The East PacificBoard

Janus wrinkled his eyebrows quizzically. He had participated in secret government operations before, but they occurred in the cloak of night. And they were . Maybe the Scandinavians were trying to hide in plain sight? These conflicting thoughts jostled about his mind as he said without blinking, “ω it is. It’s the furthest away from prying eyes.” Bia had remained within earshot in the event of more technical difficulties, and she tried to avoid meeting her supervisor’s eyes. Airstrip Omega was reserved for emergency landings. It had to stay open; it could cost lives if misused. Even the lowly interns knew that. When she finally dared a glance, she sees stone. She noted that Janus chose not respond about the blackout. She could pipe up and tell them about the situation, but she decided against it. She had her own secrets to keep.

Meanwhile, Thomas Vulcaph, cultural reporter of Kallipolis Weekly, dozed comfortably in the first class cabin of a different inbound flight. The controlled descent had just begun to level off, and the commercial plane had to circle the busy airport before landing. He was exhausted from covering the ongoing debate about the increasing prevalence of Krioniki music and technology in Evrigenese daily life. The fatigue, however, did not prevent him from spotting another aircraft diving toward Omega. His flight jolted into the runway just as his journalistic instincts were awakened. He pulled off his sleeping mask and pulled out his note-taking tablet. As soon as the jetway was down, he made his way toward the last runway with a semi-sprint. Whatever was contained in that plane was news. And he had to uncloak it.