Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 78. Terra Firma

I had to get them off that boat!  I enjoyed it, but there's more to tell about.   I need sleep.   I'll check during the night, but...

Terra Firma

The evening was saved and the noise level went back to where it should be. It was a good evening.

I had friends take cruises; Celebrity, Royal Caribbean Carnival...the selection of cruises was countless! The difference here was we didn't have to pack the night before we departed and no suitcases were left in the hall. The cruise ships wanted the previous passengers to leave quickly so the new ones could get in the stateroom that same afternoon! We didn't have that highly ordered chaos. I'll just snap my fingers in disappointment and say “darn.”

"We didn't buy anything!" Peter said in disbelief. He frowned at the mound of clothes he was trying to pack. The suitcase was open on the round bed. "How can the very same clothes no longer fit in the very same suitcase it was brought in?”

I chuckled, "I'm sure they are devoting research about that mystery right now," I came around the bed carry a little suitcase with our grooming supplies and kissed him quickly. "It just may be a mystery that remains unsolved; like the mystery of why occasionally you put seven pairs of socks in and only six and a half come out. We may never know." I got a little malicious. "You do know about washers and dryers, don't you?”

Peter nodded, “Yes, of course, I do.” And then he conceded with a grudging nod. “I know about those things, but I've never used one.”

Chuckling, I patted him on the arm. “You'll never know the joy of the rinse cycle.”

Peter looked up, “Joy? What joy?”

One with a finger I touched the end of my nose and the other pointed at Peter with a finger on the other hand, “Exactly.” I said walking backward.

That wasn't unusual. How many lightly pink or blue shirts did you see at college? Males and females on their own with no help were just lost. No one woke them for class or did laundry. That was all on them!

Yuri told us the Makarovian jet was coming from Venice. If that...pirate (She was a criminal, but a pirate? I still see the Pirates of the Caribbean and Captain Sparrow.) was waiting on us. If she had someone watch for our plane. She could see the plane leave and depending on the equipment she used, she would see it head south. Where were we? We hadn't arrived, had we? The plane must be picking us up from somewhere else. She would have to change tactics.

Yuri came in followed by Boris.

“Ready to go home?” Boris asked happily.

Peter nodded with a chuckle, “We are! This was great!” He nodded looking at the suitcase. “It will be great to see Olek and Helga.”

I looked at him surprised, “And?”

Peter smiled, “Them too. It’s just a long list now.”

Boris looked at the bed and walked over quickly, “What are you doing!?” He picked a shirt on top of the mound of clothes.

“We have to pack,” Peter replied. “We can't just leave it here.”

Boris pulled the clothes out shaking his head, “You're doing it wrong.”

Peter's eyebrow rose, "There is a right way other than it goes in and shuts?"

“Of course, there is,” Boris took the last clothes from the suitcase. “You tried, I see,” he took a shirt and unfolded it. “These squares and rectangles are inefficient.” He looked at Peter. “Did it looked close to this you got them out?”

Peter shrugged, "I don't remember that."

Boris pointed at Peter, “I know it wasn't. I packed it!”

I tried not to laugh, “You went to a class to learn how to pack?”

“Yes!” Boris got an annoyed look and grimaced. “Every cargo ship, truck, plane or train car is packed professionally. Weight distribution has to be accounted for to prevent slips, load shifting, and overturning...many of those container trucks turn over because of the load shift.”

If I could do what Peter did, my eyebrow would have risen. Boris was right. I just hadn’t thought about it.

Boris took over our packing. Things were going back to normal for Peter and me. Boris and Yuri were there to keep us organized. What can I say? Boris was very organized! Boris got everything Peter had in that pile on the bed into the suitcase and had room for more! I just put clothes in a suitcase, closed it and was done.

Yuri was organized, but different. The plane was on the way. A few vans were coming to take us to San Marino.

Our friends on the Duchess hugged and bid our farewells, promising to speak soon and all the Makarovians got in the vans.

If this were for sightseeing I would have paid more attention. It was pretty here, but I felt the urge to see everybody in Makarovia.

They do this everywhere. The airport was in Rimini. The whole area was San Marino. I lived in Charleston. If you lived in Mt. Pleasant, Goose Creek or Hanahan, you lived in Charleston. There were a bunch of little burbs that made up the big burb.

We got to the airport and I will say I was...let down? I had been through some pretty big airports. Often we landed at an alternate airport like Gatwick instead of Heathrow. When we did the Ellen DeGeneres we flew to Burbank, not LAX; Logan Airport in Boston. This was the Federico Fellini International Airport. I didn't know who he was. He had to do something to have an airport named after him. I looked him up. He made films. Movies before my time and no movie title did I recognize. He was born here! He made a name for himself and they named an airport after him. They were naming Rsys Lake after Peter's and Olek's father. I needed to talk to Mom about that when we got back.

Oh, yeah! The airport. It was an International Airport, but crossing from Italy to another country was like what people in the United States crossing state lines. It wasn't big. No superjumbo jets were landing and taking off.

Yuri, who sat in the front passenger seat, had been speaking with someone a few minutes on the phone. He spoke enough Italian; he communicated with the Italians about what we were doing.

Yuri relayed something to the driver, who said something and nodded.

When we got off the Duchess, the passenger and cargo van waiting. The drivers were told to meet the Duchess and take her passengers to the airport. The expression of the van driver seeing Peter and me was classic now. This would be something to share at the water cooler.

Yuri said one final thing to whoever was on the phone. “The plane is waiting for us.” He looked as the van veered left and away from the “airport.”

The airport that had all those multiple concourses with gate after gate, wasn't this airport. We arrived at a group of hangars. A few people were opening the large hangar doors and we were taken in by the vans.

My eyebrows rose, seeing the plane it wasn't the one that brought to Italy...or London, Boston or Burbank.

“What the...” Peter began looking in awe.

The other jet was simply white. That was the color of most private jets. This plane had three engines. Three! That was odd. I'm not necessarily meaning the number. All three engines were on the back of the plane as if to push the jet through the air. One on either side and the third in the center with the tailfin sticking out of it. The engines and tailfin were a shiny black. The body of the jet was red! Not fire engine red, but a slightly deeper red like the red on our flag; Makarovia's colors. The other thing was it looked sharp. Not like a well-dressed man looks sharp, it was well-dressed, but it looked as if the nose of the plane could pierce through anything. The nose was longer. The nose was long and red and those Gothic lions on the royal crest were there in gold on the side. The nose was longer, but the wings just ahead of the tailfin got shorter and seemed to in the wrong place; to me. There were two very short ones, very short, toward the nose. They couldn't lift this plane! The other wings were too far back. It was the jet for Makarovia.

The van’s passenger door was slid open and I got out and just stared.

Yuri chuckled and waved behind himself at the plane. “This is an Aerion AS2.” He bounced. “She is a hypersonic jet...”

“Hypersonic!?” I gaped. “It breaks the sound barrier!?”

Yuri nodded, “It has,” he smiled at the plane and then turned back. "Overland we won't, but over the Atlantic, we will." He looked again at the jet. “She has two levels; which the bottom level has bedrooms.” He shrugged, “Not big bedrooms at all, but queen-sized beds or twin beds. There's an office on the second level and places to eat...”

Peter began smiling like a child that got an unexpected delightful surprise. “I have got to see this!”

It felt very comfortable. Luxurious! Fit for a king because it was! And for the Queen; both of them and extended family. Then a feeling came I didn't welcome, so, I slapped myself in the face with a smack.

Peter was now a little worried, “What was that?”

“Just keeping my feet on the ground,” I muttered. What I said in Makarovian was: Prosto trymayuchy nohy na zemil.

Peter got even more confused. I needed to clear some things up. When I told Peter that I wanted to make modern companies, industry “green” with my degree from the University...green didn't carry the meaning in Makarovian or Ukrainian. The direct word for word translation, what I said didn't make sense.

I nodded as I read his expression. “Okay.” I thought a moment. “This,” I pointed straight down and then waved at the surrounding plane, “Is not our plane.”

“What!?” Peter balked.

I gently put my hand over his mouth and held that finger I used when making points, “At least listen to all of it before you react. Okay?” I rose slightly on my toes and kissed him quickly. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. It's not the Ivanovs' plane. It's the plane for Makarovia and to get people to various places for Makarovia to improve their lives." I shrugged. "I hit myself because, just for a second, I felt like I deserved it." I shook my head. “I don't.”

“You do!” Peter argued. “You are a prince and made one by Makarovians.”

I grinned, “Why? I haven't done anything except give a member of the royal family an erection.”

Just he would raise a single eyebrow. That same eye narrowed as he looked at me suspiciously.

“I'll just say it,” I said. “I am truly humbled by all this.” I saw Peter's face soften. “Not that false humility where someone says: Oh, You shouldn't have when know they don't mean it; or someone who has the attention of everyone when an exceptional job is done; it was nothing is said or appearing humble when they're not as many religious leaders do.” I sighed and looked at this jet's interior. “They are dishonest. In this entire world, you know me best of all. Is this an act?”

Peter smiled warmly, “No.”

“The people of Makarovia are trusting me,” I said gravely softly. “The palace, the house in Boston, and this plane; are all parts of that trust as I’m allowed to use it.” I shook my head. “When we arrived here and I saw the name of the airport, I know it's named after someone. I wondered if something will be named for me.” I pointed at Peter. “This is how it starts.”

“How what starts?”

"That feeling of entitlement," I said simply. "Living in a palace, flying all overall because of who I am? I’d want it to be because of what I’ve done.”

Peter nodded and pulled closer, “I see.”

“I expect you to keep watch to see that I don't,” I said.

Peter shrugged, “You do for me, so why not?” He kissed me. “I love you.”

“I know,” I grinned. “I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rolph said coming in and sitting down. The others did the same. He pointed at the couch and some chairs. “Love, love, no one would know that just by looking at you. You might want to sit and fasten the seatbelts. We're taking off.”

Every kid wants to try out their new toy. I was waiting for the engines to start. Only to find out they were running!!

The hangar doors were opened and the engines that had been idling made a “wheen" sound that got louder and we began to move. I am still the guy that believes just because you have the money, doesn't mean you have to spend it. It was the Makarovian jet. The colors and the gold lions on the side told everyone that.

As smooth as they want the runway to be, tarmacs have bumps.

Anyone who has flown knows, you wait your turn on the runway. Logan, the airport in Boston had planes in line to do that. Taking off and landing; you went when they said it was your turn. That wasn't the case here. That “wheen” grew and we began moving faster. The nose began to rise and then we were airborne!

Makarovia was North and a little East of where we were. It was three or four hundreds of miles away...that and weather conditions, we had to fly over Croatia, Bosnia, Hungary, and Slovakia.

The plane felt and sounded different.

You know I am not just saying it to brag...well, yeah, I am, but soon we began to descend. The mountainous landscape was familiar to me now.

“I'm not complaining,” Peter said to Yuri. “This trip sort of flew by.”

I chuckled. “That wasn't a pun or something, was it?”

Yuri smiled, “It was faster. The other plane could go four or five hundred kilometers an hour. Eventually." He patted his seat. “This can go up to eight hundred kilometers an hour.”

Ouch, again. Math. That was about five hundred miles per hour. I could see why it was important. There were times when getting there quickly was the most important. If we went over the Atlantic where we did break the sound barrier, we would be going more than seven hundred and sixty miles an hour! Geez! That was fast!!

We did a slower circle and I could see Stryia. From above Styria looked the same as it always did. It was underground that was radically changing. The people came out with warmer weather because it was so rare.

That tall structure that held the palace; it was large. It was the tallest and widest construction in Makarovia. Stryia.

Touching down we stopped on the only runway in Stryia.

We only lost an hour so there was no shock. Grandma, Olek, Helga, Mom, Mario...it was getting crowded! Grandma and Mom broke from the others. Naturally, Grandma hugged me while Mom hugged Peter and they switched.

“It's good to have you back,” Grandma said happily.

I nodded, “It's great to be back.”

The others came one by one to hug and speak to us. Mario was smiling but stood back a little.

I looked at him. Remember, the only common language spoken was English. I don't believe we spoke anything but Makarovian. I switched to English, “No, Mario, your days in the background here are done. You're one of the family now.”

Peter chuckled, “If he passes the next test.”

A frown appeared Mario's face, “Test? What test?”

There are many customs and strange things are done in Makarovia; I'm sure his mind was quickly searching for what that could be.

Peter walked up to him, “This test.” He put his arms around Mario and hugged him. Not one of those man-hugs or short “how do you do” hugs, but an embrace. It didn't even take a second before Mario was returning the embrace.

I saw Mom's expression go from happy to pleased, and now tears were welling in her eyes. Mom must have seen the commercial I did about the water-proof gunk for the eyes. Her's didn't run. Two of her hands came together as if to say a prayer or to say thank you. She probably did!

“So,” Olek grinned at us. “What did you guys think?”

Peter released Mario and got this look, “Think about what?”

I am telling you! If there was an award for convincing acting...oh, wait, that's right! There is. Peter deserved an Oscar. Everyone would have been convinced he didn't know what Olek was talking about.

Olek's mouth dropped open and he gestured quickly with both hands at the plane. His expression said what else?

I shoved Peter lightly, “Stop teasing what you brother.” I turned to Olek and hugged him. “It was damned fast! It seemed we just got into the air and then down again. It's beautiful! Comfortable and...tight?” We spoke English to not leave anyone out, but somethings had to be clarified. “It's so damned new nothing rattles? A new car is tight...”

Olek was nodding now, “I understand.”

Peter chuckled, “I had to do that. I couldn't help it.” He waved at the plane. “How do I say this?” He thought a few seconds. “It looks...mean?”

Olek was nodding harder, "That's what I said!" He looked at Helga as if she could confirm.

"A flight from here to Boston takes almost an entire day," I said.

Olek was still nodding, “Yes. You have to consider refueling and all that.” He literally waved it aside physically with his hand. He pointed toward the plane with his thumb. “A full fuel supply and she could almost go from here to Boston and back…on one tank!!” He marveled.

"No more eighteen and nineteen-hour flights," Peter said to be sure he understood.

"No!" Olek said excitedly. "We can cut that almost in half!” He gave a conceding nod, “We can't fly over populated areas at the speed it's capable of.” The grin was filling up with the devilment. “But that doesn't mean we can't push it toward that level. You flew here at Mach 0.8 or 0.9. It doesn't take long for this plane to get to that speed for cruising.” He chuckled. “That's not hypersonic, but close. If we stay below mach one, there is no shockwave or boom.”

I saw “Olek.” He was this big kid that had the greatest toy. Ever!

Peter did the head back thing again and just blinked, “Who are you?” He looked at me. “I find out my husband loves sports that are violent and now I see a man that looks like my brother Olek. Your voice sounds like his, but you can't be him.” Peter shook his head. “I've never seen you before.”

Olek laughed hugging Peter, “Welcome home!”

Yuri came to us, followed by Rolph, Alec, and Mercea. “My apologies, Your Majesty,” They all bowed.

I was confused for only a second or two. He spoke with King Olek many times. To have that kind of familiarity was not appropriate in front of the men. Like Peter's and my calling Luke captain. Protocols. He looked at the agents, “Is there anything else required of them?”

“Sure!” I said immediately and pointed at each of them. “Come back.” You know, hugs and all that happened. They had been given four days off duty. They could visit family and friends and sleep as late as they wanted. It was their time. You also know me. I knew what Rolph had at home. I didn't know what Alec had, or Mercea. Most of the concern was for Alec. He had been with the guys for two weeks in nice, but somewhat close quarters. "Alec!"

He turned with a quizzical look.

“Guys!” I shouted. “I can promise confidentially as I am about the sun setting in the West; we will go to the Grotto. I don't want to lose touch. It would be great if you came, too.”

Rolph nodded, “We'll have to get a babysitter,” he grinned, “I'd love to.”

Alec looked happier knowing we weren't just abandoning him. We had told all of them, but now it was said in front of the King and Queen. He knew we meant it. Alec nodded, “You have our numbers. Just call or text when.”

Mercea shrugged, “I'm just going home. Mom will shower me food saying I wasn't eating enough...”

Peter's eyes widened, “You're kidding.”

I smiled, “She has seen you eat before?”

Mercea shrugged, “She always says that. She loves me.”

“Is she Italian?” I asked.

He smiled bigger, “Grandma, Mom's mother was.”

“That explains it,” I laughed. Everybody who knows Italian families knows grandmothers and mothers equated love with food.

Peter reached out and touched Helga. She was always a beautiful woman, but now...I know its cliché, she glowed. “How are you?”

She put a hand over her midsection. I didn't see any swelling, "We are fine.”

At least she accepted she was pregnant.

“The doctor prescribed prenatal vitamins," I said with certainty.

“She did,” Helga nodded. “She even helped with the morning sickness.” Sighing contently, she added. “I can honestly say I haven't felt this good before.”

“Wonderful!” Peter said.

“It's still in the first trimester,” Helga explained.

“We plan to legally marry tomorrow,” Olek said. “It won't be a formal ceremony, but you two had to be here. Is there anything on your agenda that would take you away?”

“They couldn't drag us away!” Peter promised.

Olek waved his hand to indicate he was moving on, “We still want all the traditional things for Makarovian Royal Marriages.”

“Traditions are great,” I agreed. “Eventually old traditions are replaced by new ones.”

Olek smiled, “And we will tell everyone why. The truth. We're not hiding anymore.”

I loved the country and this family.

Birds flew overhead. There was chirping in a tree by the hangar. The weather was comfortable with cool breezes. The sky was almost cloud-free. It was a beautiful summer day in Makarovia.