Karen 2
The landing crew is in an unseemly haste to get rid of me. They refuse to allow time for me to climb the hill, check nothing happened to the weather station during its time vacant. They unload cargo above the high tide line and vamoose.
As they chug away, the neoSoviet sub takes up position near me. I'm nervous, take cover in the rocks.
As soon as the Rusty Grouch vanishes over the horizon, the laser gunner snaps off a shot toward the weather station, then they leave.
Climbing the hill, I discover my antenna neatly sheared off, lying on the ground. Even if I had a welding torch, how do I lift 300 feet of it?
I soon discover I can neither send nor receive. Oh well, looking at the bright side, least the antenna did not wipe out the hut, came close. Least the roof top solar collectors work, so I have electricity and least I have a ShortWave radio, can follow civvy news.
After unloading cargo, I start to evaluate. With any luck at all, the absence of my daily weather transmissions will raise suspicion, cause the Rusty Grouch to return and check on me.
Several days later, the CBC has it, Rusty Grouch went down off one of the small Japanese islands, presumably after colliding an underwater reef.
I don't buy that, surely they have radar and sonar watching for stuff like that. I'm guessing the sub laser took them.
I start to realize a big disaster pushes a small one outa news, outa peoples' attention. Better plan for a long siege just in case.
Breadfruit here, won't starve. Citrus, won't get scurvy. I discover a small cove with mussels. They taste like rubber, but 1/3 canned meat + 2/3 mussels is tolerable.
The first effect is removal of caffeine addiction. I don't run out, it's simply too hot except for first thing in the morning. Least my withdrawal symptoms aren't too bad, as my habit wasn't heavy.
At the end of one year, I spend a lot of time, looking out to sea, wondering if they'll show. They don't.
I keep myself amused, sort of, by writing several novels.
After eight years, I'm spotted by a Japanese naval vessel. I spend a month aboard, as they are on voyage. It's pleasant, such polite people and good food. I help people with their English, and they are hugely grateful.
On landing in Japan, I spend four months as a guest of the Japanese Navy, living in officer quarters and helping with English. Reason, the Canadians aren't really sure I even exist.
Eventually they discover the file in archives and I get to come home.
I'm not in the Army anymore, as my file was stamped suitable for first hitch only. Still, they owe back pay and in due course, they deliver.
As I immerse myself in media and job applications, I start to discover things. The money is suitable for buying a condo, but wouldn't be sufficient for a viable business.
My resume looks horrid, with all outa date computers mentioned.
I'm seen as too old for an entry level job; yet too lacking in qualification for a real one.
As winter deepens, my metabolism can't hack it, all that steamy heat has changed me.
And so I find myself aboard El Al. The Army debacle will pay off. See I've done a hitch in an Allied country, so I'm exempt the full three year hitch. However I'm on the hook for up to one month of Reservist duty per year.
The Reservist Col smiles thinly, "we've now examined the file and test results, you're a Lieutenant in the Paras."
I gasp, "how exactly is that figured?"
"Protocol demands we respect rank and experience."
"But I was a Cpl in the Canadian Army."
"Matters not, during your sojourn with the Japanese, you were accorded quarters and privileges equivalent to Lt. We must match that."
"Ok then, but why Paras? I've never jumped outa planes before."
Thin smile, "try reading the paper from time to time, none of ours do either. Ever hear of beaming down?, parachutes are obsolete. One week course, you'll be right as rain."
"Still, why Paras and not Infantry?"
Dry tone, "my friend, you are in sparkling good physical condition, you score at the 95th percentile of fitness."
I gasp, then, "oh come on."
"Nope, it's true, most everyone else has sat at a computer. You might wish to keep that conditioning up to date. Got any idea how many hills you'll climb when we next visit Lebanon?"
I groooan inwardly, what a horse's patoot, but what can you do?
As they chug away, the neoSoviet sub takes up position near me. I'm nervous, take cover in the rocks.
As soon as the Rusty Grouch vanishes over the horizon, the laser gunner snaps off a shot toward the weather station, then they leave.
Climbing the hill, I discover my antenna neatly sheared off, lying on the ground. Even if I had a welding torch, how do I lift 300 feet of it?
I soon discover I can neither send nor receive. Oh well, looking at the bright side, least the antenna did not wipe out the hut, came close. Least the roof top solar collectors work, so I have electricity and least I have a ShortWave radio, can follow civvy news.
After unloading cargo, I start to evaluate. With any luck at all, the absence of my daily weather transmissions will raise suspicion, cause the Rusty Grouch to return and check on me.
Several days later, the CBC has it, Rusty Grouch went down off one of the small Japanese islands, presumably after colliding an underwater reef.
I don't buy that, surely they have radar and sonar watching for stuff like that. I'm guessing the sub laser took them.
I start to realize a big disaster pushes a small one outa news, outa peoples' attention. Better plan for a long siege just in case.
Breadfruit here, won't starve. Citrus, won't get scurvy. I discover a small cove with mussels. They taste like rubber, but 1/3 canned meat + 2/3 mussels is tolerable.
The first effect is removal of caffeine addiction. I don't run out, it's simply too hot except for first thing in the morning. Least my withdrawal symptoms aren't too bad, as my habit wasn't heavy.
At the end of one year, I spend a lot of time, looking out to sea, wondering if they'll show. They don't.
I keep myself amused, sort of, by writing several novels.
After eight years, I'm spotted by a Japanese naval vessel. I spend a month aboard, as they are on voyage. It's pleasant, such polite people and good food. I help people with their English, and they are hugely grateful.
On landing in Japan, I spend four months as a guest of the Japanese Navy, living in officer quarters and helping with English. Reason, the Canadians aren't really sure I even exist.
Eventually they discover the file in archives and I get to come home.
I'm not in the Army anymore, as my file was stamped suitable for first hitch only. Still, they owe back pay and in due course, they deliver.
As I immerse myself in media and job applications, I start to discover things. The money is suitable for buying a condo, but wouldn't be sufficient for a viable business.
My resume looks horrid, with all outa date computers mentioned.
I'm seen as too old for an entry level job; yet too lacking in qualification for a real one.
As winter deepens, my metabolism can't hack it, all that steamy heat has changed me.
And so I find myself aboard El Al. The Army debacle will pay off. See I've done a hitch in an Allied country, so I'm exempt the full three year hitch. However I'm on the hook for up to one month of Reservist duty per year.
The Reservist Col smiles thinly, "we've now examined the file and test results, you're a Lieutenant in the Paras."
I gasp, "how exactly is that figured?"
"Protocol demands we respect rank and experience."
"But I was a Cpl in the Canadian Army."
"Matters not, during your sojourn with the Japanese, you were accorded quarters and privileges equivalent to Lt. We must match that."
"Ok then, but why Paras? I've never jumped outa planes before."
Thin smile, "try reading the paper from time to time, none of ours do either. Ever hear of beaming down?, parachutes are obsolete. One week course, you'll be right as rain."
"Still, why Paras and not Infantry?"
Dry tone, "my friend, you are in sparkling good physical condition, you score at the 95th percentile of fitness."
I gasp, then, "oh come on."
"Nope, it's true, most everyone else has sat at a computer. You might wish to keep that conditioning up to date. Got any idea how many hills you'll climb when we next visit Lebanon?"
I groooan inwardly, what a horse's patoot, but what can you do?
posted by afghangirlscifi @ 2:38 PM
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