New piece of fic! Yay!!
Nothing made Colin feel more human than a good hot soak. Three days in the forest before he could sidestep out safely, bloody hidden gorge. Even cheating like he did it still took too bloody long. The arthritis was starting to really kick in. Still, it had let him do most of the contact reports before he arrived back. That had let him clear out-processing in a couple of hours. Now all he needed was a decent meal and some sleep.
Which was when his omnitool started bleeping. Colin groaned and popped up the call window, then groaned harder at who it was and killed visual.
“Womack.” He answered, with his best I’m-too-tired-to-deal-with-this growl. “I just got myself back from the transfer port, it’s quarter past oh fuck in the morning, and I’m just about to eat. No, I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Hey Green.” Womack said cheerfully, the Helljumper Instructor not caring in the least at Colin’s tone due to being in a timezone with a reasonable hour. “Glad to hear you’re all right. They want you at the Tower ASAP, so eat quick.”
“I’ll eat as fast as I bloody well like, I’m retired. I’m not on their time anymore.”
“The Board reactivated you, you’ll get the notice any second now.” Colin could practical feel the grin on Womack’s face. “I always knew you’d go places, didn’t I tell you?
“I went lots of places, and your man-crush is getting freaky already. Seriously, the Board? Get real. When I’ve made up my mind you’ll be the first to know. Later.” Colin hung up and hit privacy mode. What he felt like was some bacon sarnies; that he had left in the fridge as it would keep, and he had picked up some bread on the way back. He wanted to get something in his middle so he could go to bed.
Which is when the doorbell rang. Colin slumped, then flicked open the security feed from the porch. Why the hell was there a skybike courier at his door this early? Prepping his omnitool for emergency KB and blade deployment, and streaming the security feeds to the offsite server he made his reluctant way to the door.
The courier was disgustingly cheerful for the so-late-it’s-too-early as Colin opened it, and remained that way as he verified Colin’s ID, address, signature, fingerprints, and eye scan before handing over the heavy document envelop, saying good bye, and taking off quickly but quietly on the skycycle’s repulsors.
~ At least he was considerate of the neighbours. ~ Colin mused, closing the door.
He dropped the envelope on the scanner by the door (too many practical jokers had taken him for an easy mark during his time in SAR and the early days of Survey), then went to cook his food. A regrettably short time later he finished the sandwiches (he’d been hungry), and checked the status on the scan.
It was clean. Everything was verified, even the RFID chip on the Next Hour delivery sticker.
Colin’s right arm ached again, and his blood ran cold. Womack may have been telling the truth, and if he was… The only way for things to get fucked up this quickly was when the REMFs made a decision and lit suns under people’s asses.
Slowly, he broke the seal and poured out the contents. On high quality Mobius headed paper was his official reactivation notice, the full details in the stapled together normal sheets it encapsulated. On heavier than normal paper was an official waiver for his health problems, issued by the United Nations Transworld Oversight Authority’s Medical Department. There was a new ID card, a warrant allowing him concealed carry, and an unmarked travel token.
He read the details; reinstated for up to five years at his previous rank of Scout Captain under clause 17 section 2 sub-section 3 of the Transworld Compact, all his clearances restored and upped a rank across the board. That was interesting, and explained the concealed carry permit. Salary and pension also upped to the next band, health coverage restored, re-signing bonus, possibility of promotions… Report to Mobius Group HQ as soon as possible, like yesterday, we really mean it; just in prettier language.
Colin swore to himself and went upstairs to get dressed. The Tower WOULD have the delivery notice by now.
Nothing made Colin feel more human than a good hot soak. Three days in the forest before he could sidestep out safely, bloody hidden gorge. Even cheating like he did it still took too bloody long. The arthritis was starting to really kick in. Still, it had let him do most of the contact reports before he arrived back. That had let him clear out-processing in a couple of hours. Now all he needed was a decent meal and some sleep.
Which was when his omnitool started bleeping. Colin groaned and popped up the call window, then groaned harder at who it was and killed visual.
“Womack.” He answered, with his best I’m-too-tired-to-deal-with-this growl. “I just got myself back from the transfer port, it’s quarter past oh fuck in the morning, and I’m just about to eat. No, I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Hey Green.” Womack said cheerfully, the Helljumper Instructor not caring in the least at Colin’s tone due to being in a timezone with a reasonable hour. “Glad to hear you’re all right. They want you at the Tower ASAP, so eat quick.”
“I’ll eat as fast as I bloody well like, I’m retired. I’m not on their time anymore.”
“The Board reactivated you, you’ll get the notice any second now.” Colin could practical feel the grin on Womack’s face. “I always knew you’d go places, didn’t I tell you?
“I went lots of places, and your man-crush is getting freaky already. Seriously, the Board? Get real. When I’ve made up my mind you’ll be the first to know. Later.” Colin hung up and hit privacy mode. What he felt like was some bacon sarnies; that he had left in the fridge as it would keep, and he had picked up some bread on the way back. He wanted to get something in his middle so he could go to bed.
Which is when the doorbell rang. Colin slumped, then flicked open the security feed from the porch. Why the hell was there a skybike courier at his door this early? Prepping his omnitool for emergency KB and blade deployment, and streaming the security feeds to the offsite server he made his reluctant way to the door.
The courier was disgustingly cheerful for the so-late-it’s-too-early as Colin opened it, and remained that way as he verified Colin’s ID, address, signature, fingerprints, and eye scan before handing over the heavy document envelop, saying good bye, and taking off quickly but quietly on the skycycle’s repulsors.
~ At least he was considerate of the neighbours. ~ Colin mused, closing the door.
He dropped the envelope on the scanner by the door (too many practical jokers had taken him for an easy mark during his time in SAR and the early days of Survey), then went to cook his food. A regrettably short time later he finished the sandwiches (he’d been hungry), and checked the status on the scan.
It was clean. Everything was verified, even the RFID chip on the Next Hour delivery sticker.
Colin’s right arm ached again, and his blood ran cold. Womack may have been telling the truth, and if he was… The only way for things to get fucked up this quickly was when the REMFs made a decision and lit suns under people’s asses.
Slowly, he broke the seal and poured out the contents. On high quality Mobius headed paper was his official reactivation notice, the full details in the stapled together normal sheets it encapsulated. On heavier than normal paper was an official waiver for his health problems, issued by the United Nations Transworld Oversight Authority’s Medical Department. There was a new ID card, a warrant allowing him concealed carry, and an unmarked travel token.
He read the details; reinstated for up to five years at his previous rank of Scout Captain under clause 17 section 2 sub-section 3 of the Transworld Compact, all his clearances restored and upped a rank across the board. That was interesting, and explained the concealed carry permit. Salary and pension also upped to the next band, health coverage restored, re-signing bonus, possibility of promotions… Report to Mobius Group HQ as soon as possible, like yesterday, we really mean it; just in prettier language.
Colin swore to himself and went upstairs to get dressed. The Tower WOULD have the delivery notice by now.