to it. Winters in Nebraska were cold, but this was somewhat worse. As the doors opened, she and her new team, many of which she only knew professionally and some she had never met until she boarded the aircraft at Kodiak, disembarked out the open cargo door at the rear, noticing some locals, supervising some battered old cargo bots, waiting patiently to board and offload the cargo.She hesitated a moment at the foot of the ramp, looking for a sign that would tell her who was the senior of the group. Swinging his arms to direct the cargo bots, a man covered in hide and fur looking more like a walking gorilla than a human in his winter getup stepped over removing his hood and cutting his bulky profile almost in half. “Afternoon, call me Dev. We got ourselves a short jaunt over to the trainyard. Not more a 20 minute walk, we’ll be passing through the warehouses on the way so you’ll be plenty warm.” Taking a short moment to laugh he continued on. “Well as warm as you’ll get before spring; apologies for the cold the steam gennys have been breaking down lately otherwise we’d be toasty enough. If you’ll follow me.” Leading the group towards the old pre-war hangars tall walls cut from logs and trimmed of branches lined not only the entrance but the path through several warehouses with cylindrical radiators humming along in only a few spots leaving ice to build up and wood to crack. While several spots leaving a shivering cold the warehouse of the trainyard came into sight; larger than the rest and with more working steam gennys sat in the middle of working areas with a large robotic arm mounted along the inside of the trainyard sat loading in supplies. “She’s an old girl that one. Runs fine enough on the rails but whines when it simply gets too cold out. We got a mess hall on the right side and a seating area. It’ll be a bot before all is loaded so, grab some food. If you need me I’ll be directing everything over.” “Thank you, Dev”, Amanda said, then she and her comrades filed into the mess hall, taking their place in line to get served. Served a respectable meal of baked fish, potatoes, and carrots, she sat down and ate, finding the food pretty good...certainly better than she had gotten in boot camp when she did her National Service twelve years ago, though that food was rather mediocre on purpose. She saw that as a good sign, the people here seemed to be doing rather well….which was good as based on the briefing she had gotten from Barnaky himself, of all people...or robot, as it were, on the flight from Kodiak she was going to be here a while. Over by the mess hall standing under a sign that read, plenty have ate from this kitchen to lead healthy lives; the cook simply prepared more as other workers shuffled in some finishing their shifts others about to start. Taking a cast iron skillet he walked over towards Amanda and her team. “Have a few local delicacies since we’re up by the river we’re never short especially on sea peaches.” Setting it down fried little carrot like things popped as the skillet cooled. “They’re a little sweet and salty, but it’s all good. Kriner’s kitchen is always open if you need to eat.” “Thank you”, Amanda replied brightly as she held out her plate for the cook to ladle some of the ‘sea peaches’ from his skillet to it. Eating one, she found it good and ate some more. While they did get fish back in Nebraska, seafood was a rarity, occasionally brought upriver from New Orleans, and quite expensive. Living on the coast, seafood was probably the main staple of their diet so until it became routine, seafood would be something of an adventure for her.