Building 38 of the Portland Navy Yard had been known to inhabitants as the Maze for almost 40 years. The home of the Special Forces detachments, it was a converted concrete warehouse, virtually windowless and totally dank. The interior had been partitioned into barracks rooms, store rooms, offices, and even a small firing range.
Inside, Sergeant "Jigsaw" Daggett was in his little office/cubbyhole puzzling over his morning paperwork when one of the men of his squad poked his head around the corner.
"Hey, Sarge! The major wants to see you. He has some staff guy with him."
Daggett's squad members hooted. "Going off to play with officers, Sarge?" one of them jeered. Used to them, Daggett just growled and strode down to the main office.
Before seeing the brass, he first had to battle the dragon, the most feared person in all of the West Coast Special Forces establishment, Melberta Devere. Devere swiveled her razor thin nose in Daggett's direction as he entered.
"Yessss?" she rasped. "Oh, it's YOU, Sergeant. The Major is expecting you."
Glad to have escaped the Major's formidable secretary, he entered the office. As he came to attention before the cluttered desk, Daggett noticed yet another major sitting in a chair, this one a solidly built, dark haired man about his own age, wearing the purple collar tabs of the Imperial General Staff with intelligence branch pins.
Major Tyler Dunwoody, Daggett's commanding officer, was short and stocky, with rather bushy dark blonde hair and matching mustache. He fixed his steely blue eyes on the sergeant. "At ease, sergeant," he drawled, "I know you've been aching to get into a more active unit than we've been lately. Now you're in luck. First though..." he paused, cryptically waving a forefinger in the air. "I hereby announce, by the power vested in me by King Patrick, Prime Minister Lady Harbuck-Hornak, Foreign Minister Myers, Air Cheif Marshal Mossberger, and the Crown Princess's cat Sparky, the creation of . . . drumroll please . . . Special Detachment 602."
"What does that earth-shattering announcement mean to you, sergeant?" Dunwoody asked. "Well, you are going on a little trip...well actually, a long trip. Specifically to Central Asia, to the court of the Emperor of the Mongols." Seeing the wolfish delight on Daggett's battered face, he added, "And NOT to assassinate the man. To escort an ambassador there who hopes to get the Mongols to pull back from threatening Europe. You will be one of the NCOs on the mission, my little contribution to this party. Major Alves here will be the team's intel officer. He, at least, speaks a little Japanese.
The team will have an office on the second floor."
"Mel?" he shouted, "What office is Detachment 602 going to have?"
"2F," came the grating reply.
"Daggett, take Major Alves here up to 2F. From this moment on you are relieved of your squad, though you will still have to bunk with them for the moment. Carry on."
Dagget's mind swam with the events that had just transpired. Although he was eager to get back into action, he wasn’t sure if playing big brother bodyguard to some bigwig diplomat pleased him. Hah, he said to himself grimly, talking the Mongols out of invading Europe, fat chance of that happening. Best case scenario, the ambassador get lucky and they kill him quick. But he knew it was far more likely that he would be slowly tortured to death, along with his own sorry ass.
Major Alves stood up and saluted Dunwoody before following the sergeant to room 2F. Dagget wondered if this man would be the team leader and what skills he would bring to their upcoming mission.
The two men arrived at their newly acquired office, a good sized room, with desks around the perimeter, a conference table in the middle, and corkboards filled with maps on all four walls. A fly specked calendar from 2038 was tacked to one board, another had a caricature of Caesar Augustus II with a couple of darts stuck in his nose. Painted an ugly industrial green, the walls were stained by a an old leak in the roof. The West Coast Special Forces command was a bit of a backwater, after all.
Dagget gently closed the door behind them. Sighing deeply, he ran his cold eyes up and down Major Alves.
Alves was as tall as his own 5'11, though his frame held much less muscle. Victor didn't’t usually like these Intelligence officers. They seemed to possess an unhealthy dose of arrogance, and although well educated and articulate, could do very little else but organize status reports and make obvious guesses as to the enemy's next move. On a battlefield, in the thick of a firefight, they usually crumbled into a pathetic, teary mess of hysteria. As far as he was concerned, the Intelligence branch of the military was just a small niche for the physically frail eggheads, who wanted in on their "patriotic" duty. Although there was no denying the essential need of intelligence in a war, he still considered grunts like himself the real backbone which won battles. But he was prepared to give this man the benefit of the doubt, since they would be working together on the upcoming mission. No need to have any bad blood boiling between them.
"Nice to meet ya' Major. Looks like we'll be spendin' the next few months t'gether." Dagget said politely, his voice drowned in a thick southern drawl. Dagget offered his outstretched hand, hoping to get a friendly handshake in return.
Major Alves looked at the outstretched hand for a second and then took it, shaking it strongly. "Nice to meet you, too, Sergeant," he declared, his voice sounding more British then American. Sean Alves had spent most of his life in Europe, only recently when he joined the UKA forces had he came to America. He'd never stayed for long, since he was a member of Army A based in Toulouse. This was probably his fifth trip to the states. Back in Toulouse, Alves had been asked to volunteer for this mission, due to his knowledge of languages and the territory they would be crossing. He wondered what kind of man Dagget was. Time would tell.
The major took a seat and indicated a chair to Dagget. "So Sergeant, what are your views concerning the upcoming mission?" He wanted to test Dagget before leaving on the assignment, after all, diplomacy and tactics would play a very crucial role on the mission and he wanted to make sure that the team wasn't all muscle. He planned on testing every member, and since Dagget was at hand, he would be the first.
"By the way, have you ever faced any Mongolian forces before?" he asked before Dagget could answer the first question.
Dagget casually plopped himself down on the offered seat, scratching his earlobe, keeping a little grin in full control on his lips.
"My views eh? Haven’t been asked for my own opinion in a long time." He said cheerfully, letting out a little throaty chuckle. "Usually when the top brass tells me to do something or go somewhere, I pack my bags and carry out my orders. I gotta say, its kinda refreshing being asked for my own opinion." He added gleefully, looking Major Alves straight in the eye, leaning back ever so slightly against the sturdy chair.
"Well sir, since I’m a-supposin’ your given me permission to speak freely, I’d have to say this mission is a total waste of time and material. Shit, ever hear of any dictator in history backing off, because some diplomat told them so? Hell no! That there Emperor of Mongols is going to tell this little ambassador of ours to, excuse my french, go fuck himself," he said simply, shrugging and leaning forward.
"Well, getting’ back to your second question, can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure of facing these here Mongols. I’ve spent most of my career killin’ Gary troops and I had a short stint in Spain, where I got a shot at them Spaniards." He let out a little grunt.
"Between you and me, Major, if things go the way I think there gonna go, I’ll get my crack at these Mongols soon enough. But as I said before, never mind what I think. I’m a soldier. I’ll do my job, no matter what my personal feelings are. You don’t have to worry about that."
Sean listened carefully to Dagget's words and suppressed a grin. The man was blunt and to the point. Actually Sean had nearly the same opinion. It was more probable that the Mongol Emperor would keep the ambassador hostage and torture the rest of the team.
Actually the Major thought that a assassination mission would be much more profitable for the UKA. Recent reports about the Mongols clearly displayed their belligerency. If their main leader was killed, all the Khans would fight among themselves for control of the Empire. With any luck they would drop their push towards East Europe.
Sean pulled a cigar from one of his pockets and lit it. "I believe that it is important for us to be able to work as a team. We will be entering hostile territory and the better we know each other, the more chances we have on completing this mission." Taking a long drag on his cigar, he looked Dagget dead in the eyes.
Victor again studied the man. He found himself having a difficult time digesting that snooty little English accent of his. And he found that his earlier prejudices regarding Intelligence officers creeping up on him again. But nonetheless, Major Alves seemed decent and respecting up until now.
"Good Afternoon!" Major Dunwoody barked while opening the office door. As Major Alves and Sergeant Daggett braced themselves, Dunwoody entered followed by three others. Dagget immediately recognized Staff Sergeant Jennifer "Harry" Harrison of Team D. Tall and powerfully built, in her mid-thirties, she had very short blond hair, some freckles, and an Oriental slant to her green eyes.
The other two were new to Dagget. One was a tough, rugged-looking, very dark skinned man who was the most unmilitary sight any of them had ever seen. His shoulder length dreadlocks were pulled back into a queue with a strip of rawhide, and he was dressed in worn fatigue pants with buckskin boots that lace up to the knee, a buckskin tunic and an old Marine field cap. It was hard to determine his age, but at a guess he was in his forties. Clearly the scout had arrived.
The other man, though also in his forties, was in the prime of his life. He had dark eyes and rather bushy dark hair with a few streaks of gray, and was wearing an understated, but obviously expensive, business suit.
"At ease...Gentlemen," Dunwoody began, nodding toward the man in the dark suit. "I'd like to introduce Ambassador the Reverend William C. Pelcham of the Foreign Ministry."
Turning to the man in buckskins he said, "And this is your team scout, Jeremiah Dubois."
"Sergeant Harrison," Dunwoody nodded in Harry's direction, "has volunteered for this mission, as well." He let out a deep sigh. "I hate losing two experienced NCOs at once, but I can't in all honesty deny either of your requests."
Major Alves put his cigar out and saved it in his uniform pocket. Quickly he assesed the newcomers, weighing their strengths and weaknesses just by the way they carried themselves.
The woman was obviously a veteran of the forces and, from Dunwoody's statement, she could prove to be a very important asset for the mission. He looked at her short hair and let his mind wander for a brief second. When had he last seen a young woman with long silky hair? Folding his fingers under his chin his gaze moved to the dark skinned man with the wiry physique.
So this is our scout. Let's hope he has experience in other continents, he thought. Sean had hoped for someone from the Forces, with experience either in Europe or Asia. He knew for a certainty that a forest or a mountain in America was not like a forest or a mountain on the other side of the world.
As these thoughts raced through his mind, his gaze finally came to rest on the good Reverend. Major Sean Alves did not like religious people. Throughout history religion had only led to extreme fanatic wars and bloodshed. He wondered if the Reverend William C. Pelcham could pull his weight in hostile territory, or would he expect God to save him. Inevitably, he knew he would eventually discuss God with the ambassador. Maybe he could give Sean a few answers. Despite his many misgivings, he let his mouth form into a friendly grin.
Meanwhile Dagget roses from his seat, his concentration shattered by the newly arrived individuals. He felt a slight pang of disappointment, he was just about to ask Major Alves for one of those cigars. They were scarce enough within the Maze. Maybe later, he thought hopefully.
Leaning his beefy frame gently against the desk behind him, Dagget crossed his arms over his large chest as he gave Harry a slight nod of acknowledgment. The others he gave his usual look of complete indifference.
While regarding the group with a studied detachment, he had to admit that the word “Reverend” had caused his jaw to tighten. Great, their fates were sealed. Just the man they needed to bargain with an iron-nerved tyrant. Dagget spiritually rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, taking a rigid stance that had been built into his mindset from fourteen years of military experience.
The ambassador flashed a wide beam of a smile to the entire room before moving forward to offer his hand to Alves. "A pleasure Major Alves. I look forward to working with you closely in our up coming assignment. I was once told by a Christian friend of mine that in the first 5 minutes you meet someone you get your best impression, and learn what that person feels is important. And as we will all be living together day to day, I'd like your opinions as to what you've learned." He flashed another disarming smile.
Major Alves shook the Reverend's hand and smiled politely, waiting for the debriefing to begin.
Turning to Mr. Dubois, The Reverend again offered his hand, seeming to ooze charm. "Mr. Dubois I've heard of you from some of my acquaints here in Portland."
Jeremiah Dubois had been carefully scanning the room, taking in everything, shifting uncomfortably as the Reverend offered his hand. It looked as if there would be quite a few folks. Stinks in here. Hope that major don't plan on smokin' those things out in the bush. Anybody lookin' for us could just follow the smell.
Great, all I need is a soft Christian boy to hand-hold, he thought to himself as he shook the Reverend's hand.
Looking around the room, Dubois made eye contact with everyone individually, giving a curt nod to each. The soldiers should be all right, if they can manage to keep relatively quiet. So is the Reverend the poor bastard we've got to deliver to the Mongols? Hope he knows somethin' we don't...
"You bring some very impressive credentials to our blessed little band, Mr. Dubois," The ambassador was saying. "I'll be interested in hearing of your exploits, if you care to tell them. Perhaps later I could impose upon you to help me in outfitting myself with a bit more serviceable attire and equipment here in Portland..?
"I reckon we can get ya outfitted, Rev'rend," he said gravely.
"Sargent Dagget," again The Reverend held out his hand for a shake, "Also a pleasure. I'm sure our expedition's safety will be secure placed in your and Sargent Harrison's very capable hands."
With a twinkle in his eyes he turned the full force of his charm on Harry. "The splendid Sargent Harrison." He took her hand in his and shook it for just a few seconds too long. "My pleasure," he gushed. "Two questions for you. Do you find it odd we have such a wealth of experienced personal? And whom in the area would you recommend to join us on our merry little mission?"
After shaking hands with Pelcham, Harry clasped her hands behind her back and glanced around the room. She could smell the cigar smoke on Alves' uniform. From deep inside she felt an odd pang. Anything which reminded her of Hudson was always painful. She caught Daggett's eye and grinned quickly out of one side of her mouth. Another group of shirts to shepherd through fire and famine. Except Dubois. She'd heard of him, and was glad to know he'd be with them. Hell, the Reverend looked like he'd be lost without his manicurist; how did he expect to survive a trip through some of the least developed country in the world?
One finely etched eyebrow arched as she answered his questions. "I'm glad to see such experience in the room, sir. We've already lost one team in this mission, I don't intend to be part of a second disaster."
Pelcham turned his gaze toward Major Dunwoody while there rest of them took seats around the conference table. "I've noticed that there seems to be a lack in our organization quartermaster section...... is there a reason for this or has it been filled? Not to cast an unfavorable light on our mission Major, but just what happened to the first team and what was their route? "
Dunwoody settled back for a second and then replied, "On a mission this small, policy is not to include a quartermaster. Generally the team leader appoints someone to perform those tasks. I'm sure the guard commander, when he or she arrives, will deal with it." He paused a second to think. "As to your other question, the previous team landed at Macau last June. They checked in with External Security's agent, a Taiwanese national named Wei who runs a factory there. The next day they proceeded up the Xun Jiang river by commercial boat. When he was later asked to trace them, the agent found the trail led to Pingnan, about 500 km upstream, where they went ashore and headed north. After that the trail grew cold. We still have agents searching, but so far, nothing."
"I see." The Reverend seemed lost in thought for a second. "So the first mission is long over due and there is good reason to assume they won't be carrying on. I take it then we will have access to the stores and facilities here for some equipment and a suitable expense account after we arrive in Taiwan?"
Major Dunwoody replied, "You can have just about anything you can reasonably carry. In fact there are only two man-portable weapons in the arsenal you can't have: the 57mm recoiless rifle and the 75mm recoiless rifle. Since you aren't likely to go toe to toe with the dreaded Japanese Chi-Ha tanks, I don't think you will need them. A 50mm mortar might be handy, though, and an RPG. Of course, you need to pack all your ammo, so you'll have to be frugal."
Dunwoody fixed his steely gaze on each of them before he continued. "You will be given a hefty sum of cash in gold coin plus a bill of exchange you can use in a coastal port to buy some supplies. Every team member will be given some gold as an emergency reserve. In addition, you should think of some items you can bring to use to bribe officials and warlords with. The last expedition had two cases of 10mm automatics with gold engraving and a healthy stock of ammo."
The door to the room opened, and Melberta poked her thin, hooked nose through the crack. Much to Jigsaw and Harry's shock, she flashed a quick smile at Ambassador Pelcham. It was the first smile ever produced by the dragon lady, and the two were speechless.
"Major, I have a call for you from General Gunnarson. I think he has a team leader for you." She paused for a second, "Oh, yes, ambassador, I have a couple of dinner invitations for you."
While Melberta handed over the envelopes, Dunwoody said, "I'd better not keep the general waiting. Excuse me for a moment."
Smiling, Pelcham had begun to open the first stiff parchment envelope.
"Major if you have a moment perhaps you might be interested in this, I would certainly appreciate the company."
After handing Sean the invitation, Pelcham moved to the door. "I will inquire of Ms. Devere if she could send for Captain Bean. And post my reply to the other missive."
Pelcham handed Major Alves an envelop containing an invitation to a reception in the ambassador's honor tomorrow night at the residence of the Martinchick family. They were the second wealthiest family in the kingdom, and well known supporters of the rather extremist wing of the Christian Party. Alves wasn't intimately familiar with Portland area local politics, but he seemed to remember they had been vaguely implicated in plots against the throne. Even he could tell this invitation smelled very political, and very fishy!
"If you have other plans Major, I'm sure I can make do. But I thought this might be of interest to you. Its certainly a good way to establish that we are a peaceful trade mission and not anything else. I'm sure other interested parties will be in attendance."
With an inward frown Alves thanked the Reverend. Knowing what this wealthy family stood for, he wasn't pleased that they might interfere with the mission.
Sean stood up and approached one of the corkboards that hung from the wall. He looked at the map of the world, wondering about the best way to reach Kazakhstan with the least amount of danger involved. Thoughtfully, he ran his fingers several time through his goatee...
"Any thought on a route, Major?" Pelcham asked when he returned, "I've heard Burma is nice this time of year. Of course in a few months the weather and the cannibals will get worse."
Alves turned toward the Reverend and gave his practiced smile. Yes, he had some ideas. But he'd wait for the rest of the team to assemble. No point in repeating himself twice.
Pelcham approached the map and spoke with authority. "The route this time of year is going to be a problem. We have two obvious choices, the Mekong River valley and going by way of Chengdu. Then to either the south spice route through Tibet or the north route through Talkmakan Shamo. I'd prefer the northern route except for the locals. We might have to make the call half way there. I think the weather will decide."
"Mr. Dubois," he turned to the scout, "I know this is some of the worst terrain in the world but do you see any alternative?"
Dubois approached the map on the wall and rubbed the growth of stubble. He grunted, at no one in particular. "Better to wait and known more about exactly where we're goin'."
After a brief hiatus, Major Dunwoody returned, this time followed by two more people. The taller of the two was an attractive, slim, slightly taller than average woman in her late twenties. Her hair was red brown, straight to the middle of her back. Her eyes were a piercing green, and she had a slightly sardonic smile on her lips as she looked at her new companions. Nodding to her, Dunwoody said, "This is Alexandra Haze, from the Portland Tribune. She's been hired by the Foreign Office to record this expedition. She will also assist Major Alves as needed. She has more experience with the Mongols than most of you, having been with the 50th Cavalry Brigade earlier this summer on the Danube."
The other women was shorter, compactly muscled, and very fit. Her complexion was dark, with a thin, heart-shaped face only slightly marked with a thin scar across one cheek. Her eyes were large and dark, and she wore her long, black hair done up in French braids. Her neatly pressed cavalry service uniform had the rank chevrons of a private first class.
"This is PFC Gracie Ky of the 15th Hussars. She will serve as your team's horse wrangler."
Gracie Ky flashed a quick, nervous smile at everyone as she took her seat, her normal bubbly personality very subdued. She'd never been in a room with so many top brass before and wasn't quite sure how to behave.
Pelcham smiled broadly, nodding a greeting at the two women.
Startled and a little flustered by the ambassador's friendly smile, Gracie smiled back, feeling a little less out of place in this group. After the two arrivals were seated, Major Dunwoody returned to the lectern.
"I have word from my commanding officer, Major General Gunnarson, that a leader has been appointed for this team." He took a deep breath, "Major Barbara Hagen, the commander of Special Forces Team B from Illinois." He looked around the table. "Any more questions?"
Pelcham said, "Major perhaps you could tell us a bit about the first team, their mission statement, and their route. Perhaps we can find the flaw in their attempt and avoid it."
"Very well, Ambassador. That sounds like the logical place to begin." Dunwoody walked over to the wall map and picked up a pointer, waiting for the room to settle again.
Pointing at Macao on the map of China, Dunwoody began. "Detachment 593 was virtually identical to this one in composition, consisting of twelve members. Commanded by Lieutenant Commander Apollo Buckley of the Royal Navy, and with Yolanda Serrault as Ambassador-Designee, the team landed at Macao on 6 June 2045. The team chose Macau as it is an independent, warlord controlled city state. After receiving some supplies from the local External Security agent, and purchasing more, they headed up the Xun Jiang River on a sailing junk. Despite the hinterland being part of the PRC, it was expected that there would be little trouble given the chaos prevailing in that country."
"The team dispatched a message to our resident agent at Macau dated July 13 from Pingnan, some 500 km up river, saying that all was well. After that, all has been silence."
"As far as their route, the team planned to travel by river to Kunming in Yunnan Province of the Empire of Chengdu. They then planned to travel overland through the Chengdu territory via the capital city of Chengdu. Skirting the eastern edge of the worst of the mountains, they then planned to take the ancient Silk Road route along the southern border of Mongolia thus into the Mongol heartland. Their intent was to avoid the bulk of the politically chaotic, fueding coastal states and the center of Japanese power in Manchuria."
"Any questions?" Dunwoody looked around the room.
Pelcham nodded, "Sounds like a solid plan so far.. I wonder how they got themselves in trouble… I wasn't too sure about the north spice road. Seems to me its going to be more prone to unfriendliness. And with the lateness of the year I'm still not anxious to overlook the Mekong River route. Private," he turned to Gracie, "do you think we will have much trouble foraging as late in the year? It'll be desert."
"They run caravans through there all the time, don't they, sir?" Gracie asked once she got her voice to work, "If they can run a couple of hundred camels along there, I think we'll be just fine."
Dagget so far had remained silent, sitting in his designated seat. But the more he listened to the mission briefing, the more he began to have doubts. He failed to understand why nobody had brought up the obvious question, which nagging at his mind like a bad hangnail.
Audibly clearing his throat, he signalled his wish for everyone's attention. "Just wonderin', but hasn't it crossed anyone's mind why the first team fell off the face of the planet, in the first place? Sure, were all checkin' out the route they took, but it seems to me like were' missing the real reason."
He paused, remembering his usual curses would be out of place in this conversation. The meeting called for a somewhat formal approach.
"I'm thinkin' the first team made it to their destination, but that the Mongols just took them out behind a shed, and put them out of their misery. I mean, whats stopping them? Theres no evidence, no witnesses. I just think its kinda fishey that these professionals just fell into some quicksand pit. Or that they somehow got lost. That's stupid. I mean this Emperor were gonna go visit, isn't exactly an angel. And he ain't got no love for the UKA either. Plus, its not like he gives two hoots about what we Westerners think he should do."
Victor crossed his arms on the table and awaited their reaction.
"Well Sargent Dagget," Pelcham responded, "Since our agent was only able to track them the first 500 km. I fear they got little farther than that. I would expect there are a few contacts in Kazakstan that would have seen them arrive, and report the same. "
Dagget was quick to dispute the Ambassador's argument.
"Ah, but doesn't their 'unfortunate' disappearance, suit the Emperor just fine? He can just say: 'Oh sorry, your ambassador never made it. I was all here waiting for him, and really lookin' forward to talkin' peace, but the poor sods never showed up.' And then, he knows its gonna take another few months to assemble some other diplomatic mission. So that buys him more time to go about his business. Sure, outright killing ambassadors isn't a healthy thing to do. But whats stopping him from delaying em' or just makin' sure they never get to him in the first place? And then claimin' they just never showed up?. A little cloak and dagger action ain't unheard with that bunch. Who knows, maybe he even sent a special team of assassins to take care of the advancing team, to make damn sure they didn't die on Mongol soil, making him look even more innocent."
Victor leaned forward, rising ever so slightly from his seat, pointing with his index finger to emphasis his words.
"This here Emperor is a cagey son of a......uh....er man. And until we actually find the bodies of the first team, I ain't givin' the Mongols a single shred of trust."
Major Dunwoody said, "That is a good point, sergeant. The Mongols may have massacred them at some point. The only evidence we have that they did not arrive at the KhaKhan's court is negative. The Catholic Church's Nuncio there, Cardinal Sforzeca, has told his masters that our people never arrived. To say the least, very slim evidence."
"I think," Pelcham said carefully, "It's certain that we can not say that the Mongols didn't do just that. But then you need ask why. Its never a good idea to burn your bridges before or after you cross them. It costs the Khakhan nothing to let the first party slog its way there. Giving him months to do as he will. If he wants or indeed needs to talk to them, there they are. Otherwise we (or they) can just sit and stew after arriving. I recall one mission that waited a year just to talk to the Shogun. They had to practically beg food for half of it. Not a fun trip but profitable. Of course if we start talks the second we arrive they could conceivable last as long as either party wants. And both sides can say it's the fault of the other. It makes for much better press than one side saying our people were slain. And there is the ugly possibility that if he did have them killed, it would leak out. VERY bad press, worse if it happens that they did need to talk. It's best for both sides to have a line of communication available. Even if it's unused. Of course, that's assuming that the Khakhan has any inclination to talk to us." Pelcham smiled at the room in general.
The rest of the team listened to the exchange with growing horror. Each of them repeating the same unspoken words, like a mantra: What have I gotten myself into?