Security Clearance Checkpoint Kef
Fenris Orbit, deWulf Corporate Democracy
Heiden Rollen paused a moment. He was used to hearing that question, but it had taken on new meanings over the past month.
Rollen blinked, then nodded as he wordlessly pulled out a set of identification documents and set them down on the counter. The name on the document was entirely incorrect, though the images and birthdate and so much more was perfectly true. ‘Heiden Erskin Rezid’ nodded slowly as the officer looked through the paperwork with dispassionate eyes.
“Huhnhafen, with stops at Falke and Potsdam.”
The officer looked at Heiden and then back down to the paperwork. The identity card slid into the reader, where circuitry interrogated the data on the imbedded chip to its satisfaction. It only took a few moments for the system to return a litany of information on ‘Heiden Erskin Rezid’. The whole identity had been one of those quiet gifts from Naval Intelligence, and had been crafted with an almost obsessive amount of care. That was what seperated an excellent background from the merely good; the same first names made idle conversation easier, and the identical early backgrounds meant there were few accidents about where someone said they were from.
But ‘back home’ there were other tricks that one could do, and a fresh notification popped up for the officer to observe. It was something he’d seen mentioned in annual training that he’d glossed over, never really expecting to see. The words ‘Priority Clearance Approved’ warned the officer that holding Heiden would be an Interesting Career Move. The officer decided that lunch was more important.
Heiden watched as his identity card and paperwork were handed back to him. The officer let out perfunctory “Have a safe trip” of dismissal, the Fenren already looking past him to the line and the next traveler that was already approaching.
A quick scrabble pulled papers and ident documents into a rough handful, and Heiden walked down the corridor into the long central concourse that made up the upper concourse of Raummünde Station. As he stuffed the pile of identification into his shoulder bag, a quick glance at a nearby departure board confirmed that his ship was still docked and still on time.
A real vacation, he thought as he walked to the boarding lounge. First time for everything…