“Marley!”

“Sir!”

“Son, take a guess at today’s count.”

“N… nineteen, sir?”

“Seventy-six. Maggot.”

“Sir! Yes, sir.”

Marley continued scanning the monitors while Commodore Bundy dialed up the Wilson Industries WKRP -1000 Mobile Communicator. The unit belched dust.

“Code identification please,” crackled the voice on the other end.

The Commodore cleared his throat and spoke slowly. “Changes aren’t permanent. But change is. Over.”

After a pause, more crackles. “Keyword ciphers, please.“

“New. Romance. Her.”

After a longer pause, there was yet more garbled crackling. Marley reckoned the Commodore could have been shouting obscenities given how fuzzy these secret transmissions had become.

“Ice Station Sasha, exercise is a go. Repeat – exercise is a go.“

The Commodore harrumphed. “Hear that, boy? No more of these blasted creatures are slipping out under my watch!”

“Yes, sir. Damn the torpedoes, sir?”

“Damn right! Heat up the nukes – it’s time to make some history.”