He traded a curse for a gulp of orange juice, then closed his eyes and linked into the meeting. Reality skipped and found him in a rigid chair at an elegant black table with microphones, laptops, and notes. Virtual meetings didn’t require such accoutrements, but humans reveled in their traditions. Bren opened the folder before him. His meeting notes slid across the pages as he mentally flipped through them. He glanced at the others trying to assess how much enmity awaited him. Jackson, the Vigilant’s ECM officer, sat next to Bren providing a slight psychological boost since Bren and Jackson both focused on the practical rather than the political. Jackson’s wiry frame reflected his recent exposure to the grueling academy regimen. He had curly black locks, dark skin, and a clean-shaven face. Bren knew the officer’s attitude included a fearless aspect that Bren had preserved in himself to get things done. Colonel Henley’s avatar waited with grim patience, ensconced directly across the circle of seats.
