| From: | "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Cracks in the Foundation |
| Date: | Mon, 8 Jun 1998 21:53:31 +0100 |
>>>>>[Dissention in the ranks. Gotta love it. Some useful pieces about
how little SIGA know there, too, confirms what I told you.
+++++begin diary
One day I'm gonna sneak things so our suite _doesn't_ have separate
rooms. Who knows, I might get some action then.
Kind of difficult, working with Lilith right now. She's frosty to me,
when she isn't outright contemptuous. But other women see me with this
knockout blonde - blonde does suit her, I admit - and figure I have to
be screwing her, so I get frozen out there too. Life's a bitch, and I
already married one.
More mail from Kathryn's little pet lawyer, still trying to leech more
money out of me. Somehow they got wind that I turned down the Keflavik
posting, which would have earned me deployment pay and hardship bonus.
Since I _could_ have earned it, that apparently entitles her to forty
per cent of it whether I've got it or not. Just what I wanted to hear.
More fun and games with the shadowrunners on the discussion board.
Lilith eased off after I agreed, no more personal taunts except for
obviously deserving cases, and we ran that list short too before she let
be post again. What the hell, I need _something_ to do when I'm not
working. Can't get laid, don't like trideo, and there's only so long a
man can spend reading. And once she got me to admit, okay, _some_ of
these guys aren't wasting qualified air, then she relaxed some.
She, or someone, is keeping the press off our backs. Or I guess they
learn quick. Either way, we haven't had any more reporters running into
the middle of firefights. We've got no shortage of targets for the next
few weeks, but there's a... disinterest I sense from above. Coppinger's
tired. It shows in his voice, in his e-mail, it permeates down the
organisation. Things are going wrong somehow, have been for a while, and
he can't cope with it any more.
That's not good.
I talk to Lilith about it. She staunchly defends David, of course, but
there are tell-tale gaps in her riposte. I should, I suppose, have
realised earlier. With the threats we're up against, why are we fiddling
around with street-level crime? Because we've nothing else to chase. The
threat's hidden themselves from us, burrowed in deep, and we can't find
them.
Lilith defiantly tells me we've been reading one of the Farmer's
lieutenant's mail for months, can't or won't say what we've achieved as
a result. Meaning, zip. They know, they're diverting, they're probably
using it as a sewer so they can feed us shit. Opportuntity wasted. Who
are the other two? We don't know. How many are there? We're still not
sure. What are they planning next? No idea at all.
Then there's the CoT fiasco. We're under permanent orders to steer clear
and take no action on that. They killed one of our agents, slaughtered
hundreds of civilians, and the leadership got away clean. What are we
doing? Nothing. Bending over and spreading them so we can be shafted
more easily.
This situation needs improvement.
It's a lovely fucking war.
+++++end diary]<<<<<
-- Furrow <21:00:43/06-08-59>
