My God, what a putz. Of course Riker was having problems with the enclaves. The man was a humorless, rigid martinet, with a pole up his butt. Every ti he opened his mouth, he offended soone.
Original Bob had always made a point of mocking people who took themselves too seriously. It amazed that Riker wasn’t able to make the connection. It was obvious that I was more like original Bob than he was.
And now, the Spits had delivered an ultimatum. Okay, that was a real problem, and I couldn’t bla Mister Poo for getting bent out of shape about it. But there had to be a better tactic than frontal assault.
I paced around my VR, hands behind my back, for a few milliseconds. Bet Riker does this. The thought made shudder. I popped up a Nerf basketball and a hoop, and began taking shots while I pondered. I noted idly that the trajectory of the basketball wasn’t realistic. Yeah, the VR needs work. Who has ti?
Valter demanded a place for his people on the first ships. But did he really need to be on the first ships? Or did he just want to be out early? What would be acceptably early? I pulled up the manufacturing schedule and gazed at it. Y’know, ship three isn’t that far behind one and two. And with so adjustnts…
The thought had possibilities. But Riker would just dismiss the idea out of hand if I brought it up. Did he even realize what an arrogant ass he had turned into?
He listened to Colonel Butterworth, though. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Smiling to myself, I made a call…
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