Ben was sitting at the table, slowly shaking his head at every answer.“General Fillmore, the verification processes itself; do you get boots on the ...round to do a visual on the body and collect DNA?”“Classified.”“General Wright, do the Marines put boots on the ground to verify, or use third party verification?” I asked.General Wright - taking a page from the others - replied, “Classified.”The agreement with the administration was set up that all reports that I required were to be void of. I smiled, it also meant I could claim something else from them. When the tram slowed I jumped off and started for the office as the tram turned to head for the cargo transshipment area. I checked my next scheduled shift before going to my locker. I put the weapon harness on and checked both pistols before leaving.In the time since we had been abandoned I had received neural net training on armed and unarmed fighting. The others that had been with me had managed to find a way off planet so I was. She stood up and smoothed the pleated black fabric down and straightened the hem which had been rolled up four times and secured with a safety pin for school. Daisey liked to follow the trend in school - the shorter the skirt, the more attention you got from boys.She then moved over to her pink chest of drawers and pulled out a tight white tank top, and pulled it over her large-cupped push up bra. Now that she was dressed, Daisey checked her appearance in the mirror above her desk. Her eyeliner. The opportunity was perfect. It was late in the day, and the low light was simulating dusk. The torus was never empty, but most of the station’s population were heading home to sleep, thinning out the crowds to give them a modicum of privacy. But what to say? How to say it? Would she appreciate a direct approach or did she expect something more poetic from a human? Maybe he was overthinking it and he should just up and out with it.“You look distracted, Lieutenant. Is something wrong?”“You can.
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