Chapter 18: Landing

Yokohama, Japan

The apartment was on the slightly smaller side, but not much smaller than the room Flat and Arpeggio had rented together back in Rondel. It was nicely furnished, and at the back a pair of sliding doors offered admittance to a balcony and a beautiful view of Tokyo Bay.

"Tokyo University offered to pay for the first year while you get adjusted," Shirai explained, placing a box of old utensils and cooking implements on their kitchen table. "But the money should be enough to get you settled even if that was not the case."

Flat was still enamored by all the electronic devices around him. Shirai's observatory had been one thing, but the presence of so many tiny screens and blinking lights was overwhelming at first, yet offered so much to explore and learn about.

In the kitchen, he saw his wife, clutching their squirming son, as she traced a finger across the induction stove. The medics had checked her out thoroughly after the incident in the skies near Ichijima, and had found her to not be in any serious amount of danger. After a day of treatment and observation, she was doing fine. Their son had not been affected at all, but that was probably due to the fact that Palapon's death rattle had only affected those with magic, and the children of the Special Region did not exhibit any latent magical abilities until ages five or six (for humans). The position and wind direction around the American weapon also meant that any radiation had been swept out to sea, so his family had nothing to fear from that either. Looking up from the stove, Arpeggio asked, "Is it true that this heats using a loadstone?"

"Same force, different principle," Shirai answered. "Once I've helped you bring up the other boxes and bags, I'll explain all the appliances to you."

"We could still call a mover!" Flat pleaded, "You don't need to pick up—"

"I asked you to put your family's safety on the line in Rondel. Helping you move in is a trifle compared to what you've done for me, and for Japan." Shirai smiled to himself, and added, "Besides, you've got a busy week ahead of you; shopping, furnishing, the naturalization ceremony, introducing both of you to the other professors at Tokyo U… Professor Youmei demanded that I give him your address so that he could pester you with questions before the others, but I figured that you would appreciate the peace and quiet."

"We will be safe here, right?" Arpeggio pressed.

Shirai smiled and placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. "There is an announcement being made in New York today. You will have nothing to worry about, and there is no chance of something like the Hakone Incident reoccurring. Japan has always been a very safe country for families, and we aim to keep it that way."

"It's just…" she walked into the living area, between the couch and television and said, "It's hard to believe that it's real. We're really here, we're—"

Her voice cracked and Flat wrapped his arms around her. "It's everything we ever wanted," Flat admitted with a smile. "I—I don't even know what to do next!"

"Ultimately that's up to you, but for now," Shirai gave them a courteous bow, "Okaeri. Welcome home."

United Nations Headquarters, New York City, New York, USA

Antony Leonovich Kuragin was more intrigued than annoyed by the change in proceedings. He had been sent to the General Assembly to be part of a multinational statement on geomagnetic storms, but the slot for the presentation had been shelved in favor of an emergency meeting; the Empress of a Special Region had asked to apply for membership.

While Kuragin wasn't normally interested in politics, he, like many of his colleagues at the Russian Academy of Sciences, was interested in seeing a member of the Special Region with his own eyes, rather than on Japanese YouTube videos. The Russian Ambassador, Kolya Sergeich Balanov had offered him an empty chair behind him to enjoy a front row seat to an important event. "Not that you should expect much," Balanov warned him. "Moscow's policy is to Veto anything that doesn't place Russians through the Gate, and I expect to see the same reaction from Beijing, Paris, and London."

Around them, the Assembly room fell to a hush as the Secretary-General stepped up to the podium. "Good morning," he said, his voice translated into comprehensible Russian over the Assembly Room's headset. "It is usually the case that new nations applying to this great institution are the product of massive social upheaval, so I am delighted, for once, to introduce a nation, wholly formed, that wishes to join in the universal dream of unity and peace between all peoples."

Balanov snorted at that. The Ginza incident was public knowledge, and the Saderan Civil War, though still partially shrouded in mystery, suggested that the encounter beyond the Gate had been anything but peaceful. The movement of American ballistic missile launchers and JMSDF navy vessels to the Special Region further implied that the situation was dicey, at best. Talk of another small regional conflict had also been brought to the attention of the UN with the removal of the WHO from the city of Rondel.

Ah well, Kuragin thought, we can allow the Secretary-General his fantasy.

"I would therefore like to present the Head of State of the Saderan Empire, her Highness PIna Co Lada."

The woman who stepped onto the stage was pretty, but dressed in formal Earth attire, so there was little conspicuous about her beyond her shocking red hair and apparent age. I have graduate students in my department older than her, he thought with a frown.

"Greetings to the People of Earth," Pina began, and Kuragin heard the translation teams on the other end of the line switch to accommodate her Japanese. "I am Empress Pina Co Lada, and I have been sent to speak on behalf of the people of my nation to ask for acceptance into your great organization."

She looked up from her speech for a moment at the cold silence of the audience, swallowed, then went on. "The Saderan Empire has a long and storied history, stretching back thousands of years and incorporating many cultures from many lands. We recognize that we offer resources and opportunities not available on Earth, just as Earth offers many resources and opportunities not yet available on our world, and it is the hope of my people to be able to trade with all of yours in a way that increases prosperity for all, and promotes a bridge of interplanetary friendship between our two worlds.

"To that end, I have come here to request Observer status for my people, with a hope to extend to full member status in one year's time. This is because we are currently in the process of transitioning from a council-aided Monarchy to a Parliamentary Democracy, and I would hope that the men and women of Falmart would select their first representative by their own decision, rather than with even limited authoritarian bias of any kind.

"However, we recognize that forming such a connection with the peoples of Earth would be difficult even under normal circumstances. I have been advised that there are those among you who question our sovereignty based on the access controls enforced by Japan. This is why I have spoken at length with Japanese Prime Minister Hideaki, and I am happy to announce that we have reached an agreement…"

She looked up from her papers again, to watch the audience. "An agreement which will allow all nations duty-free access through the Gate, and to Falmart beyond."

If the tension in the room had been held behind the dam of civility before, that dam burst at the end of Pina's line. Half the Ambassadors were on their feet, some people cheering, others shouting questions in a plethora of languages. Before him, Balanov's mouth hung half open in shock, and as Kuragin looked across the room for other reactions, he caught the Chinese Ambassador Liu looking back down at the podium with a similarly puzzled expression.

Kuragin's first question was Why? But this was quickly superseded by the even more important question, Why now? Even the Americans hadn't been able to conduct trade with the Special Region, despite the fact that they supplied military assets for operations over there. Something significant must have changed… and even if something had, why allow all nations to go through? Why not just America, or a select handful of Japanese allies?

What if they had found something that rendered those economic concerns unnecessary?

What if the thing they had found was dangerous?

What if what they had found was dangerous enough that they didn't care if other nations started exploring the Special Region?

Balanov turned to look at him and, as if reading his mind, asked, "What do you think?"

Kuragin placed a hand on the Ambassador's shoulder. "Kolya Sergeich," he said, "I think we have a lot of catching-up to do."

Jade Palace, Sadera, Falmart

It had taken the whole week for things to calm down enough for Clayton to return to his office at the Jade Palace. Even since returning, he had been bombarded with aides wanting his attention, or Senators who wished to thank him for allowing the original Imperial Aviation Group to return to Sadera. All of these he somehow crammed around the regular bureaucratic work… with the exception of one interesting meeting request that he assigned as much time as it needed.

This meeting began, as most did, with a knock on his door. "Come in," he said, placing his cellphone down atop his desk.

In walked Sherry Tyueli. She looked exhausted, and not particularly happy. "Hello Ambassador," she said. "I suppose congratulations on your victory are in order."

"Hello, Lady Tyueli. And it's you who should be congratulated. The victory over Rondel was ultimately lead by denizens of the Special Region with minimal Earth involvement. Shouldn't that be celebrated?"

Sherry didn't seem to think so, and slipped into the seat across from him, leaning against the armrest for support.

"Up late?" Clayton asked.

"I suppose you could say that. I've been having a recurring nightmare that ends with an American JDAM being pushed through a very small Gate into the space underneath my bed. You wouldn't happen to know if a worry like that is valid, would you?"

Clayton only offered a thin smile in response.

"Fine, I'll answer my own question for you. I think you have a device that produces Gates. I think that you've been working to develop such a device for seven years, and I think that the Night Triangle that you funded to put up is the guidance and targeting system that lets your device open one end on this planet."

That was exactly it, of course, but Clayton wasn't about to acknowledge that. "Interesting theory."

"I'm not here to talk about the specifics of your Gate device," she said. "I'm here to discuss what happens next."

Clayton's grin moved to a full-blown smile. "You're referring to Pina's appeal to the United Nations."

"That's right," Sherry leaned across the table so they were eye to eye. "She mentioned in her speech that she had met with Prime Minister Hideaki to discuss terms that would allow other countries trade with the Special Region—"

"I see that Sugawara's keeping you well informed. He goes back to Japan in two days, you know."

With the threat from Rondel removed, Pina had spoken directly with the Japanese government and requested that they swap out Sugawara on account of "unprofessional behavior." On the other side of the Gate, Defense Minister Nomura had applied additional pressure to the Prime Minister, and Sugawara had been given a departure notice a few days later. Clayton knew that Sherry had amassed other means of obtaining information about Japan, but with Sugawara out of the picture Japanese policy would return to being, predominantly, Japanese.

"Fortunately," Clayton added, "I have met the new ambassador, and you have nothing to fear. Mrs. Okazaki takes her work very seriously."

"So I've heard. I might as well point out that I know this information because I wrote the speech, not because of Sugarwara," Sherry said." So it might interest you to know that Pina never made such a request to Prime Minister Hideaki."

Now that Clayton wasn't aware of. "Who did?" he asked.

"General Kengun."

Clayton felt his gut twist. "Why would he do that?"

"Isn't it obvious? If America really does hold a Gate-maker, then they also have unrestricted access to the Special Region… and unlike Japan, they can access anywhere in the Special Region, not just Alnus or wherever Lelei La Leleina can be flown out to on a given day. Long ago, the United States became embroiled in the Hakone Incident over a fear that Japan would gain the upper hand in discoveries and therefore Intellectual Property. With a Gate at your command and deployable wherever you wish, that battle has been de facto won by the United States. Right now, their best move is to capitalize on the demand of other nations for access to the Alnus-Ginza Gate… after all, duty-free is not regulation free. Transporters will need places to wait while their shipments are checked for weapons and hazardous materials—I don't think Japan wants to see Saderans armed with Kalashnikovs any more than you do, Mr. Clayton. That means housing, food, gas stations…plenty of little things that go back into the Japanese economy."

That was not the answer Clayton was thinking of, but it made sense too. He said, "So the Japanese stand to gain from housing the traders or taxing and tolling them for other reasons. Still, in exchange you get access to Earth technology...and supposedly access to the Earth Internet. I imagine that your world is going to change quite a lot."

"It already has changed. With Rondel's surrender, we've probably seen the end of traditional spear-and sword warfare in Falmart. From now own it will be airplanes, rocket artillery, gun squads, and heaven knows what else, which brings me back to my original point. A Gate also offers America an instantaneous weapons delivery platform, meaning that if you wished to eliminate a problematic politician, there is literally nothing that we could do to stop you."

Clayton said nothing.

"The long-term ramifications of this don't bother you?"

"Ms Tyueli," Clayton said, leaning back in his chair, "As long as we're sharing theories about long-term ramifications, I have one of my own that I'd like to run past you. May I?"

Sherry nodded, and Clayton explained an idea that he'd been thinking about for some time.

"You know, it occurred to me as strange from the start that Rondel would want to fight a war. To be fair, their complaint about Saderan taxation was a reasonable one. After all, the United States was formed because a group of lawyers and businessmen were growing tired of overseas tax law implementation. Despite this, I did a little digging and had my people run the numbers on the Rondel tax rates vs per capita income by year, and I learned something truly remarkable.

This time he leaned forward. "The tax rate had been increased dramatically over the course of eight months. By executive order, no less. Granted, Pina knows enough math to calculate percentages, and I'm sure that if she also had the attention span to look into such things, she'd agree that the tax hike would be pretty burdensome. If similar action had been taken against Italica, I can imagine them wanting to secede as well. Unfortunately, we both know she's more fond of manga than legal documents, so the odds of her picking up on this fact before signing the tax rate into law was slim.

"But let's put that aside for a moment and discuss the topic of lobbying. I recall that a significant amount of money went into a senatorial vote around the same time as the tax hike regarding electing demihumans to the Senate. You know as well as I do that some demihumans, Warrior-Bunnies in particular, mature quickly and live shorter lives. As such, legislation was introduced to allow demihumans to serve at younger ages...but curiously that same legislation did not offer age curves by race. One implication of this was that a human could, in theory, run for the position of Prime Minister at the age of twenty, once the new constitution was put into place about a year later."

If the nineteen year old woman sitting across from him had caught on, she didn't say anything.

"One last supposition," Clayton said. "The key to sovereignty is the ability to enforce that same sovereignty. The Empire at the time of the Ginza invasion relied on a system of nobility to enforce the law beyond Sadera. Thus Italica was unlikely to ever rebel due to the Saderan sword hanging over its head, and Rondel could be counted on to either follow the rules, or remain neutral in the event of domestic strife. While this Feudal system can work, you cannot implement such a system with a democracy at its center and expect to maintain control over a large territory. Rather, you need a reliable system of communication between the population centers to assure that representation is properly established between the people and the Senate. Again, if you look at the United States, the US Postal Service was signed into being before the Declaration of Independence, and its formal establishment in law appeared just four years after our Constitution was ratified…

"But to get to the point, there needed to be a faster means of communication, and Wyverns and carrier pigeons just wouldn't cut it. MagThree gliders offered promise, but there was no impetus to build enough at the scale needed for a Falmart Democracy to function properly. But what if the impetus existed...say, a war? War is a great excuse to build aircraft. For instance, the United States built so many C-47s during the Second World War that the market was flooded with them for nearly half a century. Better still, such a war could act as an excuse to access even better aircraft technology and technicians that had been previously underfunded… or sealed away."

"In conclusion, if we put all these parts together, orchestrating the civil war between Rondel and Sadera would give a certain someone the technology and tools she'd need to become Prime Minister of a functioning Falmart Republic. The only thing lacking would be a Saderan victory, which could be gained by applying diplomatic pressure to Japan to provide the same units that dominated the last war. Correct me if I'm wrong, Sherry."

It was like looking in a mirror. The girl gave a polite smile and raised one eyebrow. "What gave you that idea?"

"Ultimately it was the underequipped squad of soldiers you sent to threaten the Rondel Council at the start of the war, without much of a good reason other than to provide Casus belli. That was sloppy, even for you."

But all Sherry did was shoot back, "Interesting theory."

Clayton couldn't help but chuckle at her reply. His black project, her political manipulations… the rules of diplomacy demanded that neither of them could admit to what they'd done. When national interests were at stake, this was simply the way things went. "Well," she said, standing, "this has been a delightful conversation. I should let you get back to work. I expect that Sadera will be host to dozens of embassies after the UN measure goes through."

She offered her hand and he stood, shook it, and watched her go to the door. "I imagine that it will be more complicated for you too," she said. "No instant Gate-bombing of your diplomatic problems. If only Earth had a satellite targeting system like the one you placed over our planet."

Perhaps she understood Kengun's plea after all, he thought. The nuclear calculus of Earth is forever ruined, and there's no going back. His thoughts drifted down the cellphone on his desk… and the GPS chip within it. "Yes," he said. "If only."

"I suppose we must all be held accountable at some point. Good day, Ambassador Clayton."

"Good day, Lady Tyueli."

As the door to his office swung shut, Clayton wondered which of the other nations would discover ADMIT FUSCHIA first, and how they would try to counter it.

Because she was right. Someone would hold them accountable. Eventually.

It was merely a question of who would manage to do it first.

Ginza, Tokyo, Japan

Dr. Nguyen was there for most of it.

He was around to hear that Chairman Delsus had been assassinated. He was around when the Saderan force arrived, flying captured and repainted Rondel MagThrees with replacement crystals.. He witnessed the Saderan message to the remaining Councilmembers describing what had happened in Delsus' office, including artifacts as proof, and the ensuing signing of the documents of surrender and war reparations. Since the war was short, economic reparations were light. Most of the terms surrounded the surrender of weapons, decommissioning of weapons manufacture facilities (including the disassembly and transfer of the new steam engines), and a restructuring of Rondel's government to bring it closer in line with the ideal province of a future planned Falmart Republic.

He was also there when the small convoy of two JSDF recon vehicles and one truck painted white and bearing the distinct UN logo arrived a day later. He did not even try to hide from them, and instead walked directly up to the blue-helmeted Italians and presented himself for arrest. The Italians, happy to be saved a long hunting mission, had treated him fairly on the way back. He could still hear their chatter as they passed through Alnus and the opened Gate; how exciting the new world and new creatures were, how fascinating the architecture of Rondel and Italica were, and how strange it was to hear a new language that sounded like it evolved from Latin, yet maintained enough clear distinctions that it was still very much its own thing.

He wasn't sure what would be waiting for him once he got back to Vietnam. From the sound of it, both his countrymen and the World Health Organization were both very angry with him, and he was probably facing prison time.

It had been raining at Alnus, and the truck was still slick with moisture when the soldiers finally told him to get off at Ginza for transfer to another vehicle. Slick enough that his hand slipped on the side of the vehicle and he fell, hands first, onto the pavement. He felt a brief spike of pain and, as the Italians lifted him back to his feet, he saw blood on his hands. They offered him bandages, but he waved them off.

Ultimately, he was transferred to the back of a police vehicle. He watched out of the rear windshield as the Gate facility got smaller and smaller, until they turned a corner and it was lost from sight.

He had been there for many things during his Gate trip, but only one particularly special, private event stood out. The last words of Palapon before the God of Revenge slipped into eternity.

Nguyen looked at his hands one more time. Making sure the drivers of the vehicle weren't looking, he wiped one hand off on his pants leg and looked again.

The cuts were gone, healed impossibly fast by the magic possessed by only one select group of the Special Region.

A group which he was now, technically, a member of.

Palapon's last words had been, "You wanted to know about Apostles? You're it."

Tsukuba Space Center, Japan

"Do you think she'll recognize me?" Greta asked. "I mean, it's been seven years… and what if this thing frightens her?"

The aerospace engineer held up her right hand—the one that McKann had said would never move again. As soon as they'd arrived in Japan, Greta had rushed to the closest public library to research ways to get her dead arm functioning. Ellie had watched over her shoulder in awe as the screen displayed page after page and image after image of options for people with Greta's problem. Fortunately, Japan, being one of the great robotics capitols of the world, had a solution. Within an hour they had the name of a firm in Nagoya that specialized in lightweight, 3-D printed exoskeletons for the disabled. This particular design used surface electrodes to detect nerve impulses from Greta's upper arm that controlled motors that helped manipulate her fingers and wrist.

"If she's as crazy about technology as you are, she'll probably be even more excited," Ellie pointed out. "You did say that she was the one who taught you the word robotics to begin with."

They were standing outside the entrance of a large building on the JAXA campus. This, they were told, was the Space Station Test Building. Within was a mockup of the International Space Station's Kibo Laboratory...and the under-construction hull of a new module bound for the upcoming International Lunar Operating Platform-Gateway. When Greta had tried to describe either of the two stations to her, Hector had snorted and shook his head. "Outpost beyond the sky indeed," he'd said. "As if these Earth people have anything better to do with their time and wealth."

"The three of us are astronauts," Ellie pointed out. "Maybe they'll take us up there next?"

"Maybe we'll build our own first," Hector countered. "After all, how many Earth nations have sent people to Space on their own vessels?"

"Three," Greta said. "Maybe four… oh I knew that I forgot something at the library! Now I want to go back and check if India ever made it."

"You'll miss Carol!"

"She probably doesn't remember—"

"Isn't that her, there?" Hector asked, pointing.

The woman who emerged from the building was older than when Greta had last seen her, perhaps with a few more lines in her face, and a little grey in her hair, but it was still unmistakably Carol Dawson. She appeared to fiddle with a collapsible umbrella for a moment, then looked up and, on noticing them, froze.

Hector gave Greta a firm shove and said, "Go to her, girl!"

He didn't need to ask twice. Greta rushed through the drizzle until she was feet apart from her old mentor. With a shaking hand, she reached into a raincoat pocket and pulled out the postcard that Carol had given her seven years ago. "I—I built it—" she stuttered. "Just like I told you I would, a—and I got to go above the Karman line, and—"

Carol dropped everything and grabbed Greta in a firm hug, which Greta easily and quickly reciprocated. Even from this distance, Ellie could see that they were both crying.

"We should give them some time," Ellie started, Hector acknowledged with a nod, and they went for a walk.

Compared to the busy streets and rail lines they had taken to get there, the space center's rocket park was wonderfully silent and still. The drizzle gave the air a charged atmosphere which smelled of trees and a hint of soy. They eventually came to a stop in front of a massive H-II, laying on one side. A plaque in front of the vehicle described some of the history of the vehicle and Hector, in early struggling Japanese, attempted a translation.

"It says that the original was based from an old American rocket called Delta," he said, raising an eyebrow. "So Greta's not the only ones to copy from the Americans."

"Did the Americans copy from someone else?"

"It doesn't say… " He looked over at Ellie and said, "What do you think about what they did? About copying the Gate?"

Ellie wasn't sure what to say, so she countered, "Why, what do you think?"

Hector continued to stare down at the information placard, but it was clear that he was lost in his own thoughts rather than reading it. "On the one hand...it frees them from the tyrrany of needing to use other Godwrecker weapons and starts the process to properly unite the two worlds. If it was not used, we would not be standing here, Greta would not have reunited with Dr. Dawson, and the ban on Earth technology in our world would still be in place. On the other hand, it lets the Americans put the sword to whomever they wish, whenever they wish, wherever they wish, and the consequences of ordering the death of a God made people all over our world suffer. Is that right? Is one really worth trading for the other?"

He turned to look at her. "And what will happen to our world once we have all of that technology?"

Ellie shrugged and said, "We'll have to do the right thing?"

"'Right' and 'wrong' become harder to pin down when their definitions are up for revision," Hector pointed out. "The world's not that simple, girl."

She couldn't help but smile at Hector's chiding. The past few weeks had been people trying to figure out what right and wrong actually meant. Perhaps not everyone had gotten what the wanted, and many of them had learned harsh lessons along the way.

The Americans and Japanese, Sadera and Rondel, herself… all trying to pin down that point. Regardless of what they had learned, they shared one thing. They had all changed from it.

"I know,' she said. "I guess that's part of growing up, isn't it?"

Author's note

It has been seven years—almost as long as it took Greta to build her spaceships—since crew-capable vehicles have flown from the launch pads in Florida. If nothing else, it will be exciting to see Private space grow up as it writes the next chapter in the history of spaceflight.

A Sky Full of Thunder was never supposed to happen. I felt that much of the future was abundantly clear from the final and bonus chapters of A Sky Full of Fire, but I just couldn't leave the characters where they were. Not with so much else to speculate about, and especially not with Odette Ze Negula practically screaming at me from the cover of Weigh Anchor to do something with her race in the context of flight and space.

For those of you shouting What about Nguyen! I feel that it's reasonably easy to guess what would happen next, and while I don't see a sequel as necessary, the groundwork for it is there if enough free time appears for me to come back to it. Please don't hold your breath though, I have a lot on my plate, and as you probably noticed with the past few chapters, not as much time to write as I'd like.

Was Thunder as good as Fire? That's up to the rest of you to decide. Whether you've been following since February of 2017 or started reading today, you have my sincerest thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to accommodate my little thought-experiment. As always, if you have any lingering questions, feel free to PM me.

8andahalfby11

August 22, 2018