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<blockquote data-quote="Jaeden" data-source="post: 2472065" data-attributes="member: 34974"><p><strong>It's 0916 Eastern time...</strong></p><p></p><p>... and that means TSgt Julian Anderson is late. Again.</p><p></p><p>Like a thief in the night, he sneaks around corners in the office building that houses the 6th Intelligence Operations Squadron at Langley Air Force Base, domain of his taskmaster CO, Col. George Willingham. Hoping not to be spotted skating in after 9, he continues hiding behind objects as people pass, until he makes it to his desk. Safe at last! He drops heavily into his wheeled task chair, drawing a sidelong glance from the airman at the station next to his. Julian sets the box of doughnuts on the credenza separating his workspace from the airman's, and tosses his keys onto the desk next to a stuffed Pentium guy, the only personal item in his station.</p><p></p><p>Tearing voraciously into a Bavarian creme and hoping the powdered sugar doesn't drop on his uniform, he turns on his monitor.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: white">.oO(Wonder what's on the menu for today. Survey says...)</span></p><p></p><p>Julian logs into the system using his password and crypto key, and views his tasks for today. Seems there's some video of the mountains north of Kabul, Afghanistan that just came in from a UAV, and it needs to be enhanced to search for evidence of Al Qaeda activity. Pulling the video file onto his hard drive from the secure network, he opens up Adobe Premiere.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: white">.oO(Okay, Osama... where's that pretty little turban of yours hiding today?)</span></p><p><span style="color: white"></span></p><p>Julian rubs his temples, staring at a frame full of sand, and chasing his doughnut with a big gulp of coffee.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: white">.oO(I've gotta stop pulling these all nighters... it's killing me.)</span></p><p><span style="color: white"></span></p><p>Craning his neck, he looks around for Col. Willingham. Uncharacteristically, his office door is closed. The Colonel has an open-door policy, which in his case means, "If my door is open, I can see that you're slacking off easier". In fact, pretty much the only time he ever closes his door is when somebody is getting chewed (he knows this one from experience) or when there is a visitor in the shop. Glancing over at the unit calendar, he confirms that nobody is scheduled to show up. Something's up, and Julian couldn't be more thrilled.</p><p></p><p>Willingham didn't see him come in late. He wouldn't lose a stripe after all.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jaeden, post: 2472065, member: 34974"] [b]It's 0916 Eastern time...[/b] ... and that means TSgt Julian Anderson is late. Again. Like a thief in the night, he sneaks around corners in the office building that houses the 6th Intelligence Operations Squadron at Langley Air Force Base, domain of his taskmaster CO, Col. George Willingham. Hoping not to be spotted skating in after 9, he continues hiding behind objects as people pass, until he makes it to his desk. Safe at last! He drops heavily into his wheeled task chair, drawing a sidelong glance from the airman at the station next to his. Julian sets the box of doughnuts on the credenza separating his workspace from the airman's, and tosses his keys onto the desk next to a stuffed Pentium guy, the only personal item in his station. Tearing voraciously into a Bavarian creme and hoping the powdered sugar doesn't drop on his uniform, he turns on his monitor. [color=white].oO(Wonder what's on the menu for today. Survey says...)[/color] Julian logs into the system using his password and crypto key, and views his tasks for today. Seems there's some video of the mountains north of Kabul, Afghanistan that just came in from a UAV, and it needs to be enhanced to search for evidence of Al Qaeda activity. Pulling the video file onto his hard drive from the secure network, he opens up Adobe Premiere. [color=white].oO(Okay, Osama... where's that pretty little turban of yours hiding today?) [/color] Julian rubs his temples, staring at a frame full of sand, and chasing his doughnut with a big gulp of coffee. [color=white].oO(I've gotta stop pulling these all nighters... it's killing me.) [/color] Craning his neck, he looks around for Col. Willingham. Uncharacteristically, his office door is closed. The Colonel has an open-door policy, which in his case means, "If my door is open, I can see that you're slacking off easier". In fact, pretty much the only time he ever closes his door is when somebody is getting chewed (he knows this one from experience) or when there is a visitor in the shop. Glancing over at the unit calendar, he confirms that nobody is scheduled to show up. Something's up, and Julian couldn't be more thrilled. Willingham didn't see him come in late. He wouldn't lose a stripe after all. [/QUOTE]
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