Alien 9

I send a very polite reply, stating such a pace might be nice for special occasions only, and detail what normal life would look like.
I never get a reply. At first I'm crushed, soon realize he perceives me as a bore. All talk and flash clothes, but no action.
The Afghan is philosophical about it all, "had to do what was right. I knew odds were this would happen."
I see the Lt, tears in his eyes, "come, let's go have coffee."
He shows me the email. Not a Dear John, an ultimatum. Abandon the tour now and come home or you and I are through.
"She has no inkling, no understanding," he states flatly, "no concept of mil life whatsoever. To abandon for any reason other than medical would ruin my reputation."
Sympathetically, I reply, "had a sorta Dear John myself. Anytime you wanna talk."
"Should look at the bright side," he asserts, "for a reserve unit to get back-to-back tours is an immense honor."
"How is sanitation going in your platoon?"
"Like a charm, don't hafta do beans. Old vets put social pressure on the newbies."
"Still, keep an eye open, odd person who doesn't buy into social pressure."
"Gotcha Major. I know there are rules about fraternization. But uh after the tour is over, like to go to a coffee house?"
"It would be my pleasure."

The tour proves uneventful except for one social disease, serious enough it hasta be reported. Still, in perspective, gather that many people in Canada for 6 months and you'd get one or more, sheer law of averages.
I return, hand over command and bury myself in my apartment. Lt and I won't do coffee for a bit, he's gone to visit his mother in his hometown.
I go to bed with a fever. As I awake, it's to the Afghan's frantic chatter, "where in the name of Hades are we?"
"This ain't an Earthling sickbay."
"Oh no, back in your planet?"
"This is a prison sickbay. Authorities will get to us in due course."
The nurse shows, "that nose will be sore for several hours."
"How so?"
"Needed minor plastic. Your lawyer will be here soon."
Same legal aid lawyer, huge grin, "case is ruled ultra vires. You walk as soon as the 30 day quarantine is over."
"How'd it happen?"
"Ever heard of loss of dignity calculation? Understand the concept?"
"Yes to both."
"They used obsolete rules, the 15%, someone forgot to reprogram the template when the law changed to 5%. Since you suffered a 7% loss of dignity, it was beyond their legal powers."
The Afghan doesn't understand a word of this. I'll translate later.
"I'm confused, how does a plea bargain end up so?"
"Empress tightened the strings, felt DoJ was being abusive with exiles."
I start to laugh, soon stop as my nose hurts.
"So here I am, stuck in a way too big body, just cuz DoJ screwed up?"
"They're offering $1.8 million in damages. See a civil lawyer first."
"Can you recommend some names?"
"Glad to. I would also remind you of the law, better find a registered boyfriend within 30 days of your release."
"Looking like this?" I gasp.
"Here's your speed dating card. 3 evenings a week, compulsory til you find someone."

I lie back, explain to the Afghan. She's a welter of emotion, culture shock and thrill of being at Sex Central, or so she thinks. We've barely done when my next visitor, a general, shows.
She sits, smiles proudly, "I always make a point of checking up on the rare few who return. Unreal, nobody on either planet manages that. Two totally mind-numbing bores of tours, pulled off without problems. Matter of fact, your reservist status has been reactivated. Once the medics are done with you, have we got a tour for you!"
I groan inwardly, but keep a straight face.
"We need a battalion commander for an upcoming tropical tour. Very akin to what you did."
My ears pop up, maybe this is my escape from tedious society.
"Mind you, we expect you to find a proper registered boyfriend first."
As she closes the door, I groan aloud. Oy vay!
The 30 days in sick bay sounds like a drag, but isn't. My time is filled teaching the Afghan language and culture.

The mil sends a driver and I'm lodged in a BOQ (Bachelor Officer Quarters) room. My days are filled with the sheer insanity of trying to cobble together a supplementary reserve tour. I soon have lotsa respect for the Earthling Major, it's worse than I thought.
My evenings are even more insane, thrice weekly riding the Metro to the Speed Dating Center. Wanna know how serious it is? Don't show, don't fax in a med certificate and the cops show at your door, take you there.
Each time, sit and talk with 12 different men, 7 minutes each. Short interval between, to mark the scorecard on your palm pilot.
Quite frankly I am totally unimpressed with what darkens the doors. Them, act like I'm a zoo exhibit.
As you can very well imagine, it soon gets boring repeating the same tiresome Earthling story. So, for fun, I invent others. One time I'm a cannibal from our Africa, educated by missionaries. Another, nomad from the towering heights of our Afghanistan. Head hunter from New Guinea and so forth. Within a month I've invented 2 dozen stories.
The Afghan thinks it's a huge hoot. I'm actually starting to like dating evenings.

I've only managed to scoop some 250 chest protectors, but I need 550. But, I have received some 17,000 palm pilots, a tad more than I need, so I dip into the world of mil cyber barter.
You see, the pilot out-and-out stole. Barter is legal, long as you keep a receipt, can show which unit you got it from. A half-dozen at a time, my armor rolls in.
People are just as hard to find. I hafta sift through 14 battalion lists of supplementary reservists.
My CO calls me in for one of those motherly chats. No, not barter, she knows about that, thinks I'm doing well. The topic, my lack of dating success.
"Look ma'am, with all due respect, if you were a guy, would you want me?"
"Perhaps try a kind tone. See maybe he's had an abusive girlfriend, would like someone kind."
"I ah .."
"Look, just don't tell people you're a New Guinea headhunter."
I gasp.
"My brother thought it was a huge joke, couldn't wait to tell me."
I blush fiercely.
"So downplay all this Earthling nonsense, come across as kind and gentle. Unless, he says he likes lotsa spanks, then play up those strong arms. You gotta find somebody. Not fitting for an officer to be without. Or legal."
"Yes ma'am, anything else?"
"Look, don't take my sermon too hard. Other than your social problem, you're doing great."

He looks almost hynotized, staring at me.
Timidly I ask, "what do you do?"
"Stockbroker. Just love a woman in uniform. So you like to spank, spank, spank?"
"I would be willing to accommodate you."
"Whaddya think of quantities of sex?"
"Over the long term, I believer the sex-ed classes are right."
"Well I think you are hot hot hot. Wanna try one of the practice booths?"
After we emerge, we fill out the forms making us registered boyfriend and girlfriend.
I keep it by the sex-ed class, ride the Metro to his super-luxury condo thrice a week.
I decide to avoid any emotional intimacy. Come on, anyone as rich as that, shouldn't be in speed dating. Now if I'd never been an Earthling I would not have spotted it. He's gay. Reason he wants me, mils are away all the time.
And him, probably thinks I don't spot it. Gay knowledge in the general population here is zero, it is totally taboo.
I decide to test my theory. I phone, tell him I'm skipping a night, splitting headache. No question, his tone is glad.
And so, I manage to either have a headache or be utterly tired or be facing the paper demon 2 out of every 3 times.
He asks me when I'm going on tour.
"When I defeat the 582 pounds of paper on my desk."
We both laugh.