Oh, things look so much better for our protagonist, now…
Federal Security Agency
Training Facility Iod
Mt. Shasta
State of North California
Three months later
“Cadet Baker! Front and center!”
It was weird how the FSB never used a computer, or even an intercom, when a person would do. It made everything feel less urgent, more deliberate. Norm jumped right up and ran over anyway. The trainers might have been a lot less vicious than Peep drill instructors (the idea of them getting hanged had been a cheery one), but they expected you to go everywhere on a dead run.
At least you didn’t have to scream. “Baker present and ready, instructor!” Norm declaimed, in that pitched-to-carry growl the FSB expected. He did stand straight as a board when he did that, but the instructors hadn’t given him crap about it. All the ex-Peeps did the exact same thing.
The instructor was a runner, but she didn’t correct him. “You’re being pulled for your field assessment, Cadet Baker. Here’s your paperwork. Report with your go-bag in one half hour at the room in your packet. Questions?”
“No, instructor! Everything I need will be in my paperwork, instructor! I am to arrive with my go-bag at the assigned room in one half hour for my field assessment, instructor!”
She nodded “All correct. Get going, Cadet Baker!”
“Yes, instructor!” And, perforce, Baker got going.
