A nod. "Once it's launched it gets it's swim on and can go pretty much anywhere depending on it's," a glance at photography of the night sky with and without the dark forms portending destruction. "Payload?"
"Fueling technique, fueling capacity," the person drifted into thought.
Out of the pool. Water streaming off bodies built to machine their way through all terrain. Not that the people were the machines, but everything about their persons were being developed to precision and poise. "Could rival," a coach who'd eyed the competition speculated.
People hungrily took their tags back.
"Why would they say that about the Tira Masoo?"
"What'd they say Darling?"
"Said there's no straight answers about how many people cross it."
"Well, that's not good dinner talk."
"How was your day?"
"Part of the answer has to do with where the fighting is. (i)Fine(i)."
"And maybe also what a popcorn was saying about before 'monied'?"
"Probably. There's always budget cycle and before it's hacked out there's a lot of 'army comparison'."
"How so?"
"Basics. They've got 5000 troops. They've got 25."
"Lotta mouths to feed."
"They don't feed theirs."
"No wonder so much infighting and, um, creativity on getting resources."
"Yah, thieving."
"Rape, pillage, and burning, nothing new under the sun. Oh, and by the way, the Global Village messaging is not helpful. Not with so many people defending their own lettuce patches."
"We'll be sure to let Washington know."
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