If Mahan Could See Us Now

There's no way you're going to get in the front way. That nut is tougher than diamond and much more likely to get you killed. Instead, your little group runs recon back along the West wall that surrounds the port until you find exactly what you'd set out in search of; a pile of rubble in a back street where the houses are built up almost to the brickwork, just high enough that you will be able to shimmy over.

Vasily goes first, hauling himself up and reaching a hand down for you. You unthinkingly reach with your still weak arm and winced as he hauls you over, dropping with you the short distance the other side. You watch as Sasha swings a leg over, then gasp as a rapid report of gunfire stitches holes along the top of the wall. She disappears from view but before you can shout, before you can find out if she's okay, there are shouts and the hammer of boots and arrested group of civilian clothed ruffians are bearing down on you.

+1 stress

They could just be marines caught in mufti. They could be loyalists. They could be, but there's no way you can take the chance that they'll just gun you down before you have an opportunity to explain yourself.

Instead you're running down between warehouses, feeling lucky that you know the port like the back of your hand and especially the warehouse district. You lead Vasily, relying on your memory and a solid sense of direction to guide you to where you want to be - the armouries. If anywhere is going to be held by the right sort of people, that's the place.

It quickly becomes apparent that the fighting in the port is as, if not more, intense as it is in the surrounding city. You keep your distance, seeing groups of soldiers, marines, sailors, civilians, even officers engaged in tense firefights with unknown opponents. You can't work out what's going on. Hopefully someone else has an idea and you can find them and finally get your bearings. The interminable confusion is starting to become unbearable and you wish you could just find a small, dark hold and crawl into it until everything is over. But you have a duty, and you might have already lost someone trying to achieve it. So achieve it you must.

+1 stress

Finally you reach the armoury and, thank heavens, it is relatively peaceful. There are a few watchful armed men on the roof, a few more near the main doors, but there is no shooting and only a few bodies scattered around the square in front of it. Seeing those gives you pause, but you can't come so far and give up.

"I need your rifle." You say to Vasily firmly, mustering all the courage you can.

"What. Why."

"To surrender." A decisive nod makes you seem much more confident in your idea than your hindbrain actually is.

"Surrender! What sort of idiocy-"

"If I'm right, those are our forces. If I'm wrong, we might as well be dead anyway. Will you hand me your damn rifle."

Without another word, sharp or otherwise, he does and then gawps and turns his back as you strip off your jacket and tear a long strip off of your white blouse. At least he has manners, if nothing else.

You wrap the shirt around the rifle butt and extend it around the corner, waving it firmly to make sure it is noticed. You squeal in surprise as a bullet crashes into the brickwork beside your head but it is only one and it is followed by furious shouts of 'Cease fire!' and then 'Come out, if you're surrendering'.

You and Vasily, hands raised, slowly emerge into the open and stare down what seems like a thousand dark carbine muzzles but can't be more than ten arrayed at you across the square. A marine sergeant runs over and, at the end of a pistol, makes the same demand that was made of you earlier, 'Kevia, or the King'.

"The King, of course." You answer, praying it's the right one for the second time in an hour.

"Thank the stars for that. We've shot enough of the poor bastards for one day, and that's the truth." He says, holstering his pistol and grinning. His teeth are yellowed from tobacco and his hands are lined and grimy. "C'mon, I'll introduce you to the Major."

The Major, it turns out, was a marine officer with little time for a Navy Leytenant and her tag-along veteran. He listens to your story, only demanding twice that you hurry up, and only asks one question.

"Can you fight?"

"Aye, Sir, but-"

"No buts. The bastards are all over the port and the few recce patrols I've sent out have reported fighting along the walls and outside them as well. We need every fighting hand we've got. Go and get some of the sailors and make yourself useful."

"Sir!" You almost shout as he turns his back, "Sir, I don't know what's happening. Why is there fighting? Who are we fighting?"

"You haven't heard, girl? Long live the Queen. The King is dead."

Make yourself useful:
[ ] Gather up some itinerant sailors and;
[ ] Construct some barricades with anything you can find.
[ ] Arm them for battle.
[ ] Send out more reconnaissance, freeing up marines.
[ ] Begin preparing for a siege - food, medical supplies and so on.
[ ] Write in