Sister Time-Callys War 2
“It was only "his" office in the nominal sense. Two strips of very small cubicles, and their associated chairs, occupied the office. A shielded hard line from the wall cabled up through the backbone of each strip of desks, ready for plugging into the back of clean AIDs or buckley PDAs for greater data security. This, of course, as he participated in breaking the encryptions on other people's data, which data would then be fed back into the Bane Sidhe's higher AIs for pattern searches and prelimi...nary analysis. Tommy's office chair was his own. With his size, it had to be—a fact which had not endeared him to organizational bean counters. The chair simply migrated with him to whatever cube happened to be available when he was.
George Schmidt didn't often track him down at his desk, and didn't often wear a facial expression that seemed to be mixed in equal parts of bewilderment and anger.
"What's biting your butt?" the larger man asked.
"Cally. She—or rather, we—may have fucked up our surveillance covers.MoreLess
George Schmidt didn't often track him down at his desk, and didn't often wear a facial expression that seemed to be mixed in equal parts of bewilderment and anger.
"What's biting your butt?" the larger man asked.
"Cally. She—or rather, we—may have fucked up our surveillance covers.MoreLess
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