Real Professionals


Ficlets refugee.

My previous stories:

I'm getting back into writing after a long break.

Your comments are greatly appreciated!

Nellis Air Station was our first stop, the closest site to Yucca Mountain with the facilities to handle our transport plane and the little half-squadron of robotic deathbirds that had followed us.

Now we were cruising over the Las Vegas suburbs, stuffed into an armored VIP tiltjet with the marines from earlier– actual, trained members of the Alliance Marine Corps, a rare sight.

I tried not to boggle at them like Boris had.

Apart from glorified secret-librarians like me, the Alliance rarely used military personnel at all, instead relying on robots, swarms of civilian contractors, and cheap PMC goons.

Real professionals like sat across the cramped compartment were reserved for only the most serious situations. Their constant training, cutting-edge cybernetics, and who-knew-what-else secret force multipliers made these two an investment larger than the entire air combat wing we'd passed on the tarmac at Nellis.

If the little expert system under my arm could order marines around… what else could it do?


No sequels yet. Why not write one?

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Comments (1 so far!)

Robert Quick

Robert Quick

Hurm. The jump from the previous one to this one is a little jarring. It seems some time has passed but I'm not sure how much. In that time, presumably the protagonist met and conversed with these marines. Got a sense of their feelings (or lack). Seems weird to have so much distance between the characters in the scene.

That being said, your ability to keep the mystery alive is to your credit.

  • #3158 Posted 5 years ago
  • 0

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