Alaska and Montevideo (inc)

	Cameron was a fairly busy person most of the time. He had his job, his family, and his girlfriend; and as much as he enjoyed all three there were times when a fellow had to settle down and just take a nap.

BRRRRRRING! BRRRRRRRRRING!

	"Afghbtld-" Cameron yelled as he tried to leap up out of his beanbag chair. Fumbling for his phone, he picked it up. "Hello?"

	"Is this Cameron LASTNAME?" a sore voice asked. "This is the number attached to his contracter card."

	"This is him." Cameron said, rubbing his eyes. "Listen, I just got off shift- what is it?"

	"You're requested to," and here came a great shuffling of papers "come to base by twenty-hundred hours for details on an optional job."

	Cameron looked over at his clock. Six o'clock, dinner wouldn't be till seven, call it twenty minutes to drive to the base...

	"Alright, then." Cameron replied. Hanging up, he scrawled a note to his mom and grabbed his keys and a water bottle. Time to get going, then.

---

	At the base, Cameron stepped out of his car and gulped. He didn't really... well, know anything about where to go for this sort of thing. Fortunately, there was a very bored Petty Officer handy, who also had a cat-like smirk glued to his face. As one hand went up in the direction of the general office block, Cameron took off with the PO in tow. Subtle shoulder taps guided him through the labrynthine building, until he ended up in a conference room. Inside was the standard arrangment of stuff Shipgirl areas tended to accumulate- a half-empty food sidebar, red Solo cups everywhere, the faint smell of old paint, and a once-orderly arrangement of chairs.

	"Cameron!" Alaska yelled, jumping out at her boyfriend. Spinning to catch her, Cameron gave her a big hug and a smile. Moments later, a slight cough tore the two's loving gaze apart.

	"Good evening." Admiral ADMNAME said, blinking sardonically. Cameron gulped, and took a nice, large respectful step away from Alaska.

	"Sir." he said diplomatically. After a brief 'sit down' motion, the Admiral went over to the projector and laptop. A few minutes of fiddling around with the thing later, a map of South America was displayed, overlaid with a whole lot of NATO symbols. Surprisingly, Cameron could almost read it, at least between the masses of blue things he recognized and beige cloverleafs he didn't.

	"This is the South Atlantic Ocean." Admiral ADMNAME said, breaking out a laser pointer and highlighting several messes of symbols. "In theory, it's fairly well-defended, with most of the continent putting aside their differences to keep it in one piece."

	The symbol map abruptly changed, showing less than a quarter of the items as before. "In practice, it's an Abyssal duck pond. Aside from the whole Falkans debacle, the simple fact of the matter is there's almost no coordination and assets capable of taking care of the area. We've been helping keep the sub problem suppressed, but there's a limit to what American-trained Intruders can do. More importantly, we can't spare any surface combatants- which means the Abyssals are running rampant. Specifically, these."

	The slide changed, pulling up a grainy black-and-white picture. "Say hello to a panzerschife Deutchland. We think, based on satellite data and distress beacons that there's about a dozen of them in the area, probably more. Fortunately, we have an answer to that."

	Grinning, Admiral ADMNAME pointed at Alaska and a very stealthy Atago. "Specifically, you two. The current plan is to send you two down with a desron of something or another we can scrape up to base out of Carrasco. They were very enthusiastic about our cooperation after la Rambla got shelled, or so I've been told."

	Cameron just polietly raised his hand. "So, ah, why am I here?" he asked, hesitant.

	"Dependency clause." was the blunt reply. "Also, Alaska asked nicely."

	Cameron and Alaska's jaws dropped. "ADMIRAL!" Alaska yelped, recoiling in shock. "You-"

	A short burst of Authoritative Laughing later, though, and the Admiral settled them down with a practiced hand motion. "Joke aside, we're in a bit of a tickle. Our squadron's going to be doing day patrols, since these seem to be day raiders. Brasil's been up to their neck in