Back to the salt mines

The next morning I turned my Corrola into the alley behind the GlobTrak satellite office, used my remote to open the trap-door in the road, and entered the weapons development bunker.

Once inside I heaved a relieved sigh and stowed my sub-machinegun under the passenger seat.

You would expect a weapons lab to look like something populated by Q, but in reality it looks pretty much like any other office. In modern warfare the software is much more important than the hardware, and in some cases there even is no hardware.

I felt a sense of optimism as I made my way through glass and steel cubicles dividers populated by stylish young folk, and sat down at my workstation. Angela was safe with my harridan mother in law, and hopefully BioWeps would leave her alone now.

As I looked through the mutated spaghetti that was the GlobTrak knife-missile guidance system source code, my mood sank.

This was going to need hours and hours of work, and possibly some selective culling to streamline the team.

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