“Latvia!” Peter cried.
“Hey Pete,” said Latvia, her face deathly pale.
Only a few minutes after his briefing with the neuroscientists from PENIS, Peter received a call from the receptionist of the Helo-Fleet Headquarters’ Visitation Area. A girl had come to see him—it was urgent, and apparently confidential. It hadn’t taken Peter too long to guess it was Latvia, but why it was urgent or confidential, he couldn’t tell.
What concerned him most was breaking the news of Lithuania’s disappearance to her. If he had only just found out, there was no way Latvia could’ve already known. Then again, Latvia did have a knack for figuring things out before they even happened. More than once, her intuition had left Peter in awe. Latvia always claimed she just knew things by virtue of being female—by virtue of being observant, and highly aware of her surroundings. Peter thought it was spooky—borderline supernatural, even. And when he saw her waiting for him in the Visitation Area, her face deathly pale and her lips tightly pressed, he knew she already knew.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Latvia, just as Peter opened his mouth to speak. “Lithuania’s missing, isn’t she.” It was an assertion, not a question. Peter’s expression was grave as he nodded. Yet somehow, he felt Lithuania wasn’t the reason Latvia had just come to visit him.
“Something else is on your mind,” Peter said, looking at Latvia tenderly as he brushed a strand of jet black hair behind her ear.
“Yeah,” said Latvia, taking Peter’s hand. “Do you think we could go somewhere a bit more… private?” Peter looked around. The Visitation Area was rather empty, but the bright chrome sheen of its walls along with the room’s inescapable echo didn’t make for the most private of meeting places. Peter frowned.
“I’m not supposed to leave the grounds… especially not now.”
“What with my sister missing and what-not?”
“That, and something else. Let’s go to the Café downstairs. We can talk there.” Latvia nodded, and Peter led her to the glassy elevators and down to the café.
“How are you feeling?” Peter asked, as soon as they had both taken a seat. They were sitting opposite one another at a two-person table in the corner of the Helo-Fleet Headquarters’ café. The café was a no-frills, unpretentious affair, free of airs and entirely utilitarian. The glossy chrome theme pervaded throughout the entire Headquarters, and the café was no different. The wall next to Peter and Latvia was entirely of glass, looking out upon a modest garden with a trickling fountain at its center. It was a painfully bright day out, and a couple of Helo-Fleet lovers were sunbathing out on the grass, enjoying the natural sunlight which, as of late, had become more and more of a commodity. There was only so much indoor training and white fluorescent light bulbs a Helo-Fleet trainee could take.
“Peter,” Latvia took Peter’s hand, “Don’t ask me how I know about Lithuania.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Peter said.
Latvia smiled, a grim, rather lifeless smile. “Thanks.”
“You haven’t slept much, have you.” Latvia shook her head.
“It was an interesting night,” she said. “Let’s just say I had this horrible feeling about Lithuania, all night. So I went over to Estonia’s, and we basically just ended up fighting.”
Peter sighed. “Your sister can be one hell of a crazy bitch when she wants—”
Latvia punched Peter’s arm, softly. Estonia was her sister, after all. “But yeah,” Latvia agreed. “Estonia is a crazy bitch.”
“Why’d you guys fight?”
Latvia shrugged. “Long story. I’ll tell you about it later. I’ve got something a bit more interesting to deal with at the moment.” Peter looked interested. “But first, what’s this ‘something else’ that’s keeping you on grounds?”
“Oh, that,” Peter sighed. “Well, your sister’s missing, as you already mysteriously know,” Latvia winked at him. She appreciated his tone of mock resentment, especially at a time when anything anyone else would’ve given her would have been false pity, “So that makes me, temporarily, First Commander of the Helo-Fleet.”
“Look at you, mister big man,” Latvia joked.
Peter eyed Latvia curiously. “You know, for someone whose sister just went missing, you don’t seem to be all that freaked out.”
Latvia pressed Peter’s hand softly. “I’m worried, I really am. But I know Lithuania is alive. I’m not saying she’s OK—and I’m also not saying sleep deprivation isn’t throwing me just a little bit off my rocker, but—” at this point Latvia turned her glance towards the lovers sunbathing outside. They reminded her of Lithuania and Marco, or at least of what they could’ve looked like, had they at some point openly professed their love to one another. “I trust Foggistan will do what it can to get my sister back.”
Peter eyed Latvia carefully. What he would have given to break into her mind, and see behind her thoughts. What he would have given to fully understand what she was feeling and thinking. He loved her. They had been together for only seven months, but he loved her unlike anyone he had ever loved before. Yet there was something about Latvia that was always hidden—always guarded against him, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t break past her barriers. This had made their relationship difficult, especially in its earlier months, and it wasn’t until recently that Peter silently acquiesced—silently accepted that whatever Latvia was hiding, she would reveal it in her own time, on her own terms. She was a fascinating woman, no doubt about it. But it never ceased to frustrate Peter that he just would never understand Latvia completely, at least not until she wanted him to.
“I’m going to be honest with you,” Peter said. “Foggistan has no intentions of rescuing Lithuania—not yet, anyway.”
“What?” Again, Peter eyed Latvia carefully. Something in her tone suggested she didn’t find this altogether surprising.
“We have no radio contact inside LusciousLocks. And Jagesic isn’t going to just risk losing another ship and crew—it’s the other reason why I’m supposed to stay on grounds. The scientists at PENIS are running an experiment on me and a few of my men—it’s perfectly safe,” Peter quickly added, noticing the fleeting look of astonishment on Latvia’s face, “Actually, it sounds pretty cool. They’re trying to enhance the ability of the Psychics, so they can read more clearly into Styx and LusciousLocks.”
“Is that necessary?”
“It is now. It’s not just radio communication that’s become impossible… Even the strongest Psychics have been unable to perform psychic scans of Styx’s surface… It’s like an absolute dead zone. So is LusciousLocks.”
“That’s possible?”
Peter shook his head. “It wasn’t. But now, we’re not so sure. In any case, I shouldn’t be telling you all this—”
“You don’t have to,” Latvia cut in.
“I want to,” said Peter, looking Latvia straight in the eyes. “I trust you.”
Latvia gazed into Peter’s eyes only briefly, before withdrawing her hand from his, slowly. “What’s going to happen to you?”
Peter crossed his arms, letting his gaze wander outside. “It’s a perception enhancement of sorts. The effects should only be slight, especially since I’m not a Psychic. But once the Psychics go through with it… their powers should get pretty damn awesome.”
“So they’re trying this on you because…”
“They were going to try it originally on Lithuania. They’re trying it on me first because, should anything go wrong, the effects will be far weaker on me than on an actual Psychic. You know, what for me might turn into two days of double-vision, for a Psychic might turn into two months of hallucinations and mania.”
Latvia stared intently into Peter’s eyes. She would’ve reached out for his hand again, had his arms not been crossed. She was trying to see into his future, just to make sure the procedure really would turn out alright, but without physical contact, it was hard for her to do so. “You’re doing that thing where you stare at me funny,” Peter said.
“Sorry,” Latvia blushed, quickly looking down at her hands. And then an idea, a potentially crazy idea, began stirring in her head. The neuroscientists at PENIS… Peter was about to go speak with them, and undergo a trial procedure with them… A procedure related to human perception enhancement, of all things—
“So what did you come here to tell me?” Peter broke in. “What was so urgent, if it wasn’t about your sister?”
Latvia set her thoughts aside. Her face turned serious—grim, even. “OK, but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone about this.” Peter looked at her with an expression somewhere between amused and perplexed. “I’m serious.”
“Alright, bring it on.”
Latvia pulled a small pouch from her purse, from which she extracted a rectangular red box. “Don’t freak out,” she said. Peter nodded. She placed the box on the table, removed the lid, and before Peter’s eyes appeared that which Peter never suspected he’d actually see in his lifetime.
Peter bounced off his chair. “That’s a frikkin’ quilaire!” he gasped.
“Shhh!!! Sit down!” Latvia snapped. Eyes wide, Peter resumed his seat. Luckily for him, the café was so empty, no one but the barista had noticed his quick little outburst. "Strange, isn't it? How there are so many fake quilaires out there, yet all you have to do is lay eyes on the real thing, and you'll know it's the real thing."
Peter nodded. “But where—”
“In my family’s attic. I have no idea how it got there, and I haven’t dared touch it. But Peter, something just occurred to me.” Peter looked down at the quilaire in awe. It looked like liquid silver—like it would dissolve if merely exhaled upon. “Peter, look at me,” Latvia said. Peter overcame himself, steadfastly locking eyes with Latvia.
“Why did you bring this here?” Peter asked.
Latvia bit her lip. “I’m not entirely sure… But now that I think about it, I think I might know why…” She closed the red box, and pushed it towards Peter. Peter pushed it back.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Don’t worry, you can’t keep it,” Latvia snapped. “But… I think it might be a good idea if the neuroscientists at PENIS gave it a look.” Peter was about to ask what for, then thought for a minute, then nodded.
“You’re right… A quilaire is supposed to mess with the human mind in all sorts of crazy ways… Who better to check this out than the people at PENIS?”
Latvia nodded. “Exactly. Do you think they could keep this under wraps?”
“I won’t show it to them if I don’t think I can trust them,” said Peter, taking the box and placing it carefully inside his jacket’s inner breast pocket. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of letting this get taken away from you, much less fall into the wrong hands.” He rose.
“Peter,” Latvia said, taking his hand. She looked at him, her expression affectionate. She could see in his eyes that he appreciated her sharing the secret of the quilaire with him... But something was still amiss. “You know I trust you, right?”
Peter smiled, pulling his hand away from Latvia’s. “Are you saying that to me, or to yourself?” He bent over and gave Latvia a quick kiss on the forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect it. Now let me walk you out.” And with that, Latvia’s quilaire fell into the hands of Peter Pidgeons.
“Hey Pete,” said Latvia, her face deathly pale.
Only a few minutes after his briefing with the neuroscientists from PENIS, Peter received a call from the receptionist of the Helo-Fleet Headquarters’ Visitation Area. A girl had come to see him—it was urgent, and apparently confidential. It hadn’t taken Peter too long to guess it was Latvia, but why it was urgent or confidential, he couldn’t tell.
What concerned him most was breaking the news of Lithuania’s disappearance to her. If he had only just found out, there was no way Latvia could’ve already known. Then again, Latvia did have a knack for figuring things out before they even happened. More than once, her intuition had left Peter in awe. Latvia always claimed she just knew things by virtue of being female—by virtue of being observant, and highly aware of her surroundings. Peter thought it was spooky—borderline supernatural, even. And when he saw her waiting for him in the Visitation Area, her face deathly pale and her lips tightly pressed, he knew she already knew.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Latvia, just as Peter opened his mouth to speak. “Lithuania’s missing, isn’t she.” It was an assertion, not a question. Peter’s expression was grave as he nodded. Yet somehow, he felt Lithuania wasn’t the reason Latvia had just come to visit him.
“Something else is on your mind,” Peter said, looking at Latvia tenderly as he brushed a strand of jet black hair behind her ear.
“Yeah,” said Latvia, taking Peter’s hand. “Do you think we could go somewhere a bit more… private?” Peter looked around. The Visitation Area was rather empty, but the bright chrome sheen of its walls along with the room’s inescapable echo didn’t make for the most private of meeting places. Peter frowned.
“I’m not supposed to leave the grounds… especially not now.”
“What with my sister missing and what-not?”
“That, and something else. Let’s go to the Café downstairs. We can talk there.” Latvia nodded, and Peter led her to the glassy elevators and down to the café.
“How are you feeling?” Peter asked, as soon as they had both taken a seat. They were sitting opposite one another at a two-person table in the corner of the Helo-Fleet Headquarters’ café. The café was a no-frills, unpretentious affair, free of airs and entirely utilitarian. The glossy chrome theme pervaded throughout the entire Headquarters, and the café was no different. The wall next to Peter and Latvia was entirely of glass, looking out upon a modest garden with a trickling fountain at its center. It was a painfully bright day out, and a couple of Helo-Fleet lovers were sunbathing out on the grass, enjoying the natural sunlight which, as of late, had become more and more of a commodity. There was only so much indoor training and white fluorescent light bulbs a Helo-Fleet trainee could take.
“Peter,” Latvia took Peter’s hand, “Don’t ask me how I know about Lithuania.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Peter said.
Latvia smiled, a grim, rather lifeless smile. “Thanks.”
“You haven’t slept much, have you.” Latvia shook her head.
“It was an interesting night,” she said. “Let’s just say I had this horrible feeling about Lithuania, all night. So I went over to Estonia’s, and we basically just ended up fighting.”
Peter sighed. “Your sister can be one hell of a crazy bitch when she wants—”
Latvia punched Peter’s arm, softly. Estonia was her sister, after all. “But yeah,” Latvia agreed. “Estonia is a crazy bitch.”
“Why’d you guys fight?”
Latvia shrugged. “Long story. I’ll tell you about it later. I’ve got something a bit more interesting to deal with at the moment.” Peter looked interested. “But first, what’s this ‘something else’ that’s keeping you on grounds?”
“Oh, that,” Peter sighed. “Well, your sister’s missing, as you already mysteriously know,” Latvia winked at him. She appreciated his tone of mock resentment, especially at a time when anything anyone else would’ve given her would have been false pity, “So that makes me, temporarily, First Commander of the Helo-Fleet.”
“Look at you, mister big man,” Latvia joked.
Peter eyed Latvia curiously. “You know, for someone whose sister just went missing, you don’t seem to be all that freaked out.”
Latvia pressed Peter’s hand softly. “I’m worried, I really am. But I know Lithuania is alive. I’m not saying she’s OK—and I’m also not saying sleep deprivation isn’t throwing me just a little bit off my rocker, but—” at this point Latvia turned her glance towards the lovers sunbathing outside. They reminded her of Lithuania and Marco, or at least of what they could’ve looked like, had they at some point openly professed their love to one another. “I trust Foggistan will do what it can to get my sister back.”
Peter eyed Latvia carefully. What he would have given to break into her mind, and see behind her thoughts. What he would have given to fully understand what she was feeling and thinking. He loved her. They had been together for only seven months, but he loved her unlike anyone he had ever loved before. Yet there was something about Latvia that was always hidden—always guarded against him, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t break past her barriers. This had made their relationship difficult, especially in its earlier months, and it wasn’t until recently that Peter silently acquiesced—silently accepted that whatever Latvia was hiding, she would reveal it in her own time, on her own terms. She was a fascinating woman, no doubt about it. But it never ceased to frustrate Peter that he just would never understand Latvia completely, at least not until she wanted him to.
“I’m going to be honest with you,” Peter said. “Foggistan has no intentions of rescuing Lithuania—not yet, anyway.”
“What?” Again, Peter eyed Latvia carefully. Something in her tone suggested she didn’t find this altogether surprising.
“We have no radio contact inside LusciousLocks. And Jagesic isn’t going to just risk losing another ship and crew—it’s the other reason why I’m supposed to stay on grounds. The scientists at PENIS are running an experiment on me and a few of my men—it’s perfectly safe,” Peter quickly added, noticing the fleeting look of astonishment on Latvia’s face, “Actually, it sounds pretty cool. They’re trying to enhance the ability of the Psychics, so they can read more clearly into Styx and LusciousLocks.”
“Is that necessary?”
“It is now. It’s not just radio communication that’s become impossible… Even the strongest Psychics have been unable to perform psychic scans of Styx’s surface… It’s like an absolute dead zone. So is LusciousLocks.”
“That’s possible?”
Peter shook his head. “It wasn’t. But now, we’re not so sure. In any case, I shouldn’t be telling you all this—”
“You don’t have to,” Latvia cut in.
“I want to,” said Peter, looking Latvia straight in the eyes. “I trust you.”
Latvia gazed into Peter’s eyes only briefly, before withdrawing her hand from his, slowly. “What’s going to happen to you?”
Peter crossed his arms, letting his gaze wander outside. “It’s a perception enhancement of sorts. The effects should only be slight, especially since I’m not a Psychic. But once the Psychics go through with it… their powers should get pretty damn awesome.”
“So they’re trying this on you because…”
“They were going to try it originally on Lithuania. They’re trying it on me first because, should anything go wrong, the effects will be far weaker on me than on an actual Psychic. You know, what for me might turn into two days of double-vision, for a Psychic might turn into two months of hallucinations and mania.”
Latvia stared intently into Peter’s eyes. She would’ve reached out for his hand again, had his arms not been crossed. She was trying to see into his future, just to make sure the procedure really would turn out alright, but without physical contact, it was hard for her to do so. “You’re doing that thing where you stare at me funny,” Peter said.
“Sorry,” Latvia blushed, quickly looking down at her hands. And then an idea, a potentially crazy idea, began stirring in her head. The neuroscientists at PENIS… Peter was about to go speak with them, and undergo a trial procedure with them… A procedure related to human perception enhancement, of all things—
“So what did you come here to tell me?” Peter broke in. “What was so urgent, if it wasn’t about your sister?”
Latvia set her thoughts aside. Her face turned serious—grim, even. “OK, but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone about this.” Peter looked at her with an expression somewhere between amused and perplexed. “I’m serious.”
“Alright, bring it on.”
Latvia pulled a small pouch from her purse, from which she extracted a rectangular red box. “Don’t freak out,” she said. Peter nodded. She placed the box on the table, removed the lid, and before Peter’s eyes appeared that which Peter never suspected he’d actually see in his lifetime.
Peter bounced off his chair. “That’s a frikkin’ quilaire!” he gasped.
“Shhh!!! Sit down!” Latvia snapped. Eyes wide, Peter resumed his seat. Luckily for him, the café was so empty, no one but the barista had noticed his quick little outburst. "Strange, isn't it? How there are so many fake quilaires out there, yet all you have to do is lay eyes on the real thing, and you'll know it's the real thing."
Peter nodded. “But where—”
“In my family’s attic. I have no idea how it got there, and I haven’t dared touch it. But Peter, something just occurred to me.” Peter looked down at the quilaire in awe. It looked like liquid silver—like it would dissolve if merely exhaled upon. “Peter, look at me,” Latvia said. Peter overcame himself, steadfastly locking eyes with Latvia.
“Why did you bring this here?” Peter asked.
Latvia bit her lip. “I’m not entirely sure… But now that I think about it, I think I might know why…” She closed the red box, and pushed it towards Peter. Peter pushed it back.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Don’t worry, you can’t keep it,” Latvia snapped. “But… I think it might be a good idea if the neuroscientists at PENIS gave it a look.” Peter was about to ask what for, then thought for a minute, then nodded.
“You’re right… A quilaire is supposed to mess with the human mind in all sorts of crazy ways… Who better to check this out than the people at PENIS?”
Latvia nodded. “Exactly. Do you think they could keep this under wraps?”
“I won’t show it to them if I don’t think I can trust them,” said Peter, taking the box and placing it carefully inside his jacket’s inner breast pocket. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of letting this get taken away from you, much less fall into the wrong hands.” He rose.
“Peter,” Latvia said, taking his hand. She looked at him, her expression affectionate. She could see in his eyes that he appreciated her sharing the secret of the quilaire with him... But something was still amiss. “You know I trust you, right?”
Peter smiled, pulling his hand away from Latvia’s. “Are you saying that to me, or to yourself?” He bent over and gave Latvia a quick kiss on the forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect it. Now let me walk you out.” And with that, Latvia’s quilaire fell into the hands of Peter Pidgeons.
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