Prisoners of History, Part Two

From there it was a busy hour for the Gerwart scientists, as Rolas and Reggie observed from their position along the wall of the bunker. As had been planned, once the rocket’s fuel had been expended and it reached the apex of its ballistic arc, explosive charges separated the nose from the main body of the vehicle. From there the remains of the rocket fell into the sea, while the nose and its incredibly valuable instrument package floated down on a parachute to be retrieved via boat.

It wasn’t until that evening, after a hearty dinner celebrating the successful launch and recovery that Rolas was able to talk privately with Reggie. He’d been watching his friend carefully throughout the dinner, and was growing increasingly disturbed as he did. Despite the air of joviality his old commander tried to project, Rolas could see signs of tension in his puffy, sleep deprived eyes, and the ill kept grooming of his tail. He’d also kept count of the drinks Reggie had been downing, which had come out to about six of the smoky Gerwart beer pints.

After exchanging congratulations once again with Dr. Brownpad and his team, Rolas led Reggie over to his office, in one of the research complex’s administration buildings. Sitting his friend down in a chair across from a small couch he kept for informal meetings, Rolas asked pointedly, “All right, Reg, what by the Mother Goddess is going on with you?”

( He's going to regret asking that. )