Three-hundred kilometers for fish? The Due South Fiction Archive Entry Home Quicksearch Search Engine Random Story Upload Story   Three-hundred kilometers for fish? by X-Tricks Disclaimer: Alliance Atlantis ownes 'em, I don't. Author's Notes: Short and sweet - most of the words aren't mine, even. If there's more, it won't be for awhile. Story Notes: Hm - if you haven't seen due South, this won't make much sense or point. Thee-hundred kilometers for fish? Prologue "So, I tell him the snow mobiles are frozen dead. He says, 'I'll take a dog sled'." Marnie burst into a startled laugh, "A dog sled?! Is this guy even living in this century?" Because Andy just couldn't stay out of anyone else's conversation, he had to butt in, "I heard he was going over the pass." "Don't be ridiculous, no one makes it over the pass." "Boy, you've got to be kidding," Just looking at the pass gave Julie the shivers. You could plaster the wall of the break room with the pictures of all the folks who'd gotten killed up there - and the officers who'd had the bad luck to have to try and go after them. "It's fifty below out there, I froze coming in from my car," Marnie shrugged deeper into her sweater with a shudder. "Who'd he go after anyway?" "Oh, you wouldn't belive it." Julie - Constable Julie, if you please - already had all the information up on her screen because she' hadn't believed it either, until he went out the door. "Who?" "Somebody's got to tell the Chief," Marnie said over Julie's shoulder. Andy held up his hands and backed right out of the conversation again. "That's the Sergeant's job." "Then tell the Seargent." Not that the Sarge was one to actually turn to, Julie thought uncharitably, watching him with the water cooler. "Wh-when I lift this, uh - you-you jam your hand down there fast. Ready?" "Sergeant?" "Yeah?" The door slammed open with a bang, snow swirled into the room and all Julie could see for a moment was a huge, bizarre dark outline. Water splashed over the Sergeant's shoes as he stared like a hooked fish. It wasn't until the Constable was clomping down to the cells that she shook herself and peered down to see Constable Kowalski slam the door shut with a last glare for the prisoner he'd caught. "That's the last damn time he'll fish over the limit." At least the Super let him haul off his mukluks before calling him to the carpet. "And you felt it necessary to -" "Sir -" "- go out there and get him now?" In the middle of one of the worst storms we've had this year?" "Uh - " he hadn't really known it was one of the worst. One of the worst, worst. Kowalski had figured it for one of the medium worst, kinda ... do-able worst. It wasn't like he could believe Diefenbaker, he'd say anything to stay by the fireplace. "Yes, sir." "Kowalski, you just tracked a man three-hundred kilometers because he caught too many fish?" "It was a lot of fish, sir. A bunch. A big bunch," he stretched his hands out, like - this big. Meers sighed. "How much could a man fish over the limit that would justify you recklessly endangering your life and the reputation of this police force." Which Meers was really worrying about, Kowalski could pretty much guess and it didn't begin with a K. "Four and a half tons, sir." "Fish?" Meers kinda looked like one, just now. "Yeah, he was blowing 'em outta the water, then scooping the salmon up with a back hoe." Kowalski said, trying to make it quick. He didn't wanna strain Meers' attention span or anything. "So, okay, I took care of the plastic explosives, they nitroglycerin, and the mines. Not the kinda thing I figured should be left lying around for the kiddies, sir. Then I gave all the fish he'd - uh - caught to the local Inuit village. The head geezer said he'd ring you up with his thanks as soon as the local lines were back up." The door rattled open and maybe he was going to get saved by the bell. Andy stuck his head in, then handed Meers a tele. "Sir, there's a tribal elder on the phone for you and this just came over the wire." Kowalski watched Meers' face fall. Whatever it was, it looked like it blew any thought's of fish - or reprimands right outta the water. Had to be a good thing, in his book. Then he handed the paper over. "It's your father." END - probably (060605)   End Three-hundred kilometers for fish? by X-Tricks Author and story notes above. Please post a comment on this story.