War Clouds
Disclaimer: I do not own the Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego franchise. Again only Purvis and Tara are my creations.
~ ~ ~ ~
June 2139: Tara looked from her issue of Sports Illustrated when she heard footsteps walking outside of the Detective's Ready Room. She saw at least half a dozen military officers lead by a short, squat man of Filipino origins. His aide, a slim, boyish Australian captain said, "Excuse us, detective, could you show us to Chief Inspector Bryce's office."
Tara put her magazine away and said, "Yes sir."
Struggling to keep her nervousness in, Tara walked astride of the major and his aide, escorted by two grim faced military policemen with holstered pistols. "Chief Inspector Bryce?" Tara said, knocking on the door.
"Yes." Bryce replied, looking up. Bryce was a cool, unflappable woman in her mid thirties, the daughter of an Indian doctor and a British police officer, very little surprised her.
The sight that greeted her when Tara opened the door was one such surprise, "Chief Inspector Bryce, I'm Major Palomar, Office of Strategic Services. As the head of this field office you know what I am about to say should not leave this room."
The major made a dismissing gesture with his right hand and the Australian aide and two MPs left the room, practically half dragging a stunned and surprised Tara out of the door jamb. The door closed with a loud thud as the MPs stationed themselves outside of Chief Inspector Bryce's office and stood at parade rest.
"What's this about Major?" Bryce replied regaining her usual composure.
"You are aware of the ACME/OSS Reservation Act, correct?" Palomar replied.
"Yes, I am. It's an act where in times of war or national emergency ACME's resources are to be used to aid the OSS." Bryce replied.
"As you are aware, storm clouds are gathering on the horizon. The Biohazard is consuming the colonies and the Colonial Legion isn't going to be able to hold off this attack. That's a fact, they are being decimated and we estimate that Earth will be hit no later than 2140. Already we are beginning a massive mobilization and are prepared for the virus to make its landfall. But we need to supplement our intelligence gathering capabilities and that's where you come in." Palomar replied.
"Major, as you are aware, my detectives have self defense training, but in no way are they secret agents." Bryce replied, "What you're proposing is that I send my detectives to their deaths."
"Inspector Bryce that is why I and this man are here." Palomar indicated a rock solid looking man with chiseled features in olive drab fatigues, "This is Sergeant Major Reynard, he's here to help train your best field agents in the arts of infiltration, sabotage, and intelligence gathering. By no means do I intend to make commandoes out of your detectives, I'm planning to teach them the skills they need to survive in ACME's wartime role, when it arises."
"When do you intend to start?" Bryce said.
"I plan to start tomorrow morning at 0530 sharp." Sergeant Major Reynard said crisply, speaking for the first time after coming to attention.
"Very well. As of now you will retain command of your detectives, but overall command will be retained by the Office of Strategic Services." Palomar replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
Elsewhere Tara walked through the dorm towards her own room which was down the hall from where Purvis used to live. The room was finally empty of all of Purvis' personal effects and much of the broken furniture had been replaced. She stood in the doorway arch, and in her mind's eye she could still see Larry Purvis tucked solidly away in a good book, his wire framed glasses set on the tip of his nose, his narrow face a mask of concentration. She could also see his boyish grin, something that was rarely seen in his last few months at ACME, whenever he was happy.
"Tara?" said a familiar voice behind her.
Tara was so lost in the reverie that she didn't even see Duncan come in behind her. "Oh, I'm sorry Duncan, I didn't hear you come in."
She leaned easily into his arms, "Have you heard from Larry lately?" Duncan asked.
"Last week, he said he was going on another field exercise on Gibraltar. He should be back on base this afternoon." Tara replied.
"It's not easy knowing someone you care about is going into harm's way." Duncan replied.
"You still miss him, don't you?" Duncan asked, when Tara didn't say anything for a while.
"I wish he told me what was wrong. I wish he just let me in, let me know what was bothering him so I could help him." Tara replied, she seemed visibly upset by all of this.
"It's not up to Tara Howard to save every mixed up kid on this planet." Duncan replied.
"Duncan!" Tara said, wiggling out of Duncan's embrace, "He's not a mixed up kid, he's my best friend, I wish you'd stop treating him like a kid."
"Follow your own advice Tara." Duncan replied, "Just last week you said, 'Larry's practically still a kid. Why is he doing this?' Now who's treating him like a kid?"
"Duncan, I didn't mean it like that, I meant to say something else." Tara replied before Duncan cut her off.
"I know, he seemed so helpless and you felt you had to take care of him, but keep in mind, Larry's old enough to make decisions by himself. So he obviously felt that this was the only course of action available to him and he took it." Duncan replied.
"It's really starting to creep me out." Tara replied, "First these OSS guys come into the building, then I start seeing these MP's start moving in, replacing our uniformed guys. What are they gonna do next? Clean out the old bomb shelter in the basement?"
"Tara, this may not be the best time to tell you this, but I'm gonna tell you anyway." Duncan said.
Tara looked into Duncan's ice blue eyes set into his sun tanned face, as he spoke, "I just volunteered to go into the Marine Corps this morning, hon."
"Why?" Tara asked.
"Tara, listen to me, I've been hearing all this talk about the Foe making its landing here on Earth. I have to do my part in this effort and the Marines are the best way to go about it." Duncan replied.
Tara didn't reply at all, she just held on to Duncan as long as she could, for all she knew she might never see him again.
~ ~ ~ ~
"C'mon Purvis, get the lead out!" the broad shouldered Comanche, Private Phillip Twofeathers shouted. He was taller than Purvis' 5'8", about six feet tall and built like a cigar store Indian, only he was the genuine article.
With a grunted reply Purvis pumped his legs as fast as he could. Both men wore their dirt brown t-shirts and olive drab fatigue trousers and boots. The men also carried 150-lb field packs on their backs as they ran a particularly tough course with a lot of rising hills and steep slopes on the island of Gibraltar.
"Damn, we made it five miles in forty minutes, not bad." Twofeathers replied as he looked at his watch, "Down five minutes from last week."
"Yeah, but the Special Forces standard is running five miles with full rucksack in under fifty minutes." Purvis replied, gulping a deep breath of air and straining against the weight of the rucksack.
"Yeah not to mention land navigation's gonna be pretty tough." Twofeathers replied, "My people have knack for it, though."
"When do you plan to apply for Selection?" Purvis asked, referring to the Special Forces Selection Course, a very arduous physical and mental training program that approximately three-fourths of the men who tried out for it failed on the first attempt.
"Next spring selection." Twofeathers replied, "How about you?"
"Whenever they let me take it, I suppose." Purvis replied.
Clouds began moving across the skies and Phillip Twofeathers replied with unconcerned casualness, "Looks like a storm's coming along I reckon."
"Yeah, looks like it." Purvis replied. He had been on enough marches through the countryside to know that storms, while unpleasant, were not the end of the world.
"I remember some guy next to me on that hump we did last week groaning, 'If this is what light infantry is like, I wonder what heavy infantry is like.' Of course if we make it into the Regiment we'll be humping with loads in excess of two hundred pounds." The broad shouldered Comanche tribesman grinned as he peered at the compass he had sewn into an ornate leather wristband with tribal markings Purvis could only guess the significance of, "Camp's about five miles west, I'll race you back after about fifteen minutes."
"Gotcha pal." Purvis replied, "You're on."
"I better see your pale face back there first." Phil Twofeathers grinned.
"More like I'll continually stare at your red backside like last week when I try to run back to base." Purvis replied.
"Ah, you're improving. Put it this way pal, you're in a hell of a lot better shape now than you were when you enlisted five months ago, right?"
"Yeah." Purvis replied. "So just keep on improving and you should be good to go." Twofeathers replied, "Anyway, we're young, in prime physical condition, and when we're sixty we'll have something to brag about at the VFW bars for the rest of our lives. 'I made it through Selection into the cream of the crop of the United Systems Army', not something a lot of guys can say."
Purvis grinned, despite himself, "Yeah, I can just see it, most of my friends at ACME won't recognize me now."
"Any friend in particular." The big Indian grinned mischievously.
"Well there's one." Purvis said shyly.
"Do tell." Twofeathers replied.
"She's been a good friend of mine since I was six years old." Purvis replied, "I always keep a picture of her in my pocket, I've been doing that since I enlisted in the Army. Her name's Tara. I've liked her since I was sixteen, almost for two years now."
"So are you still with her?" Twofeathers asked.
"I never was romantically involved with her, I never even told her how I felt. I just couldn't find enough courage to do it. Besides there are a heck of a lot more better looking guys out there than me." Purvis replied.
"All you need is confidence my friend." Phil Twofeathers replied, "Speaking of which, fifteen minutes are up. Ready to go?"
"Gotcha." Purvis replied and the pair took off running the five miles back to the base camp.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego franchise. Again only Purvis and Tara are my creations.
~ ~ ~ ~
June 2139: Tara looked from her issue of Sports Illustrated when she heard footsteps walking outside of the Detective's Ready Room. She saw at least half a dozen military officers lead by a short, squat man of Filipino origins. His aide, a slim, boyish Australian captain said, "Excuse us, detective, could you show us to Chief Inspector Bryce's office."
Tara put her magazine away and said, "Yes sir."
Struggling to keep her nervousness in, Tara walked astride of the major and his aide, escorted by two grim faced military policemen with holstered pistols. "Chief Inspector Bryce?" Tara said, knocking on the door.
"Yes." Bryce replied, looking up. Bryce was a cool, unflappable woman in her mid thirties, the daughter of an Indian doctor and a British police officer, very little surprised her.
The sight that greeted her when Tara opened the door was one such surprise, "Chief Inspector Bryce, I'm Major Palomar, Office of Strategic Services. As the head of this field office you know what I am about to say should not leave this room."
The major made a dismissing gesture with his right hand and the Australian aide and two MPs left the room, practically half dragging a stunned and surprised Tara out of the door jamb. The door closed with a loud thud as the MPs stationed themselves outside of Chief Inspector Bryce's office and stood at parade rest.
"What's this about Major?" Bryce replied regaining her usual composure.
"You are aware of the ACME/OSS Reservation Act, correct?" Palomar replied.
"Yes, I am. It's an act where in times of war or national emergency ACME's resources are to be used to aid the OSS." Bryce replied.
"As you are aware, storm clouds are gathering on the horizon. The Biohazard is consuming the colonies and the Colonial Legion isn't going to be able to hold off this attack. That's a fact, they are being decimated and we estimate that Earth will be hit no later than 2140. Already we are beginning a massive mobilization and are prepared for the virus to make its landfall. But we need to supplement our intelligence gathering capabilities and that's where you come in." Palomar replied.
"Major, as you are aware, my detectives have self defense training, but in no way are they secret agents." Bryce replied, "What you're proposing is that I send my detectives to their deaths."
"Inspector Bryce that is why I and this man are here." Palomar indicated a rock solid looking man with chiseled features in olive drab fatigues, "This is Sergeant Major Reynard, he's here to help train your best field agents in the arts of infiltration, sabotage, and intelligence gathering. By no means do I intend to make commandoes out of your detectives, I'm planning to teach them the skills they need to survive in ACME's wartime role, when it arises."
"When do you intend to start?" Bryce said.
"I plan to start tomorrow morning at 0530 sharp." Sergeant Major Reynard said crisply, speaking for the first time after coming to attention.
"Very well. As of now you will retain command of your detectives, but overall command will be retained by the Office of Strategic Services." Palomar replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
Elsewhere Tara walked through the dorm towards her own room which was down the hall from where Purvis used to live. The room was finally empty of all of Purvis' personal effects and much of the broken furniture had been replaced. She stood in the doorway arch, and in her mind's eye she could still see Larry Purvis tucked solidly away in a good book, his wire framed glasses set on the tip of his nose, his narrow face a mask of concentration. She could also see his boyish grin, something that was rarely seen in his last few months at ACME, whenever he was happy.
"Tara?" said a familiar voice behind her.
Tara was so lost in the reverie that she didn't even see Duncan come in behind her. "Oh, I'm sorry Duncan, I didn't hear you come in."
She leaned easily into his arms, "Have you heard from Larry lately?" Duncan asked.
"Last week, he said he was going on another field exercise on Gibraltar. He should be back on base this afternoon." Tara replied.
"It's not easy knowing someone you care about is going into harm's way." Duncan replied.
"You still miss him, don't you?" Duncan asked, when Tara didn't say anything for a while.
"I wish he told me what was wrong. I wish he just let me in, let me know what was bothering him so I could help him." Tara replied, she seemed visibly upset by all of this.
"It's not up to Tara Howard to save every mixed up kid on this planet." Duncan replied.
"Duncan!" Tara said, wiggling out of Duncan's embrace, "He's not a mixed up kid, he's my best friend, I wish you'd stop treating him like a kid."
"Follow your own advice Tara." Duncan replied, "Just last week you said, 'Larry's practically still a kid. Why is he doing this?' Now who's treating him like a kid?"
"Duncan, I didn't mean it like that, I meant to say something else." Tara replied before Duncan cut her off.
"I know, he seemed so helpless and you felt you had to take care of him, but keep in mind, Larry's old enough to make decisions by himself. So he obviously felt that this was the only course of action available to him and he took it." Duncan replied.
"It's really starting to creep me out." Tara replied, "First these OSS guys come into the building, then I start seeing these MP's start moving in, replacing our uniformed guys. What are they gonna do next? Clean out the old bomb shelter in the basement?"
"Tara, this may not be the best time to tell you this, but I'm gonna tell you anyway." Duncan said.
Tara looked into Duncan's ice blue eyes set into his sun tanned face, as he spoke, "I just volunteered to go into the Marine Corps this morning, hon."
"Why?" Tara asked.
"Tara, listen to me, I've been hearing all this talk about the Foe making its landing here on Earth. I have to do my part in this effort and the Marines are the best way to go about it." Duncan replied.
Tara didn't reply at all, she just held on to Duncan as long as she could, for all she knew she might never see him again.
~ ~ ~ ~
"C'mon Purvis, get the lead out!" the broad shouldered Comanche, Private Phillip Twofeathers shouted. He was taller than Purvis' 5'8", about six feet tall and built like a cigar store Indian, only he was the genuine article.
With a grunted reply Purvis pumped his legs as fast as he could. Both men wore their dirt brown t-shirts and olive drab fatigue trousers and boots. The men also carried 150-lb field packs on their backs as they ran a particularly tough course with a lot of rising hills and steep slopes on the island of Gibraltar.
"Damn, we made it five miles in forty minutes, not bad." Twofeathers replied as he looked at his watch, "Down five minutes from last week."
"Yeah, but the Special Forces standard is running five miles with full rucksack in under fifty minutes." Purvis replied, gulping a deep breath of air and straining against the weight of the rucksack.
"Yeah not to mention land navigation's gonna be pretty tough." Twofeathers replied, "My people have knack for it, though."
"When do you plan to apply for Selection?" Purvis asked, referring to the Special Forces Selection Course, a very arduous physical and mental training program that approximately three-fourths of the men who tried out for it failed on the first attempt.
"Next spring selection." Twofeathers replied, "How about you?"
"Whenever they let me take it, I suppose." Purvis replied.
Clouds began moving across the skies and Phillip Twofeathers replied with unconcerned casualness, "Looks like a storm's coming along I reckon."
"Yeah, looks like it." Purvis replied. He had been on enough marches through the countryside to know that storms, while unpleasant, were not the end of the world.
"I remember some guy next to me on that hump we did last week groaning, 'If this is what light infantry is like, I wonder what heavy infantry is like.' Of course if we make it into the Regiment we'll be humping with loads in excess of two hundred pounds." The broad shouldered Comanche tribesman grinned as he peered at the compass he had sewn into an ornate leather wristband with tribal markings Purvis could only guess the significance of, "Camp's about five miles west, I'll race you back after about fifteen minutes."
"Gotcha pal." Purvis replied, "You're on."
"I better see your pale face back there first." Phil Twofeathers grinned.
"More like I'll continually stare at your red backside like last week when I try to run back to base." Purvis replied.
"Ah, you're improving. Put it this way pal, you're in a hell of a lot better shape now than you were when you enlisted five months ago, right?"
"Yeah." Purvis replied. "So just keep on improving and you should be good to go." Twofeathers replied, "Anyway, we're young, in prime physical condition, and when we're sixty we'll have something to brag about at the VFW bars for the rest of our lives. 'I made it through Selection into the cream of the crop of the United Systems Army', not something a lot of guys can say."
Purvis grinned, despite himself, "Yeah, I can just see it, most of my friends at ACME won't recognize me now."
"Any friend in particular." The big Indian grinned mischievously.
"Well there's one." Purvis said shyly.
"Do tell." Twofeathers replied.
"She's been a good friend of mine since I was six years old." Purvis replied, "I always keep a picture of her in my pocket, I've been doing that since I enlisted in the Army. Her name's Tara. I've liked her since I was sixteen, almost for two years now."
"So are you still with her?" Twofeathers asked.
"I never was romantically involved with her, I never even told her how I felt. I just couldn't find enough courage to do it. Besides there are a heck of a lot more better looking guys out there than me." Purvis replied.
"All you need is confidence my friend." Phil Twofeathers replied, "Speaking of which, fifteen minutes are up. Ready to go?"
"Gotcha." Purvis replied and the pair took off running the five miles back to the base camp.