malnosso | (no subject)

Attention, Region Six. A draft is scheduled to commence on August 25th for five days following. Your location will be the West Central Ocean, en route to Kano Harbour via three ships. Choose a suitable captain for each, and the pilots will be programmed to follow your orders. Don't waste my time with incompetence, either. Put in charge only those who deserve it.

These are the residents who have been selected to participate.

[As usual, the list posted HERE is offered in text form, sans the mun names.]

Your mission is to protect the cargo ship above all else. Within three days you will reach your destination. Opposition numbers, rank, and skill are impossible to predict, however, their equipment often prevents them from attacking at night. Remain on guard, but take advantage of the respite you may receive by night. Upon reaching the harbour, the cargo will be unloaded. You are to continue protecting it until it is safely out of range of their attacks. I would advise against swimming unless you want to die.

For those of you who were involved in the last draft, I have only one thing to say: your performance was acceptable.

Over and out.

[Once again, the commandant will not reply to anything but draft-related questions or particularly inspiring comments, so if you're looking for a response, be sure to give her something worth answering!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fighters will have to be on deck at all times, aye---whether the attack comes from above or below.

And there's no certainties here, mate. I for one hate politics. Always have.

[That raises another valid point. The admiral's voice grows thinner. Tighter.]

What of those who cannot fight? Who should not? There will be no place safe for them.

Edited 2011-08-24 17:16 (UTC)

None.

[Jack hesitates, then:] There never is. Not a truly safe place, mate.

This bodes ill indeed. Had we the privilege of men who had chosen to fight and die -- but now, I fear we may be forced to stretch ourselves to thin. I can see no viable course to fight at the height of our strength while ensuring the protection of those innocents.

Ill indeed.

Perhaps we might group them together, provide them a guardian.

I'll shepherd the mites, if it comes down to it. I don't mind it. Keep 'em entertained. Keep 'em safe.

Admirable, but I had been been referring to a certain Slayer. She alone might be trusted to fend off all who threatened them. Then we could freely and soundly concentrate our attention elsewhere. Furthermore, I have an inkling she would relish the title of guardian.

Trust me, mate---the children won't want to see the Slayer in action. Oh, she'll protect them to her last drop of blood. But she'll traumatize them into a virulent and long-standing post-traumatic stress affliction til the end of their days.

[Yes, he has read those self-help books on anxiety. And he has heard of what happened when Winry witnessed the slayer in action.]

There's none scarier than her. And we're going to need her for the fighting on deck. Invaluable.

And you would protect them -- mind and body?

[An image of Joyce flashed across his mind: she was darting across the beach, laughing, chasing a gull. Leaving small footprints hither and thither.]

With every ounce of my strength, Admiral.

(no subject)

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