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    R. Eric
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 95. Stretching Wings

Back to a plot.  There was always a plot, but we sort of took a vacation.  Daniel!  You would not believe... Oh, right.  You were there.  Love you!  :wub:

Stretching Wings

Learning to Fly


 

I pointed at the train, “Can we go in?”

“Sure!” David nodded and we headed toward the red train.

I was excited about climbing onboard and then disappointed. The passenger car looked like a passenger plane but faced each other making a conversation area with four of those seats. The seats were thick and plush seats in first class. The material was soft deep red. Half faced the rear of the train if you sat in the seat. I realized there was only one track underground. So, going half of the passengers faced backward, coming back you faced forward. The train couldn’t turn around. There was a nice bit of legroom, too.

“King Olek informed us there eventually will be another train,” Ed said, “with smaller ones going to the smaller villages.”

There were three seats...couches...across the train. Two side by side then the aisle and a single. The couch in front had a desk that folded down. I opened one and saw a small screen that probably showed movies and television programs. This train wasn’t designed and built just for us, but for other countries for trips that would be further and longer. But with a trip of only maybe ten minutes, why bother? Maybe from the Northernmost to the Southernmost village, but not yet. There were windows, but underground all you could see would be rocks. The excitement and disappointment were quick. We went forward to the control room. Outside the train looked like a spaceship. The control room...it was kind of boring. There wasn’t even a joystick! A desk faced the windshield. On the desk was a fat turn nob. That was the throttle? You didn’t have to read to understand what they were for! Turned all the way to the left, no bars meant no speed. All the way to the right the size bars grew and that meant greater speed. An emergency stop and shutdown button you could not miss. I guess I expected more of a plane cockpit look with all the dials and screens. It required no steering, so there wasn’t a need for the screens or joysticks.

Basically, there was “on,” “off,” “go,” and “stop.” Like I said, boring. I could foresee one problem. Whoever is the Engineer would have to battle staying awake. It was dark, a good rhythm on the rails...I was getting sleepy just thinking about it. I’m sure there would be lights down here in the tunnel. There would be nice things to see above ground, but this was to be completely underground because of the months of ice and snow was covering everything. That’s why we needed these underground tunnels in the first place.

Peter smiled as he bounced a little on a cushioned seat, “Oooh, zruchno.” He looked up at us. “I don’t know the word in English for that.”

I had to think a moment, but soon chuckled, “Comfy.”

Peter thought about it and then brightened, “That makes sense.” He stood again. “Everyone travels first class!” He looked up at Ed, “Why is it there are more tunnels here than Stryia?”

Ed’s face showed surprise and he searched his mind for the right thing say the right way, “Well, we really didn’t have a choice…”

“Probably because there are more people living here than in Stryia,” I answered as Ed nodded in agreement. “They need to be more housing and that spreads out in the neighborhood.”

“That’s right,” David said. “All the people needed to get to work in the last winter, so we used some heavy equipment!”

“Like what?” I asked.

Ed looked a little worried, “You don’t like the train?”

“The train is great, but…” I hesitated.

David began to smile, “But…?” He was pretty sure he knew what the problem was that I had.

“It will be more exciting as a passenger and moving,” I confessed. I saw Ed was more concerned. “Where are the bells and whistles?”

“Bells and whistles?” Peter repeated the words to try to understand my use of them in the sentence.

“Yes.” I stated, waving at the single chair, “Here, the Engineer will have a hard time staying awake!”

Ed smiled, “Oh, no.” Chuckling he shook his head. “The Engineer won’t even be on the train.” He touched the chair. “This is more for the Conductor. The Engineer will be in an office in Stryia.” He pointed at the few controls there, “The Operator is connected to the office for the Engineer.” He shrugged, “Really, it doesn’t need him either, but if there’s a problem onboard the train, someone needs to be here to handle it. This train can go and leave with nobody on it, crew or passenger.”

David nodded, “All done by the computer.”

“No!” I mockingly wailed, “No, no, no.” I turned to Peter. “It’s a train!” I said as the should be enough of an explanation. “Come on, everybody knows a train has to have an Engineer wearing the hat with those little white stripes, a bell, and a whistle! How else will we know it’s coming? When it comes to a road the whistle lets people know to get out of the way or even just to say hello to that special someone as you pass by. It’s a rule if not a law!”

Peter nodded putting his arms around me, “And he knows almost all of the rules.”

“Someone has to, to keep us from chaos! I know this train will improve a lot of lives in Makarovia,” I said seriously. “Increase productivity. It’s beautiful. I don’t know where the button for a whistle is on this.” It was going to be a subway run by remote control.

 

The tunneling was pretty fast. When I mentioned how I couldn’t believe how fast to Peter and he just looked at me with an expression that clearly asked how I could say that.

“Really.” He said. It wasn’t a question or a statement, but somewhere in between. “The military is here to add manpower, but how many tunnels were here already? A mine and a tunnel are the same things and Makarovians have done it…” he paused thinking, “since swords and shields were the weapons and cannons. After work, fathers shared what they did and the next generation learned and passed it on. Makarovians KNOW how to tunnel.”

My eyebrows rose, “Well, excuse me!”

“You’re excused.” He said dismissively and grinned.

 

I knew there had been some equipment brought in, but Makarovia used equipment of their own they had created. Equipment the supporting countries now found helpful and had duplicated. There was the Krots. That’s Makarovian and Ukrainian for mole. This mole had teeth! I wasn’t just saying that figuratively, I mean it literally had these big metal teeth. Depending on the rock, it cut about sixty feet a day! In softer rock and soil it could be as much as two hundred feet a day. I had seen the mechanical excavators before. When they began digging the mine I saw these strange, squat vehicles the military and those people used to help with the mining. I’m sure they worked, but Makarovians insisted they use the Krot. Makarovians had come up with the Krots themselves. The idea was supported by the USSR as it would increase the yield, so of course, they gave Makarovia what they asked for so the USSR got more.

The Krots had these spinning, rolling...things, and I’m sorry the only thing that came to my mind was rolling pins. You know, to smooth out dough? They were four of the spiked pins on each Krot a couple of meters in size with those large, several centimeters long “teeth.” They started wide apart and gradually came together to a point. They spun away or toward each other and cleared a lot of rock that was chewed away. It burrowed. It was the clean up after the rock was broken up that had to be the biggest time-consuming problem. That and keeping the tunnel floor flat.

And there were lessons learned by everyone. Loosening up all this rock sounds simple? Cave-ins were always possible! I bet everyone has seen those mines in westerns or other movies and seen those wooden struts that held the roof and walls in place with mines. They were supports to prevent cave-ins! Now, the supports now weren’t wood, but they were to prevent cave-ins There were a few cave-ins in the past especially with our Russian managers who were pushing to get more and faster. Now the managers were Makarovians who knew the dangers and took extra precautions.

Mining or tunneling was pretty much the same.

Makarovians learned that the scans before they drilled were pretty accurate and those here to help the Makarovians found out that the generations of experience were as reliable as the computer scans in knowing the strength of the rock and surroundings.

Tunneling was easy because of the Krots, making the tunnels so they could be used was the difficult part.

This isn’t exactly a rabbit, but an explanation as to not only how quickly things changed, but why. You might not care how, but the passing thought “that was quick” needed an explanation. I was impressed, but the people I saw were from the military. I think. I couldn’t really tell the difference between the British Military and military from the United States. What I saw told me they weren’t Makarovians. I couldn’t hear them speak, but there were subtle differences in their behaviors told me that. People from the West moved about with more confidence in movements. Such as when they met others, the head was high and the eyes were open and looked directly at each other as equals. Makarovians were not shrinking violets or cowards, but generations of subjugation reflected in that behavior. Even with their own friends.

Yes, I know, fascinating isn’t it? That was sarcastic if you didn’t figure that out. I just didn’t want you to see I said something was there and have someone ask, “how’d they do that?” I was here, I saw it and I asked, “how’d they do that?” That’s why I’m telling you all this. This is how.

Even underground there were differences in how things were arranged. The housing near the Commissary/Base Exchange was newer for the personnel sent to help. It had wiring, pipes for freshwater and sewage underground making them easier to access and maintain. The original homes had them added to structures already there, just like in Stryia. The modern world added to the old existing world.

But what happened to Olek and Helga? What about the Consortium? I’m getting to that.

There were people here who were brought in to teach Makarovian miners how to deep-core mine for the uranium. Mining was the center of everything in Makarovia. Every man, woman, and child were here because of mining. While not even picking up any ore in their life, they were here because of mining to support those that did mine. From school teachers for the miners’ children, doctors who cared for the health of miners and the family, to grocers who kept them supplied with food. Everything surrounded mining. The powerful countries in the West imported and exported many things which made them very powerful. Sadly, Makarovia only had one big export; from the mines. There were multiple ores, but all of it mined. Now there was something we had that everyone wanted, could use, and that made it so important that we control it. The first two powers were told at the same time. The United States and the United Kingdom prided themselves on being fair and just. And Olek knew they would watch over each other. The other countries would be watched over by them.

It’s a fact, Makarovians knew how to tunnel and hide extremely well. They also didn’t rely on simple trust that people would keep their word. That’s why Olek always recorded his meetings. Always. It wasn’t distrusting, but it wasn’t trusting either. That was done with everyone, so no one felt they were being unfairly singled out.

All of this I say because of the changes. The world of the West had come to the East. My original concern was now back and warning me about the speed this was happening. Makarovians were NOT stupid. I mean that. They were often brilliant. Those that escaped oppression for being what they are in the countries of their birth were better prepared, but natives born and raised in Makarovia were not necessarily prepared. The new computers, televisions, and other items had dangers many Makarovians were not prepared for. My wanting to warn about scammers on the internet was a major concern for me and rightly so. People born and raised in the West were often tricked and cheated every single day, too. I don’t believe I’m a cynic, but there are idioms that can’t be ignored. “If it looks too good to be true, something’s wrong” and “If it seems too good to be true, it usually is.” There are people on the internet that can be charming and get you to trust them. You let your guard down and they take everything they can. They are damned good at it. That is key, they have to be good at it or find another means of getting things from people. A conman has got to be able to convince you he’s honest.

I was fooled (almost) only once, but I had enough of my grandparents in me to catch him pretty quickly. Kyle was the name I was given and he was a guy that I “met” online in a chatroom for people dealing with grief...grief, for god’s sake! Grieving widows and family that may have money left to them because of the death. He wrote well and seemed to have a great handle on his own grief and we began exchanging messages personally through email. He was military and overseas. He even arranged for us to see and talk to each other on Skye!

I was about eighteen. He was in his early twenties and a Lieutenant in the Marines! What was called a “Butterbar” with the single gold bar on his collar. It DID look like a stick of butter. I felt sorry for Butterbars. They outranked every enlisted person from Private who was classified as an E1 to Sargent Major who was E9. Every officer except other Butterbars outranked them. They had to salute practically EVERYBODY! It just was easier to raise the salute and keep it there until you clear people.

Oh, on day one make sure you have a silver dollar on you for the Silver Dollar Salute. Right after a person completes Officers’ Candidate School, the first enlisted that salutes them get’s the Silver Dollar. Why? Nobody really knows! But it’s an honored tradition.

This isn’t a rabbit. Rabbits are often unrelated things that catch attention. This is related. I’m showing it to you so you know my concern is well-founded.

He had sent me some photos of himself and his Marine buddies and I was surprised. He was gorgeous! The “Don’t Ask and Don’t Tell” was gone so served openly as what he was. He admitted to being bisexual. He said he liked me a lot. The first red flag that went up was we could never speak on the phone. It was always breaking up and dropping. We were to speak live on Skype. Again, the signal was garbled and broken. He said it was a problem with the base’s WiFi. My problem was that all he told me was plausible. After a month, I saw things that put holes in his story. He couldn’t tell me exactly which country he was in. Fine. He was part of the Peace Keeping Force and that could have meant he was in Iraq, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia...several countries. I knew they often couldn’t tell where they were. At that time I was living both in Asheville and Charleston. My upbringing in Charleston helped. I knew several military members of services from Marines, Navy, Air Force, Army, and Coast Guard. The big red flag was when he told me he had to go to the bank. I knew for a fact that people in the military did not “go” to a bank on base. They could access their bank accounts online and personnel didn’t need to carry money. They had cards they used on the base. They could access their accounts to pay an unexpected bill at home. There were automated teller machines. Most who were deployed had that taken care of before they left. Even people that were single had assistance with that if needed. I wanted to believe him, so I waited to see if he would hang himself. It could be going to the “bank” where he was, wasn’t the same thing as going to an actual bank. There were people out there, online, presenting themselves as military to con and scam people. The person I had begun corresponding with wasn’t the guy in the pictures! He tried to send an image from there, but as before, it was garbled and blurry. I was told it was at the bank and almost nothing could be recognized...except one little sign at this bank. I blew it up and saw where it said clearly “FDIC.” There was no bank there that was covered by the Federal Deposit Insurance. Funds for service people and those on the civil service side had their funds deposited electronically. The bank at home was covered by FDIC, but not over there.

When he asked if I could help financially, he’d pay me back he swore! There it was. His goal the whole time. I copied all the messages sent and received. Nothing was really said I was ashamed of. As Olek said about having naked pictures of him on the internet or even having sex, what did it prove? He was an adult Human male. If anyone read what I wrote to Kyle, what would that prove? I was a Human male and wanted to do what we were designed to do. We have sex and some things in my words told the reader, I knew what we did and the names for the body parts we did it with and what I understood what we did it using those parts. I sent the Internet Protocol Address I had for him, the picture he was using, and sent it all to the FBI and their department that dealt with crimes on the internet. The FBI responded back to me assuring me it was going to be investigated. I’m sure I was just one of the thousands they were researching, but within a week those emails from Kyle stopped.

I had been truthful and sent my real picture and told my real name. I wondered if he thought about it now. I’m sure he did. If he was still alive, he had to know I was the one that married into a royal family and was a royal myself. I would never know because he knew who I was, but I didn’t know who he was. There was a part of me that hoped he was still alive and saw who I was now. It was petty, I know, but...he didn’t lose anything by not being able to fool me. Grandpa said I couldn’t miss what I never had, but I wouldn’t mind if it made him squirm now. Who could he brag to? The other conmen buddies!? There was a part of me that would enjoy having him suffer a little bit.

All of that was to say, Makarovians weren’t any more gullible than anyone else. I wasn’t anyone’s parent...not really, but I had experience in a world they had not. Isn’t that what a parent is? Passing on what was learned having gone through something to prevent harm from coming to someone that hasn’t? I felt protective of these people. I was that way with everyone, Grandma, Peter, Olek... Hell, I was very, VERY protective of Peter! Remember? He had this innocence I hated for him to lose.

There was this quick, deep bark. I looked down at Churchill who was looking up at Ed. He had been so quiet I’d forgotten he was here with us. Whatever he said, Ed knew what needed to happen.

“Okay,” Ed told the dog and he looked up at us. “He needs to be excused.”

“He knows he can’t just go anywhere?” I asked.

Ed chuckled, “Yes, he does.”

“Damn, that’s a smart dog!” I marveled.

Ed chuckled harder, “Yes, he is!”

I’m telling you that dog arrived at a post where the metal grate was sniffed a little and hiked his leg. Grandpa said it was the way dogs left messages to each other. Pee-mail was what he called it. I knew the message Churchill left told all other dogs, “I’m top dog and this is all mine.”

 

We had a good visit and even ate at the Sherwood Forest. It was run by the dependents of the military from Great Britain. With sandwiches called the Robin Hood (a hamburger), the Little John (a really huge hamburger that overtook the bun), and the Friar Tuck (chicken burger?), it was obvious! You could order Robin Hood and the Merry Men! The Merry Men were crisps or chips. Crisps were room temperature potato chips and chips were hot french fries, but seasoned and crispier. All the characters in the story were up there in the form of a food item. It was all very good.

I remembered the hamburgers we had that day with Olek that day we were talking about improvements each mentioned our favorite fast-food franchise. I’m sure a Makarovian burger would be made and sold.

 

There were other things both Generals had to do. I had sent Ed the message so he could adjust things as needed. If he agreed. We were here, so there wasn’t a rush to do something else.

General Hammond promised to keep track of Arthur Welling and keep us informed of what was happening. Why us? We were family to Olek, but not kings. Yuri was security, but Peter and I were the secured, we were not the security. There is an age difference. Peter and I were the same age as only those few days difference. Peter and I enjoyed having fun. We often were silly but could relate seriously and faced situations maturely. On the other hand, David and Edmond were serious military men in charge of so many lives, but not so grown up they didn’t enjoy having fun. We met in the middle. What we were, were friends. As tense as things had been a year ago, we had melded together. That was sort of a rabbit related to the topic of what we were talking about. That relationship to the topic explained why our being told what Mr. Wells did was something we should be kept up to date about. We said goodbye to our friends promising to not wait as long to come and see them again. That included Winston Churchill. We shook hands! He was quite an impressive dog.

I looked forward to being able to take the train, we would be back in Stryia much quicker.

 

Back at the palace, Peter and I went to speak with Olek. We saw Helga standing in the corridor listening to the conversation happening in Olek’s office through his closed door. She had a worried face.

“Helga?” Peter asked in almost a whisper. “Is something wrong?”

She looked at us and shrugged, “I have no idea!” She waved at the door. “If it was good or bad; if they were anybody else I could tell you.” She put her fists on her hips. “Does any Makarovian yell at another Makarovian?”

Peter looked at Helga curiously. “Sure.”

Helga shook her head, “No, I mean, as in pissed off.”

“I’m sure they do,” Peter admitted. “Not Olek, though. He gets quieter. Who’s with him?”

“Klaus Orban,” Helga said.

Peter’s face got very serious and he simply said, “Oh.” He said the name in a way that told Helga and me he understood what was wrong.

I touched Peter and made him look at me. “Now, explain what you just said and why.”

Peter sighed, “Klaus Orban is from Tysa.”

I had studied the Makarovian map, but I had to think.

“South and west of here…” Peter said.

Then it hit me as it came flooding back. “Yes! It’s right on the border’s edge that if you go Southeast not even a mile you’ll be in Romania, Southwest you’re in Hungary, also not a mile away.”

Peter nodded, “You asked about any Makarovians who didn’t like the way Makarovia was governed.” He jutted his head toward Olek’s door. “He’s a major one that doesn’t approve.”

Copyright © 2017 R. Eric; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Outstanding chapter! The opposition has a leader who is a bit of a mystery. He dares yell at the King! I’m definitely looking forward to the next chapter! 😳❤️

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Magnificent chapter. Everything was enjoyable but at the end with Klaus Orban I wonder is he the synonym of trouble ore major problems ???😱

 

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