Chapter 11: Terms of Service
“Have I ever mentioned how much I seriously hate, loathe… disdain meetings?” Ethan grumbled as a guard led them through the halls.
“Well shoot, don’t reckon I’ve heard that one before.” Miles didn’t even blink at Ethan’s little comment. “Maybe the hundredth time’s the charm.”
“In that case… have I ever mentioned–”
Miles cut him off with a smirk. “Man, don’t even start. Shit’s gonna be annoying enough when we step inside.”
Cole couldn’t blame the guy. A decade-plus of briefings had taught him bureaucracy was bureaucracy, whether it came with stars, suits, or whatever passed for authority here. Of course, he always knew where he stood – the boundaries between agencies, the pecking order, the whole dance.
The only difference between the various agencies and leaders was how asinine they got about operational support. Different agencies, same half-assed bullshit: here’s the target, intel might be good or might get you killed, figure it out yourself, and oh yeah we can't give you the tools you actually need. At least here they’d burned resources just getting his team on the ground.
Granted, Delta opened doors that stayed shut for everyone else. Walking into a room with three different power structures, each with their own stake in how this played out – it wasn’t anything new, but now they were ‘heroes.’ What weight did that carry in a world desperate enough to summon them? Hopefully, a few more privileges than what they were afforded back home.
“Probably won’t be too bad. I mean, hey, they need us. They need us badly – I can tell, despite their offer of letting us play civvie,” Cole said. “Hell, the King wouldn't have shown up at our bedside otherwise.”
“Fair ‘nuff,” Miles said.