James sighed, but didn’t look up. “You can get your foot off the ball now, Captain. I’ve got it.”
“English dog.”
James straightened and looked at the man’s name tag. “Captain Legault. Something tells me that you are a separatist.” James loomed over him, their faces mere inches apart.
“You are correct.”
“Then maybe you can answer a question for me?”
“Certainement.”
“How does a slime-encrusted piece of shit like you get to wear the Canadian uniform? Hmmm? Why would something as repugnant and foul-smelling as you put a Canadian flag on your shoulder and swear allegiance to a queen and country you don’t believe in?”
Legault shook his head. His smile tightened. “You would never understand. You do not know how it feels to be subject to English rules designed to suppress the Quebec people and eradicate our culture and language.”
James laughed and leaned back against the closest table. “My God! Do you people ever listen to yourselves? How paranoid you sound? We live under the same Constitution, Captain. One Bill of Rights and all that stuff. You’re no more special than any other province.”
“We have a separate language—a separate culture—which makes us unique. You will never take that away from us.” Legault was shouting now, his face bright red as self-righteous indignation bubbled to the surface.
“Different language and culture? French isn’t even the most common language in Quebec anymore. Besides, have you ever tried to understand a Newfoundlander?” He shook his head and chuckled. “Now that’s a foreign language!”
“You racist dog. We will never submit to English rule.”
James shook his head. “Does the year 1759 ring a bell? The Plains of Abraham?” He bent down. “In case you forgot, you boys got your asses kicked by the British. You lost. Now get your goddamned foot off the ball.”
“Anglais! Tabernac!”Legault snapped, and spat on Morgan’s back.
“That’s it.” James’s fist drove into the man’s crotch. Legault fell hard on his side, curled up into a ball, and squeaked—repeatedly. James reached for the cue ball and stood up. He looked at the Quebec soldiers. They were in shock, frozen to the spot. “It’s time for you children to go,” James said. Two of the men moved forward, helped Legault up, and carried him out the front door.
“Well, Dusty,” Emerson said, “looks like you started that war after all.”
“Frank, that war started over two hundred years ago, and it’ll probably go for two hundred more. I just happened to bring it inside these walls. Here,” he said, and tossed the ball to Emerson, “I think I should talk to the boss before this gets blown out of proportion.”
Emerson looked at the ground. “He’s right, you know, sir.”
“Who is?”
“The young lieutenant. It’s just us. It’s not them.”
“Shut up, Corporal,” Morgan said, and walked away.
“By the way, if you’re not going to try, you really shouldn’t bother hitting people.”
“Pardon me?”
“Both eyes didn’t quite bulge out of his head when you bagged him.”
“Good evening, Corporal,” Morgan said, and reached for his coat. “Goddamned separatists,” he mumbled, as he walked into the cold night air. He headed for the headquarters building, running the scene through in his mind. He would never understand how separatists could join the Canadian Forces when the only thing they wanted was the destruction of Canada and the formation of their own little country.
He walked into the headquarters complex and saw the colonel leaning over the map table. “Sir,” Morgan said, “I think we need to have a little talk.”
The colonel looked up, and as their eyes met, James was sure he saw a hint of fear.
Ship’s Office
Canadian Forces Base Esquimalt
Victoria, British Columbia
2 December, 0854 Hours
Leeanne struggled through the mound of paper that covered her desk. The sheer volume boggled her mind. How could one office generate so much paperwork when everyone who could generate it was away for the weekend?, she thought silently.
She read and signed off on another order. There were an unusually large number of personnel transfers coming in, and the fact that they were outside the normal posting season piqued her curiosity. Holding on to the paper, she looked at the small stack of transfers and then the larger stacks of what still awaited her attention. With a sigh, she pushed her natural curiosity aside and placed the sheet on her right. Any thought of looking into it would have to wait.
She picked up the next stack of papers. “Sovereign Night?” Leeanne frowned as she tried to place the name of the exercise. Nothing came to mind, and she tacked it on to the messages that needed to be passed to the higher-ups.
The phone rang as she read another transfer. “Sub-Lieutenant Morgan,” she said, and looked at the exercise orders one last time, a nagging doubt creeping forward in her mind.
“Hello, honey.”
“Hi, Dad. What’s up?”
Brigadier-General Harold Hanson’s voice came from the speaker. As the commanding officer of the PPCLI, it had presented him with a sticky situation when James started dating his daughter. Difficult, that is, until James told him he didn’t care if he were a general or the Queen of Hearts. “I love your daughter. If we ever break up, you can always court-martial me.”
“Morgan,” Hanson had said, “a court-martial will be the least of your worries.”
“I just got a call from James. He said he’d call you tonight. Everyone finally came back from that last patrol. A few people got lost and gave the others a scare, but in the end, there were no real problems.”
“That’s good.”
“I guess there were some delays getting organized while the convoy commander decided what direction they were going.”
“Uh-huh. And how many people did my patient little warrior kill?” She knew James wasn’t one to put up with people wasting his time.
“Well, as I understand it, he made his feelings quite plain. He’ll be lucky if he gets out of this with less than ten ‘extras,’” he said, referring to the tradition of assigning extra duty when “unofficial” punishment was required. Ten extras were James’s normal penance—five for the initial infraction, and five for telling the person what he or she could do with their ‘extras’.
“Serves him right. Have you got room for one more at dinner tonight?”
“Always. I’ll pull another steak out when I get home.”
“Bye, Dad. Love you.” It took another hour to finish the first run-through of the message file. With a heavy sigh, she stood up and walked out of the office. Enough was enough, and at times like this, a cup of tea normally helped keep her going.
She could feel a pair of eyes on her as she walked to the coffee machine across the room. She didn’t dare turn around. So far, it had all been innocent and she hadn’t caught anyone looking. Her dark blue uniform skirt came to her knees, and her black pumps accentuated her long, shapely legs. Leeanne returned to her desk, opened the bottom drawer, and put her feet up.
As she took a sip of her tea, her eyes drifted to the picture of James on the corner of her desk. She smiled, and her fingers touched the glass as her