Greater Assembly

Chapter 1
It was without too much trepidation that Michelle prepared for her trip
to the Greater Assembly, being held in the mutually likeable location
of warm Cuba. She had to admit, a mild fear of going; not because she
was afraid of travel - she loved that- but that it was in Cuba. Cuba
was after all, still an island, and if someone got a bug in their
trousers at this Assembly, they could easily cripple the world as a
political arena.
She paid to have a few dresses made to fit the season and event, which
was unique for her. As Political Liaison ornate wear was vital, but she
had kept great care of the outfits she had, some of them predating her
by even 2 generations. Formal wear was one thing that had not changed
despite the Great War, for which she was extremely pleased.
She stopped packing for a moment, and scanned over the massive map on
the wall behind her home office's desk. It covered nearly corner to
corner, and if she peered closely at it, she could still make out the
old names of the countries of the American Continent in particular, as
well as the rest of the world. There was labelled, amoung other things,
the American states - Alabama, Kansas, California.
It was only because she was well educated she recognized these names
and a portion of history for them. She still doubted these histories
though - what she had been so fortunate to find had been extremely
outdated and the newer ones didn't match what the older ones said at
all. But then, the country once called Texas was now a member of Mexico
(Which had revolted against Spain ages ago) as was the territories just
west of Texas. That seemed to match up on everything, despite the fact
the old history was in English and the new in Mexican. Moreover,
Alaska, which had the rare commodity of oil, was tied to Russia. No one
doubted that either.
She frowned at the map, at the red paint, which outlined New Maine, and
her current majour enemies. It seemed extremely small on the map.
Smaller than it really was, despite proportions. The map was
depressing. She turned from it with a mumbled oath, causing her cat to
glance up and make a curious noise.
She returned to her closet, removing a few more clothing changes from
it, and packing them into a heavy trunk. The whole trip would take
nearly 3 weeks, perhaps a bit less, but was almost entirely by ship.
The fastest one they could locate at that. It was good, she decided,
that she didn't get seasick.
After sending her cat to stay with her housekeeper, a charming old lady
who tended to be a bit brusque, and didn't like doing laundry; she rang
the travel service to arrange for her trunk to be sent to the freighter
she was going on. One of these days, she grumbled as she returned the
handset to its cradle, one of these days New Maine would have its own
ship fleet. As it was, the freighter was part of the so-called "New
United States" and she personally wanted nothing to do with that
republic.
History proved the NUS, like its namesake the US was completely
stubborn and more than a bit foolhardy. Besides audacious, adolescent,
bullying... Before her thoughts spoiled the otherwise nice day, she
headed over to see Travis. He was coming with her, not to mention two
assistants and twice that many Service agents.
The doorman smiled at her brightly, and let her in without a question.
She used to live in the Capitol Apartments; before she moved into the
flat, she currently resided in. Elevators were a thing of the past,
like so much, but there was still one there, lifted and dropped by
means of a complex pulley system that was hand operated by staff when
delivering heavy items. She took the well-waxed stairs, chastising
herself for feeling underdressed for such a fine building as the
Cap-Arts right then.
Travis resided on the third floor, the large two-bedroom corner
apartment where he lived with his ward, the charming Miss Pierce. It
was Libby who answered the door, her large eyes widening still more at
Michelle's unexpected visit. Michelle grinned and gave the little girl
a sucker. "Travis in?"
Libby nodded, and swung the door open even farther as he appeared
around the corner, adjusting his tie. He beckoned her inside after he
finished. "Faloncrie. I was about to come find you..."
He always called her Faloncrie, but most people ignored her name in
trade for her title. Faloncrie was, of course, the small 200-acre
estate granted her by Earl Chamberlain two years previously. She
nodded, taking a seat as Libby closed the door and hurried away into
the vast apartment, clutching the sucker as though it were diamonds.
"Find me?"
"Yes Faloncrie. Find you. We're quite fortunate. Apparently President
Fayer and his wife will be going on the freighter too." He stopped as
Libby came back in bearing his jacket. He thanked her, and told her to
go play. Instantly she did so, singing softly to herself. Travis pulled
the jacket on and adjusted it before giving her an apprising look. "You
don't intend to meet the President dressed like that?"
Michelle groaned. "I HATE Fayer." She said in a matter of fact
tone.
"I know. That doesn't change anything. He could well be invading us if
he manages to secure travel through Ontario." She frowned at him.
"Yes. I will. I don't see the point in changing for that overstuffed
baboon." She grumbled. Her good mood was thoroughly shot now, and she
knew she would have to put on something nicer. Her workpants were
nothing near nice enough for a political meeting. "Hell."
Travis gave her a wan smile. "I have your change of clothes in the hall
closet." She nodded, and headed to the hall. "Good thing we trade
clothes for such occasions."
She pulled out the semi-formal dress and shoes, then borrowed the
bathroom to change. Libby slipped in with a grin before she finished.
"Travis wants you to know... Earl Chamberlin is coming to see us
off."
Michelle put on the final shoe, and strapped it against her ankle. "Oh
joy." She said, her voice dripping sarcasm as she followed the little
girl out. "You know," She said, addressing Travis from the hall. "It
was a beautiful day. And then I found out what I would be riding in.
Its been getting worse since."
"That was two days ago." He reminded, then laughed at her expression of
disgust. "Oh." He was still chuckling as he guided her out of the
apartment, and Libby locked the door after him. She watched him with a
grouchy look, unhappy at how amusing he found her misery.

It was late afternoon when the Fayer and Chamberlin appeared in the
large hotel ballroom that had been decked out for the farewell party.
The members of both his and Chamberlain's government were there long
before they arrived, but the two had been locked into a study
discussing last minute arrangements. Michelle had been mostly left to
herself after she and Travis arrived in the Cilivia Hotel, and she
wasn't entirely sure if she was thankful or perturbed by this fact.
Political Liaison was a mostly lonely position at these parties. She
was usually only bothered by people who wanted things from her.
The only thing that cheered her when Fayer arrived was that she didn't
have to go great him right away. The dinner bell rang and she tried her
best to escape any possibility of talking to him. Luck was against
her.
"Faloncrie!" Fredrick said loudly, striding over to her. She turned,
and smiled at him. William Fayer followed only a step behind him. Her
Lord took it upon himself to introduce the two, though they had already
met once before, and Michelle bobbed a half curtsy of respect she did
not feel. Fayer stared at her blankly at first, then slow recognition
crept over his pale features, and he gave her a smile that made her
stomach tighten.
"Ah. Lady Faloncrie. A pleasure to see you again. Would you do me the
favour of joining me for dinner?" She must have looked as startled as
she felt, because he continued his sickly-sweet smile and explained
that his wife had been unable to join him, since she didn't feel quite
her best.
There was no escaping him after all then. She caught Chamberlain's
demanding gaze, and cordially accepted the President's offer. "I'd be
honoured."
He guided both New Maine politicians to his table, and after they had
seated, took them through a conversation touching on everything from
weather to philosophy. Michelle did little to help the conversation
along, glad that, as Earl Fredrick would have to deal with it. "You
must join me for dinner on the Henry Lee." He said to her at
length.
She didn't answer at once, knowing perfectly well that he was going to
try and pressure her to convey New Maine support of his regime in the
South. It was unfortunately, the first time she had been actively
placed into the conversation as well. She swallowed away a refusal and
plastered on her best smile.
"Certainly. It would give a change to the week of boredom bound to
ensue." She stated, not meaning a word of it. She would find something
that would keep her occupied the entire week long if she could, both
going there and coming back.
The rest of the evening passed without event, and as soon as dusk fell
Travis and Michelle hurried to the ship, Travis a bit on the drunk side
(he got seasick easily) and Michelle thankful to have escaped President
Fayer's conversation companions. Anger seethed through her when she
left Travis in his room, and headed to hers.
Several cargo areas of the "Henry Lee" had been converted into quite
nice rooms, almost on par with those of a mediocre travel lodge.
Despite herself, she was rather appreciative of all the work that had
gone into the "Henry Lee". Her room was small, but that was to be
expected. Its walls were screwed into the bulkhead, as was the bed and
oaken dresser. It was clearly temporary, but that didn't detract from
its beauty. Unmatching the rest of the room was the bathroom fixtures
(all metal) and the faque study (Which comprised of a steal built in
shelf and a soldered down office chair). Her trunk was already
unpacked, the box itself stowed somewhere else in the ship. The only
thing she had to take care of was her carryon, which she refused to
hand over to the travel service. She left it on the floor, and headed
for the shower.
After two showers, one scalding, and then a brief freezing spray, she
dried and slipped into one of her undershirts and a pair of panties.
The carryon would go nowhere, and the shower had served to drain her
anger and make her far more tired then she thought she was. She crawled
into bed after she locked the door. It was a cheep lock, and she didn't
trust it. Before dreams crept over her she decided to be very careful
about what she removed from her carryon, and keep it soundly bolted.
Her things would most definitely be searched throughout the trip.