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”He gives me a sharp nod, and I find it a little odd to be giving commands to the grizzled military man. For that matter, thinking of this group as a bunch of kids seems odd. I feel like I’m a hundred years old, and out of touch.Wilson takes a couple steps away, then turns back, and asks, “Excuse me, sir, but what is your top priority?” He looks at me intensely, waiting for my answer.“To stop the demons at all costs,” I answer, without breaking his stare.I see the ghost of a smile split his lips, before he gives me another nod, and turns to chew out a couple of ‘lily livered yellow bellied’ kids who are taking a break, instead of working through the exercises that Leslie’s hologram is displaying.Ha! Kids. . . When did I get so old?I head towards Lela’s room, and find her breastfeeding one of our kids. She looks haggard, and I ask, “Is everything alright?”‘Yes, my body is fine, but managing the ship with so many on board, and creating the suits and weapons is taxing my mind.’I feel. If SAC Dupree was senior enough to be in a rumpled suit, that meant few, if any FBI agents, could jack him up over it.I had first met SAC Dupree during an uncomfortable interview when I was accused of assaulting a federal officer. Using the counter interrogation training I received in the army, I had taught the inexperienced, ambitious and overzealous junior agent with him, a little bit about interviewing 101, Charles had sent the rookie back to the minors, metaphorically, and then explained that the federal officer was a Soviet sleeper agent that I had inadvertently exposed. And that this had been intended to be a training exercise/evaluation for the rookie.Next up was an older lady, carrying a steno machine. Whatever was going to happen, there was going to be a record. Following her was a younger guy, about 26 or 27. Dark suit, tie. He was carrying a cardboard box with what looked like supplies for the stenographer. He spoke up, “Edna, anywhere in particular?”“No, David, any out of.
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"How you doing there mister Turner?" said the man who'd come up behind me. And, yes, I was using my real name, no reason not to."Gil—mister Misguez," I said. "You startled me." He laughed."Sorry about that, Bruce. But, really, how are you doing?" Good. No complaints," I said. "Mister Philips has been more than patient." He nodded, and handed me a card, an invitation."Company party at my house, next Saturday. Chance for our employees, and their significant others to socialize, have a little fun," he said. He put extra emphasis on the word socialize. I nodded my understanding."But—I don't have a significant other?" I said."Then you can come and hopefully meet somebody," he said."Okay. I can do that, I guess," I said. He could see I was nervous."Bruce it'll be good. You'll see," he said. I nodded.We talked for another minute or two and then he was off to pass out some more of the invitations to the employees. I stood there looking at the card. It would be my first foray into the world.

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