The end of Micronesia...
A/N: Frankie didn't have time to wrap up her Micronesia HQ story, so she generously allowed me to do it. Thank you, Frankie! I tried to do justice to your plot!
Somewhere off the coast of Micronesia…
Above the craggy rocks on a tiny island surrounded by turquoise water and a coral reef, a sleek, modern-looking building rose. In the twilight, computer monitors made the windows glow an unearthly blue. Several satellite dishes on the roof pointed toward the sky.
Rudi didn’t know what went on in this building, and he studiously avoided finding out. His family was happy just to supply the girls inside with bleer, Nutella, and raspberry cordial - as well as fish, fruit, and taro, of course - and not to ask any questions.
Still, it was unusal for there to be so much activity at once. The three girls all appeared to be working feverishly, pacing back and forth in front of the windows with papers and maps in their hands. There had been much talk of a “calendar,” which puzzled him. He thought the girls were spies, and he thought spies must have to do more with microfilm and James-Bond-like weapons than a calendar. His aunt Maurina believed the girls must be models, but why would models need satellite dishes? Or so many pigeons? He knew models were usually on starvation diets. Surely they weren’t eating the pigeons?
He had been so busy contemplating the building that he hadn’t noticed an inflatable raft being pulled up on the shore beside him. He turned in surprise at the noise of several men approaching on the wet sand.
One of them was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. This, at least, was not unusual, although most Hawaiian shirts didn’t have clerical collars attached to them. The second man was wearing a Boston Red Sox jersey. The third was younger than the first two - about Rudi’s own age - and was more sensibly dressed in a t-shirt, shorts, and running shoes. The men seemed to be arguing.
“But there’s a whole Japanese fleet sunk on the bottom of Chuuk lagoon!” the man in the Hawaiian shirt was saying. “Do you know what that means to a military historian? It would just be a quick detour!”
“I missed the All-Star game,” the one in the baseball jersey said. “I missed the All-Star game. Is it really worth it?”
The youngest one sighed, left the two older men arguing, and approached Rudi. “They need to stay focused,” he said conversationally. “You don’t see me complaining about not getting to see the thirteenth-century stone city at Nan Midol, even though I’d get extra credit in my archaeology class. What do you know about that building up there?”
Rudi found himself answering without thinking. “There are three girls in it,” he said. “They’re always monitoring some kind of satellite communication. And pigeons,” he added.
“Pigeons,” the other boy said. “I’m CF, by the way.”
“Rudi,” Rudi said. “Do you know what they’re doing, CF?”
The other boy nodded. “Dark deeds,” he said. “Calendars. Mischief.”
Rudi tried to look as if he knew what that meant.
“Trouble for men!” CF went on. “The forces of femininity cannot be allowed to triumph!”
Rudi nodded. His aunt Maurina was always trying to get him to clean under his bed, even though he had pointed out repeatedly that no one could see under there. Femininity at work.
“Can you show us a back way up there, so that they won’t notice us?” CF asked. Rudi nodded. It was his duty: the duty of the bearer of a Y chromosome.
* * * * * *
The men’s progress up the hill was slow. They left Rudi behind at the last turn of the trail, unwilling to bring him into danger. Stealthily, they crept to the fortified door. “It’ll be locked,” CF said. “With motion detectors, heat sensors, alarms…”
“Leave it to me,” Ashtur said. “If I can pick the lock the Ladies’ Silverware Committee put on the drawers in the church kitchen back home, I can break in anywhere.”
“They locked the silverware drawers?” Rls whispered. “That’s cold, man.”
“Tell me about it,” Ashtur said. “You try eating a good Runza with a plastic spork.”
In a matter of minutes Ashtur had bypassed the girls’ alarm system and unlocked the door. The three men held their breath as the door opened soundlessly. But they hadn’t come this far to hesitate now. Just as they were about to enter the building, they heard a voice below them.
“Special!” it called.
Rls turned. “Brave!” he said, recognizing his partner’s voice. They had solved so many crimes together. They were an unbeatable duo, and not even the calendar could come between them. He was glad to see she was safe.
Kit was standing on the rocks twenty feet below, with Genesse and Frankie. They were wearing wetsuits and scuba gear. “Special, you know what Maxim 87 says,” she yelled up to him. “When someone is about to break into your top-secret hideout…”
“… it’s better to be on the outside of it,” he finished.
“The building is going to self-destruct into environmentally-friendly Nutella in thirty seconds!” Frankie yelled up to them. “We couldn’t let you get your hands on our top-secret communications system!”
“Or my Anne of Green Gables DVDs,” Genesse said. “Gilbert… he’s so dreamy.”
“But… how did you know we were coming?” CF yelled down. “No one knew!”
“Secret Micronesian operative!” Frankie yelled. “See you around!”
“On the other side of canon!” Kit yelled. Then all three girls dove into the water.
“Run!” Ashtur yelled. The men could only watch from a safe distance as the building exploded, covering the ground with chocolate-hazelnut goodness.
“All those codes,” CF groaned. “All that information, gone.”
“On the other hand, we have a lot of Nutella,” Rls pointed out. “And on our arms, faces, and this hand, too. But who was the secret Micronesian operative?”
Past the coral reef, the girls surfaced, looking up at the starry sky. “Thanks, Aunt Maurina,” Genesse said. “We’ll send news to you by return pigeon.”
Somewhere off the coast of Micronesia…
Above the craggy rocks on a tiny island surrounded by turquoise water and a coral reef, a sleek, modern-looking building rose. In the twilight, computer monitors made the windows glow an unearthly blue. Several satellite dishes on the roof pointed toward the sky.
Rudi didn’t know what went on in this building, and he studiously avoided finding out. His family was happy just to supply the girls inside with bleer, Nutella, and raspberry cordial - as well as fish, fruit, and taro, of course - and not to ask any questions.
Still, it was unusal for there to be so much activity at once. The three girls all appeared to be working feverishly, pacing back and forth in front of the windows with papers and maps in their hands. There had been much talk of a “calendar,” which puzzled him. He thought the girls were spies, and he thought spies must have to do more with microfilm and James-Bond-like weapons than a calendar. His aunt Maurina believed the girls must be models, but why would models need satellite dishes? Or so many pigeons? He knew models were usually on starvation diets. Surely they weren’t eating the pigeons?
He had been so busy contemplating the building that he hadn’t noticed an inflatable raft being pulled up on the shore beside him. He turned in surprise at the noise of several men approaching on the wet sand.
One of them was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. This, at least, was not unusual, although most Hawaiian shirts didn’t have clerical collars attached to them. The second man was wearing a Boston Red Sox jersey. The third was younger than the first two - about Rudi’s own age - and was more sensibly dressed in a t-shirt, shorts, and running shoes. The men seemed to be arguing.
“But there’s a whole Japanese fleet sunk on the bottom of Chuuk lagoon!” the man in the Hawaiian shirt was saying. “Do you know what that means to a military historian? It would just be a quick detour!”
“I missed the All-Star game,” the one in the baseball jersey said. “I missed the All-Star game. Is it really worth it?”
The youngest one sighed, left the two older men arguing, and approached Rudi. “They need to stay focused,” he said conversationally. “You don’t see me complaining about not getting to see the thirteenth-century stone city at Nan Midol, even though I’d get extra credit in my archaeology class. What do you know about that building up there?”
Rudi found himself answering without thinking. “There are three girls in it,” he said. “They’re always monitoring some kind of satellite communication. And pigeons,” he added.
“Pigeons,” the other boy said. “I’m CF, by the way.”
“Rudi,” Rudi said. “Do you know what they’re doing, CF?”
The other boy nodded. “Dark deeds,” he said. “Calendars. Mischief.”
Rudi tried to look as if he knew what that meant.
“Trouble for men!” CF went on. “The forces of femininity cannot be allowed to triumph!”
Rudi nodded. His aunt Maurina was always trying to get him to clean under his bed, even though he had pointed out repeatedly that no one could see under there. Femininity at work.
“Can you show us a back way up there, so that they won’t notice us?” CF asked. Rudi nodded. It was his duty: the duty of the bearer of a Y chromosome.
* * * * * *
The men’s progress up the hill was slow. They left Rudi behind at the last turn of the trail, unwilling to bring him into danger. Stealthily, they crept to the fortified door. “It’ll be locked,” CF said. “With motion detectors, heat sensors, alarms…”
“Leave it to me,” Ashtur said. “If I can pick the lock the Ladies’ Silverware Committee put on the drawers in the church kitchen back home, I can break in anywhere.”
“They locked the silverware drawers?” Rls whispered. “That’s cold, man.”
“Tell me about it,” Ashtur said. “You try eating a good Runza with a plastic spork.”
In a matter of minutes Ashtur had bypassed the girls’ alarm system and unlocked the door. The three men held their breath as the door opened soundlessly. But they hadn’t come this far to hesitate now. Just as they were about to enter the building, they heard a voice below them.
“Special!” it called.
Rls turned. “Brave!” he said, recognizing his partner’s voice. They had solved so many crimes together. They were an unbeatable duo, and not even the calendar could come between them. He was glad to see she was safe.
Kit was standing on the rocks twenty feet below, with Genesse and Frankie. They were wearing wetsuits and scuba gear. “Special, you know what Maxim 87 says,” she yelled up to him. “When someone is about to break into your top-secret hideout…”
“… it’s better to be on the outside of it,” he finished.
“The building is going to self-destruct into environmentally-friendly Nutella in thirty seconds!” Frankie yelled up to them. “We couldn’t let you get your hands on our top-secret communications system!”
“Or my Anne of Green Gables DVDs,” Genesse said. “Gilbert… he’s so dreamy.”
“But… how did you know we were coming?” CF yelled down. “No one knew!”
“Secret Micronesian operative!” Frankie yelled. “See you around!”
“On the other side of canon!” Kit yelled. Then all three girls dove into the water.
“Run!” Ashtur yelled. The men could only watch from a safe distance as the building exploded, covering the ground with chocolate-hazelnut goodness.
“All those codes,” CF groaned. “All that information, gone.”
“On the other hand, we have a lot of Nutella,” Rls pointed out. “And on our arms, faces, and this hand, too. But who was the secret Micronesian operative?”
Past the coral reef, the girls surfaced, looking up at the starry sky. “Thanks, Aunt Maurina,” Genesse said. “We’ll send news to you by return pigeon.”