Chapter 2 from The SSMC Reluctant
When Murphy woke up the next morning, they had him sitting in a chair in a room that was blurry at best. He could barely move his face, as it was being squished by some machine. It wasn’t comfortable. There was a tangy taste in his mouth and he was certain that he was drooling all over the place, but the numbness of his lips and chin made it difficult to tell. The worst part was how the machine was pressing against his nose, making him breathe with a bit of a whistle.
Fortunately, his ears were uncorked so he could at least hear what was going on around him.
“What about his eyes?” he heard Rear Admiral Parfait say. “You didn’t touch those steely blue eyes, did you?”
“No, sir,” said the voice of another man. “We kept to your prescribed changes.”
“Sturdy chin?”
“Yes, sir.”
“High cheek bones?”
“Check.”
“Pearly whites?”
“Check.”
“You fixed those crooked lower teeth, yes? I’m not a fan of that, you know.”
“They’ve been fixed, sir.”
“Fuller lips?”
“Just a bit, sir, as you had said.”
“Yes, wouldn’t want to overdo that. He’d look foolish. I see you’ve given him the platinum blond hair, and thickened it up too. Nice touch, that. Did he get the full-body tan I’d asked for?”
“It was in the medications, sir.”
“So it’ll be permanent?”
“Correct, sir.”
“Perfect, perfect.” Parfait then cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you were able to alter his emotions toward older gentlemen at all?”
“Sorry, sir. That would be beyond allowable protocol.”
“Of course it would be, soldier! I was just testing you. Now, what’s his new name?”
“Don Harr, sir.”
Murphy felt his ears perk up at the sound of his name. It didn’t actually sound familiar to him, but it felt right. Somewhere in the back of his brain floated a reference to the name “Orion.” Things started to fall back in place. The message, the test, the destruction, the Rear Admiral’s odd comments regarding his buttocks. Ah, he thought, his real name was Murphy, Orion Murphy; but the name ‘Harr’ resonated a tad more solidly with him right now.
“Has a bit of a ring to it, I suppose,” said Parfait, who was just out of Murphy’s visual range. “You’ve also bumped him to the rank of Commodore?”
“We have, sir.”
“Wait, wait, wait…did you say Don Harr?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It sounds kind of interesting when you reverse the names, doctor.”
“Commodore Don Harr, sir?”
“Last name first, doctor.”
The doctor’s breath caught in his throat. “Oh, yes, I see what you mean.”
“I’d say we should probably change that out to something a bit less easy for the troops to use against him.”
“Sorry, sir, no can do. Identity swap protocols are only safely integrated once every six months. We could rewrap him then, of course.”
“Oh well, can’t be helped.” Parfait grunted. “When will he be awake?”
“Looks like he already is, sir,” the doctor said, leaning in.
“Excellent,” the Rear Admiral said as he walked into Harr’s view. “Nice to see you’re in good spirits, Murph…erm, I mean Lieutenant Harr…uh, I mean Commodore Harr.”
“Mmmk mmu, mir,” Harr tried to reply.
“Speak up, soldier!”
“Sir,” the doctor said, coming to Harr’s aid, “he’s not quite able to speak up just yet. It would cause all sorts of problems with his teeth.”
“Oh, right, we wouldn’t want that.” Parfait leaned in a bit. “At ease, Commodore. We’ll have you out of here within the day …”
“Week, sir,” the doctor corrected.
“… within the week. You’ll be off to Platoon F and ready to take on the galaxy in no time. We should probably have dinner to discuss the details of your mission before you leave the station, of course.” Parfait ran his fingers through his gray hair and added, “Maybe a nice little one-on-one at my place, after hours …”
“He should really get his rest, sir,” the doctor suggested.
“Of course, of course. Get your rest, soldier. That’s an order!”
“Mmmf, mir.”
John P. Logsdon and Crimson Myth Press are participants in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.
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