No, make it worse. I met him while I was in the Academy—over the same liter of beer, probably—when I was so adamant about getting into the Star and changing the world. Our career paths thereafter diverge. I go undercover, he goes into the corporate world and ends up cutting shady deals with gangs for a Tir-based outfit. What’s he going to think when he spots good old Ricky Larson, the goof who used to be an Officer Friendly wannabe flashing his Lone Star Fan Club decoder ring to all and sundry, suddenly looking like he’s a top soldier for the fragging Cutters? What’s he going to think? Yeah, that’s exactly what he’s going to think. He’s going to be dead fragging right, and I’m going to be right fragging dead. Ah, isn’t symmetry wonderful?