Personal Log - 04 Apr 3307 11:05
04 Apr 2021MadAl
In my line of business, it is sometimes hard to know who your friends are and even harder to know who your enemies are. These days everyone is so good at projecting a warm fuzzy feeling. Over the years I have learned to recognise the permanent smiley face types and not to trust them.So, there I was at the back of the FRC briefing room at De Kamp Orbital, casually listening to the person next to me and a story that VP Calhoun was born with only three toes on his right foot. Calhoun had finished his short briefing a few minutes before and some minor representatives were briefing us gathered journalists about shipping figures for the last week.
My storyteller halted mid-word and I felt a large hand on my shoulder. “Boss man wants to see you!” the owner of the hand informed. Considering the size of the hand and its owner my initial urge to jump up and strike was intelligently stowed away, and I simply answered, “I am my own boss thank you.”
My response only generated a rye smile and a not so polite repeat of his initial words, “Boss man wants to see you!”. At this point I decided I better wake up fast and try figure out what was going on. Looking at little more closely at my new acquaintance, I resolved a FRC flight suit. However, the shoulder sections where normally a rank and section badge are fixed, was unusually empty. In fact there was no evidence of there ever being a badge there.
An imaginary credit chip hit the floor as it dawned on me that my acquaintance was not the normal FRC infantry sort. He was something else altogether, something I had not come across before. The large hand, still resting on my shoulder assisted me to stand up. I bid farewell to my storyteller and allowed myself to be led out of the room.