Alien 14

After buying two tops at the mall, I get an espresso. I see a stern-looking older Afghan woman headed toward me. Looks like a uniform. The Afghan within vanishes, hides in a corner, "on your own pal."
Without asking permission, she sits. Scornful look, she opens my bag, looks at the 2 tops, "heard you got your name changed legally Shauzia."
I nod.
"No criticism, who would not? All that family scandal. Been awhile. Why don't I see recognition?"
The Afghan within is unhelpful, in battened-down-for-the-cyclone mode.
"Ma'am, your face does not ring a bell."
"Figgers. All that soft living, smooth skin, nice legs, flattering top, lotsa bucks. Tends to slow the aging process."
Not to mention what the Doctor told me.
"You are a coward, shoulda stayed. Oh no, run off to Canada, all that fat living, probably new boyfriend every fortnight."
I shrug, "lotta empty tables."
Easy laugh, "good, you're starting to dislike me, maybe jog your memory."
"I dislike anyone rude, white or Afghan."
"Oooo, touchy touchy. Ever think of travel, exotic places?"
"Done it."
"So what was it like, commanding a Canadian contingent?"
"Has its moments."
"Ever command squad size?"
"Riflery instruction."
"Ah, so how does it feel, to be miles from nowhere, no one to pass the buck to?"
"You do your duty, avoid the psy mumbo-jumbo."
"Haven't changed, you're as rude and obnoxious as ever. I like that."
I sense what she's trying. If I don't make a reaction, she fades, some kinda obscure rule.
"But then rude and obnoxious would be absolutely perfect for Revenue. You'd fit with the crowd."
I shrug, "some are, some aren't, you get freedom of choice."
"And which do you choose?"
"Not your concern."
"Oooo touchy, touchy. So tell me, why do you think I'm here?"
I stand to leave. My mistake, presumably the reaction. She snaps her fingers and I feel dizzy.
When it clears, I'm sitting in an obvious mess, attired like the others, in blue and white uniform.
Smile, "enjoy the chow. Tomorrow, you and me, we travel."

Next morning she joins me at breakfast, "I'll pin these on, Lt bars. Here's your duffel bags."
"You are guilty of kidnapping."
"Nope, just called up your reservist status."
Again, still, the Afghan within contributes zilch.
"You actually gonna sit there, bald-faced deny ever seeing me or being here?"
"Yes."
She draws out a file. The photo, though years younger, is obviously the Afghan.
"You are taking charge of a school."
"A school?"
"Don't gimme that, it's what we do, AAW (Association of Afghan Women). Let's roll, we're hitching a ride with 2 foreign NGO women."
I look out on bare moonscape, see the jeep. We climb in the back.
She grins, "we'll drop sleepy head at the turnoff. I'll ride resta the way with you."
The passenger turns, posh Brit accent, "I really admire you, so sweet you volunteered to take over that school."
What do you say to that? During the 3 hours it takes to cover 50 miles, she natters on and I nod vacantly.
They stop, change drivers and dump me, I'll hafta walk 3 miles down the goat-track.
Now, I'm ticked, "you come outa that corner now. What in blazes is all this about?"
"Reason I never told you, never thought the reserve status would be reactivated."
"I've heard that line before."
"Guess you have. Get that ass in gear. Wanna be out after dark? There's wolves."
"Good! Let them eat us up!"
"Oh shut up, you and your theatrics and hysterics. Now get in gear."

The students have gone for the day, teachers show me around. Not much to see. 6 rooms, 5 of which are classrooms, all with holes in roof. The sixth room, teachers live together, least it has an intact roof.
Nilofar, Tasmina, Bobogal and Amira regard me with amused contempt.
Nilofar asks, "first time roughing it?"
"Nope, 2 tours, Canadian Army."
Obnoxious look, Tasmina says, "come on, cigarettes, booze, handheld computers, internet, TV dinners, satellite TV, subscriptions, gourment coffee and a partridge in a pear tree. We mean real roughing. Didn't you notice, every one of those 4 foot by 4 foot blackboards has a huge crack?"
I don't like the cut of her jib, "I've filled more forms than you've marked kiddy papers."
Amira says soothingly, "probably have. Ain't gonna help if we hate each other. Like tea?"
"Yes please."
After supper, nothing to sit up for, nothing to read or watch, no real light to do it. So we crash early.
Amira laughs, "give us a story. Not a real one, make one up."
"I'm a space alien."
"Cool, we're bored to death with each other's stories. Tell us about it."
"Well, our society has some rather different social mores...."
As I wind up, Tasmina says, "hey look, sorry I was rude. You tell a good story, wild imagination, good stuff on sex."
Amira groans, "may be a good story. Ain't nowhere in the entire universe like that."
Night after night, I wow them with stories on speed dating, prison, friends, tropical tours, barroom brawls, stills, dope, registered boyfriends, and bizarre laws. In no time, we are all friends.
One night Amira sums up, "anyone as sex-obsessed as you, means one of two things. Either you got non-stop action night and day in Canada or totally struck out."
Tasmina gently admonishes her, "don't paint her into a corner. She gets depressed, stories dry up."
"Look I'm really sorry. Please, give another story."
"I never told you yet how I met the professor and how we broke up."
"Do tell."
It leaves them howling with laughter."
Amira chuckles, "most story tellers slip, change details, you never do. Why not try writing a novel? Got lotsa free time on weekends."
"Not wise, they have secret police watching Earth. Don't like to see their info in print."
"You just keep getting nuttier. But we like you, all the same."
It's fun, every day face 45 eager little girls. Never seen such hard workers.
This school does not have summer vacation, but winter, when you just cannot heat it.
As I sit in HQ in Peshawar over a mountain of paper I feel dizzy.

I wake up in a sick bay back home.
My CO visits, "curious what happened? Vanishing to Earth like that."
"Just a tad."
"Certain revolutionaries stole a beamer, practised on army types. They're now caught, in Siberia."
"So, why did it take so long to find me?"
"My friend, you do move about. 12 timezones away from where you should be. Do you have any concept what sort of computer firepower is needed to track DNA over those distances?"
"A lot?"
She laughs wickedly, "half the computer power of the Defence Department. Still, the Empress just would not give up. You were the last lost sheep. Had to be brought back into the fold."
I nod.
"Here is your speed dating card, set for day after quarantine."
I groan, "MO said I was exempt."
"Well, she can reexamine you. Things are looking up. You're now a Colonel. About to take 1st, 2nd and 3rd Battalions of the Gorgons touring. Don't want you to lolly gag. Got you a computer so you can start the process while still in quarantine."
"Yes ma'am, where to?"
"Where else? Guyane."

Day after day, I sift info. Two days before my release, the newsite has it big and bold. Mega-riots in Guyane. Gorgons will hafta roll, ready or not.
MO certifies me ok for duty, a jeep picks me up.
The officer meeting is the tensest I have seen.
Intel Officer begins, "up to now, we have always been simply guarding Empire bases. Never legally operated on soil belonging to the Guyane government. This is different. Their government is asking for our help and rather desperately. 50 police dead, Legislature is now burning down."
Grim looks on all.
She continues, "so Col, your take?"
"Job One, secure the capital city. The Guyane Police have nothing but single shot rifles and pistols. When rioters see Gorgons in full battle armor, carrying evil-looking blasters at the high port, thing might cool a bit."
"Col, airport is in ruins, have to go in para style."
"So be it. Means we get to wear Para patches. That itself cuts ice."
"You seem remarkably unworried Col."
"As of now, we are Imperial Paras, an enormous threat. Add in light mortars, heavy machine guns. It isn't an organized revolution, merely citizens angry at the Guyane Anti-Inflation Act."

We see the Legislature smoke 400 miles away. Still, all it takes is to land. Not one shot is fired, either at us or by us.
For the next week, we patrol quiet streets, then hand over to the Guyane Police."
It was an impressive show, 1,700 Gorgons parading around, on TV. We looked invincible.
We weren't. Not one waterproof sock in the entire Regiment.
We had zero ability to sustain patrols for a long time. But the world didn't know that, nor the rioters.