Chapter 4

“Not very subtle,” Jake complained, about being snatched from the station driveway by a state department car, as the guy turned off the lights in the room.

When the man sat down in the darkened room he activated a very concentrated light source. That drew Jake’s attention to the back of the room and the machine that was projecting an image up on a wall. When Jake could make out some of the features on the thing he said, “did you guys win a museum in the last war or something?”

Gary Moss picked up the remote control for the slide projector and sat down in a chair, just to the other side of the light beam. It took him a minute to realize what Barton was talking about, “excuse me?” When Moss realized it he did not actually comment to Jake but, instead he mumbled to himself, “been here way too long.”

Then the man spoke up as normal. Moss had a way of even sounding erect as he spoke, “no Major. We’re just stuck with local technology a lot of the time. It suffices.”

Jake thought about the projector and then commented, “I haven’t seen one of those things since I saw a picture of one in school. We were even taking bets on what it was.”

Moss mumbled, “and that’s where we got this one.”

Jake’s head snapped around and he studied Moss through the pale blue light, “the US Consulate ripped off a school? I know budget cuts are bad but isn’t that a little low, even for the State Department?”

Even his agitation sounded erect, “As you so quickly pointed out, when you first arrived Jake, I’m not with the State Department.”
“Big surprise there,” Jake replied. Then he pointed back at the projector and said, “now I can see the CIA ripping off a bunch of third graders. I just would have figured you guys would have been more interested in the crayons.”

“I’m not with the CIA, Jake,” Moss replied in monotone. How did you make monotone sound erect? Moss went on and explained, “you’re military so, I get your file and not the CIA.” He added as an afterthought, “and we didn’t steal the projector. We borrowed it.”

“Familiar words,” Jake snickered.

Even with more agitation Moss explained, even if he did not know why he was bothering, “one of my men works as a teacher sometimes. It’s his. Now can we please get on with this.”

“Uh,” Jake thought about it for a second and then whimsically replied, “not really Moss. You see, your GS Pay Grade Service Manual for Bureaucrats Anonymous seems to have over looked one particular little detail. I’m not in the army anymore.”

Moss actually looked comfortable discussing this. It made Jake wonder if there really was a manual like the one he just made up. With the US government you could never tell. Moss patted the file in his lap and said, “you were Special Forces, Jake. I don’t know if you bothered reading the fine print on your contract but, once you leave active duty you are not 4F. You’re actually on an Inactive Reserve Extension for a period of 75 years or…”

The way the Bureaucrat cut himself off made Jake wonder and become a little nervous. Jake was actually aware of his status with the Individual Ready Reserve. He didn’t like the “or” part and, for a lot of reasons, “or what?”

Moss continued, “or the Internal Revenue Service finishes their audit. Whichever comes first.”

“Threats,” Jake replied. “You guys didn’t think you could just ask me.” As he looked back to the wall he added, “nicely!”

“Legally Jake,” Moss replied, “you’re still a Major. You are still a commissioned officer of the US Armed Forces. You still hold a Sierra Golf
One security rating. We even had to register your class three Geneva Convention rating with the protocol officer.”

“Yeah, good thing too, cause I’m starting to feel like a POW, all right,” Jake grumbled. Then he told Moss, “and lucky you. You get to be my handler.”

“A pleasure for both of us I’m sure,” Moss replied and in a way that left no doubt in Jake’s mind that he was very serious about that. Then he tried to sound sympathetic, “don’t make that big of a deal over this Jake. We keep track of, and debrief, every single American citizen on this shit hole of a rock.”

Jake’s face wrinkled up as he reacted to this news, “don’t you guys have anything better to do? I’m surprised you got time to go to the can.”

“Fortunately,” Moss replied, “and not surprisingly, there aren’t that many.”

“And you do,” Jake asked, “all the military or former military. That makes you what? DIA?”

“Yes,” Moss replied. He then went on with, “I do all of them, well, except for that Jim Dove guy. He just gets on my nerves too much.” When Moss could see that Jake was still not pleased he said, “look, don’t think of me as your handler. We’re not asking you to spy on anybody here. We just want you to report to us, every now and then, and tell us what you see. Just kind of be like our eyes and ears.”

“Except for one little problem here,” Jake told him with a bit of scorn. “I’m a treaty guy. I’m here to run a department of the colonial government and not the US government. You know, I haven’t managed to read that whole treaty yet, I keep falling asleep, only I’m pretty sure there’s a provision in there about having your appointee’s snooping on the locals. It’s probably in some legalese Latin phrase, that translates into, DON’T DO IT!”

“Once again Jake,” Moss said in his boring and erect kind of way, “we’re not asking you to spy. Just tell us what you see.”

Jake snorted out, “and I’m sure I’ll have access to stuff like classified colonial documents. You want me to see that too? I‘m sure that‘ll make the Governor very happy if she finds out.”

“Don’t make too much of yourself Jake,” Moss told him in a way that sounded very much like he meant it, “the next secret that Helen Crass can keep will be a first. The only policy that woman’s government has, is trying to wrench as much money out of our foreign aid budget as she can get. Trust me, that’s not a really big secret.”

“Whatever,” Jake replied in a way that made sure the bureaucrat was well aware of his own annoyance with this entire set up.
Moss seemed more than happy to get this over with as well. He called up the first slide, and too Jake’s surprise, it was a picture of a government form. Moss began to rattle off in the kind of way people do when they are trying to get past formalities, “this is a standard USG Twenty-Seven dash Twelve, standard disclosure form with your signature on the bottom. As it pertains to the you, per the revised National Security act, passed by congress in…”

Jake interrupted him, “it’s a paper with a bunch of random words written on it. Yeah I know what it is Moss. Why am I looking at it?”

“Protocol,” Moss replied with hint of boredom, “as per this form. You are required to report to me any contacts with non indigenous United States citizens that may be on this world illegally. Have you had any recent contact with any?”

Jake replied without skipping a beat, “nobody alive if that‘s what you mean.”