An Early Morning Phone Call

Grand Admiral Rossaroni sat at his desk on the 140th floor of the Ares Corporation Headquarters building waiting for his computer to boot up. You might say he was sitting idly. His computer was only 2 years old, yet all the interminable scans, checks, executables, and "svchost.exe"s that were being pushed on him resulted in his computer having the analytyic power of a chipmonk for a good 20 minutes every morning.

On top of that, he had to be in early today, as his job as Chief Analytical Flunky for the Widget Interoperablity Program (CAF for the WIP) required him to spend 5 minutes preparing a slide explaining the benefits to the company if the Life Support budget for the Vesta Asteroid mining colony was reduced to zero during the next fiscal year. As Vesta was the least profitable Widget manufacturing site, it only made sense to eliminate unnecessary administrative fucntions that didn't generate revenue.

After that was done, Rossaroni decided to spend some time looking out the window. This was difficult, as his office didn't have a window. But he walked to a nearby office that did have a window, and looked down onto early morning mists that obscured the view of most of the capital. Off to his right he saw the gleaming spires of the Mclean Stevenson Stadt-based Summer Palace, and far off to the left he could see the firery plumes rising from the Reston Spaceport.

But he didn't have long to soak in the view, as he heard his viso-phone squawking in his office. It was Lord Turnips, his old pal. He was extremely agitated.

Turnips: "Admiral, you've got to help me, I'm extemely agitated!"

Rossaroni: "What is it, old pal, has the revolution come?"

T: "Exactly! I fear my latest antics have resulted in a proletarian uprising."

R: "Indeed. tell me all about it."

Turnips then explained about how he kicked two minor functionaries out of an office, and that all heck had broken out as a result.

R: "I'm surprised that a simple office usurption should cause a Red Revolt. Who were these prols you put out on the street?"

T: "Well, one of them WAS Johnny Six Guns"

R: "Johnny Ilyich Six Guns?"

T: "The same."

R: "Well, that is a horse of an entirely different color. I had no idea he had returned from exile on the Luna colony, let alone that he had a job as a minor functionary for your company. This will require some delicate finesse in order to avert catastrophe. And by 'delicate' I mean that we may have to burn large portions of the city to the ground."

T: "Then we'll need to call Woody."

R: "Precisely."