Finished another chapter

Baseline.md

@@ -69,7 +69,7 @@ Tech School. These are satellites to their main locations.
 
 \* Small glimpses of pre-draft life.
 
-***1. Defense Force Academy of Computer Professions and Cyberspace
+***1****. Defense Force Academy of Computer Professions and Cyberspace
 Defense***
 
 The Naivete
@@ -80,7 +80,7 @@ agonizes over.
 
 (False Hope)
 
-***2. Hutspace Base Complex Base 108***
+***2****. Hutspace Base Complex Base 108***
 
 **Big Things *****Are *****Coming, Right?**
 
@@ -90,7 +90,7 @@ suggesting otherwise.
 
 (Apathy)
 
-***3. The Boroughs, Air Force Headquarters***
+***3****. The Boroughs, Air Force Headquarters***
 
 Of Course I Have A Say!
 
@@ -98,7 +98,7 @@ Adir is restationed again, this time aware of the faults in his new
 station -- but powerless to prevent or face them, he grows proud and
 distant -- a facade that comes crashing down and leads to depression.
 
-***4. University***
+***4****. University***
 
 It's So Nice To Feel Human Again
 
@@ -170,7 +170,7 @@ forth, earn lots of money, fund his Biotech degree and go about saving
 the world.
 
 Here comes the Sacred Cow, and that* 'Meaningful Service'* everyone's on
-about. What could go wrong?
+about. What could go wrong?* *
 
 V. Point Of View:
 

Basics.md

@@ -4,7 +4,7 @@ I.  Distill the 'Big Idea' -- a single sentence. ('Elevator Pitch').
 
 II. Create a one page outline of the plot:
 
-IV\. Grow the plot, and decide its' general type
+IV. Grow the plot, and decide its' general type
 (Adventure/Change/Mistake/Lure/Race\...)
 
 I.  Decide on a schedule. \[300 words a day\]

Cutting_room_floor.md

@@ -74,7 +74,7 @@ engraved in his sorry psyche as the aroma of despair and stupid.
 
 He strode towards the squadron as the jobnics were already pouring in
 with their little backpacks and single Airpods talking enthusiastically
-to their friends about the *crazy* party last night, praying to no one
+to their friends about the* crazy* party* *last night, praying to no one
 in particular that none of* them *show up. None of the bastards did --
 likely too busy parking and shaving and whatever it is they do - and he
 stepped into the first squadron's soothing, people free inner courtyard
@@ -103,12 +103,11 @@ Tavor took his phone from the phone shelf and strode away with purpose.
 
 Adir kind of liked Mike Tavor. He still treats him as human.
 
-He casually hid his phone in his pajama pockets (with a loud
-*ccccrrrrk!* from the scotch pockets), entered the code on the numpad
-and stepped inside. He didn't need the phone -- in fact, it was a
-hindrance -- but it was a matter of principle, like most other matters
-in the Gerbil's life right now. This is his domain and he answers to
-none.
+He casually hid his phone in his pajama pockets (with a loud*
+ccccrrrrk!* from the scotch pockets), entered the code on the numpad and
+stepped inside. He didn't need the phone -- in fact, it was a hindrance
+-- but it was a matter of principle, like most other matters in the
+Gerbil's life right now. This is his domain and he answers to none.
 
 The Trainer room was blessedly dark -- even the blinds into the
 courtyard were shut. The only light was the big digital clock, filling
@@ -117,10 +116,10 @@ moments before the instructors arrive.
 
 He entered the small side room and did the whole usual nonsense --
 flipped only some of the switches in that specific order, closed the
-hatch, put the AC on the thingy, made the three beeps, waited for the
-*Vrrrrruuuhhhhh!* to start up and the *Hhhhhuuurrrrrv* that died down
-and crouched his way back to the main room, where the eight big screens
-slowly lit up and started complaining.
+hatch, put the AC on the thingy, made the three beeps, waited for the*
+Vrrrrruuuhhhhh!* to start up and the* Hhhhhuuurrrrrv* that died down*
+*and crouched his way back to the main room, where the eight big screens
+slowly lit up and started complaining.* *
 
 *You and me both*, he thought. Both stupid old things.
 
@@ -129,8 +128,8 @@ seconds of booting up, and five hundred and forty seconds of him staring
 at it. He then clicked on the thing and waited for it to start up --
 thirty seconds of starting the program and three hundred seconds of
 staring at it. Add about thirty scattered seconds of taking out his
-phone, checking the time, sighing grumpily and putting it back with a
-*ccccrrrrk!* Because he still could, dammit. Just as he pressed the
+phone, checking the time, sighing grumpily and putting it back with a*
+ccccrrrrk! *Because he still could, dammit. Just as he pressed the
 gamepad (they paid millions for this! how?!) to confirm the thing works,
 today's two instructors walked in.
 
@@ -528,8 +527,8 @@ soldiers from Adir's department scattering randomly in every direction.
 
 'What do you mean you're not running!?' roared Henesee, loud enough to
 slow the scattering around them, if momentarily. 'I am your *Department
-Commander!,* and as your ***Department Commander!** I demand that*
--**'**
+Commander!, *and as your ***Department Commander! **I demand that
+*-**'**
 
 '*How are we still having this conversation??' *Adir shouted back at the
 top of his lungs. *'I could have gotten there **TEN TIMES **by now!'*
@@ -589,7 +588,7 @@ prepared in the event of war'.
 man but he just won't take a hint. What did you tell him?'
 
 'Look, we've been over this. I will not keep 'undergarments' here. I
-will *never* keep 'undergarments' here. Not for two weeks, not for two
+will* never* keep 'undergarments' here.* *Not for two weeks, not for two
 hours!'
 
 'Not even for the war?' asked Ronen with an air of triumph