Vic 2

[Classified location], USA, Earth
10:28 hours (04:01 local), 14 April 2014

Son,
We're so proud of you!
Your father and I would have sent something last month when we heard, but we still have no idea where you're stationed. We'll hold on to it for when you come back though.
Oh, and are you still in touch with Stuart? Your sister said he was still working there, but that he had to drop out of contact because of something classified. About as transparent as a brick wall, but I can't say I didn't see it coming.
Don't shoot me, I'm just the messenger.
We all miss you though, and hope your training's going well. Please tell me when you have a chance to come back for a visit. I miss hearing from you.
-Mom
p.s. Your father told me to write "Duuude."
p.p.s. Get a haircut.

Vic smiled as he scooted his chair toward the computer screen, its dim light bathing his room with a soft glow. He clicked the reply button, bringing up a blank slate to write his own email response. His eyes found themselves drawn to a picture taped to the top of the computer screen. A tanned teenage boy sat on an armchair, his curly and overgrown hair threatening to erupt into a full-blown afro. In the boy's lap sat a girl, her own hair tied back into a ponytail that she was failing at keeping out of his bespectacled face. She was trying to grip the neck of an electric guitar that sat across her knee, her fingers almost comically small in comparison to the fretboard. The boy was pointing at the instrument, trying to correct her fingering as the girl made a gap-toothed grin.

Amy sure has grown. Has it really been that long?

He chuckled, turning his attention back to the screen as he typed.

"Mom,
She's too damn good for him. Besides, I already see more than enough of the bastard at work. Family dinners would be too much, even for me."

A snort accompanied the punctuation. I still can't believe he got the damn pilots calling me "Vic" already. He shrugged, returning to his email.

"I wish I could tell you more about what I'm doing, but they're screening everything that goes in and out of my computer. Apparently, the NDA doesn't even let me get Netflix. Shame really, but at least I still have the Xbox."

The man paused, stroking his beard as he thought about all the training he'd been going through: cardio, zero-g maneuvers, how to put on and remove a fully-sealed spacesuit (which merited its own lengthy course), warnings about what foods could and couldn't be eaten outside of the Earth's gravity well...

And he couldn't say a single word about any of it. He and Stuart had been lucky to be the first to notice the anomaly over a year ago, but at times like this he had to wonder if discovering the potential for FTL travel had been worth it.

Then again, NASA was keeping him in the dark on some of the details just as much as he was keeping his family out of the loop.

"They're keeping me in shape with the work though. I can say that much at least. They give everyone a week off around New Year's, but I'll give you a holler if I can catch a break before then. I miss you guys too.
Oh, and tell that goofy goober to keep her hands off my Ibanez. I know she's been itching to mess with it again. ;)"

The man laughed, a genuine sound that he hadn't heard enough of lately (aside from Stu laughing when everyone else called him by that damned nickname). He took a deep breath, the grin lingering as he finished the message.

"Tell Dad I said 'Sweeeet!' Hopefully I'll get the chance to tell him that in person before"-

A dialogue box popped over the screen with a loud ding, obscuring his message: Your session has been suspended until relaxation hours. Report for daily exercises.

Vic sighed as he powered down the monitor. He checked the time on his desk clock: 4:33 am. Three minutes late. Wonder how late you have to be before they send someone to your quarters. Not willing to find out, he quickly threw on a training jumpsuit and grabbed a bottle of water. Vic crossed to the door, opening it and stepping out as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. As he fit the key in the doorknob, he spared a last glance at the computer monitor, now just another empty rectangle in the predawn darkness of the room.

I love you guys.

He shut the door.

Author note:

This one was short, but planning on doing updates every weekday. For those who followed the original version: next one will be all-new material, and the rest of the "revised" chapters will be posted by the end of the week.