“Mitch and Argo in trouble”
Argo was on the driver’s side tossing his rucksack into the back of the ‘sixer’. Mitch was drinking a soda, carrying his rucksack. This small burg was a nice diversion, Argo thought as he looked at the street. The buildings, for the most part didn’t rise very high and the town was relatively clean. Nothing like some of the big cities and other overdeveloped urban centers he’d seen. Argo watched as Mitch finished the soda, tossed the can into a recycling container and tossed his sack into the back of the ‘sixer’ on top of Argo’s. “Sure hate for it to end, but that’s how it goes” Argo said as he jumped into the driver’s seat and Mitch slid into the passenger’s side. “Agree 100 percent” Mitch said in his deep voice. The two of them had been on a three day pass away from the small mercenary company they were both a big part of. The pass was sorely needed, but being the company was so small, passes had to be given out sparingly. For the most part, Colonel Jefferson, was a pretty good commander and a good guy, but leadership, well, it had it’s drawbacks. The company had decided to take an entire month long break, but passes HAD to be given out very conservatively. No telling when a big contract could come in, they often did, on a moment’s notice. It would be impossible to bring the company back so quickly if it was scattered about.
Argo was thinking as he started to drive the ‘sixer’. Sometimes his mind would wander… “We call it a ‘sixer’ because it, as all of our 6 x 6 drive vehicles, started out from a company but they’ve been redone, rebuilt, and modified so much by the mechanics, Yip and Tracy, (and frequently, who knows who, someone else), there was no point in calling them anything else. Still thinking, Argo went on, he looked at Mitch sitting next to him and knew Mitch at times could be just as spacey (Still use that word?) as himself. “ “Jefferson”, … his name is Jeffcoat Ray Sohn. …Jeff. R. Son, for short. Wonder if he will get any free time at all?” “He’ll leave ‘the cat lady’ Oskilla in charge and take Cyndi for a weekend trip…” Argo’s mind continued to wander. Sometimes he and his “core” buddies –including Mitch, looked at Oskilla that way due to her Kodac race.
Argo and Mitch had dressed like drifters for the pass but they knew they wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking they were anything but mercenaries. Mercenaries, good or bad, or whatever else, always had a certain attitude which they themselves found hard to cover. (Must have been something in the lifestyle?) They chose this small town here in this province for the sole reason of relaxation. They had a couple of days of drinking, sleeping, enjoying being in a small relaxed atmosphere (CRUCIAL for what they do). Just by what they were wearing, nothing with any insignia or strange colors, light jackets, (Mitch was wearing his long coat) cargo pants, boots, ANYONE could look that way. No guns were allowed (in the open) so Argo hoped they didn’t stick out without any, but not fully believing it. None of the locals asked any questions, but Argo was sure they knew. Perhaps this town had enough “drifters” or “mercs” or whatever that they weren’t really unusual.
Argo thought of his fraternal twin brother. “Maybe it was better Brenwood COULDN’T go with us? Cyndi KNOWS what kind of trouble we tend to get into when we’re together. So just Mitch and me this time.” Argo noticed they were now on the road in the forested area they drove through to get to this town. It was a lightly built road that had little traffic, no traffic as of now. They would be in here for a little while. Mitch mumbled “Trying to think how to “extend” our passes, but that would be unfair to the rest of the company” “Tch, Tch, Mitch.” Argo said, “Always the master Sargent” “Wonder if it’s worth it sometimes?” Mitch responded. His dark skin looking powerful in the near dusk light. Argo watched Mitch fiddle with the navcom. “We should,… sadly, be back to the ship a couple hours after dark. I’ll take over the wheel in an hour.” Argo nodded his head.