Futuristic Infantry 14

In my idle moments, I find myself thinking of the 3rd Ontarios. There is insanity. Their career prospects were good, better or best. They spit in the demon's eye, chose "crummy." Why? Is there some historical pull which works on men? Gradually I wrap my head around it. Mosta my girls are there because they are stuck. These guys chose it. Now wonder they do things well.
I find myself hoping for an encore. Mine don't experience fun on tour, more just greed for tour pay combined with wary fear. These guys were enjoying the tour, laughing and joking, but still deadly serious with their jobs.
So why then did army authorities switch to mostly female centuries ago? Money, wanted a cheaper mil.
As for Capt Leblanc and his droid jokes, forget it, he couldn't afford even one. If he did, the tiny rooms in BOQ wouldn't work. Droids have pride too. Get sulky, pouty, problematic if they feel the owner is not living up to his various responsibilities to them.
I start getting mail from the Ontarios. They'll enclose several vacation photos, thank me warmly for helping get the first real vacation they've had in years. By the time it's done, I have received over 100 thank yous. Heart warming.
My usual welcome home from tour is 150 charged with D&D. The contrast, like night and day.

Meena groans, "I am told, only reason I'm allowed to speak with you, the rules on non-fraternizing with CO."
"So Lt Morelli is jealous?"
"What can you do? Real hot ones, mega-jealous. Makes up for it in bed."
"Are those scratches?"
"Yeah, lots more you can't see, Hades, she's as crazy as the journalists."
As I fetch a refill, I see the other half of the happy couple arrive. Two fresh bruises on her face. Oy!

I groan as I see the memo. I must name a United Way coordinator(s). Knowing how much everyone hates this, how it is viewed as a punishment detail, I'll hafta just leave each officer responsible for her own area. Even then, you can hear the groaning from here to Ottawa.
So why even bother? Rules say everyone must turn back in the form. Lots come with a token $1 donation. More come with zero and a rude commentary on low salary level and/or United Way.
Somewhere up in the Chrystal Palace, slang for National Defence HQ, are acres of sadists. Like a plague of locusts infesting field ops.
Next memo informs me it's time to inspect the APC's for stills. See back in the evil old days of the USSR, lotta stills were bolted on under tank bellies. Knowing the lack of interest in reading history here, I doubt if anyone actually read that. More likely a case of re-inventing the wheel.
And every second time I inspect, I will find one. I never report it, too much paper. I order the guilty crew to remove it, hide it somewhere else. Then I look at that APC again. Always a nil report.
Next memo informs me I am 3% above average in lightbulb consumption. So? They expect an explanation. The phrase "power surge" comes to mind. Always worked before.

Meena passes the newspaper. Giant Infotech, with HQ in our city, is laying off 18,000 employees, probably 99% male.
"You watch," she smiles, "soon be lotsa sex."
"How you figger?"
"Everyone knows droids need as much fine tuning and maintenance as a race car. Whaddya suppose will happen when these clowns are on Unemployment Insurance?"
I take out my handheld, call up the Globe and Mail site, click on IT jobs, "hmm, plenty jobs for those willing to relocate."
"You are are one prize spoilsport, stick-in-the-mud, dyed-in-the-wool, die-hard mega-prude. They broke the mold after you, didn't want another."
I grin, "come on, what guy is gonna risk this grossing out, when all he hasta do is relocate?'
She groans, "sad, but you could be right."
"So what is wrong with the ultra-hot Lt Morelli? Bored with her already?"
"Women are just insane, swallow you up with all that mega-jealousy. I'd be glad to grab even one of those Giant IT boys."
"Oh come on, then he'd hafta go for de-grossing-out counselling and ..."
She interrupts, glee on her face, "lot you know. Ever hear of pro dom droids?"
"Surely you must be pulling my leg?"
"Nope, expensive as it gets. Take you to the very edges of pain/pleasure. Exactly the sort Arezou played."
"Oh."
"Well, he can't afford a pro dom bill, being unemployed. So I come along, offer the same for free. Just watch, gonna hang my personal ad on the web."
And so it was, Meena was back in action. This time, I decline to accompany her. That whole IT complex is Cocaine City, those guys are trouble with a capital T.
To add insult to injury, I end up with the heart-broken Lt Morelli crying in my office for half a day. She demands a transfer out, feels all are laughing at her.
I know for a fact they ain't, she's only about the 1,982nd dumpee this year. But try convincing her of that. My only hope is, those things take time to process, maybe she will change her mind in the interim.
Two days later, she is back in my office, looking like the cat who swallowed the canary, asking me to tear up her transfer request. I know better than to ask, better not to know.
"Ignorance is bliss" does not last long. Meena whispers over her tray, "heard the rumor?"
"Which one? Gotta be a hundred."
"My ex, the hot hot hot Italian has snagged - get this - drum rolls - a guy."
"You're joking?"
"Nope, Giant IT."
"But surely he's risking this grossing out?"
"Look you just don't understand. See during man-woman sex, the usual outcome is grossing out. But when he's your slave, well he just hasta obey. It overpowers his inhibitions."
"Oh."
"So, once you've given him a good paddling or flogging, you then get a high-voltage weekend."
"But that is sick, perverted, wierd, way beyond the pale."
"Yes, but it works. Nothing succeeds like success, as the Ancients used to say."
It spreads like a prairie grass fire, fanned by a high wind. In no time, half the battalion has real boyfriends. And me, I know it's trouble. What will happen when those guys find jobs to relocate to?
Some won't want to take the girlfriend. This will produce a crop of heart-broken advice seekers to me and the counsellors.
Any that do take her, she'll transfer to another unit near him, I'll hafta struggle hard to get replacements.
Does it get any more lose-lose than that?
I look at the calendar, calculate my retirement date. In my mind's eye, I see the sheer ignominy of handing over a battalion of less than 100. A new record, on the bad side. Shame!

It comes to a crashing halt and sooner than I expected. Leviathan IT buys the physical assets and go on a re-hiring spree. They sop up every Giant IT guy still left in town and still need more.
My girls, don't have a chance. Pretty much 100% are dropped like hot potatoes, now that the guys have money for droids and cocaine again.
These days an average strength is about 60. Some 200 of the recent dumpees got into - surprise - a bar mega-brawl.
Add in detox, brig and hospital.
About all those left on duty now are the religious set and the ugly ones, who weren't able to snag a Giant IT guy.