After hearing Josef Busch’s answer, Lincoln Jones went back to his room and sends for a messenger to the local telegraph station in the city to send this message to the South Auroran Federation Maritime Security Board:
“This is Lincoln Jones of the South Auroran Federation Civil Engineers Organization, I am sending you this telegram from the S.S East Pacific. After noting the lack of lifeboats on board and a feeling that there’s going to be a major accident soon, can you monitor the route of the S.S. East Pacific? I hope this isn’t too much to ask.”
After sending the telegram, Lincoln Jones still worries about his feeling but he tells himself, “I already bought the ticket so I may as well enjoy myself,” so he then proceeds to go up to the deck and enjoy the view of the sea. “Defitnely a great view and worth the price.”
Rita found herself in the main boiler room. The force of which a handful of Mexregionans and an enormous multitude of foreigners were boarding was getting to the point where she had needed to get some fresh air… as things turned out, this was not the fate for Miss Rita. She had, whilst attempting to avoid the churning rampage outside, got herself stuck in a corner. A figurative one: she was subject to the movements of the laborers in the lower extremes of the vessel. Currently they were preparing for their voyage, stocking machinery, checking pipes, the like, but even this caught Rita in her tracks. The swarms of sweaty, malnourished men under the more fortunate travelers tampered with the mindset of Rita: she was caught in the same place she had always been. She was now exposed to the elements of the world, to the disparities, the pain, the endless, restricting orders. To the higher classes, the labeled and therefore flawed lower classes, and the ever-thinning middle. Rita was not on The East Pacific, she was back on Insulmin: the Island of Turmoil, Loathing, Hatred. If Rita had learned anything, it was that the steam-stacks choked her far more immensely than the varied smogs of the Projects.
[hr]
“Do you have permission to be here, ma’am?”
Miss Rita had a confused expression on her face.
The butler caught her expression.
“Er, Habes hic liceat, mulier?”
“O, O, quid faciam? Me paenitet, satis Ego perdidi. Ego non nocere. Placere enim miserere mei. Ego tantum volo ut ex Insulmin. Quaeso, obsecro of-” (“Oh, oh, do I? I’m sorry, I’m quite lost. I meant no harm. Please have mercy on me. I only want to get out of Insulmin. Please, I beg of-”)
“Nemo, ne solliciti. Omni juris satis est. Non possum dicere aliquid ad hoc iter est tibi. EGO iustus have ut rogare te nuntiare usque ad inferiorem partem vasis quam primum. Sunt ultra huc illucque ostium.” (“No, don’t worry. It is quite all right. I can tell that this trip means something to you. I just have to ask that you report to the lower portions of the vessel as soon as possible. They’re beyond yonder door.”)
“Gratias ago tibi, o.” (“Oh, thank you.”) Rita was shocked. As she head to the mentioned door, she was sure she was dreaming. This was the first time she was considered a decent human being. The first time somebody hadn’t punished her due to a misdemeanor. A mistake. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad place, after all.
After stumbling over a few people and a small dog, she finally found herself in her assigned room. Unaccustomed and ill-fitted to beauty or cleanse herself, she slumped onto her stiff bed, huddled in, and fell asleep with a smile on her face. An expression such as this was a rare concession.
Offical Red Star Telagraph To Mr.Zantoen
Dear Mr.Zantoen im proud to say that we did succesfully fix the S.S North Pacific hole withen 6 months thanks to your shipyard, as far as I’m aware the crew says the passengers & public think the ship in the Handerskoft Shipyards is the S.S North Pacific when in fact it is the S.S East Pacific. We can now move on with the next phase, a captain… actually a drunken captain will sail and we pray they hit something so we could receive the 180 million in insurance for the ship, the number ofnkifeboats have been reduce to allow for more deck space, i expect you can receive the payment for the S.S Brilanica.
Yours Truley
Aaron Nevlon
[hr]
Lookout Taylor walk the decks preparing to patrol and control the lower decks after reports of jammed pack hallways full of lost people, " Alright move it you bloody bastards look for the arrows pointing twords your room area" he shouts.
A messenger returns a day later from the telegraph station and delivers the response from the South Auroran Federation Maritime Security Board.
“Mr. Lincoln Jones, we have received your telegram stating your distress and observations that the S.S. East Pacific may have a major accident soon on its maiden voyage. The South Auroran Federation government has taken your concerns seriously and have advised all South Auroran Federation ships on the route of the S.S. East Pacific to be on the lookout for the S.S. East Pacific. The lack of lifeboats worries us along with your feeling since your ‘feelings’ do usually come true, which my fellow members can confirm. We hope you have a safe journey. From, the South Auroran Federation Maritime Safety Board.”
Lincoln Jones says to himself, “Well, at least we’ll have some sort of safety net in place.” (After reading the telegram, Lincoln Jones goes down to the lounge to smoke a cigar and relax.)
After eating, a quick trip back to his room, and a bit of wandering, Oddbjørn found himself in the upper-class lounge. Finding a nice chair to sit in, he took out his bottle of akevitt and poured himself a glass. He put his bottle back and sipped from his akevitt. He sighed and leaned back. After a few minutes of relaxing like this, he found himself a newspaper and began to read. After reading what he deemed interesting, he folded it back up and put it back. He took a few more sips from his glass and he leaned back again.
Lincoln Jones was smoking his cigar and reading his book when he saw someone else enter the lounge. Bored out of his mind, he decided to introduce himself to the stranger. “Hello.”
“Hello,”
Oddbjørn opened his eyes. He saw a man with a cigar and a book looking at him. Oddbjørn nodded. “Hello.”
“So, how does the akevitt taste? I’m a stickler for whiskey,” said Lincoln Jones.
“It’s good. I prefer it over most other drinks to be honest. I have many more bottles of it in my luggage. As for whiskey, I’m fine with it. I have to stick with the akevitt though.”
“So, what brings you on board the S.S East Pacific?”
Count Terje Ingvar was still in the Lounge, reading his newspaper.
He lowered it slightly, and replied, “Akevitt is delicious. It’s a shame there’s none in Atlantia, where they drink that absinthe thing or whatever.”
“I’m just heading home to Asendavia after a trip here, and yeah, it is indeed a shame there’s not really any akevitt in Atlantia. I feel like they tried copying akevitt with their absinthe.”
“I’m a civil engineer going around to see the world while I’m still on my vacation. What places do you recommend I should visit when I get to Asendavia?”
“Definitely check out Stromharad and Gjøjøen, near Khiyev.”
“I would recommend visiting Stromharad, it’s beautiful, old, and the capital. I would also recommend Yoria, Hvitsora, and Khiyev. Khiyev is the northernmost city in Asendavia, jsut know that if you do go there, it will be very, very cold. Hvitsora and Yoria are also both nice cities. As for Gjøjøen, eh. It’s a somewhat small city located in the western part of the island of Khiyev. The only advantage that it really has is that it’s near the straits separating the island from the mainland. Finally, you should visit the Ademarite mountain range, it follows practically all of the western border and it has the tallest mountain in the world.”
“I’ll take both of your advice and keep them in mind when I get there. So, what do you both think of the S.S East Pacific?”
“I think it’s a nice ship. Personally, I think the ships back home are better though.”
“Yeah, I prefer the ships back home in the South Auroran Federation. Something just feels off about the S.S East Pacific and I got a bad feeling about it.”
“Nothing really feels off to me about it but, whatever,” he sipped more of his akevitt.
“Perhaps that feeling is from that weird dream of mine’s last night,” then takes another puff of his cigar.