Green Lake 6

And then we climb on board a Dragon Mark IV. No human pilot on this gig, too much radiation, send a droid. As we dismount, I look around. Surely this is the very edge of Hades. Dark, bare, craggy, almost Satanic. It draws me magnetically with its sheer stunning Dantesque majesty.
Rachel taps my shoulder, "do up that f***ing body armor proper. Ain't losing my bonus money over a moron like you."
I fasten the one snap which came loose, "sor-ry."
"No prob Cap. All watch each other, all get back alive."
Tasmina digs out map and GPS. After very careful looking, she twists a smile, "wrong place. Still, let's get these photos of Hell. I'm betting our friendly droid has been programmed to come back to point of drop, even if it's wrong. So, we still gotta ride back, maybe. And just maybe, our photos have market value. Sure looks post-Apocalypse to me."
Rachel starts humming, "cruising on a soggy boat, loaded down with crazy people."
I know the words, from the radio, start in singing.
I see looks of sheer catatonic shock all around.
Zohra breaks the awkward silence, "you ah where did you learn that? No one but no one knows."
"I ah well ah"
Rachel grins, "our little friend here is a good bit older than she led us to believe. We're talking pre-World Wide Nuclear War, right?"
"Yep."
Rachel lights a cigarette, grins, "well now, if she's stayed alive, maybe just maybe she's smarter than she looks."
"Thanks, I think."
"Well," Tasmina asserts, "nuff lollygag. We're here to take pictures of Hell. This surely is Hell. We got lotsa radiation-proof film, so let's get those asses in gear."
Tasmina falls into step with me, "so what year were you born?"
"1994."
"But not as a girl." Statement of fact, not a question.
"How'd you know?"
"Come on, no woman on God's Green Earth would sign up for a gig like this, just for money and promotion, that's a very man thing. For a pardon, oh yeah, but not for that. But I truly do not give a sweet go**am if you're a tranny from the Planet Xar, you're coming back alive. So, how'd it happen?"
"I was dead. Sliced into a million pieces. Went through a windshield at 140 kph."
"So I guess after that, anything looks good?"
"Not afraid of dying. Been there."
"My friend, when you retire, try your hand at writing sci fi."
We both laugh.

Seven days and tens of thousands of photos later, we take up station where we arrived. Sure enough, set your watch by it, the droid shows.
We're heroes, well sort of. See we didn't get exactly what they wanted, wrong location, but we came very close, everything but the proverbial kitchen sink. The researchers drooled over it all, were able to surmise the rest.
The girls all got pardons, me the promotion. We only got half the bonus money. But hey, how many 32 year old Colonels do you know with 5 million in the bank?
With the pardon came offers of reinstatement for all who chose. All except Rachel accepted.
She opened a trendy coffee house near HQ. I go there a fair bit, gourmet quality.
Tasmina and I stay in touch by email, we're sort of friends. To the rest, I guess I was just another first op type. All end up in the same para unit.
As for me, French have a saying, more things change, more they stay the same. I'm now in HQ, in Library Admin of all things. On way too many committees, but not because the CO dislikes me, just cuz I is new kid on da block.
So what did I get out of the derring-do mission, other than money? Respect, a decoration. No residue of hardcore haters of me. Committes are boring now, just garden variety boredom, not stress tension boredom.