A/N: Hello! I want to take a little time to say that I hope you all had a pleasant Christmas or whatever holiday you happen to celebrate. I enjoyed mine :)
Now, onto guest reviews!
TurboDriver07: Yeah, Valarie ought to be more mindful of her surroundings but when she is in the middle of creating the team's strategy, it's as if the outside world no longer exists.
Kunochi69: They are quite few things hidden from Valarie. It is only inevitable when they are brought to the light and dealt with. Can't wait to share what I have in store ;)
TankNut: Funny how you aren't the first person to think Nathan is gonna cross-dress. That's...thats pretty hilarious.
One more thing!
I'm really excited for this and you guys probably already noticed. This story got new cover art! I commissioned an artist to make it. It's Valarie in her T-44 out in the Mojave. Hope you all like it! If you can't see the new cover, then you must've headed straight to FFN the moment you got the notification for the new chapter and the cover hasn't updated yet. First, you rule. Second, wait a while :)
Enjoy the chapter!
Saturday, September 14th 2013
The sun has barely crested over the horizon and the Mojave Rose tankery team were already at Inspiration Park for practice, though they did have several minutes to spend before things got truly underway. With their tanks parked closely together, most members of the team took the time to perform additional prep work, others ate a light breakfast and quietly chatted among themselves. That's the key word. Quietly. As a some members were using the short time they had to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep, those that were awake did their activities as noiselessly as they can. The relative silence matching the calm that mornings were known for. It would all be shattered when the sound of a whooping alarm filled the air followed by a computerized voice.
"Terrain. Terrain. Pull Up! Pull Up!"
Heads turned toward the SU-14.
"For the love of god, Jacqueline!" decried Amber, fidgeting nervously behind her commander. "Pull up! That thing costs over six thousand dollars!"
"We're fiiine," Jacqueline responded incredibly nonchalantly. "I'm just putting the thing through its paces."
"You're gonna crash! And since that thing runs on actual fuel, it's gonna be ugly!"
"Relaax."
Prior to the team driving out to Inspiration Park, a large package was placed near the SU-14. Upon latching eyes on it, Jacqueline raced toward it and like a rabid kid on Christmas morning, tore open the packaging and revealed the box that was encased within. When she read the labeling on it, she squealed with pure delight.
Lockheed SR-71 'Blackbird' 1/12 RC Model Jet
It wasn't too long after when the plane was free from its box and placed on the garage floor. From nose to tail it was over eight feet long, which proved to be enough of a spectacle of its own as people from the team would come over and lay down next to it to compare their size to the plane. It was made from the exact same type of aviation-grade aluminum alloy used to manufacture airplanes such as the Boeing 737, painted in the identical color scheme that gave the Blackbird its name; dark blue.
The RC plane was powered by a pair of small turbojets. If a person wanted to buy just one of the engines and nothing else, then they would need to be prepared to shell out two thousand dollars. These engines could either run on diesel or kerosene and when they were activated, their exhaust fumes could reach temperatures of seven hundred degrees Celsius, or nearly thirteen hundred degrees Fahrenheit.
It's landing gear, too, mimicked the real deal. They were not simple wheels, but actual tires. The box came with an small air compressor with the operating manual specifying the exact PSI that is to be maintained for optimal performance.
All in all, these features and components would very much justify the overall price for the RC Blackbird, but there was more.
What was also in the box was a large, bulky briefcase. When opened, it showed that it wasn't just the plane that was sophisticated. The top portion had a monitor mounted to it, with the bottom containing the controls. A throttle, a control sick, and a whole host of buttons and switches. In all, it was a condensed cockpit made to fit in a briefcase. The complexity would make anyone shy away, but for Jacqueline, she gravitated toward it and immediately worked to get familiar with everything.
When the team were still in the garage, she got the plane ready. As she fueled it with diesel, Jacqueline was in thought. Everyone who came to see the plane up close showed great enthusiasm and when she explained to them how the aircraft could benefit the team, gave her their support. That was all fine and good, but even if the team gave their unanimous support for usage of the plane, it could all be rendered moot by a single 'no' from Valarie. She had the final say.
Valarie's thoughts toward tankathlon has spread and now everyone knew. A protective measure for the team's best interest. Aerial recon was something very few tankery teams do, and Jacqueline had this worry that because of how rarely it was utilized, Valarie would disallow the use of the plane for the same reason that the team would not do tankathlon.
When Valarie walked over the see the plane for herself, Jacqueline mentally prepared a list of arguments to use in favor for use of the plane. She stood nearby as she watched Valarie examine the Blackbird. She knelt by the thing for a minute in silence when she then rose, looked toward Jacqueline, and showed a smile.
"I like this thing." Valarie told her.
"So...can we use it in our matches?" Jacqueline asked.
Valarie looked back at the Blackbird. "Sure. Let's do it."
"Oh! Really!?"
"Can't say no to another scout on the team and aerial recon isn't something forbidden in the rules. In fact, the international tankery rulebook has a small section dedicated to just that.
"Yeah, I read that."
"Then you know about the maximum altitude aerial recon is to be performed."
"One hundred meters. I'm guessing not to interfere with the flight paths of those supply planes."
"That, and another thing. To allow for retaliation."
"Come again?"
"The low altitude is to give the opposing team the opportunity to shoot you down with their machine guns, or even their main cannon if they feel lucky."
"A real Blackbird has never been shot down, so I won't let this model one be the first."
"That's good to hear. Use practice today to get familiar and I'll modify our strategy to incorporate it. I got a feeling it'll allow us to become much more proactive...oh, and one more thing. If the plane does get shot down, the opposing team isn't liable to pay for repairs."
"Lovely."
Now, with Valarie's approval, Jacqueline set out to do what was requested of her. Get familiar. The moment the team arrived at Inspiration Park, she set up the briefcase, plane, and radio transmitter. The Blackbird was placed a good deal away from the team, on a long stretch of dirt to serve as a rudimentary runway, and prepared for take-off. Controls active, engines hot, she moved forward with the throttle and the craft raced down the runway and shot up into the sky. Aloft, she found the Blackbird very responsive to the controls and obeyed her inputs without delay. Her crew watched from behind as she flew, sharing with her emotions of excitement joy, which was soon replaced with terror when the alarms blared.
Amber begged her to get out of her dive which she did do with her pulling back on the stick. The screen displayed that the aircraft was now level.
"Oh thank god." Amber said with a strong exhale.
Not even a moment of calm could be enjoyed when Amber glanced at the indicated air speed. It reported the Blackbird was going at one hundred and ten miles per hour.
"Geez, you're going too fast!"
"Man, what's the point of having a jet if you don't go fast?" Jacqueline responded to her.
"Just be careful."
"I will. Don't you worry."
"That's gonna be very hard to do."
As Jacqueline and her crew focused on all things airplane related, the rest of the team proceeded to get practice underway. Like with every time a new crew joins the team, Valarie's attention was spent on the Churchill. In the T-44, she monitored the tank as it went through a designated driving course that involved tight turns, gullies that were to be crossed, and hills to be climbed. The Churchill conducted itself well enough, with Valarie only having to say a few words of advice over the radio. The reason why was something she fully understood. Claudia's previous tankery experience. Something that Valarie was interested in learning more about, and she would get her chance. Once the Churchill completed the course, they were ordered to stop and for Claudia to come out.
"What's up, girl?" Claudia greeted, she then put on a cautious face. "I hope you're not one of those people who insist to be called 'captain' every time they are spoken too."
Valarie chuckled. "Nope. We're not super formal on this team."
"Good, 'cause back in middle school the captain of the team I was on was such an hardass, like, oh my god, so damn annoying. 'It's Captain Whitaker, Newmaker.' 'Why don't you treat me with respect, Newmaker?'. God. Fuck off with that. This is a sport, not the damn army...Newmaker is my last name by the way, in case you didn't catch it."
"Uh, yeah, I caught it. Rest assured that nothing like that will happen here."
"That's the vibe I'm feeling here," Claudia said as she looked toward the other tanks on the team, taking a close look of each of them. "The pain schemes of your tanks vary. Your T-44 is in its Soviet olive green, as is the IS-3 and SU-100, the VK has a coat of dunkelgrau, dark gray on it, the Panther II looks badass it's turret having its red primer coat out and proud. And so on. In my old team, all the tanks were painted with the same exact paint job."
Valarie shrugged. "It's something we never really thought about. Now, I think people have become attached to the color schemes of their tanks. Besides, the Panther II crew would never want to have their unique paint job be covered up. So, we can never really adopt a universal camouflage."
"Well I like it. There's good vibes with this team, damn are they good! I knew a tankery team didn't need all the rigid formality to become successful. Take that mom."
"Oh? Did you mom do tankery?"
"Nah. She reads a lot about it though and gives me tips and advice," Claudia sighed. "She means well, whatever she is reading is a type of tankery I don't like. Way too formal for my taste. Before I left to join you guys, she gave me a book she bought for me. It's about all the 'proper' ways a tankery team is to operate. Ugh, whoever it wrote must have no shreds of emotion in 'em."
"Who's to say what's the right way to do things?"
"Exactly! I have that book in my bag back in the garage. Maybe I'll give it to you to see just how ridiculous it is."
"Please do, I'd love to read it. Now, before we get further sidetracked, it's time for some gunnery practice."
"Hell yeah, let's go!"
~Line break
A few hours have elapsed and the team were having their break. For two tanks, however, their work continued. The Puma and AMR were parked right next to each other, their crews all sat together on the ground underneath the shade of nearby trees. Earlier in the morning, Cassidy received a text message from the tankathlon organizer they had met yesterday that detailed match information. Thankfully, the match they signed up for was to take place just beyond the city limits of Iquique in the hilly terrain to the east. It was scheduled to begin at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. So, the two crews discussed how to leave with their vehicles to the match discreetly.
"What we know for sure is that no one will be in the garage tomorrow," Aurora informed them all. "Mr. and Mrs. Redwood are never in their office doing work on Sundays."
"That's good," Cassidy remarked. "But how do we get in the garage? It'll be locked."
"I got a solution for that." Aurora showed them all a lockpicking set.
"We're gonna break in our own garage?" Riley said astonishingly.
"It's not how I wanted to do it," Aurora said. "I looked for the spare key for the garage but I couldn't find it and I wasn't gonna ask people where it was because that'd draw suspicion on us. We'll use the lockpick to get into the garage through a side-door."
"Okay, so we got a path to get in," Cassidy said. "Once we get in our vehicles, we'll have to drive a route that has us far away from the team's apartments as we get off this ship and to the match."
"Are we gonna get in trouble when we drive to the match?" Nathan then said. "Like, you know, driving on the roads on the mainland."
"It shouldn't be a problem. Other tanks from other teams will be heading that place too, so we won't be like 'fish out of water'."
"Okay, good."
"So, what about disguises like that organizer said?" Avery inquired.
"I got just the thing." Cassidy said with a grin.
She went to the AMR and disappeared briefly inside the tank before returning with black clothing. In her hands was a balaclava with only a hole for the eyes and a pair of stretchy polyester gloves. Nathan looked excited while the rest looked at her with surprise.
"We gonna rob a bank on the way to the match?" Riley joked.
"That'd be funny if Nathan didn't already drill that joke into the ground when I got these," Cassidy said. "Look, we need to cover our faces to hide our identities. Not one person can know that we're from Mojave Rose. We'll also need to wear something over our uniforms as an extra precaution, though I don't know what exactly."
"The ponchos!" Aurora then exclaimed
"The what?" Cassidy asked, confused.
"The team has wet weather ponchos. We can wear them to hide our uniforms."
"Awesome! We got our disguises all figured out now."
"Ah, there is still one more thing to address," Avery said. She looked toward Nathan. "What if there are girls at our match who don't like boys in tankery? What do we do about that?"
"Hmm," Cassidy hummed. All the girls looked at Nathan, which didn't exactly make him comfortable. "Well, we'll just say he's a girl."
"Huh?" Nathan sounded.
"Yeah, it can work," Cassidy continued. "We'll all be wearing disguises anyway."
"But," Riley then said. "He doesn't have, um, well, you know." she gestured toward her chest.
Cassidy understood. "Right. Hmm...oh! We'll say he hasn't hit puberty yet."
"You think people will believe that?" Aurora asked.
"I suppose we could also—"
"No way will I stuff something down my shirt." Nathan declared. He knew full well what his sister was about to suggest.
"Fine," Cassidy told him. "You better put on the best feminine voice you can in case someone talks to you."
"I'll do my best."
"Gotcha, Natalie."
"Don't. You. Start."
They all, save for Nathan, shared some laughs.
"So. We're ready then?" Aurora said. "We move out at midnight."
"You lightened the load of your Puma" Cassidy asked her.
"We removed the radio, the coaxial machine gun, ammo for said machine gun, the smoke grenade launchers, the spare wheel on the back, and half the ammo for the 50mm. For communication, I'll use a hand-held radio tuned to your frequency. All of our work should bring us under the ten ton limit. Man, feel like we're about to race again."
"Alright, then," Cassidy rose and cracked her knuckles. "Midnight."
~Line break
What Heather liked to do when the team was on break was simple; lay on top of the T-44 and bask in the sun. It was times like this that allowed her to reflect. To think. And she has been doing a whole lot of thinking as the clue has been bouncing around her head for days now.
"You'd have to be as mad as a hatter to fly this thing."
Heather has inputted dozens of possible answers, all names of experimental aircraft. Dozens of attempts. Dozens of failures. It was frustrating, of course, but there was also an aspect of enjoyment in all of this. Attempting to solve a mystery can never be boring. Still, she would appreciate a hint to go along the clue to set her down the right path. Heather was fairly sure it was the name of some kind of aircraft, though it could also refer to something never meant to fly, but she tried her best to ignore that as it made the possible list of answers far too daunting.
Emma and Valarie has since been aware of what was going on. Emma's reaction was what Heather and Ashley expected; she was interested and had a desire to help out however she can, though she too drew up blanks when presented with the clue. For Valarie. Well, suffice to say, their ears are still ringing when they told her that the mystery lead to an A7V. It was her favorite tank of all-time, after all.
"I got it." Ashley said, who was laid right next to her.
"What?" asked Heather
"We can brute force the password for that website. I know how to code. I can whip up a program that'll go through a list of names for experimental aircraft to input in the website. We'll bust right through before the weekend is up."
"That's not in the spirit of things," Heather remarked. "It's not fun either."
Ashley groaned. "Fine...fine. We'll just keep guessing at random then. We'll get it eventually. It'll just take way longer."
The two gaze up at the sky, watching the flying clouds meander by. The vestiges of summer was fading fast with the autumn season fast approaching, with the occasional chilly gust of wind serving as a sneak peak. In the distance, the sound of the Blackbird flying could be heard.
"Could it that?" Ashley suggested. "Blackbird?"
Heather shook her head. "Already tried."
"Damn."
"You guys still brainstorming, huh?" Valarie said from below.
"Yeah, and it seems like we're going no where." Heather said with a small sigh.
"But we'll figure it out," Ashley said confidently. She then turned toward Valarie. "Just promise us you won't scream like a banshee when we figure it out, okay?"
"I, uh," Valarie turned red. "I was just excited. That's all."
"Excited like a damn erupting volcano."
"I really like the A7V."
"Oh, we're all very aware of that fact."
Before Valarie could further respond, she felt a vibration in her pocket. She was getting a call. Valarie checked who was calling, moved toward the trees for privacy, and promptly answered.
"Hey mom!"
"Val, honey," her mother's voice was beyond soothing. "Just wanted to call and check up on ya. What time is it over where you are? It's about to be seven-thirty here."
"We're five hours ahead, about to be twelve-thirty."
"You guys are doing your practice right about now, right?"
"Yup. Been at it for a few hours now, currently on a break. How have you been, mom? Work good?"
"Well, I can't complain about work. Clock in, clock out, Monday through Friday. It all blurs together really," her mother paused for a few moments. "I miss you."
"I miss you too," Valarie responded. She could feel her throat tighten just a touch. "Where's dad?"
"Next to me. Asleep. He came home late last night after hours of driving, so he's knocked out. He'll call you later."
"Got it."
"So," her mother then said. "I'll be honest with you. Your absence from home has hit us harder than we thought. I keep walking into your room fully expecting to see you only to find an empty bed. It's, uh, it's not the best feeling. You got any idea the soonest you'll come home? We also miss Madison, too. We'd love to spend more time with her."
"There is a break in the tournament in December for the holidays. For sure will the ship return back to Long Beach where I'll race back home."
"December? That's two months away. That means you'll miss Thanksgiving."
"Well, there is always a chance that a future match of ours will be set in America so that way I could come home sooner that way...we could also lose. We'll definitely go home if that happens."
"Obviously I don't want you guys to lose. We'll have to wait for December. We'll spend Christmas and the New Years together...oh, I'm excited already!"
"Me too!"
"Alright. I'm gonna leave you to it, honey. Do what you do best. Love you."
"Love you too. Bye."
"Bye."
The call came to an end with Valarie remaining where she stood for a few more moments after. She had always known that her parents deeply missed her the moment she first left for the internationals, but after her mother's call, now had a deeper understanding. Empty nest syndrome has hit her parents hard. The day she heads home cannot come soon enough. But she will do everything to not come head home in defeat. She won't even entertain the thought.
"You alright?" Emma asked her. She wrapped her arm around her's.
"I am," Valarie answered. "Just got done talking with my mom."
"Nice. How are your parents?"
"They're alright. My mom has been wondering when's the soonest this ship will go back to California."
"Not like 'till December, right?"
"Right...they miss me. A lot."
"I miss my parents too. Everyone on the team misses their family back home."
"Yeah...," Valarie brought her hands together and took in a breath. "We're all going through the same thing. When December comes, oh man, it'll be a great time."
"Oh yeah!" exclaimed Emma. She then checked her phone. "We have a few more minutes of our break...and I did bring that radio Madison gave you. I wonder if Miss Vickers is on the air?"
"Let's find out, shall we?"
The pair returned to the T-44 where Emma retrieved the radio from within the machine. It was powered on and tuned to the appropriate frequency. Static was soon replaced by the voice of a familiar British woman.
"—oaltion teams. That's the full details on what those are. There a few teams like that in the internationals. Speaking of which. What's going on in the internationals? That's why you guys tune in right? Anyway! Yesterday was a high-profile match between Russia and China in the sands of Egypt. These two tankery teams, highly trained, full of experienced, and well-funded, ensured that the match was nothing short of pure entertainment. By the end, it was Russia that won and they move on to the next round. In that match, the Russian team fielded the seldom-seen Uralmash-1 self-propelled gun. If you don't know what that is, think of it as Russia's take on Germany's Ferdinand. They had a pair of 'em, one with a 100mm gun, and the other with a 122mm."
"What kind of name is Uralmash for a vehicle?" Emma wondered.
"Uralmash," Valarie repeated. "Otherwise known as SU-101."
Miss Vickers continued.
"Wanna know something else about the Russian team? Their instructor. Oh dear, is her résumé impressive. A Second World War veteran as a result from being a former Soviet tankery athlete who was pressed into service after the German invasion of the Soviet Union. From 1941 to 1945, she served in a tank unit, first with a T-34 Model 1940 before getting a much needed upgrade with a T-34-85. She was at Stalingrad. Kursk. Berlin. That alone would be highly impressive, but she didn't stop when the war was over. When she got discharged, she assumed a position as tankery instructor of a school in Moscow. She's still the instructor. She's ninety! One more thing. She's the instructor of the same Russian team that the American team defeated back in 1975. So, if anyone of the current American team is listening...watch out. No doubt they're itching for some payback."
Valarie shut off the radio. "Maybe listening to the radio was a mistake."
"You know what," Emma said. "I think you're right. Let's get practice resumed, hmm?"
"Yeah. Let's do that."
Later
More hours have passed and exhaustion has gripped each and every member of the team. A good indicator that practice has come to an end. The team drove back to the garage and parked their machines in the desginated spaces. Valarie hopped off the T-44 and stretched. Another practice completed. It always gave her feelings of satisfaction, and what added to it was the perfomance of the new crew. Claudia's previous experience has greatly helped in getting the Churchill crew up to speed. Claudia was also quickly becoming known among the entire team. For one, she was incredibly talkative and would somehow manage to slip in some morbid fact she read just to see the reactions of those she was talking to. Also, her more liberal use of strong language certainly left some on the team blushing in surprise.
She's definitely an acquired taste. But no doubt capable of being a commander.
With all the tanks parked, members of the team made their way back home. In a matter of minutes, the garage went from being filled with over sixty people to now only having a handful who lingered a bit. Valarie, with Emma right by her side as she wanted to go home together, was taking some extra time to inspect the exterior of the T-44. Such a thing was normally done by Heather, but her and Ashley bolted back to their apartment to get back to work solving the clue.
As Valarie performed her inspection, the sound of hurried walking caught her attention and made her turn toward the source. It was Claudia with a book in her hand, holding it by just two fingers as if the piece of literature revolted her. In a certain way, it did.
"Yo Val," Claudia said. "Here's the book I talked about earlier."
Valarie was handed the book.
"Read it and just laugh at how ridiculous it is," Claudia continued. "It's so freaking mechanical, man."
Valarie laughed. "This is gonna be fun—"
She stopped herself from uttering another word when she finally looked at the cover. Her eyes were transfixed as she read the title repeatedly to thoroughly ensure that didn't make some mistake when she initially read it. She didn't misread. The book's title read,
Fundamental operations of a Sensha-dō team; The translated works of Shiho Nishizumi
"I'm sorry," Valarie said in her mind. "I didn't know. I didn't know."
She repeated that apology a thousand times to herself. The book was then tucked securely between her arms.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow this book."
"Hell, you can keep it," Claudia said. "I'm never gonna read it."
"I might just read it cover to cover."
Claudia was surprised and grew a bit concerned. "You're not gonna take the advice from the book and implement it, right? I like the team how it is."
"It'll be interesting to read someone else's perspective on the sport. Just want to learn. I won't be changing a damn thing about this team. I like how us how we are."
Claudia blew a sigh of relief. "Great. I was worried for a second there. Catch you later!"
With Claudia's departure, it left Valarie and Emma now alone in the garage. The pair closed down the building and made their way back home. When they arrived, the two showered, had dinner, and sat together in the couch in the living room to spend the rest of their evening. Emma would soon fall asleep, but Valarie would stay up. She had a lot of reading to do.
.
.
.
Midnight
Nothing but darkness fully enveloped the garage. All was quiet, all was still. That is until there was then a jiggle coming from one of the side doors. It's lock was being manipulated and after a few minutes of resistance, relented and was opened. In entered in five people. The Manhattan Project.
"The lock was easier than I thought," Aurora remarked. "That's kinda concerning."
"No time to think about that," Cassidy told her. "We gotta move fast."
"Right!"
The group donned on the balaclavas and gloves Cassidy had squired for them. The only thing exposed to the air was now their eyes. To complete their disguise, they wore the rain ponchos that were stored in a crate. The ponchos were dark green in color which added to the overall mystique of what the group was doing.
Aurora went to a panel that controlled the large garage door and after a brief moment of hesitation, pressed it. The loud sounds of machinery filled the area as the door opened. The group wasted no time. The AMR and Puma, each already prepped and fueled, were started and drove out of the garage. Aurora then pressed the button again to close the garage and got out when the doors closed behind her. She climbed onto the Puma and got into hero usual position.
"Follow us," Aurora said to Cassidy. "We'll drive off the ship in a way that no one on the team will see us from the apartment complex."
"Copy that."
With excited laughter, the AMR and Puma drove on. On the empty roads on the ship, passed by buildings closed and devoid of life, and made it down to the docks without seeing another soul. Emboldened, the duo of machines sped up and raced toward the outskirts of the city.
On to a tankathlon match.
All done in secret.
They were past the point of no return.
