Capter 9: Sandomierz
Saturday, October 7th, 2000
1200 hrs.
Sandomierz, Poland
40 F
Heavy Clouds
Chopper and Switek are the first to arrive on the outskirts of the small city of Sandomierz, once one of Poland's most important but having been reduced in significance over recent centuries to a quaint tourist destination. At least, that was its status before the war. Its current status is somewhat murky, although the Hetman of Tarnobrzeg intimated that Sandomierz was once again becoming a regional force. On Adam's last trip down and back up the Vistula, Sandomierz had been garrisoned by a group of unpleasantly disposed Polish army troops. Since then, the regime had changed, and its mercantile feelers had managed to stretch all the way out to Krakow, precipitating the Visla Krolowa's current trade mission.
On the landward approach to the medieval city, the requisite heavily armed checkpoint bars the way along the highway. An apparently immobile M-113 APC, surrounded by a thick layer of sandbags and topped by a KPV HMG, has been parked along the road about a kilometer outside the city proper. A large truck, similarly modified but unarmed, book-ends the road on the other side. At least a dozen armed men, half clad in civilian garb, the other sporting Soviet uniforms, man the position. At the sight of the approaching three-wheeled "technical", the men quickly take up defensive positions and bring their weapons to bear on the approaching strangers.
From the river, the city looms larger as the Krolowa creeps nearer on its one good engine, the other having been shut down until Jozef has a chance to inspect it thoroughly for damage after the Czech's brief rampage. A much battered medieval fortress, once the stronghold of Polish hero Casimir the Great, overlooks the river from the heights on the southern edge of town. The bridge across the river appears intact, if a little worse for wear. A bunker sits at its midpoint. Peeling white paint adorns most of the bridge, save for two large segments of the span which appear to have been repaired or rebuilt after what was probably an airstrike or two, some time ago.
The city itself is an odd admixture of the medieval and the modern, both similarly abused and neglected in recent years, giving the overall impression of lingering death and slow decay. In its day, it must have been quite beautiful. Now, with a band of thick grey clouds approaching from the north, the city appears unwelcome, geriatric, almost ominous. How the city, with its standing road bridge over the Vistula, and less than a 100km from the seat of the Polish Communist government at Lublin, has managed to avoid WARPACT military cantoment is anybody's guess.
An armed pilot boat meets the Krolowa about a kilometer from the city. Its independent ORMO representative boards the tug and, once satisfied that it is the long-awaited, legitimate merchant vessel from Krakow and not an IPAT Trojan Horse, returns to his vessel to guide the tug to the Sandomierz Boatyard.
The boatyard looks more like a junkyard, a myriad of rusted, derelict vessels bobbing in the river nearby or dragged up and deposited onto the shore. The repair facilities, although reputedly once quite well staffed and thoroughly equipped, look to have been used seldomly in the last few years. Bits and pieces of equipment lie around happhazzardly, the larger machines- compressors, welding equipment, cranes, loaders, and the like- appear to have been commandeered for use elsewhere or stripped for spare parts.
A small welcoming party waits by the slips, a half-dozen armed men surrounding a small, spectacled, balding VIP clad in a black trench coat. An armed footman holding an umbrella over the dignitary's bare pate stands at his side. As the Krolowa is slowly and deftly manouvered into place along the facility's sturdiest looking pier, the welcoming party approaches and, as Walter and Snowy secure the now stationary tug to the stauntions set into the concrete dock, climbs aboard.
Approaching the members of the tug's crew assembled on (or overlooking) the main deck, the small man speaks in a high, lilting, almost efemminate voice,
"Welcome to Sandomierz. I am Nalor Sosin, mayor of Sandomierz. We have been anxiously awaiting your safe arrival. I hope that the folks in Tarnobrzeg did not give you too much trouble?"
The man's smile wanes as he notes the overtly unammused reaction of the tug's contingent to his attempt at levity.
"I see. I am sorry for your... er, trouble. Well, you are safe here, at least. We must speak more of the situation at Tarnobrzeg later. Please, though, do not trouble yourselves about it any longer. You are all free to come ashore. There are a handful of pubs, taverns, and restaurants still in operation within the city. I must insist, however, that all firearms be left on board your vessel for the duration of your stay. Only members of the city guard are allowed to carry weapons within the city. I must return to the castle in order to schedule a meeting with the Commandant to finalize the terms of our trade agreement with the Krakow Rada. He will likely wish to speak to you after his afternoon nap- say, at around three o-clock, or so. In the meantime, you are more than welcome to do as you wish. Please, make yourselves at home."
Actions?
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:27, Sat 03 May 2008.