For Want of a Pincushion

Technically we weren’t at war. The peace treaty wasn’t broken yet. But the government was under no illusions that we would not, eventually, have to go to war. So we intelligence departments had to start a quiet recruitment drive.

The young woman sitting across from me seemed perfect. She came from mixed heritage, spoke several languages, the works.

“So… How far are you willing to go for your country?”

“I’ll happily give my life, sir.”

I sighed.

“We don’t need women willing to give their lives. We need women willing to give their bodies…”

She baulked, like so many did…