Captain Hobas looked at Augustus, forcing an ugly smile onto her gaunt face.
"Of course, you may," she said in a raspy voice.
"Please forgive this young man's recklessness and discourtesy." Augustus smoothed the wrinkles in his uniform and climbed a short flight of steps onto the opera house's main stage.
At this time, there were roughly sixty people in the audience, most of them soldiers from Third Platoon. The only people from the other platoons were officers. Those platoons were mostly made up of resocialized soldiers, who clearly had no need to listen to a pre-battle rallying speech.
From the semicircular seating that rose row by row, familiar and unfamiliar faces alike, pairs of different eyes, all watched Augustus.
"I know you, Sergeant Augustus Mengsk. Even including your time in boot camp, it took you only four months to rise from private to sergeant," Hobas said as Augustus came to stand beside her.
"You have earned at least three medals. Your record is richer and more remarkable than that of some veteran Marines who have served for over five years. And the battle at Fort Howe not long ago practically made you famous overnight. UNN's national radio and television network even reported on your heroic deeds."
"As a scrolling caption under the news? Sorry, Ms. Hobas, but they never even interviewed me." Augustus raised both hands and touched the Holographic Projection above the stage. Woven from countless pale-blue lines, the projection rotated, zoomed in, enlarged, and shrank with the movements of his hands.
"I'm sure UNN's reporters are preparing to do just that," Hobas said.
The Holographic Projection suspended above the main stage was cast by four projectors embedded in the opera house walls. It could cover the entire stage, yet in Augustus's hands, it was no more than