“So ... what do we know about this guy?” Sam asked, flipping through the file folder as he hurried to catch up to Lennox.
The hallway was painted in military-grade beige and white, with scuffmarks on the walls and a tiled floor that had seen better days,
and he knew from experience that the conference room wasn’t likely to be much more comfortable.
That alone told Sam that whoever they were there to meet wasn’t deemed important enough by the brass to merit special treatment.
Yet he was still important enough for the USAF to fly halfway around the world to Diego Garcia, just to have this meeting.
Sam had to wonder about the military’s priorities, sometimes.
The NEST commander shrugged, hands in his pockets as he waited for Sam outside the conference room door.
He was in the standard combat uniform, not service dress; another sign about the casual nature of this particular interview.
“Not much--got a call at oh-dark-thirty and told to go talk to this guy; apparently he’s got some intel on some Cybertronian technology hidden here on Earth.
He’s an American civilian, I know that much.”
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