"Vierna, please think of what you are doing," Dinin said pleading. "We know nothing of this area except that this is where the Zin-Carla died; we could be walking into a trap." He glanced over at his boss who wisely stayed out of the conversation. The Priestess had been…nice recently, but Jarlaxle was not willing to hit the gambler's run at this juncture.
"Don't be silly, brother," the mad priestess said. "Lloth will protect us from the mind flayer's city."
She stepped out into the cavern where the Zin-Carla had fallen. The remains were cleaned up after years in the underdark, but there were still the remains of the mind flayer community with the buildings that housed the fighting pits and the elder brain. Mind flayers were an abomination. They were humanoid in basic silhouette, but the head was replaced with something resembling a squid's tentacles and maw. Their favorite food was the fresh brains of intelligent beings. They savored them like fine wine. If there were any of the aberrations here now, they were well hidden.
"Sir! Something in the dome," said a scout in the sign language of the drow. Everyone was tense and the news that the telepathic, brain eating monsters might still be nearby was something that would give even a drow pause.
"You, you, and you, investigate," replied the mercenary leader in the same hand sign. The three scouts headed up towards the dome. A few minutes after they entered, the keen drow ears heard the telltale sounds of hand crossbows firing and three bodies falling. Minutes later they heard the same happen again and again a few minutes after that. Nearly fifteen minutes later, the trio was spotted moving towards the fighting pits. One of them motioned as they moved. "Building clear, no casualties, but captives and supplies." Jarlaxle nodded to them and had the rest of the people move in to the dome.
Inside they found a regular treasure trove of items. He ordered anything of value taken. There was a market for mind flayer architecture, something he could never understand, but money was money. As they moved, they stripped the building of all statues, movable architecture and other items of worth. The main hallway was lined with humanoid statues poised in mockeries of pleasure. These statues bore no marks of a sculpture's chisel and held imperfections that mimicked living flesh all too well. From the looks of things, one of the mind flayers had managed to get a medusa as a thrall and telepathically forced the other thralls to look at her. There was a market for that as well. Everything was loaded into bags of holding until they were nearly bursting. Soon they found the subdued occupants of the dome. They appeared to be a group of ex-slaves, judging by the collars and tattered clothes. They were at least five races represented, including seven drow. At closer inspection, the former slaves are quite young, possibly raised as slaves or caught when very young.
"Bring them with us," commanded Vierna, her arms crossed over her chest. Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow at the priestess, but did what she said. The unconscious people were tied up and propped against the walls as the mercenaries searched the rest of the dome. They eventually came to the central room where the elder brain once lived. Nothing of great note remained now, but it appeared that the freed slaves had chosen to eat the remainders rather than starve. Interesting. Soon the other scouts returned from the other building. Jarlaxle ordered them to report.
"The other building is filled with former slaves and their livestock," was the sharp reply. "Only a few drow. Most of them appear to be a mix of upper dark creatures built for strength. They are living in the former slave quarters and raise rothe and other heard animals on the surrounding cliffs. The lake is rich with fish and plenty of fungi cling to the walls. They have done well to survive this long. But sir?"
"Go on."
"They are living together," reported the scout. He spoke that last word like the worst kind of curse. His innocence amused Jarlaxle. Ah, to be so young and stupid again.
"Of course they do," Dinin said. "They were raised to serve the mind flayers. They don't know how the real world works."
'And again young Dinin surprises me,' thought Jarlaxle. 'I will have to watch him more closely. Of course he still doesn't have it all right. Give him time.' Clearing his throat he spoke. "Bring them. Priestess Vierna wants them."
The scouts saluted before leading the raiding team to the other building. The mercenary leader turned to the priestess. "What are you going to do with the slaves?"
"I am taking them with us," she said. "Lloth tells me they will be useful in rebuilding House Do'Urden."
"If you are going to rebuild, why not use this cavern here? It has everything one would need to support a large number of creatures," the lost son of House Baenre asked.
"This would indeed be a good place, however I am told that I must find my younger brother before House Do'Urden can rise from its ashes," the priestess replied. In the past few weeks things had definitely changed for the priestess. Her insanity was increasingly more evident and she had no fear of anyone overhearing. She spoke openly of subjects that are under the strictest taboo and openly referred to Dinin and Drizzt as her brothers as opposed to the traditionally derisive "male." She was loosing her grip on sanity, or perhaps not. She seemed in tune with something beyond the norm. If she was divinely inspired as she claimed, he could possibly steal some of that inspiration for himself. Menzoberranzan is a nice place, but it's not the only place.
"Then you would not mind if I kept this for myself, would you?" Jarlaxle wondered if he was asking a bit too much, but tried anyway.
"Fine, I give it to you, but the people and animals belong to me," She replied dismissively. From behind her back, the mercenary leader grinned.
After driving back up to the city, Finch reviewed his itinerary. Next was dealing with the contingent of stone giants from the Graystone Clan. Hopefully no one had offended them by sending Dr. Chung to meet them. She was the most knowledgeable about the group.
The group had been set up in the same airplane hanger where Gara had made her recovery. The military vehicle drove him directly to the airport where he got out and quickly walked to the hanger. He discovered the main entrance covered by a large furry creature that looked like a Bantha from Star Wars.
"Excuse me, I am Allan Finch, the Deputy Mayor for the city of Sunnydale, could someone please move the animal out of the door way?" The creature squirmed and snorted, butting its head against his shoulder, but the creature didn't move. "Hello? Is anyone in there?"
Ahem! Finch turned around to see Amelia Chung standing behind him. "Mr. Finch, the door is on the other side."
"Oh, sorry," Finch quickly scurried across to the other entrance. Inside were the stone giants of the Graystone clan. They had arranged themselves in a semicircle on one end with the oldest woman in the middle. It seemed to him that it was a social context with the elders in the middle and the younger apprentices. "Hello, my name is Allan Finch, the Deputy Mayor for the city of Sunnydale and I welcome you to our city."
"For ourselves, we are not so pleased, Allan Finch," intoned the elderly giant in the middle. "Your people have killed our children and captured three."
"To be honest ma'am, your people attacked first," Finch said, trying to stay diplomatic. Unlike the knights from Cormyr, these people had legitimate grievances. "Our people were already in combat with orcs. We had no way to know that you were not with them. I am sorry for your loss, but I feel the actions of those involved were accurate to the times."
"Our children were simply trying to scare the orcs off," one of the others snarled, the pain evident in his voice even through the magic of the amulet.
"Our people feel that is not the case. In fact one of our citizens received a broken leg from one of your children's flying boulders," Finch said firmly. Drizzt might not have been a citizen at the time, but that was easily ignored. "We are willing to acknowledge that the entire situation arose due to a misunderstanding, but we will not take the blame."
"You're people killed my son! Barely more than a child and you cut him down!" said a middle-aged giantess. "I demand the heads of those responsible."
"I have doubts that Buffy Summers would allow you to take her head without a fight," Finch said. "She is only seventeen and has no desire to die again anytime soon, I can assure you. Also, I should warn you that any attempt at attacking the city by force to retrieve her head will be met with deadly force and will be viewed as an act of war."
The eldest giant, a tall matronly woman and the first to speak, rested a calm hand on the younger giantess' shoulder. "Shurei, hide your grief." She turned to Finch, who was still standing. "Sit, Mr. Finch. We must talk at length."
"I agree, recriminations can wait. There are many issues which need to be discussed before we can really come to a meeting of the minds," Finch said, sitting down on a cushion bigger than he was. "Allow me to tell you the circumstances of our arrival in the Realms…"
The tale was long and the giants listened for the most part. Finch noticed as he told their tale, that they seemed to have supreme patience in all things save for family. When he finished, the Elder started telling the story of their Clan, from the great giant nation until the dragons destroyed it, until the wandering tribes and on and on. They seemed to record every minute detail into the oral history. Finch secretly hoped none of them noticed him nodding off ever so slightly. He was just resting his eyes…really.
"And your people," The elder giant said suddenly. Finch covered the fact that he had not been paying attention and nodded. "Where have your people come from?"
"We don't memorize our history like you do. We copy it down," Finch said. "We learn some of it in school, but there is too much for us to remember clearly all at once."
He went on to summarize human life on earth and he talked a little about dinosaurs and a few other things he remembered. Admittedly, history was not his strong suit. After a much shorter interval than the giants, he finished his story. The giants paused, obviously waiting for him to say something else. He was not sure what else there was to say.
"So you are a very young people," surmised the elder giant. She crossed her arms and looked down at him.
"Perhaps as a nation, but we have history going back thousands of years," he said. "Every year scientists find out we are older than we thought, going back tens of thousands of years. We study the past because we don't remember it. We write it down so we can access it."
"And what of these 'scientists' what training do they go through?"
"It really depends on the field. Generally it's grade school, a BA and a masters, but some go on longer than that," Finch said with a shrug. "It's at least 20 years of school, eight of which is specialization."
"And what have these scientists given you?" she asked next. Her seemingly random questions were starting to confuse the deputy mayor.
"Almost everything we have," he said. "Someone works on something with medicine; someone else works as an engineer; another does something completely different. Add everything together over years and we get what we have today: civilization."
"And how has that benefited your people," she inquired, continuing her ambiguous line of questioning.
"Um…we have protection, we have transportation, we have hospitals, we have laws, a whole bunch of things," Finch said. "Infant death has decreased. We stamp out disease. We live longer. We live richer lives. I don't know what else to say about that." He glanced around at them for a moment and sighed. "Look, I'm not a diplomat. I'm not good at this kind of thing. I am an organizer, bureaucrat. I plan the Mayor's day. I run errands. I try to make red tape look more like a pathway and less like an impenetrable web. If you have a particular goal you look to achieve, I can put you in contact with the people who can help you. So I am asking you, please, be clear about what you are looking to achieve here."
The giants looked down on him for one long moment. And then they started to laugh. A full bodied laugh at the befuddled little human. After a long moment, the elder speaks again. "Though you speak in a rough manner, we can acknowledge your distress. For us, it is best to feel out responses without asking the direct question. It is how we teach, and how we deliberate. You, obviously, do not speak in the same manner. If we laugh, it is because you speak as would one of our own children in their youth."
"Well, forgive me for being younger than people who live 800 years or more," he muttered in a sarcastic tone. In a more reasonable tone, he spoke up again. "So what are you looking for?"
"We still harbor pain and anguish for the lives lost. Their potential was as great as their tempers," The elder said firmly. "They were the hope for the next generation. It was believed that they would temper their impetuous natures and they would become druids and elders like us. Now that will never be. What we ask of you is this: bring us a new hope. Educate our young in your ways. Agree to this, and we can speak of other things such as commerce and allies."
"I think that can be arranged," he agreed. He glanced at the clock and noticed the time. "I have to go to my next meeting. If you would wait until tomorrow, I can have you meet with our director of education. She will know how to fit your children into our schools. After that we can discuss matters of trade."
He got up to leave and turned around. "I'm sorry about your children. It is hard enough loosing children here, but not knowing what happened to them must really hurt. It's just…When people attack Sunnydale, Sunnydale strikes back." He nodded to them, and they nodded in return. Glancing at his watch, he scampered out the door and to the waiting carriage. He would deal with the return of the giants tomorrow. Now he had a meeting of a different sort.
"Mr. Finch," said the woman across from him. She was tall, blonde haired and blue eyed. Kjesti Bjornsen was a tall formidable woman who had come to the forefront of the Norwegian faction. A native of Lofoten in Nordlands county, she was as tough as the mountains and as hard to pin down as the ocean. Her family was rather rich by the considerations of Norwegian culture and her father's face was frequently posted in the newspaper as the richest man on the island, something that was supposed to be shameful in Norwegian society. But being exposed to fishing negotiations and such from a young age had turned the woman into a dangerous opponent. "You are late."
He looked at the faction leaders in front of him. They were about as diverse as they could get. Each minority faction (save the orcs) were represented in the little forum he had put together. There had been allegations of racism and other prejudice against the non-American community and Finch wanted to get everyone on the same page. This was a most serious issue, because it showed a growing trend that could easily become a civil war if things continued.
Kurikawa Tamaji, a former Japanese salary man, had become the leader of the Japanese tourists who had come along with Sunnydale's long distance trip. He had just managed to get enough pay to take his family on an overseas cruise, but he was by no means rich. Little did he know, but his wife was almost ready for a divorce considering how much he had ignored her in favor of work. If they had not been transported, it might well have happened. Instead they were doing well, all things considered.
Then Finch glanced at the Taiwanese representative. She was not who he would have suspected. A half-Japanese/half-Chinese woman born during the Japanese occupation of the island prior to WWII, she was a mother of four, grandmother of twelve, a lower middle class worker and tough as nails. Finch had no idea how she was chosen to represent the Taiwanese faction, but he suspected he knew why. The woman had a spine like a steel rail and a stare that could practically burn holes through concrete.
The PRC representative was not the same kind of person. A former illegal alien, he was underfed, poorly clothed and weakened by his voyage, but had done better after receiving treatment and food. He had been working in construction for months now and had built up an impressive amount of muscle on his small frame. He still had a bit of a mousy feel to him. Frankly, Allan Finch was surprised it was not one of the boat captains he was facing. Truth be told, Finch didn't even remember the man's name name. His political leanings and skills were as unknown as his name. The lack of knowledge about the situation made Finch nervous.
Of all the representatives, Jesus Juan Rodriguez, was the only Sunnydale "native" having lived in Sunnydale before the Shift. The Hispanic leader was a man from the mean streets of LA. A former gang member, he had crossed the wrong person, was caught by the feds and put into witness protection. Unfortunately, the place they put him was Sunnydale. After a few close calls, he knew exactly what the night life of the small town was like. He was as tough as the tattoos suggested, but he was a powerful speaker and had boatloads of charisma. And he was not stupid. The man's mind was sharp as a tack and his distance education grades spoke well for his capabilities. He was nearly done with a prelaw distance learning degree, and that had helped him go far in the post-Shift world. Since the Shift, he had cleaned up his act, putting on a suit and combing his hair back, he looked more like a cutthroat businessman than a former gang member. He had managed to unionize the machinists in town, to ensure they would receive recognition for their work. It also ensured the job security of metalworkers in the town's budding manufacturing sector.
Donald Martin was a lieutenant in the Sunnydale Self Defense Force. Like most of Sunnydale's African American community, soldiers from either the military base or agents from the Initiative, he was stationed at the Sunnydale base for his tour. He had been born and raised in Oklahoma from a black-Cherokee family that had been kicked out of the tribe. He joined the military to ensure that he would never have to be in that situation ever again. After working hard, his congressman had sent him to West Point, ensuring his sponsorship into the prestigious academy. He had done well, in the top quarter of his class, and had been stationed in Sunnydale after serving in a base in Germany and in the Gulf War. He had emerged out of the Black community after proving himself to be an excellent officer and hard worker. Finch knew he was military to the core, but was no yes-man when it came to politics outside the base.
"Yes, I am late," Finch said. "I had to meet with the ambassadors of the stone giant clan and it went longer than I expected."
"I understand, but you could have at least told us that you would be a half hour late," Rodriguez said, his voice crisp with just a slight bit of an accent.
"Yes, I should have. I apologize," he said, sitting down at the table. He pulled out a note pad and a pen. "Now, as you know, this meeting was called so you could have your problems addressed. I would have liked to meet with you each individually, but with the final push before winter taking place, we are cramped for time as it is."
"So we get put in the same category, all non-whites and non-Americans in the same meeting," said Rodriguez sarcastically. "We're the 'minority' faction, after all."
"I am sure that is not what Mr. Finch meant, was it Mr. Finch," Donald Martin said. From what Finch had heard, Rodriguez and Martin had butted heads before.
"No, it was not. As soon as the summer push is over, I will meet with each of you," Finch said, "Individually and as a group. We are building a nation and that means we need a steady foundation. If it's cracked, everything you build on it is unstable."
"You are absolutely correct," the Norwegian representative said. "First of all, and I think I speak for everyone here in this instance, is that we all want to be involved in the constitutional committee." The others nodded their heads.
"That can be easily arranged. We are planning to have a meeting tomorrow to start things off," Finch said. "We don't expect to have finalized plan until sometime next year. What is next?"
"Full integration in the schools," Rodriguez and Martin said in unison. The two obviously did not expect to agree on anything and glared at each other.
"That was going to happen anyway, why is this such a concern?" Finch asked.
"There have been questions about your program to force everyone to speak English," Kurikawa said. "There have been rumors that those who do not complete this well, will be forced into other lower classes."
"Urgh, that's not exactly right," Finch said, gritting his teeth. The advisors was still looking for someone to fill in for the Director of Education. There was simply no one really qualified for the position. "That was supposed to be a temporary thing until their English improved. And it was supposed to apply only to ESL classes, not all classes. We need to have a language that everyone can speak well, and since the majority of Sunnydale speaks English, it only makes sense. If people have been spreading incorrect rumors about this we need to nip it in the bud."
"There are also issues of racism," spoke the Taiwanese woman. "I'm sick and tired of being called 'slant-eye' or 'chink' by lowlifes." The others nodded their heads.
"There have even been some of our school children who have been assaulted," reported Kurikawa. "You Americans seem to think all Japanese women are prostitutes. Not all women are geisha and geisha are not whores. This needs to stop."
"These are hate crimes. They need to be reported to the police, so that they can be properly dealt with," Finch said. By the dark looks on the representatives' faces, he knew the answer. "You already reported the incidents, didn't you?" They all agreed with grim faces. Finch sighed. "That goddam chief," he swore under his breath.
"You need a police force in this town, not a gang of thugs with badges," snarled Rodriguez. Finch guessed he had been on the bad side of some bad cops in the past.
"You are absolutely correct," Finch said. "If you want to be part of the committee working to fix that problem, we would welcome you with open arms. We simply do not have enough qualified people who actually know what they are doing. The chief is an incompetent, the street cops have a talent for looking the other way and the detectives are thugs with badges."
"We have military police, we could easily expand them to the city itself," Martin suggested.
"That causes a whole different set of problems because it makes it look like we are forging a military state. We know two groups that would be in almost instant rebellion if we did that," Finch said. "These are the same points the committee has been bringing up for months. We need something different." He was suddenly bombarded with different suggestions from each representative all at the same time. Franticly, he put up a hand to stop them. "Please, come to the committee meetings. Now, other concerns?"
They brought them up. The debates went on for a couple of hours, comments made back and forth, until Finch had declared that they would meet next week at the same time. Finch shook hands with each of them as they left, clutching the full note pad of notes under his arm. Once they were all gone, he ran down to the Mayor's office.
"Ah, Allan, how was your day?" The mayor was sitting at his desk, writing a new speech for the next news conference.
"Busy, and not over yet," Finch said, sitting down in front of the desk. He summarized his meetings and the issues they addressed. About eight hours of talk was summarized into a half hour. The mayor asked a few questions here and there about the situations, but finally they were done.
"Now, your next meetings," the Mayor said, cleaning his hands after touching Finch's notes. "You need to speak with Mr. Housecraft about the incident with Amy Madison."
"We don't have any direct evidence that he was involved," Finch cautioned.
"Oh, I know that well," Wilkins said with a grim smile. "Our investigative resources are…limited, to say the least. But we do know his followers are involved. Go talk to him. We can't have any of that kind of behavior in my city." There was a bit of extra emphasis on "my city."
"I'll do my best to encourage him to come clean," Finch agreed. "What is after that?"
"Deal with the McGristle issue," Wilkins stated, leaning back in his chair. "He has been a drain on Initiative resources for far too long. From what I hear, he's been in a screaming match with his fellow prisoner."
"Ah, the-uh, anti-Drizzt," Finch said, understanding the situation. It was one of the many terms used for the evil twin from another reality. Just thinking about the situation made Finch's head spin.
"The deluded man seems to think that the imprisonment of the other is justification that he be freed," the Mayor said with a bit of disgust.
"So he does not understand that simply because one person commits a crime does not mean a crime against that person is suddenly forgotten," Finch asked, trying to clear things up.
"Exactly. And unfortunately, he has been long incarcerated without being charged. As such, he has become something of a symbol to people who claim this town is becoming too feudal," Richard Wilkins said as he put the ever present hand sanitizer back into his desk. "I need you to make sure he does not become anything more. I need people to not think of what they have lost, but what they could become. Therefore, you need to set up a trial. Make it public and make sure the press covers it. And most of all, make sure that it paints McGristle as a villain: an obsessive, racist stalker who hunted a respected Sunnydale immigrant (who has fought to save our long time citizens) across the wilderness and attacked the poor boy when he was at his weakest. Make sure he looses public support. Sunnydale can't afford a scandal this early on."
"I understand," Finch said. This was nothing compared to what he had been required to do in the past. "I think I have just the right people for the job."
"Bring in our allies," the mayor said sternly. "Gather as much real evidence and present, but make sure it fits what we have to say."
"And for his defense?"
"One will be afforded to him," the Mayor said with a bright smile. Finch knew exactly how the choice would be made.
"I will take care of it tomorrow," Finch said jotting it down in his planner. This would also be a perfect opportunity to test out the new legal system and court room procedures.
"Also, we have a few other issues to take care of," the Mayor said, pulling out a printed piece of paper and handed it too the deputy mayor. "This is a list of special projects I need work on. Mr. Vhok will be assisting you with some of them, but he will be out of contact for a few days."
"I understand. Is Mr. Vhok an immigrant, or one of the 'special citizens' we have worked with in the past?" Finch asked.
"In a way, he's both," said Wilkins as he glanced out the window. "With the severe decrease in our sunlight challenged assistants, I was forced to make use of one of our newest arrivals. He has abilities that help with investigation and information retrieval, as well as some very successful and talented subordinates. Soon, I want to combine their small organization with the Watcher's Initiative to form a sort of clandestine national security agency."
"Supernatural spies, sir? Are you sure that is a good idea? And, wouldn't the Slayer…" Finch sought the correct word for the situation, "…object?"
"Actually, in this new world, it is the only way to go," Richard Wilkins stated firmly. "As for the Slayer, even she knows that not every demon or devil is an enemy. She works with several half demons in both construction and in the Initiative offices; they have at least three full demons in clerical positions. This is a changing world. She must adjust to it." The Mayor poured a tall glass of ice water; raising an eyebrow he offered Finch a glass as well, but the deputy mayor declined. "I am not ignorant of the threat the Zhents pose, but they are playing nice for now. I am well aware of other organizations that will not. As immigrants move in, and they will come in droves once the word gets out, organized crime will rise and we will be in a very poor position to control it from within or from without those organizations. I have heard of groups such as the Shadow Thieves of Waterdeep or the Harpers or even the agents of the Zhents that come in disguised. We will be at their mercy if we do not have out own people set in place to protect the interests of Sunnydale. My interests."
"I suppose you will want modern embassies in all the major nations in the area, am I correct?" Finch asked, finally agreeing with the Mayor. "This would give you a perfect stepping stone if need be."
"Exactly," the mayor said with an approving grin. "I knew there was a reason I made you my deputy. It's that excellent head on your shoulders."
"Thank you, Sir. But what is your eventual goal for Sunnydale? I've never been able to quite figure that out," Finch asked, half wondering if he was wandering into dangerous territory.
"I am going to make Sunnydale into the economic superpower of the continent," The Mayor said. "Right now, goods travel mostly by caravan and by ship. We are in a particularly poor position. With monster infested mountains to our north, the Great Desert to the east, and Hellgate Keep to the west, we are not in a frequently traveled local. We have the river to the south, one almost the size of the Missouri, but the rapids and falls make it impossible to use as a trade route until locks are put in. With the SunnyRail project ongoing, we will be in a position to control trade through the north. By ensuring we own the tracks and the cars we can charge what we want for moving them. Soon, rail travel will be more favorable to merchants than risking life and limb by traveling on their own. This will increase as other merchants notice the wealth of those who choose the rail. Soon almost everything will go through rail lines, rather than on foot."
"That still doesn't eliminate the sea route," Finch pointed out.
"No, not at first," Wilkins said, his smile widening. "The first trains will be wood fired, like the early Western rails in the US. Eventually we will increase the technology, so the trains become faster, more reliable and visit more places. Why travel by ship, which only lands in a few select harbors, when you can sell to every village up and down the coast? If the plan goes slowly enough, people won't even notice until it's too late."
"You are very knowledgeable on the subject," Finch said, surprised.
"I have an intimate knowledge with how the West was won," he said, with a widening grin. "I've studied it so much it's almost like I lived it."
"It just occurred to me, that this is a political maneuver as well," Finch said. "By controlling trade, you also hold sway over uncooperative towns and cities. If they don't agree, you can just threaten to withhold the trains. When everyone is dependant on the rail system for trade and movement, you could almost erase towns if you don't make a stop. This gives Sunnydale power over the entire train network."
"Now, now, would I ever do that?" asked the Mayor with faux innocence. He became serious again a moment later. "But we need it built first. Sunnydale to Adbar to Sundabar, to Silverymoon and beyond."
"What prevents others from making their own trains?"
"We ensure that no one gets a good look at the inside of the engines," the Mayor said. "Another reason to have an intelligence agency. And an air force."
"An air force, sir? We have a few planes, but not enough for an air force," Finch said. The mayor was ambitious, but shrewd. He always was thinking two, three, four steps ahead of everyone else.
"We aren't the only people with flight capabilities, and we are out of fuel and nearly out of bullets," the mayor pointed out. "It's only a matter of time before a group of dragons, demons, or other-nasty-flying-creatures decides we're a good snack. We managed to kill one dragon quickly because of the Apaches and the Slayer. The Apaches are grounded now and the Slayer can't be everywhere."
"How is the sale of the dragon going?"
"Quite well, it managed to clear quite a bit of out debt," the mayor said proudly. "The hoard is currently under water, but we know where it is and the cavern is quite sturdy. When everything is finished I will have some people clear it out and add it to the recovery fund."
"That will work out well. What happens to the beach and ocean remnant when winter comes?" Finch asked. "We're going from warm subtropical climate to a cold temperate. Won't the surviving creatures just die in there?"
"Wouldn't you know, I just got the report from the geologist not an hour ago," Wilkins said, pulling out another folder from his desk. "As you know, we're in a geologically active region. We've got the geothermal power up and going, but as much as it helps us now, we're in danger of earthquakes, but that's a different issue all together. From what I can tell from this report, all lakes and streams in the area are fed partially by hot springs. There happens to be a particularly hot one under the ocean lake."
"Will that be enough?" Finch asked. He was struggling to remember what he learned in college about this kind of thing.
"That's what the scientists tell me. Which reminds me, I want you to head over to the university and find out what is happening with the many projects."
"I have some time after this meeting, I could go over then," Finch said, glancing at his itinerary.
"Great! I think we've about covered everything here," the mayor said, giving the deputy mayor an appreciative nod.