Colonel Tom Tramus watched the scotch roll in his glass with each rhythmic thump of the train car. Outside, birch trees rushed past the windows, a burning field of bright orange leaves stretching to the horizon. Tramus' train snaked through these fiery, rolling hills towards Port Montaigne, the annual Scientific Conference of Energy. He let out a deep sigh. Rising from his chair he moved to the sink at the other side of the car. Turning on the water, Tramus stared at his reflection; his face looked tired and weathered.

 

      There was a knock at the gangway door, then a youthful voice, "Colonel Tramus."

"Yes", Tom replied, not even bothering to leave the sink.

"We'll be arriving in Port Montaigne in ten minutes."

"Thank you private."

 

      He splashed his face with cold water, then after patting dry with a hand towel on the sink grabbed his green army uniform top and slipped it on. Buttoning his coat, Tramus checked each accoutrement, briefly shining the brass insignias, and ensuring everything was aligned correctly. He shifted his tie slightly, then satisfied with his appearance, returned to his leather chair.

 

       The train soon approached the station in Port Montaigne. Brakes screeched loudly as the train began to slow, then stop. Tramus returned to the mirror and checked himself one last time before debarking. As he reached for the vestibule door, there was another knock...

 

"Yes?", barked Tramus.

An unfamiliar voice came from the otherside, "Colonel Tramus? Colonel Tom Tramus?"

"Who is this?", replied Tom, suspicious of the stranger.

"Sir, hi. I'm Richard Prafton from Cryla Corp. I was wondering if you have a few minutes to talk about your attendance at this year's Conference of Energy."

Tom's suspicion was unabated, "The Royal Army regularly sends representatives to the conference, there's nothing to talk about."

"We'll I don't think that's the case this year, in fact I know it's not. I also know about your interest in Dr. Braye's research on the islands off the west coast. Cryla Corp would like to fund an expedition to one of the islands, and we'd like to take along some of your men to aid us in, well lets just say our security needs."

Tramus was becoming irritated, "That's impossible Mr.Prafton, we're the army, not mercenaries. Now I have a conference to attend so if you don't mind, remove yourself from the other side of my door."

 

       Tom picked up the telephone mounted next to the door, it began to ring.

 

"Security, car 2."

"This is Colonel Tramus, there's a security threat outside my car."

"Roger sir, personnel are on the way."

 

      Standing outside the door, Richard Prafton was becoming impatient. Looking left, then right, something grabbed his attention. Four uniformed men with rifles we walking quickly towards him. He thrust his hand into his coat pocket and hurriedly groped for his business card. The men were picking up their pace, jogging lightly now.

 

One of them yelled, "Sir, step away from the train!"

 

Prafton began to panic. He removed his business card from his pocket and slipped it under the car door. 

 

"Here's my card if you change your mind Colonel!", he gasped out before turning to run away into the bustling train station's crowd.