Participants:
| Scene Title | A Message from Mr. B |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Three Ferry operatives complete an assignment and find further instructions waiting for them upon arrival. |
| Date | July 26, 2010 |
The fishing boat used to smuggle the Richter family across the Atlantic border between Canada and the United States was built to comfortably accommodate twelve people. Between the Richters, the three Ferry operatives assigned to accompany them and the vessel's crew, the number of passengers onboard sits closer to fifteen, but the port town of Lunenberg in Nova Scotia has no government officials to scrutinize the shipments that pass in and out of its harbour, and while this doesn't quite make it a smuggler's paradise, it serves the Ferry's purpose.
It's night by the time the boat pulls into the harbour. While the Richters are getting ready to disembark below deck and emphasizing the importance of silence to their three small children, Abigail, Tasha and Kaylee have been given the freedom to breathe the salty ocean air above.
At a distance, the town resembles something right off a European postcard with its dated Second Empire architecture, ancient wooden pier and the squat warehouses that line the waterfront. The coyote is supposed to be waiting for them with further instructions once they reach the shore, but the distant glow of street lamps is still too far away, too faint to illuminate anything except vague outlines and the silvery undulations of the waves rolling gently against the docks.
Despite the fact she has gotten one Evolved child to safety (if one could call what Paul's been through on Staten Island the past few months "safety") on her own, this is Tasha's first serious mission that's taken her away from the two cities she's called home. The petite teen chews on her thumbnail nervously, one hand holding binoculars up to her eyes, though the moisture in the air makes it hard to make out anything that far away, even magnified.
The youngest of the three, she will let the others direct her. She wonders if the Richters trust them, have faith in them — Kaylee and Abby aren't much older than herself, and they're supposed to be helping keep these people safe? But half of gaining people's trust and confidence is acting confident, and Tasha is trying. This is the first she's allowed herself to show her anxiousness, manifesting in that chewing of her nails, a habit that no amount of nail polish or foul-tasting paint-on concoction seems to be able to break her of. "What happens if he's not there?" she finally asks.
Fingers tight around the side of the boat, squinting at the town in the very near distance. A cross border trip is something that the blonde is used to, crossed the border that delineates the more passive Canadians from their more aggressive brethren in the matter of all things evolved. Hunting in Quebec is something of a past time to some and nothing that the blonde is a stranger too.
Abigail turns to regard tasha and her question. "They've done this before, they'll know what to do." Voice a low low whisper so that it won't carry over the water. "He'll be there" Or They'll likely just head on back and make another run another time. Something. Abigail glances towards the cabin door that will lead to down, down, down to the boats bowels and the people there.
Strands of blonde hair blow across her face, tugged from the loose braid at the back of Kaylee Thatcher's head. Long fingers take a moment to brush those loose strands over an ear, as she squint out over the dark waters as if trying to see something. Her ability doesn't reach far enough to scout ahead, though she continues to try and extend that range to it's fullest.
With the chill in the air, she's opted to wear a pair of worn jeans, her typical tank top, with a black hoodie over the top of it. Folding arms around herself, she glances at her companions. A small smile curls up a corner of her lip, listening to Abby. "We don't have a way to contact the Ferry up here?" A brow drifts up with that question.
"None, just a wing and a prayer" The one of the three that is actually on the council and therefore it seemed, would be the authority there. "Just a wing and a prayer. Kaylee, cast your mind out would you, see if there's any boats nearby that might be running dark. So's we're not surprised would you?" Jeans, fisherman's sweater, work boots and a black baseball cap, Abigail's set for the cool of the maritime and sans negation. Just in case.
She's hoping that there won't be a need to suddenly turn flaming in front of folks in the Ferry who don't know it. "No phone number. After the Manitoba incident, they're not using phones Tasha. Better safe than a repeat of that"
The bow of the boat grazes the pier's edge, causing the wood to creak and groan as the captain navigates it into position from behind the wheel inside the cabin. During the day, the harbour would be swarming with gulls, but the birds are still in their roosts aboard small tankers pumped full of diesel that sit idle in the harbour, waiting for the sun.
It is very quiet. Quiet enough that when the sound of hooves clopping against the pavement echoes down the street running parallel to the shore, all three women will hear it. The horse-drawn carriage itself comes into view a few moments later and passes under one of those pale street lamps, briefly illuminating the driver. With a sharp flick of the reins, he murmurs something thickly under his breath to the animal and is rewarded with a toss of its head.
"That'll be one of yours," says a crewman as he throws a thick length of rope overboard. It thumps heavily against the dock. "We can round them up below deck, help with the luggage. You ladies need a hand down?"
"Already out there, have been." Kaylee murmurs, bracing herself with a hand on the rail as the boat bumps into the pier, her telepath laying out like a blanket to listen for anything beyond then. The appearance of the carriage gets a grin, the young woman glances at the other two girls. "That… is so odd. I feels like I've stepped back in time."
Moving to where she can step off the boat, not taking the offer of help, her boots thump on the dock. After the roll of the boat, the shock of firm ground is a bit of a shock. Once there with the world solidly under her again, Kaylee's head tilts a little as she focuses her ability on the man in the carriage, making certain it is one of theirs. Too many bad things have happened for her not to be paranoid.
A tomboy, Tasha wouldn't admit to needing help if she did for something as mundane as disembarking a boat. "Thanks," she says with a nod to the crewman, following Kaylee. One Chuck All Star almost winds up in the narrow margin of water between the boat and the deck, but she corrects herself and makes it onto the deck dryly. There, she lifts a hand to the driver of the carriage so he knows that they are coming momentarily, then turns back to help unload anyone and anything else that is coming off of the boat.
Alley oop, up and out, Abby does take that hand up out of the boat, not too self dependant to deny anyone a chance to help her up and out. But once she's up on the dock, she waits for Kaylee to give the all clear before she'll make any noise about actually unloading folks. Horse and carriage, in keeping with the looks of the town, she's sure, but also in her mind, a lot easier to hide from technological means of tracking. It's not like horses have GPS.
'Ello there, answers a voice in Kaylee's head as the driver dismounts, runs a large hand along the horse's hindquarters. You must be Kaylee.
He offers the women a broad smile, and apparently does not take the telepath's invasion of his privacy too personally, because he's moving toward the trio to meet them halfway. The only thing he's reluctant about is straying too far away from his horse — a mare named Annie, if Kaylee is still listening for psychic echoes — well-behaved though it appears to be. "Glad to see you made it all right. No trouble along the way, I'm hoping?"
A small face peers over the railing of the boat at Tasha. One of the older Richter children, bundled in a lightweight wool coat, clasps skinny hands around the metal guard and watches the exchange from afar, saying nothing.
The crewmen are still bringing up the family's luggage. It may be a few minutes.
"Looks like we're good." She murmurs to the others before, offering the man a smile. "That would be me, yes." She speaks up, taking a few steps forward, taking the chance, so that she can offer her hand in greeting. "I apologize for that, can't be to careful these days. I'm sure your hearing all sorts of wonderful things about the states." She scrunches up her nose a bit in distaste.
"And except for a rough bit of water that made me question whether I'd make it with my stomach intact, it wasn't too bad." Kaylee offers pleasantly, allowing the smile to return. "First time I've been on a boat that long."
Smiling at the young boy, Tasha lifts her fingers to her lips to remind him to be quiet, winking at him to let him know everything will be all right. "No trouble," she murmurs, turning to look at the man, glancing to its horse and the carriage beyond him, then back to the man and smiling. "One horse can carry all of them and their stuff?" she asks — she's a city girl, raised in New York, all but six months of her life spent in the Big Apple, and the other six in Boston. Horses are not her forte.
"Be amazed what a horse can pull Tasha" Abigail offers quietly, turning towards the boat and motioning forward as she comes back to the side and starts to help folks off. "Ride is here, go stand by Kaylee and keep very quiet okay?" She whispers, getting Tasha to help her too, doing everything possible to keep it all quiet as possible. Not that the horse clomping over would have been quiet but.. beggars can't be choosers. "People first, luggage last"
"I can't stand them myself," the driver tells Kaylee, clapping a hand across the back of his neck and using the tips of his thick fingers to loosen some of the tension from the muscles there. "Boats, I mean." Its partner takes her hand and gives it a firm squeeze, even as his dark eyes are moving from her face to Tasha's. "Should do. Communication said there was only five of 'em, and Annie's a strong girl. Worst that happens is I make two trips."
The boy that had been clinging to the railing is the first to be passed down into Abigail's waiting arms. His two sisters, twins with heads of bright red hair covered by matching shawls, are next, while their parents unsuccessfully attempt to convince the captain to take an envelope of money for his crew's trouble. He's already been paid.
"Got a message for you, though," the driver continues. "From a Mister B."
B as in Bennet
Blue eyes move to the horse with that look only girls get when it comes to horses. Even the tough telepath wanted when she was little. "Annie is a good looking horse. I might be from Kentucky, but never really lived where we could have them."
At the mention of a message, Kaylee's brows lift, hand slipping from his as she turns back to the boat. "Abby?" She lifts her voice just enough to get the other blonde's attention. "Might want to hear this." Since Abby is council after all…
"Hold hands and stay together unless your parents or one of us tell you otherwise," Tasha tells the two little girls as she helps the second down, setting them on the dock, then offers steadying hands to the parents. Despite her small size and scant weight, Tasha is strong, but the luggage is awkward. She lurches forward with a couple of bags, getting closer to the carriage driver. Her eye brows rise as he speaks of Mr. B. "I hope it's nothing bad?" she asks, worry bringing her brows together in concern.
Noah Ninja Bennet. When Kaylee suggests she come over, Abby does, tarrying closer and away from helping, ushering Kaylee to go help Tasha now. "Get the parents to stop trying to give them money, they're going to need it" Digging hands into pockets, Abigail looks over to the coyote. "What is Mister B's Message?" One has to wonder how Mr. B got them the message in the first place when odds are the safe house these folks were going to was off grid. Did Bennet come ahead of them?
"We're still trying to get a head count over in Thompson," the driver says. "Lots of folks still unaccounted for, and we weren't keeping records. Too risky to put all those names on paper, but it's looking like only a couple families made it out. They're down in Winnipeg now until we can find a safe place for them. Some of them seem to think one of our receivers may've slipped away too. Name's Barbara Simms. If she's still alive, she's probably still in the area."
The girls link hands, fingers interlaced, and follow their older brother toward the carriage, giving Annie a wide berth. Mrs. Richter is less stubborn than her husband and readily accepts Tasha's help with a murmured thank you, Miss Oliver, meanwhile.
The driver tucks his own hands into his coat pockets. "He wants the three of you to go take a look, see if there's anything to be seen. Said Miss Beauchamp'd know what he meant."
Kaylee gives a small nod of her head and moves back towards the boat, giving their contact a smile. "Hey…" She says to the people in the boat, as she approaches, waving a hand. "Don't worry folks. This is part of who we are." She flashes the Richter's a bright smile with a flash of teeth. "We got this covered. So hold on to your money, gonna need it for that fresh start. Just consider this boat trip a gift. You can pay us back by taking advantage of this chance."
As she waits to help off load people and things, Kaylee keeps an ear on the conversation behind her. That last bit has Kaylee looking back at Abby curiously. She doesn't skim the information off her, she'll find out at somepoint.
Tasha tilts her head, dark eyes darting from the coyote to Abby and then back. Surprise trips within surprise trips can't be good. She moves closer to the carriage to deposit the luggage she carries, then backs up once more. That thumbnail returns to her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully as she watches the children make their way closer to the horse. When one glances her way she offers a scrunch-eyed smile of reassurance that she doesn't quite feel, but the little girl grins back so apparently Tasha did that job well enough.
"Barbara Sims, probably out in the area. Okay. Tell Mister B, we'll go poke our noses about and see if we can't find her. I have a cellphone, he knows the number. If there's a picture of the woman or a descriptions, tell him to send it to there. Not to worry about our transportation home, I can get us back easily enough without needing to worry about the border" Poor Elias would get to come to Canada. He might like Canada really. They have good sandwiches.
"Anything else from Mister B, or anything else needed of us? Because if not, we need to get going. You need to get going, the kids have been up late and are probably tired as all heck."
Reluctantly, Mr. Richter stuffs the envelope back into his coat and disembarks last, a duffel bag on one shoulder and what looks like a cat carrier tucked under his opposite arm. Behind the bars, moonlight fills a pair of yellow saucer eyes and makes whiskers resemble filament.
The driver removes one hand from his pocket, a slip of paper tucked between his fingers. "You'll need this," he says, offering it to Abigail. "Local bed and breakfast, my baby sister's. Her husband's a charter pilot, keeps his plane at a private airport a few kilometers east of town. He can set you down in Thompson by tomorrow afternoon."
As the crewmen load the rest of their luggage into the back of the carriage, Mrs. Richter lifts the children into the front.
Hauling a piece of luggage to the carriage, Kaylee hefts it into the back and making sure the crew is securing it, before moving to join Abby. A brief glance goes to the piece of paper as it's passed. "Oh man… first a boat now a tiny plane." She huffs softly, head shaking a bit. "Been almost a year since I got into an airplane."
Noticing the nail chewing, Kaylee pats the youngest of them on the shoulder. "You okay there, Tasha?"
The slips of paper is taken between fingers, feeling the weight of the paper, opening it briefly to glance with a nod to let him know she understands. "Probably won't see you again, best be getting on with the kids and we'll hightail it to your sisters. Like I said, tell Mister B that we'll get on it and see what we can see. No promises." A beep breathe, Abigail glances to the other two, a sympathetic glance to Kaylee. Not a fan of small planes. It sure as hell wouldn't be a gulfstream, that's for sure. "Say your goodbye folks, we gotta head on out to a B&B, then we're off to Manitoba." She didn't pack for a couple days, none of them here did, she's sure. There would be a stop at a store in the town to get some clothes?
What was supposed to be a quick trip up the coast is now turning into something bigger, something less controlled, and Tasha frowns just a little more, though she drops her chewed-upon hand and grips it with the other behind her back. She nods to Kaylee. "I'm fine," she murmurs, eyes dropping, perhaps just a touch embarrassed that her nervousness is so apparent. She lifts a hand to the carriage, waving to the children who peer back at the three women they were told were there to help them. She's never been in a small plane, but to her, that's the least scary part of the news.
Only one of the children, the boy, raises his hand and curls his fingers in a small, subdued farewell. He lacks the energy to do much more than that, and if the three women don't check into the bed and breakfast soon, they won't be any better off than he or his sisters when the morning comes.