More Than A Rental

"Da, Comrade we have come to take you & equipment, far away, because, you, no have big plane." said the Russkan pilot

"Oh yes, certainly there's our gear" I said pointing to some run down & rusty APCs, crates, & boxes that were neatly arranged in the front quarter of the hangar.

My mini-magna phone started to vibrate then a voice erupted in my ears, then an image came in through my optical interface in my left eye. It was General Jenny.

"Sgt. Nidog, that is Dmetry Magnumov a former LGB lieutenat who has some ties to Ehrune. We have long suspected that some Uranium has made it there but we were unsure how up until recently when various folks began to notice Dmetry appearing at night clubs in Ehrune near the so-called non-weapons grade facilities. Our man on the inside then found a broucher for Dmetry's company, & picture of him on the wall shaking hands & smiling with a scientist. All you have to do is keep an eye on the crates contaning the Uranium, pretty simple, after that continue on with your mission & hook up with the rest of the Rock N Roll Allstars who are waiting for you at your destination, good luck."

So there I was on the cold December evening, wind blowing into the hanger, snow blowing in, wisps of my breath curling up & away, the glare of the spotlights as they roamed across the airfield looking for intruders, the monsterous Air Shuttle with it's destinctive nose pointing up to the sky, mouth open waiting to be fed. It was painted pink, had purple highlights, & featured a strange looking creature with googly eyes. This was too much I thought, but hey a mission was a mission & there ain't nothing I can do about it. I then took a drag of my cigarette, inhaled, then exhaled, & tried to make a smoke ring in the somewhat calmer air inside

"Sgt, I need the keys for the APCs." Specialist Humphrey's asked

"Oh, yeah here they are kid" I said as I dug into my rightside pocket on my leg & fished out 2 keys for the vehicles.

A few minutes later the APCs were in, then I hopped on a forklift & picked up one pallet at a time then ferried them into the aircraft. Dmetry was at the ramp taking swigs of vodka from an old Communist Army flask. He had snot running out of his nose into his moustache, his belly underneath the black 3/4 length fur coat shook with every gulp. He then sensed me looking at him then turned in my direction put one hand up to wipe his face, while the other extended the vodka.

"You want some, da?"

"No thanks, I just finished desert it was tapicoa pudding & that would just curdle in my stomach & then once we were in the air I'd more than likely be in the head bringing my dinner back up in a rather ungraceful & noisy manner?"

"What you get air sick, Comrade?"

"No, Dmetry ..."

The forklift sputtered then stalled.

"Humphrey's can you radio for some more fuel, this piece of crap is out." I then looked at the gauge to confirm it.

Dmetry then said "It's only 4 more boxes, why not we just load them ourselves?"

"Sure sounds good to me, get you co-pilot out here to help us."

Dmetry rapped on the hull 3 times & 15 seconds later appeared his co-pilot Franchesca Duval who I had met at the Independant Operators Network. She sauntered down the ramp & approached Dmetry & I. She was clad in a fleece lined grey flight suit, black scarf, orange sunglasses, & really ugly fuschia mitts.

"Nice mitts" I quipped.

"Enough about the mitts, let's get this shit loaded I'm freezing" she replied in a thick accent.

Damn I thought that sounds way better than her normal voice.

"Please forgive her bluntness, after all she is only a girl."

With that she had now arrived at his left handside with her back to me, then slugged him in the stomach & tore his micky from his hands as he gagged. I just snickered & so did Humphrey's & then after getting his breath Dmetry joined in

"You see that is what I like about her. She is so unpredictable."

"You don't know the half of it pal", I thought as we walked towards the remaining crates & paired off to tackle them. Anyhow to make a long story short, it took us about five minuts to get the rest of them on & we exchanged small talk about the weather, tv dinners, etc..

"This is the Rotten Carrion Pie to tower we are pre-paring for take off."

"This is tower to Rotten Carrion Pie proceed to runway 5, the wind is coming in at 57 mph from the northwest in gusts, be advised of the possibility of some chop until you climb to your ceiling."

"Roger, Rotten Carrion Pie out." with that said Dmetry hollered back to us to starp ourselves in.

Specialist Humphrey was already in his seat buckled in earphones on smoking a cigarillo that smelled kinda' like vanilla. He looked at me then pointed to his dart gun. We had agreed earlier on to let Dmetry get about 10 minutes into his flight then tranquilze him & continue the flight to our destination, & when were scheduled for a mid air refuel transfer him to the tanker & have Humphrey's take his place. What we did not factor into our little scenario was Franchesca. Who was she working for?

Well I am glad to say Franchescha was still on our side the outfit she was working with was mainly comprised of women. I guess she just doesn't like men or doesn't trust them, or who knows. Dmetry didn't yield us a whole lot of information he just flew stuff where ever he was told & liked to party. Apparently though the folks who were supposed to meet Dmetry didn't just because of the way the Rotten Carrion Pie landed. I gues Dmetry had a distinctive landing style that was known to those who knew him. Where did that leave us. Nowhere except where we were supposed to be, & Dmetry in solitaire. We hooked up with the rest of the team, had a night out on the town, & then went back to the base to get some rest & prepared for what lay ahead. Oh & Franchesca she took over Rotten Carrion Pie after we staged a rather dramatic death for Dmetry at one of the local danceclubs. Humphrey's in his Dmetry get up with the assistance of nanobots, made the most amazing projectile vomit display ever witnessed to man.