His shoes just polished, his face clean-shaven, and his uniform freshly pressed, Peter Pidgeons walked into the Communications Bay of the Coralendian Helo-Fleet Headquarters. It was a large, circular room of a spruce and minimalist style. Its walls were lined with a series of large, liquid chromium display monitors, and in the center of the room was a white, circular holopad, intended for holographic projections.
Admiral Jagesic appeared in the holopad at precisely 0715 hours. “Captain,” said Jagesic, saluting Peter with a rigid nod. Peter nodded back, his eyes fixed on the Admiral’s holographic boots. He was uncomfortable with the title of Captain, acquired so recently and under such unfortunate circumstances. “Look me in the eyes son, your new rank demands it,” said Jagesic.
Peter looked up. “Admiral,” he said firmly.
“Good. You understand the circumstances that bring you here,” Peter nodded, “And you understand the weighty responsibility that is now upon your shoulders.”
“Yes sir,” Peter replied. It was the Admiral’s habit to speak in assertions. No assuming, no surmising—he spoke facts, and if he stated Peter had once seen a pig fly, then Peter would unwaveringly agree.
“It is a tragic loss—one that Foggistan does not take lightly. But we have all the reason to believe Lithuania and Marco are dead.” Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Jagesic anticipated him. “You wonder why we believe this? The latest confidential report indicates an absolute loss of communication upon entry into Luscious Locks, and satellite imagery shows a storm so sudden and violent, I doubt even Lithuania could’ve handled it.”
“Is a rescue team in place, sir?”
“No,” Jagesic snapped, his holographic form now pacing back and forth. “We have bigger fish to fry on Styx.”
“Sir?”
“You know we’ve suspected some presence there to be jamming our communications with Luscious Locks. Well, now that we are closer to the moon, even Officer Dameon is unable to read any signals off the planet’s surface.”
“Maia, sir? How is that possible?”
“If I knew, you’d know. As it stands, we will attempt no further ventures into Luscious Locks until this Styx matter has been cleared. We don’t know what sort of technology we’re up against.”
“Yes sir,” Peter assented. “Do you recommend any particular course of action for the Helo-Fleet sir?”
“Further ventures into Luscious Locks are banned. All other projects must continue as planned. I do, however, have a plan for you.”
Peter looked at Jagesic inquisitively. “Sir?”
“This project was originally intended for Lithuania, but given the circumstances… We have a program underway at our Physiological Engineering and Improvement Station (PENIS). This project, you are unaware of. You will be briefed by one of the program’s chief neuroscientists as soon as we finish speaking. Suffice to say, all trial runs have thus far proved successful.”
“What is the nature of the project, Admiral?”
“Human perception enhancement. It became top priority after communications with Luscious Locks fell through. Now with Styx, I’ve decided we are ready to begin enhancing our soldiers. Based on your feedback, we will then proceed to enhance our psychics. Having Maia and our best psychic officers incapable of sensing anything near Styx’s surface is intolerable.”
Peter nodded, not unperturbed by the notion of being the project’s first military subject. Jagesic apparently read Peter’s expression, and said, “Don’t worry son. You will be thoroughly briefed, and the enhancement is safe.” Jagesic’s paternal streak was both slight and rare, yet when exhibited, could prove remarkably comforting.
Admiral Jagesic appeared in the holopad at precisely 0715 hours. “Captain,” said Jagesic, saluting Peter with a rigid nod. Peter nodded back, his eyes fixed on the Admiral’s holographic boots. He was uncomfortable with the title of Captain, acquired so recently and under such unfortunate circumstances. “Look me in the eyes son, your new rank demands it,” said Jagesic.
Peter looked up. “Admiral,” he said firmly.
“Good. You understand the circumstances that bring you here,” Peter nodded, “And you understand the weighty responsibility that is now upon your shoulders.”
“Yes sir,” Peter replied. It was the Admiral’s habit to speak in assertions. No assuming, no surmising—he spoke facts, and if he stated Peter had once seen a pig fly, then Peter would unwaveringly agree.
“It is a tragic loss—one that Foggistan does not take lightly. But we have all the reason to believe Lithuania and Marco are dead.” Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Jagesic anticipated him. “You wonder why we believe this? The latest confidential report indicates an absolute loss of communication upon entry into Luscious Locks, and satellite imagery shows a storm so sudden and violent, I doubt even Lithuania could’ve handled it.”
“Is a rescue team in place, sir?”
“No,” Jagesic snapped, his holographic form now pacing back and forth. “We have bigger fish to fry on Styx.”
“Sir?”
“You know we’ve suspected some presence there to be jamming our communications with Luscious Locks. Well, now that we are closer to the moon, even Officer Dameon is unable to read any signals off the planet’s surface.”
“Maia, sir? How is that possible?”
“If I knew, you’d know. As it stands, we will attempt no further ventures into Luscious Locks until this Styx matter has been cleared. We don’t know what sort of technology we’re up against.”
“Yes sir,” Peter assented. “Do you recommend any particular course of action for the Helo-Fleet sir?”
“Further ventures into Luscious Locks are banned. All other projects must continue as planned. I do, however, have a plan for you.”
Peter looked at Jagesic inquisitively. “Sir?”
“This project was originally intended for Lithuania, but given the circumstances… We have a program underway at our Physiological Engineering and Improvement Station (PENIS). This project, you are unaware of. You will be briefed by one of the program’s chief neuroscientists as soon as we finish speaking. Suffice to say, all trial runs have thus far proved successful.”
“What is the nature of the project, Admiral?”
“Human perception enhancement. It became top priority after communications with Luscious Locks fell through. Now with Styx, I’ve decided we are ready to begin enhancing our soldiers. Based on your feedback, we will then proceed to enhance our psychics. Having Maia and our best psychic officers incapable of sensing anything near Styx’s surface is intolerable.”
Peter nodded, not unperturbed by the notion of being the project’s first military subject. Jagesic apparently read Peter’s expression, and said, “Don’t worry son. You will be thoroughly briefed, and the enhancement is safe.” Jagesic’s paternal streak was both slight and rare, yet when exhibited, could prove remarkably comforting.
Peter smiled inwardly. Jagesic could not risk putting the Helo-Fleet’s captain through a dangerous procedure—not after the loss of Lithuania and Marco. He was still wondering what the purpose of beginning the trial with the Helo-Fleet rather than with the Psychics was, when Jagesic said loudly, “With Honor and Moral Character!” It was the official Foggistani farewell salute.
“With Honor and Moral Character, sir!” said Peter, returning the salute. And Jagesic’s hologram was gone.
Peter stood there a while, waiting to be briefed and thinking to himself. The cloud over Luscious Locks... the Psychics being stumped by the silence on Styx… Whatever Foggistan was up against, it was ominous, and powerful. But he would not shy away from what was to come. He had been trained as a soldier, as a pilot, but above all, as a Foggistani. He would embrace his post as Captain with purpose and resolve. Whatever was up ahead, he could handle it…
…so long as it didn’t affect the woman he loved.
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