While they were driving back, Shelton asked, <ROSS, can you hack into the Texas Base computers and schedule a reassignment for Drs. Roger Simpson and Bradley Gallo?>
<I can, but I fail to see how that benefits me in any way,> ROSS replied. <Depending on their level of anti-virus, it could actually harm me.>
<You're lightyears ahead of anything on a computer system made in Texas,> Shelton shot back acidly. <Just do it.>
<Now let's not stereotype; Texas Instruments is one of the top hardware producers in the nation. On June 9th, 1997, you purchased a TI 83 from a MediaMarkt in Munich.>
<Don't be stupid; I wasn't in Germany then,> Shelton retorted, exasperated. <And how the hell would you know what I bought 13 years ago?>
<You purchased it electronically, and the Germans are staunch record-keepers,> ROSS replied.
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"From what direction?" Calchas asked. "And what vehicles and firepower do they have with them?"
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Stern sat alone in the bar, drinking from a cheap beer. He preferred to save his money for important things rather than wasting it on potables, but that didn't stop him from grimacing with every sip.
To distract him from his drink, he glanced at the various patrons in the bar. To his surprise, one of them was an old face. "Brotherton?"
A past-his-prime veteran with a steel gray mustache glanced up and over. "Thomas!" he exclaimed, walking over and sitting down next to Stern. "You're still alive!"
Stern chuckled. "Of course I am," he replied, sipping his cheap beer again and grimacing. "I'm surprised to see life has treated you well after your actions in the service."
"What happens in the past tends to stay there," Brotherton grinned. "Retired now. You remember Cristo, that ant? He got me a nice place on the border, not too fancy. What about you, what are you up to?"
Stern took a sip and ignored the question. "What are you doing up here?"
"Freelance trucking." Brotherton smiled when he heard Stern scoff. "I carry cargo for some rich narcotraficantes in Ciudad JuĀ·rez," he whispered, leaning in close. "The occasional illegal too, if they have the money. Insanely lucrative these days."
"So I see you're just as despicable as you were," Stern sipped his drink again.
"Love you too, Thomas," Brotherton sat back.