Boston & Jane Dyer
12 March 14
Shattered Steel Headquarters
12 March 14
Shattered Steel Headquarters
They watched with mild amusement as one pilot decided to light a cigar after throwing up, seeming to have speed-eaten half a dozen donuts, before that same pilot was lit the hell up from front to back by the CO. It turned a smile to Boston’s face at it, at the whole of it, just because of how absurd the whole thing had become and how absolutely stupid the pilot seemed to be for doing it. If anything, he expected the man to have been hungover or still drunk to do such things, and that somehow seemed better than if he’d done it sober even if being drunk at a briefing was so very, very dumb on its own. Jane just let out a long, long sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose with closed eyes. Yeah, positive thoughts. Positive thoughts.
Then Valentine got through the briefing, Jane producing from her pocket a notepad and pencil like magic. She jotted things down as they came, notes here and there, key points of the briefing itself along with a personal note to check the goddamn tablet. They never checked the tablet, it seemed like, between the fact that the battery always seemed to die too quickly and the charger never seemed to properly work, but jesus they really did need to check that stupid tablet. Leaning back, she turned to Boston briefly, nudging him with her elbow while tapping on the note. He nodded sagely. Yup, they needed to check that thing.
Maltese convoys being caught by unknown parties, destroyed here and there…Boston narrowed his eyes at it. Why they were doing that…that was the big question. It wasn’t to steal it, blowing things up with missiles and cannons generally destroyed it, so clearly it was to apply pressure on Malta to either abandon itself - impossible, really -, to seek help from elsewhere, or to simply starve away and die. That’d cut down the potential culprits pretty well, and Boston could dismiss the Lt Col’s idea that the Libyans or Tunisians would be able to take advantage of that issue. Sure, they were maybe staging out from there, but certainly that’d be mercenaries working for some other group. Who could fund the whole issue while being able to actually take advantage of it realistically…there were a few groups, but really only a few. The plan itself was pretty solid, though.
Then one of the younger pilots piped-up, and Boston’s mouth went wry at the idea. A certain nation east of Ukraine, jesus just say Russia. He scratched at his neck idly, swallowing before speaking-up in response to the guy seated further on up, looking directly at him.
“Thirteen hundred today, clearly not good enough to halt the raids, good enough to keep whoever is pulling this nonsense from actually attacking Malta itself, god knows but it’s an International Airport, and an AWACS from Italy.”
Turning his head back to the Lt Col, Boston continued, “Am I to understand Freight Train and Stingray will be performing your reconnaissance operations along with the AWACS, sir?”