Ground Control to Major Tom

I am Major Tom. My mission is to protect the outpost from invasion. Some call me a radical, a fanatic, or worse. This is my story, know it and judge me as you will.

During their hourly sweep of the island, Ground Control alerted me to the impending invasion. Radar picked up the sound of craft approaching Quadrant Four and I quickly dispatched my forces. There simply aren’t enough foot soldiers left to stave off enemy infiltration. Just last week, while I guarded HQ, someone managed to slip through our defenses and decimate our supplies. The invaders aren’t satisfied with simply taking over our land. Oh no, they want it all – our food, our water and worst of all – they take our weapons. The weapons are our lifeline if we are to survive in the battle against the minions of the deep. Yet no matter where I station my foot soldiers, there simply aren’t enough of us to protect the outpost.

From my station at the topmost point of the island, the roar of their craft reaches my ears. The enemy has breached Quadrant Four. I call for backup, and troops from the Eighth Quadrant respond. Even combined my forces cannot keep them at bay. We are outnumbered. The enemy makes land. They laugh at our defense. The sound rings in my ears, and impotent rage burns in my chest. The immortal words from The Art of War come to mind.

“One may know how to conquer without being able to do it”…Sun Tzu

So the enemy comes once more, they will take what they want and they will leave. Deep in my heart I suspect money changes hands, that some of the very people we are here to protect are traitors. What is an old warrior to do with that betrayal? He will fight to his last breath, that is what he will do, and that is why I attacked the man from Quadrant Four with my only weapons, my voice and my teeth. Laugh at me, and you too will go down with my bark ringing in your ears and my sharp teeth tearing through the flesh of your ankles.

Cosmo as Major Tom

I am Major Tom*. This is my fishing camp. The fish in the lake are mine. The boats are all mine. The fishing poles –mine – and the worms. The food in the lodge is mine. Mine, mine, mine. I do not grant you safe passage.

“He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious”…Sun Tzu

*Major Tom a.k.a. Cosmo


Well what do you think a writer does at a fishing camp? We write.

Stephanie Karfelt