Where are we at timewise? There’s a team meeting coming up at 15:00 hours, so 3:00 P.M. I’m told it will be a short briefing. Our big planning meeting will come after we hear back from the general with a report on the Moon base. I’ve got time to write a little more about Ms. Findley.
She has let her hair go mostly grey and white. But she has really soft nice hair. It looks like she’s going to wear it in a bun when in the office. Outside the office she doesn’t. Her hair is rather long. She’s also petite. Like I said, she is sweet, most of the time. I’m not sure if most people would notice, but she walks with a certain flow. She has been training in Jiu Jitsu for many years. She’s well along in her ranking. Old school Jiu Jitsu.
Let’s see. What else? Oh yeah, Ms. Findley likes football. She raised 3 big strapping boys. She and her husband, though he passed quite some time ago. Some kind of accident. She calls her sons, the linemen. As in football. Actually, they are almost big enough to be pro linemen.
Grandad knows Ms. Findley from church; the families have been good friends for years and years. Now, like I said, we all like Ms. Findley a lot. But I have to say, the Shockwave youth were all a little surprised when we found out she would be our press manager.
After that last sentence I suppose I should write about our first official press meeting that took place this morning. Yeah, if our parents see that, our cover will be blown. Ms. Findley was in the conference room with a room full of press people. A lot of people still call news people, the press, even though there’s really not much pressing going on any more. There was, in fact, one old school newspaper reporter at the press conference. But most were Intelinet folk from various news and information sites.
There must be a lot of interest in our little group considering the gauntlet of security the reporters had to navigate in order to be there. The conference mostly went well. Mostly. But we all knew something could definitely happen to bring out the ... firm ... Ms. Findley. It was going great until she tried to dodge a question about the small size of some of the team. The reporter was not going to let the question slide. He kept hammering away.
Intelinet News Reporter: “Listen up. How can we count on a special operations team when half of them are runts?”
Ms. Findley: “Runts? Just who do you think you are, big man? You pipe down, and you listen up. You’re a big strapping manly man. How about we put some gloves on you and put you in the back room with Para? Let’s see which one it is comes out on a stretcher. Hmmmm?”
Well, it got very quiet in the room.
Ms. Findley finished with, “Class dismissed.”
And she walked out of the room. Just like that. That was our first official meeting with the news media. Oh, I forgot to say, Ms. Findley taught high school kids for years. It was a tough school too. Yeah, she can be ... firm ... when she needs to be. Mr. T was content to sit at the table and smile at Ms. Findley.
That Intelinet reporter still wouldn’t give up. John was his name, I think. After the session, the press was allowed to shake our hands as long as they promised to keep the chatter light. John made a point of heading straight for Para. I was thinking, oh-oh. He stuck out his huge hand and glared at her just a little. He was daring her. The guy was massive. Powerful build. Para didn’t hesitate of course. She took his hand. He started to squeeze. It was obvious he was straining as his face turned red and vessels popped out on his forehead and neck.
Para smiled her most wonderful smile and squeezed back. Just a little. John dropped to his knees and slapped the floor hard. He was tapping out. Para let go of his hand. He immediately started massaging it and shaking his head.
To his credit he apologized in his own way. “Apologies miss. Glad I didn’t take your lady up on her suggestion of a back-room brawl. You and yours will get nothing but good reports out of me from now on.”
Para used her extra sweet voice, and batted her eyes, for goodness sakes. “Nothing broken I hope, sir?”
“No. No. I don’t think so. Just the old pride. I might just go in for a quick check though, to be sure.”
A lot of Intelinet reporters witnessed all that, eyes wide, mouths agape.
Still September 10th. 15:00 hours. Meeting. The small conference room. No Specific Agenda. Mr. T is giving us some details about the invasion. He invited Ms. Findley to this meeting too. Mostly it’s a rehash of what we already know, perhaps for her sake. Bugs are only the first wave of an invasion. The bugs are sent ahead to verify scanner probe information. They verify that a world fits the Empire model, which is usually the case as long as there are people of some sort with a certain level of technology. Of course, they bypass worlds that are too advanced.
That minimum level of technology is a strict requirement, or at least the inhabitants must have the capacity to advance quickly to a suitable level. If needed, the bugs soften up any planetary defenses. Then they set up a portal gate to allow the Empire easy access to the star system. Mr. T says he’ll talk more about that later.
I could tell from the look on her face, this information was still new to Ms. Findley. The main invasion hasn’t even started yet? How depressing is that? The
