Alien 10
The lawyer examines the Justice offer carefully, "I see what they are up to, covering backside. Reason they offered so much, don't want your story public knowledge."
I nod.
"Your choice, whether to take or not. Still, if it does go to court, lot less money, more grief, legal fees."
"Would you take it if you were I?"
"Irrelevant. Not I losing 20 years of my life, stuck in a way too big body. Might fight for no reason other than revenge, your choice."
"My experience is revenge does not work, I'll sign."
Being this size and being fit from lotsa walking Earthside has definite advantages out on these maneuvers. I've got prodigous strength and endurance compared to most of my battalion.
I sit with my 2-i-c over coffee. She asks for details of my 2 Earthling tours. At some point she decides I pass, "where we're going is remarkably similar. Suddenly I'm glad you're on this tour."
"Thank you."
"So tell me, how is that boyfriend working out?"
I pull a face, "hafta put thrice the spanks in that it is worth."
Sympathetic look, "I hear you sis, same with me. Why are women only honest in groups of 2?"
We laugh.
She grins, "oy! That speed dating. Lotta them should be shot! I mean staff and male clients."
"You ain't whistling Dixie."
"Anyhow, I hear what you say on sanitation. We will grind it into all officers to be sticklers."
"Thank you so much for your support."
The Afghan is largely refraining from picking on me. Probably a combo of culture shock and getting some.
Boyfriend's performance is so cold, so perfunctory it defies belief. The Afghan is screaming in my ear, demanding I spank vigorously, collect what is due. I tell her to shut up. See usually I am not very intuitive, but this time I'm picking up vibes.
I can see his game. Plays women for suckers. Picks unattractive ones sick of speed dating. Gives a bit at first, then zero. And yes, it often works a long time. Remains a paper relationship, because she is in no hurry to redo speed dating.
I slink out in a state of utter humiliation. I hate him and hate all men. On the Metro home, I start to mellow, as my Earthling experience kicks in. Gay is gay, ain't gonna change that. It is our society that's wrong, trying to force square pegs into round holes.
I know the easy way out. Just never go back, never call, but don't report it as a dissolved relationship.
The Afghan argues half the night. In the end, she chuckles at the rich irony. Me, I came acrosss as an Earthling; her, as a woman here.
Two days later, the plainclothes detective comes calling at my office. I don't buy that Lt Colombo look one bit. She knows more than she lets on. Don't lie, but don't volunteer info.
"Good morning Major, may I ask a few questions?"
"Go ahead."
"You did not visit your boyfriend last night?"
"Lotsa paper, preparing for the Guyane tour."
"Ah yes, officers do. How are things between you and him?"
"I have no time for games. As you are well aware, every woman on the planet feels short-changed. I am no different."
"Did you suspect he was cheating on you?"
"I was away for 3 weeks of maneuvers. I hardly expect he was a choir boy."
Laugh, "quite so. Ever suspected he's a homosexual?"
My flinch gives it away, "I once had a vague feeling."
"So, why did you not report it?"
"It was the vaguest of feelings, then gone."
"Fair enough, read the news this morning?"
I wave at the stack on my desk, "I'm afraid I have little time for such."
"A club was making under-the-table money renting out to the homo crowd after hours. We ah had a number of minicams, graphic evidence against over 1,500 men. Last night we arrested the lot."
I gasp.
"We won't need your testimony in court, a vague feeling is nothing compared to what we've got."
"Thank you."
"Still, you do have a legal obligation now. Speed dating."
"In one week I climb on a cargo plane, gone for 6 months. Can't it wait til I get back?"
"Sorry, law is the law. Look at the bright side, 3 sessions, maybe find someone.
I know better than to rile an overzealous cop, so I grin, "yeah, never know, could get lucky."
"That's the spirt. Now next time you get a vague feeling about homos, run for your life. You got off lucky, could have had to testify in court."
I blush.
As she leaves, I check the speed dating card. Groan aloud, my humiliation is now total.
One of those dates is the unit social. And no, your speed dating timeslot is carved in stone, cannot be switched.
"Ma'am, a few minutes of your time?"
"You look awful. Sit down, tell me all about it."
I have no choice, give the whole story. Only one thing I hold back, the level of my "vague suspicion".
She sums up, "no problem. Everyone knows you can't switch a speed dating sked. As for the fact he is a homo, cops haven't released that list of names. So your breakup could be for any reason. Case could be years in the future, and then it's just one more name on a long list. Still, you have learned something?"
Blush, "yeah, because I am unattractive, I compromised more than I should. Should have reported it as a dissolved relationship."
"Good, now I won't preach. You're doing a great job."
I sit morosely, stare out my office window. If the CO had been livid, ranted and raved, screamed at me, it would be easier to take. Less guilt.
What can you do? As a Major here, I have less freedom than I had as an Earthling government clerk.
Nuff of that, they pay me big bucks to lead a battalion, back to earning em. I pick up the court martial report. Oy vay! Now I gotta find 8 bodies, in correct specialty, to replace. I start to sift through lists.
An hour later, e-mail comes through. Effective immediately, no mil personnel will wear uniform to speed dating.
This will put pressure on me, I look better in uniform.
Curious, only one other place you can't wear uniform - political meeting. You can and do show up in bars, coffee houses, live theatre, cinema, weddings, funerals and even strip shows in uniform.
Kinda funny, why change everything over one person?
I fuss with my civvies, do my best, which ain't good.
I get the shock of my life, seeing a dozen sister officers in mufti at the Metro station.
We end up in a lecture room at speed dating.
An older woman stands, "you are about to discover ways and means of spotting the homo. Since it is a taboo topic, we will start from basics."
The unit social is cancelled, no one says one word about it. The power of a taboo.
Somehow I feel better, as in misery loves company.
At speed dating, I get a shock, seeing my former body. Right down to the scar over the right eyebrow when a cousin attacked me, the cooking scar on one hand, the gouge on the other from repairing a reserve jeep.
It is not my voice, more like a computer voice.
I ask his occupation. Sgt, Army Corps of Engineers.
Specialty? De-mining.
I ask what he thinks of pace of sex. By the book, the sex-ed class pace.
But what if I wanted more? In a voice conveying zero emotion, he informs me that is the standard amount. If I wish more, then I am probably a pervert.
I keep him busy talking, so he won't ask about me.
On the Metro home, my mind runs riot. There was not even one flicker of emotion in anything he said. Is he a real person? If not, why in speed dating?
Do you suppose, experimental model? Group of woman scientists creating men more to their liking? Who knows?
Next morning, I check the alpha list of my contingent, thank heavens he's not on it. Check the engineering platoon list, ditto. I don't do an alpha search on his name, probably a tracker on that.
I call up Justice archives. Average amount awarded in court for cases similar to mine, is one quarter of what I got.
No wonder they paid so much, did not want the question arising in court as to what happened to the former body.
I push it all aside, with 680 billion people on our planet, do a few robots matter?
Last evening of speed dating before I depart. His tweedy look says university prof and probably a bit eccentric.
He waves a hand vaguely towards the admin area, "buncha morons, waste of time. Rather be in a coffee house at a poetry reading."
I shift uneasily, "the ah political side?"
"Not on your life, pure nonsense. So what do you do? I'd guess army officer."
"Right in one. Just about to leave on tour."
"I'm a lit prof. Tomorrow, come with me to a coffee house. See the Shakespearean company is based here. This is their off-season, do dress rehearsals to keep in practice."
"I'd love it."
We talk most of the night after that. In the morning, fill out forms making us registered boyfriend and girlfriend.
We exchange e-mail addresses and then the whirlwind of pre-departure swallows me up.
I nod.
"Your choice, whether to take or not. Still, if it does go to court, lot less money, more grief, legal fees."
"Would you take it if you were I?"
"Irrelevant. Not I losing 20 years of my life, stuck in a way too big body. Might fight for no reason other than revenge, your choice."
"My experience is revenge does not work, I'll sign."
Being this size and being fit from lotsa walking Earthside has definite advantages out on these maneuvers. I've got prodigous strength and endurance compared to most of my battalion.
I sit with my 2-i-c over coffee. She asks for details of my 2 Earthling tours. At some point she decides I pass, "where we're going is remarkably similar. Suddenly I'm glad you're on this tour."
"Thank you."
"So tell me, how is that boyfriend working out?"
I pull a face, "hafta put thrice the spanks in that it is worth."
Sympathetic look, "I hear you sis, same with me. Why are women only honest in groups of 2?"
We laugh.
She grins, "oy! That speed dating. Lotta them should be shot! I mean staff and male clients."
"You ain't whistling Dixie."
"Anyhow, I hear what you say on sanitation. We will grind it into all officers to be sticklers."
"Thank you so much for your support."
The Afghan is largely refraining from picking on me. Probably a combo of culture shock and getting some.
Boyfriend's performance is so cold, so perfunctory it defies belief. The Afghan is screaming in my ear, demanding I spank vigorously, collect what is due. I tell her to shut up. See usually I am not very intuitive, but this time I'm picking up vibes.
I can see his game. Plays women for suckers. Picks unattractive ones sick of speed dating. Gives a bit at first, then zero. And yes, it often works a long time. Remains a paper relationship, because she is in no hurry to redo speed dating.
I slink out in a state of utter humiliation. I hate him and hate all men. On the Metro home, I start to mellow, as my Earthling experience kicks in. Gay is gay, ain't gonna change that. It is our society that's wrong, trying to force square pegs into round holes.
I know the easy way out. Just never go back, never call, but don't report it as a dissolved relationship.
The Afghan argues half the night. In the end, she chuckles at the rich irony. Me, I came acrosss as an Earthling; her, as a woman here.
Two days later, the plainclothes detective comes calling at my office. I don't buy that Lt Colombo look one bit. She knows more than she lets on. Don't lie, but don't volunteer info.
"Good morning Major, may I ask a few questions?"
"Go ahead."
"You did not visit your boyfriend last night?"
"Lotsa paper, preparing for the Guyane tour."
"Ah yes, officers do. How are things between you and him?"
"I have no time for games. As you are well aware, every woman on the planet feels short-changed. I am no different."
"Did you suspect he was cheating on you?"
"I was away for 3 weeks of maneuvers. I hardly expect he was a choir boy."
Laugh, "quite so. Ever suspected he's a homosexual?"
My flinch gives it away, "I once had a vague feeling."
"So, why did you not report it?"
"It was the vaguest of feelings, then gone."
"Fair enough, read the news this morning?"
I wave at the stack on my desk, "I'm afraid I have little time for such."
"A club was making under-the-table money renting out to the homo crowd after hours. We ah had a number of minicams, graphic evidence against over 1,500 men. Last night we arrested the lot."
I gasp.
"We won't need your testimony in court, a vague feeling is nothing compared to what we've got."
"Thank you."
"Still, you do have a legal obligation now. Speed dating."
"In one week I climb on a cargo plane, gone for 6 months. Can't it wait til I get back?"
"Sorry, law is the law. Look at the bright side, 3 sessions, maybe find someone.
I know better than to rile an overzealous cop, so I grin, "yeah, never know, could get lucky."
"That's the spirt. Now next time you get a vague feeling about homos, run for your life. You got off lucky, could have had to testify in court."
I blush.
As she leaves, I check the speed dating card. Groan aloud, my humiliation is now total.
One of those dates is the unit social. And no, your speed dating timeslot is carved in stone, cannot be switched.
"Ma'am, a few minutes of your time?"
"You look awful. Sit down, tell me all about it."
I have no choice, give the whole story. Only one thing I hold back, the level of my "vague suspicion".
She sums up, "no problem. Everyone knows you can't switch a speed dating sked. As for the fact he is a homo, cops haven't released that list of names. So your breakup could be for any reason. Case could be years in the future, and then it's just one more name on a long list. Still, you have learned something?"
Blush, "yeah, because I am unattractive, I compromised more than I should. Should have reported it as a dissolved relationship."
"Good, now I won't preach. You're doing a great job."
I sit morosely, stare out my office window. If the CO had been livid, ranted and raved, screamed at me, it would be easier to take. Less guilt.
What can you do? As a Major here, I have less freedom than I had as an Earthling government clerk.
Nuff of that, they pay me big bucks to lead a battalion, back to earning em. I pick up the court martial report. Oy vay! Now I gotta find 8 bodies, in correct specialty, to replace. I start to sift through lists.
An hour later, e-mail comes through. Effective immediately, no mil personnel will wear uniform to speed dating.
This will put pressure on me, I look better in uniform.
Curious, only one other place you can't wear uniform - political meeting. You can and do show up in bars, coffee houses, live theatre, cinema, weddings, funerals and even strip shows in uniform.
Kinda funny, why change everything over one person?
I fuss with my civvies, do my best, which ain't good.
I get the shock of my life, seeing a dozen sister officers in mufti at the Metro station.
We end up in a lecture room at speed dating.
An older woman stands, "you are about to discover ways and means of spotting the homo. Since it is a taboo topic, we will start from basics."
The unit social is cancelled, no one says one word about it. The power of a taboo.
Somehow I feel better, as in misery loves company.
At speed dating, I get a shock, seeing my former body. Right down to the scar over the right eyebrow when a cousin attacked me, the cooking scar on one hand, the gouge on the other from repairing a reserve jeep.
It is not my voice, more like a computer voice.
I ask his occupation. Sgt, Army Corps of Engineers.
Specialty? De-mining.
I ask what he thinks of pace of sex. By the book, the sex-ed class pace.
But what if I wanted more? In a voice conveying zero emotion, he informs me that is the standard amount. If I wish more, then I am probably a pervert.
I keep him busy talking, so he won't ask about me.
On the Metro home, my mind runs riot. There was not even one flicker of emotion in anything he said. Is he a real person? If not, why in speed dating?
Do you suppose, experimental model? Group of woman scientists creating men more to their liking? Who knows?
Next morning, I check the alpha list of my contingent, thank heavens he's not on it. Check the engineering platoon list, ditto. I don't do an alpha search on his name, probably a tracker on that.
I call up Justice archives. Average amount awarded in court for cases similar to mine, is one quarter of what I got.
No wonder they paid so much, did not want the question arising in court as to what happened to the former body.
I push it all aside, with 680 billion people on our planet, do a few robots matter?
Last evening of speed dating before I depart. His tweedy look says university prof and probably a bit eccentric.
He waves a hand vaguely towards the admin area, "buncha morons, waste of time. Rather be in a coffee house at a poetry reading."
I shift uneasily, "the ah political side?"
"Not on your life, pure nonsense. So what do you do? I'd guess army officer."
"Right in one. Just about to leave on tour."
"I'm a lit prof. Tomorrow, come with me to a coffee house. See the Shakespearean company is based here. This is their off-season, do dress rehearsals to keep in practice."
"I'd love it."
We talk most of the night after that. In the morning, fill out forms making us registered boyfriend and girlfriend.
We exchange e-mail addresses and then the whirlwind of pre-departure swallows me up.
posted by afghangirlscifi @ 8:19 AM
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