More content! This is the complete version of the incomplete "US invades Canada" scene above. --Mal
Emerson, Manitoba
19 November 2016, 10:03 CDT (Event T+15 hours)
Constable William MacGregor, RCMP had seen strange days before; living on the American border pretty much guaranteed that. Today was proving to be one of the stranger ones, though. The storm last night - unseasonable weather that, fog and lightning this late in fall? - had cut off communications on the other side of the border, and MacGregor had spent most of the morning reassuring worried locals that something was being done and phones to friends and relations in Minnesota would be restored Real Soon Now.
Privately, he was more worried than he let on. Nobody had said anything officially - yet - but from things he’d heard back at the station the problem wasn’t confined to just the Emerson area. Even CBC was on the case, claiming that strange things were afoot down in Michigan.
He’d asked the superintendent about the reports. “Sir, what’s really going on? Did the Americans blow themselves up? Zombies? I need to tell the people something.”
The superintendent just looked grim. “Keep telling them that the problem will be resolved.” He said it with authority that William suspected was lacking.
“Sir, I don’t think this is a problem we can resolve.”
“The problem will be resolved.” And that was that.
So William was out on Emerson’s main drag, directing traffic and trying to soothe troubled waters, when a convoy of trucks carrying a dozen tanks straight out of a World War Two movie came trundling up the road.
~***~
Captain Jed Eckert for his part was just plain confused. This wasn’t the first time he’d taken a barrel squadron up from the barracks in Grand Forks to reinforce the garrison in Winnipeg. He knew he was running late - the weird weather last night had convinced him not to cross until morning - but with the way the chucklefucks in Winnipeg ran the garrison a couple hours’ delay wouldn’t have meant much.
And then things went straight to a very confusing hell. Just over the line from Dakota, the narrow blacktop road he and his crew had expected vanished, fading away not fifty feet into Canadian territory and replaced by a wide stretch of concrete road. And right in front of that...
~***~
Point of Entry, Manitoba Rt 75
“Morning, Fred.”
“Morning, Wanda.”
“How’re things?”
“It’s been quiet. All that fog last night, I guess nobody wanted to be on the road.”
“I can imagine. But hey, looks like business is picking up, there’s a whole lot of trucks coming up the road.”
“Big suckers, aren’t they? And are those tanks?”
“Doesn’t look like they’re slowing down.... oh shit!”
~***~
“What the hell was that?” Eckert demanded.
“Looked like a toll booth, sir,” his driver replied.
“Who in the hell would put a toll booth on the road into Canada? The Canucks don’t have the money to spend on cars, much less tolls.”
“Well, sir,” said the driver, “I’d guess that they’re the same ones who built the highway.” He pointed towards the road, and Eckert watched a sign reading ‘WELCOME TO THE LORD SELKIRK HIGHWAY’ roll by.
“Let’s get off the road and start figuring things out. Where’s the nearest town?”
“If I’m reading these signs right, we’re just outside Emerson.”
“Emerson?” Now Eckert was even more confused. He’d been through Emerson on his last run to the United States for equipment; the town had been an early casualty in the Great War, and nobody had bothered returning to rebuild. All that was left of Emerson was a few ruins and a signpost.
Still...
“All right, Sergeant, let’s head into Emerson and try to sort this thing out.”
~***~
The convoy - and what else could you call it? - rolled up the town’s main street and stopped, right there in the middle of the road. All over the trucks men in greenish uniforms swarmed, all of them looking puzzled, some of them fingering rifles like they expected to be attacked any second.
William MacGregor noted with relief that the civvies were giving the convoy a wide berth. The combination of military and nervous was never a good thing, and the good citizens of Emerson had picked up on that fact. Still, there were at least twenty people hovering around the edges of the road with cameras and cameraphones.
(...)
“Hello, there. Is there a problem?” MacGregor did his best to remain polite.
The man in the passenger seat - his uniform screamed officer to MacGregor, jumped a little. He blinked rapdily, then focused on the constable as a life preserver in the middle of a storm. “Yes,” he said. “We seem to be... lost. Is this the road to Winnipeg?”
“It sure is,” MacGregor said. “Just on down the highway.” He looked at the collection of men and machines. “You fellows some sort of reenactment group?”
“Reenactment... group?” The officer seemed faint, though MacGregor couldn’t tell why.
“Well, yeah, one of those things where people dress up in uniforms and play-act out battles. Is the Naval Museum doing something?”
~***~
At this point, Jed Eckert was just about to throw down his sidearm and run screaming off into the prairie. Here he was, supposed to bring a barrel platoon up from Grand River to Winnipeg, and now he was in a town that shouldn’t exist, surrounded by strangely-dressed Canucks and cars that looked like somebody left them in the oven too long, while this garrulous policeman flabbled on about people dressing up as soldiers. It was enough to try the patience of the strongest men.
Jed Eckert wasn’t one of the strongest men. “Listen,” he snapped, “I am Captain Jedidiah Eckert of the United States Army, and I want you to tell me straight what the fuck is going on here!”
The policeman looked taken aback. “Captain,” he said slowly, “there’s no need to get rude. All I was wondering was why you were taking a dozen tanks to Winnipeg.”
“To reinforce the troops stationed there.” Eckert said it automatically. The policeman looked even more puzzled.
“Troops? There haven’t been any troops stationed in Winnipeg since the CF base closed in ‘04.”
Jed blinked. “There were US troops in Winnipeg in 1904?”
“1904? The base closed in 2004.”
“What!?” Jed and the poilceman looked at the driver, who had blurted - more squeaked - the word out. Though truth to tell, Jed Eckert could sympathize.
“Ah, officer-”
“Constable.”
“Right, yes, Constable, sorry. Constable... I think we should finish this conversation somewhere else. And get my men off the street before something gets wrong.”
“I, um. Yes. Yes, that’s a very good idea.”
~***~
Within twenty minutes of MacGregor and Eckert’s conversation, a video was posted to youtube.ca titled “US INVADES CANADA!!!”
Predictably, all hell broke loose.
(intro F, GSS and the Canadian response!)
Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery
FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information
"I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"
Emerson, Manitoba
19 November 2016, 10:03 CDT (Event T+15 hours)
Constable William MacGregor, RCMP had seen strange days before; living on the American border pretty much guaranteed that. Today was proving to be one of the stranger ones, though. The storm last night - unseasonable weather that, fog and lightning this late in fall? - had cut off communications on the other side of the border, and MacGregor had spent most of the morning reassuring worried locals that something was being done and phones to friends and relations in Minnesota would be restored Real Soon Now.
Privately, he was more worried than he let on. Nobody had said anything officially - yet - but from things he’d heard back at the station the problem wasn’t confined to just the Emerson area. Even CBC was on the case, claiming that strange things were afoot down in Michigan.
He’d asked the superintendent about the reports. “Sir, what’s really going on? Did the Americans blow themselves up? Zombies? I need to tell the people something.”
The superintendent just looked grim. “Keep telling them that the problem will be resolved.” He said it with authority that William suspected was lacking.
“Sir, I don’t think this is a problem we can resolve.”
“The problem will be resolved.” And that was that.
So William was out on Emerson’s main drag, directing traffic and trying to soothe troubled waters, when a convoy of trucks carrying a dozen tanks straight out of a World War Two movie came trundling up the road.
~***~
Captain Jed Eckert for his part was just plain confused. This wasn’t the first time he’d taken a barrel squadron up from the barracks in Grand Forks to reinforce the garrison in Winnipeg. He knew he was running late - the weird weather last night had convinced him not to cross until morning - but with the way the chucklefucks in Winnipeg ran the garrison a couple hours’ delay wouldn’t have meant much.
And then things went straight to a very confusing hell. Just over the line from Dakota, the narrow blacktop road he and his crew had expected vanished, fading away not fifty feet into Canadian territory and replaced by a wide stretch of concrete road. And right in front of that...
~***~
Point of Entry, Manitoba Rt 75
“Morning, Fred.”
“Morning, Wanda.”
“How’re things?”
“It’s been quiet. All that fog last night, I guess nobody wanted to be on the road.”
“I can imagine. But hey, looks like business is picking up, there’s a whole lot of trucks coming up the road.”
“Big suckers, aren’t they? And are those tanks?”
“Doesn’t look like they’re slowing down.... oh shit!”
~***~
“What the hell was that?” Eckert demanded.
“Looked like a toll booth, sir,” his driver replied.
“Who in the hell would put a toll booth on the road into Canada? The Canucks don’t have the money to spend on cars, much less tolls.”
“Well, sir,” said the driver, “I’d guess that they’re the same ones who built the highway.” He pointed towards the road, and Eckert watched a sign reading ‘WELCOME TO THE LORD SELKIRK HIGHWAY’ roll by.
“Let’s get off the road and start figuring things out. Where’s the nearest town?”
“If I’m reading these signs right, we’re just outside Emerson.”
“Emerson?” Now Eckert was even more confused. He’d been through Emerson on his last run to the United States for equipment; the town had been an early casualty in the Great War, and nobody had bothered returning to rebuild. All that was left of Emerson was a few ruins and a signpost.
Still...
“All right, Sergeant, let’s head into Emerson and try to sort this thing out.”
~***~
The convoy - and what else could you call it? - rolled up the town’s main street and stopped, right there in the middle of the road. All over the trucks men in greenish uniforms swarmed, all of them looking puzzled, some of them fingering rifles like they expected to be attacked any second.
William MacGregor noted with relief that the civvies were giving the convoy a wide berth. The combination of military and nervous was never a good thing, and the good citizens of Emerson had picked up on that fact. Still, there were at least twenty people hovering around the edges of the road with cameras and cameraphones.
(...)
“Hello, there. Is there a problem?” MacGregor did his best to remain polite.
The man in the passenger seat - his uniform screamed officer to MacGregor, jumped a little. He blinked rapdily, then focused on the constable as a life preserver in the middle of a storm. “Yes,” he said. “We seem to be... lost. Is this the road to Winnipeg?”
“It sure is,” MacGregor said. “Just on down the highway.” He looked at the collection of men and machines. “You fellows some sort of reenactment group?”
“Reenactment... group?” The officer seemed faint, though MacGregor couldn’t tell why.
“Well, yeah, one of those things where people dress up in uniforms and play-act out battles. Is the Naval Museum doing something?”
~***~
At this point, Jed Eckert was just about to throw down his sidearm and run screaming off into the prairie. Here he was, supposed to bring a barrel platoon up from Grand River to Winnipeg, and now he was in a town that shouldn’t exist, surrounded by strangely-dressed Canucks and cars that looked like somebody left them in the oven too long, while this garrulous policeman flabbled on about people dressing up as soldiers. It was enough to try the patience of the strongest men.
Jed Eckert wasn’t one of the strongest men. “Listen,” he snapped, “I am Captain Jedidiah Eckert of the United States Army, and I want you to tell me straight what the fuck is going on here!”
The policeman looked taken aback. “Captain,” he said slowly, “there’s no need to get rude. All I was wondering was why you were taking a dozen tanks to Winnipeg.”
“To reinforce the troops stationed there.” Eckert said it automatically. The policeman looked even more puzzled.
“Troops? There haven’t been any troops stationed in Winnipeg since the CF base closed in ‘04.”
Jed blinked. “There were US troops in Winnipeg in 1904?”
“1904? The base closed in 2004.”
“What!?” Jed and the poilceman looked at the driver, who had blurted - more squeaked - the word out. Though truth to tell, Jed Eckert could sympathize.
“Ah, officer-”
“Constable.”
“Right, yes, Constable, sorry. Constable... I think we should finish this conversation somewhere else. And get my men off the street before something gets wrong.”
“I, um. Yes. Yes, that’s a very good idea.”
~***~
Within twenty minutes of MacGregor and Eckert’s conversation, a video was posted to youtube.ca titled “US INVADES CANADA!!!”
Predictably, all hell broke loose.
(intro F, GSS and the Canadian response!)
Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery
FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information
"I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"