[center][h2]Russian Dad Jokes[/h2][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/g0TnXhh.jpg[/img] [/center] OOC: Cal Strand appears courtesy of the traveling [@wanderingwolf] “So there it is.” The mule idled, it’s two cycle engine softly sputtering as the captain and his first mate regarded the checkpoint. Yuri noticed two heavy, motorized gates, positioned on either side of an opening in what he judged to be an eight meter retaining wall. At this hour of the day, the guards left both gates open. As he watched, a ragged looking man in workman’s coveralls was stopped in the space between. While one guard stood ready with his autorifle, his mate checked the contents of a tool pouch in the man’s possession. Finding nothing of interest, they waved him on his way and beckoned a small group of scantily dressed women to enter the crossing zone. “Whattya think, One-Arm?” Yuri eyed the women, apparently prostitutes returning to the blackout zone from a private party that had only just ended. As he watched, handbags were opened, but given only cursory examination as the guards appeared more interested in pawing at the women themselves. After a round of ‘slap-and-tickle’ that was clearly not enjoyed, the working girls were sent on their way into the crowded ghetto beyond. “That’s interesting,” he observed. Cal revved the engine, kicking the ATV into gear. Yuri lurched inside the small utility trailer as they set off for the boat. “Couldn’t stick too long,” the captain said over his shoulder as they rolled away. “City’s got security captures on every block. Now,” he said as they rattled around a corner. “What’s interesting?” “The guards, Captain. They dug through bags and got handsy with the women, but not a single ident card came out.” “And what do you conjure that means?” “Some other kind of tracking. I don’t know. Facial recognition, bioscan…some kind of tech at play here.” Yuri watched as the surrounding businesses and storefronts grew more rapidly upscale as they increased their distance from the blackout zone. “So how many do we have to get through?” “Bout forty.” “Forty.” Antonov forced his composure. “Yup.” Yuri’s mind worked furiously. Forty, in three days’ time. A challenge in and of itself, not the least of which was some form of legitimate excuse for them to just waltz right through the checkpoint. “Any idea how we’re doing it, sir?” Cal shrugged as he steered them toward the spaceport. “Not ‘til you come up with one. Oh yeah, forgot to tell you. We’re meetin’ the Sister in a couple hours to tell her your plan.” “Oh!” Yuri’s eyes widened. “Shiny!” The rest of the trip passed in silence. Yuri pondered the problems…now his problems. [i]Get ‘em out in small, unobtrusive groups,[/i] he added to his mental checklist. [i]Get some read on how the BZ folk are tracked at the checkpoint…that’s the real issue.[/i] Other concerns began taking root in his thinking, but they were the problems related to secreting forty souls aboard a Class 3 Firefly. He’d have to ‘back burner’ those for the moment. [i]What reason would these folk have to come and go through the checkpoint? What legitimate purpose would keep the guards sufficiently bored?[/i] That was sticky. Men could be masqueraded as day laborers or tradesmen. Women…housekeepers and whores…but that was a stretch. And children? How to slip them past watchful eyes? He shook his head. [i]This is madness. What could all these people be up to?[/i] He’d seen damned little of the blackout zone himself. The empty space in which they’d faced off with the bikers offered no clues as to what industry might be a decent ruse. “Just piles of old bricks,” he muttered aloud. “You say somethin’?” Cal asked as the spaceport gate drew near. “No, Captain. Just thinking about last night in the blackout zone. Couldn’t see a thing in that open space but a bunch of old bricks…” Something tickled around the corners of his mind. Something old…a story? No… “All I saw as well,” the Captain nodded. “Whole area was stripped clean. Looked like it’s been used for more’n one boat slippin’ in an’ out.” Yuri’s brow furrowed. “I think so. Still tricky landing among those brick piles, sir. My compliments. They oughtta clear those out…” “You tryin’ to suck up, One-Arm?” [i]Clear those out…[/i] Somewhere in Yuri’s mind, a bell rang, and a connection snapped in. “Clear those out…clear those out!” he said. “Not a story! A joke!” “Do you need to see the doc?” Cal cocked an eyebrow as he guided the mule onto China Doll’s cargo ramp. “That’s it,” Yuri chuckled to himself as the engine cranked to a halt. “No sir. Just thinking about a joke my father loved telling.” Strand fixed his first mate with a droll gaze. “Well that’s all nice and such. Save it for story hour.” “No!” Yuri exclaimed as he climbed out of the trailer. “My father just figured out how we get our people out!” He could tell by the captain’s deadpan expression that his epiphany wasn’t going to make it thirty seconds. “Please, Captain.” Yuri lifted a hand. “Give me just a minute.” “Just,” Cal fixed the mate with a dubious eye. “The joke comes from my family’s homeland on Earth-That-Was,” Yuri began. “A man worked at a tractor plant. Every day when work stopped, he’d come out of the plant, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with scraps and useless junk. Every day, the security guard would stop him and go through it to look for stolen tools or parts. But he found nothing.” “Is this going somewhere?” “Yes, sir, yes sir,” Yuri nodded vigorously. “This went on for forty years. Every day, the worker wheeled out junk. Every day, the guard searched and came up with nothing. Finally, both men were retired and living on their pensions. One day, they bumped into each other at a tavern, and decided to share a bottle of vodka and reminisce over old times.” Cal tapped his watch, urging Yuri to wrap it up. “The former guard said, ‘I never figured it out, Comrade Worker. I know you were stealing something, but I could never solve the mystery.” Now a smile rose to Yuri’s lips as he remembered his father’s laughter at the punchline. “And the worker says, ‘It’s easy, Comrade Security Guard. I was stealing wheelbarrows!” Yuri couldn’t help but laugh along with the memory, until the captain’s withering eye stopped his mirth dead in its’ tracks. “I know you’re gonna get to the point,” Cal said. “Yes, sorry, sir. Wheelbarrows! And bricks! We haul bricks!” “Now I think I should get the doc.” “No, no!” Yuri protested. “It’s easy! Our people roll wheelbarrows of old bricks out…and different folk roll empty wheelbarrows back in!” “Different folk,” Cal repeated. “Yes sir!” “And where we gonna get these ‘different folk?” Now the smile returned to Yuri’s face. “If what you told me about the Sister and her connections is true, she can provide some…volunteers?” “Volunteers.” “Yes, Captain. Sounds like she’s popular with the college crowd. My guess is there are enough idealistic kids whose rich parents can buy their way out of trouble if they get caught?” He could see the captain’s mind at work, chewing the details and weighing options as the harsh expression slowly faded. Presently, Cal’s furrowed brow gave way to a lift that might even be called ‘pleasant.’ “Shiny,” the Captain turned for the aft hatch. “That’s our play until the Sister shoots holes in it. I gotta send a long wave. Call a crew meeting in ten ticks,” he ordered. “Passengers, too. Not gonna leave them blind about this.” Yuri’s smile widened. “Right away, Captain.” “Your dad did good,” Cal said. “Now you’ve gotta suss out how those folk are bein’ tracked.” “I’m on it,” the first mate answered. “I need to watch that entrance a bit more. Promised Edina I’d take her for a drink tonight. There’s a little cafe across the street from the checkpoint. That should give me a chance to put eyes on it.” Captain Strand stopped before the open hatch. “Don’t I have a policy about crew datin’ passengers?” “No, sir.” “Oh,” Cal shrugged. “Remind me to make one sometime.”