“It doesn’t seem possible after all these years,” the gray-haired pilot said as he walked across the worn metallic floor of the command center. “There are some places you never expect to see again… that seem to keep seeking you out.”
“Then it really is the capitol island of The East Pacific as expected?”
The pilot sat up as well as he could muster these days. “It was on these shores that watched the sun rise and mourned the coming of so many conflicts.”
“Some things never seem to change… Alright then, surface us outside the city capitol city port. They’re certain to have see a sizable submersible like ours long before we made our way here. There’s no sense in hiding.”
A much younger man in white and brown loose-fitting clothing rose from the command chair to watch the city horizon come into view. Past generations of Wachovian leaders had told him many stories of this place, but these were only stories half-believed.
“I will go ashore with the records of our past and my aide,” he said. “Allow no one to provoke you to action and inform all who ask of where they may find me.”
The car ride to the city’s government center was short enough, but it allowed a little more time to digest the news streams and other data sources at his disposal.
“War, death and threat of war, sir?”
Looking up warmly at his aide, he smiled. “Well it’s not all quite so bleak as that, Christopher. An undersea, multinational laboratory, ongoing multinational education and an intact capitol island are good signs at least. We knew what we were returning to. History is useful for that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Signal the driver to take us to the office of the executive branch, whatever it is called these days.”
“I believe it is still the delegate, sir. Our transmissions at least seem certain on that.”
“Very good, if the spies of this region are half as good as the stories go, they’ve been expecting us long before the request for a meeting the crew should be transmitting.”
Hikaru sat at his desk as usual, he had been there more often since the nation had gone back into isolation, the reports stacked up as often as ever he thought that they would slack off if outside contact had cut off they didn’t.
Down the hall the elevator dinged and the door opened a young aid stepped out with a pink envelope he began to run, with the offices and burst in with the secretary outside on his heels with a small gun she was quickly moving toward his neck.
“Sir, he called out, Ow, what? get that damned thing out of my neck.
Sir,” he waved the pink envelope.
“Sir, we found activity,”
“where?” asked Hikaru standing,
“Sir, Wachovia, we have had reports of activity from them.”
“Splendid, prepare my Raptor,”
The car ride was short enough and then they were there. Paying the taxi driver, the aide turned to look at the capitol complex. It had clearly been the work of many different cultures over a long period of time. Nearly every style from the region was represented in marble and concrete and glass and metals.
“Captain, I believe the offices of the executive body are this direction. We don’t have an appointment so we may have to wait.”
“We’ll accept what we receive graciously,” said the captain. He had been leafing through a rumpled newspaper left on a park bench. The lead headlines screamed about WMDs and occupation forces. “Truthfully, all we need for now is a grant to some land in the region. Formalities can be postponed if need be.”
Having found the appropriate recycling bin and guessed at the symbol for paper, he entered the building.
“The matter is completed, Captain.”
Captain Senwan looked up from the small green book very obviously well-worn from use. “Very well. If our land rights are secured and all things are well, we will leave. Leave a note with the office of the delegate that we wish to arrange some suitable meeting time. Other matters can wait till rumors of war subside.”
As they walked down the steps of the front entrance, the sun sunk low. “Do you think, Captain…” The aide trailed off at the beauty of the sight. “Do you think there will still be a way to find any measure of peace for our peoples here? Twice now our peoples have tried and left.”
“All things are possible, friend.” The captain smiled sadly at his young aide. “I will take up lodging here on the capitol island a little longer in case we might connect with the old friends of former leaders, Kreft and Rosado. Take the crew to the island and begin preparations. I have much to learn.”
Denis Moreira, Kelssek’s ambassador in Rillanon, was opening a bottle of wine in his condo apartment when the call came.
“Mmmhmm”, he said, wiggling the cork out.
“Yeah. I remember. That was quite some time ago.” The cork came out with a ‘thonk’ and he poured out two glasses of the Wenerdere cabernet, handing one to his wife.
“Oh, that is interesting.”
“Yeah, I’ll see about it when I come in tomorrow. Thanks for calling.”
Pulling the curtains closed over the view of the regional capital, with the Tower winking in the twilight with its multicoloured lights, he returned to the sofa and handed one of the glasses to his wife.
“Thanks. What happened?”
“Quite interesting actually. It seems the people of the Wachovia Coalition may have returned, and they’ve docked near the city. So we’re going to try and greet them tomorrow morning.”
Pressing play on the DVD player’s remote, they settled in to watch the movie.