4
Fritz Zimholt watched the video feed.
He was tall, with the upright bearing of a military man. Air Force. It had been his honor and his privilege.
He had worked with all of the branches of the military by now, and with many different aspects of the American government.
Also his privilege. And a duty he had felt since childhood.
Fritz was seventy-four now, mostly bald with a rim of white hair below his temples.
He watched Marnie’s takeoff. But what concerned him was the suit.
What delighted him, was the suit.
He had used its chemical components in other applications, but never in a fabric.
Other scientists had tried. But their materials degraded, whether quickly or over time, and Fritz knew he could do better.
Had fought for the chance to do better.
He was known for metals. Air
