The War At Sea!
As our hovercraft slid through the night, I could make out shadows grouped on the horizon. I took another bite of my tomato and let the juice dribble down my chin. It was a little over ripe, making loud squishing noises.
“The blockade fleet,” Seaman Mylar pointed out as he, too, munched unenthusiastically on a tomato. “They’re on constant patrol all through here.” One of the hovercraft crew, Mylar was a fit young man with the bronzed skin and muscular build characteristic of his Maori heritage. Though he told me he had joined up six months ago, just after his eighteenth birthday, I’d have never guessed it; already he spoke with the calm certainty and bore the tomato-stained battle blouse of a veteran. To a man, despite their ages or ranks, the Hovermen showed an emotionless acceptance; other fruits and vegetables had long been left behind. For an army man it’s the Thousand Yard Stare. For these navy files it’s the Twenty Mile Squint.
Continue reading
