[b]Green Island, launch facility[/b]

The dull throb in his head was only mildly put off by the view out the conference room window. He could afford to ignore a bit of his annoyance looking out at the ocean and our towards mainland Taiwan. The sky was clear, affording a brilliant spring-time glow to the ocean waves. The water glowed with a bright sapphire glow. The open skies complimenting the color as it opened up above as the water was below. A flat crystal surface sparkled with a diamond shimmer.

A few odd boats traveled the water. Shen Tzen had no hard time guessing the boats. Even over the distance he was from the shore and the altitude above it. The lonesome ferry ships changing out the guard and the shifts from the morning to the afternoon. Distantly behind them, only black commas on the azure sheet of the sea the departing specks of resupply slipped into the distance.

The white trails above of planes swept overhead, no doubt on way to the Philippines most likely, there wasn't much traffic otherwise. The local airforce base kept too close an eye on the surrounding area to allow Japanese or any other international travel go over. So in all possibility it was official or goods transport, something where it didn't matter nearly as much if unchecked persons could see the island below.

But it wasn't like it mattered. To a certain range the navy allowed fishermen close. Especially when it was known or suggested there was to be a rocket launch, even a test flight. And it was this detail that would inevitably arise soon. He knew it.

But the only thing that kept him from total peace was the high-pitched irritability of Hue.

The director of launch control was giving a long enthusiastic presentation on the current flight plan for the coming mission, whenever that was going to be officially marked. For a long time it had been caught on limbo, a situation made worse by the elections on the mainland and the solid insistence of the NPN and some layers of the Grand Secretary's office to delay the launch until, as they said in their own words, “little distraction”. He didn't know if that order was from Hou himself or merely the concerns of an intermediary. Which ever the case it was concern for the Ministry of Science and Technology to petition for a lift on the hold.

Must have worked. The fat and considerably urban representatives from the New People's News were present to hear out the facilities plans and a few unnamed representatives from Beijing. Tzen had gotten no memo on what they wanted him to say, so he figured it was merely to keep up an appearance.

Some day, he'd retire from this bullshit.

Hua had a unique way of speaking that made Tzen particularly annoyed with him. Flamboyant, exaggerated, and loud. There wasn't a doubt half the floor could hear him, let alone the room. The end to each sentence with an excited jab at the last half of any syllable to escape his mouth was much like hammering nails into his temples. He fought to keep a cold face as he looked at everyone else in a dire need to confirm if he wasn't the only one. But seeing the calm unshaken expression of Beijing-trained politicians only made his own mask feel weaker. The ice was breaking, and he didn't know how long it'd be until it shattered. Would they call him dishonorable? It'd certainly be a way to retire from all this, but not nearly the way he'd like to go. He'd at least want a pension to retire on, a promise for an apartment in Shanghai. He wasn't going to be someone riveting steel plates together. Not with the degrees he held; as often as he felt he was asked to go to some other field.

“In the end we're targeting the western Pacific as our re-entry point.” Hua spoke in that agonizing cheery tone, “Which given the angled we programmed into the controls and the average height-range of the test rockets will put us down into the area after its orbit has finished deteriorating and it reenter's Earth atmosphere.

“After which, we should be able to gather it north of the Philippines and bring it – and the test-subject - back home.” if there was any respite though, it was he at least referred to that cat as something less than what it was. Not anything living. Just a subject. Another set of instruments.

“Can we be certain though?” asked one of the representatives. He spoke like he was a bull in season. Hot, aggressive, and challenging. Wrinkled and old he didn't look like he ever slept with a woman since the revolution, which no doubt attributed to his aggressive assertion.

Or perhaps it was just to appear dominant over the general in the room. Their operations commander, Xen Wu. He still operated as an officer in the airforce, having dual command of the installation on the island as well as keeping all the engineers and scientists on the island in a single basket, which wasn't as easy as it seemed; they had a habit of being more undisciplined and disorganized than soldiers. It was a fact of his position that was visible on him, despite being perhaps half the age of the representatives present his hair looked lighter in color, finer lines rung around his shallow eyes, and an otherwise round frame a little bent out of shape.

“I've been assured every possible factor has been included to present the best possible outcome in retrieving the craft.” Wu spoke. He didn't present to assert himself. His white coat, sword at his side, and mere presence was enough for the men from Beijing. “We've got the final pod equipped with several radio transmitters, we'll be able to triangulate its position easily enough. But as I've also been constantly reminded – and against our organization's general philosophy – there is always an element of luck we need to account for.

“I'm looking to coordinate with the navy beyond the simple coast guard stationed here to run a larger range in the event something goes wrong. I hope we'll be ready to sail on the border of Japanese waters, or even into it if need be to retrieve the capsule.

“We fully understand the risks and the mission and made doubly sure to accommodate for anything. If it was in reason I would request submarines on the absurd chance the Japanese commit hostile action to retrieve the craft. Or even the Spanish.”

The room mumbled nervously. A few subdued spits of anger were had among the heads. But for most, they kept silent. To Tseng's relief.

“Will this interfere on election reporting, or even war reporting?” the representatives asked.

“Current NPN viewer and reader polls only put election interest at thirty percent right now.” the reporter from the NPN acknowledged, speaking up for the first time, “And we've only got really minor concern over Africa. We've got no survey results but I'd guess we got only ten-precent really giving a shit right now.

“Our biggest coverage concern now is Russia. But we've actually got people dying in that right now, it's only natural we're more afraid of the Russian effort turning back than drum-beaters fighting the Europeans.”

“Nonsense, we do care!” spat one of the representatives, “If the Spanish get a head in Africa then we might as well buckle the Revolution down and hold fast, they're coming for us next!”

“Well it's certainly not in the interests of many right now.” the reporter shrugged.

“Nonsense, you're the conduit of information so you make them care!” demanded the politician

“Comrades, let's not derail the conference.” Wu ordered.

“I agree.” Tseng mumbled under his breath. He closed his eyes and silently thanked someone – anyone – for a little bit of sense in the room today.

“Never the less, on the terms of coverage of a launch I recognize no need to hold it off. We're ready when this is and we'll be there.”

“We were really hoping for a early-July launch.” Hue said excitedly, perhaps speaking out of his turn. But Wu didn't seem to care, he let him have the floor, “Between us, perhaps the third of next month? Or the end of the week this month! We're set, all that needs to be done is some final adjustments and some last-key inspections on the physical launch craft and we can do it, it won't take any more than a week on our end.”

“I guess if it's inevitable,” one of the politicians nodded, “we can let it go ahead. I'll sign the papers when I get home and we'll issue the official orders then. You – and the NPN – can act as you please then.”

“So it's settled?” Wu asked.

“We'll see.”

[b]Countryside outside of Shenzhen[/b]

The thunder of the engine motor was more that of a usual truck, but less than a full earthquake. The cabin rattled violently as the motor made each powerful heavy turn. It was most heavily centered on the backseat, where it felt a horde of riders was trampling the ground. The thunderous hooves beating the soft earth and making everything roll, body included. If it wasn't for the seat belts hugging their chests, then there was a heavy fear that what Pui Tui had made was going to throw them onto the floor.

Yan Cong was particularly unimpressed. His frail frame already felt ready built to slip through most restraints. His face was bent in fear as he held on tight to the seat belts, cursing the day he failed to convince his friend in getting rid of the engine he'd somehow managed to rig on the truck body. It was either a homage to the young boy's technical skills, or simply the vanilla abilities of a army surplus Tei-Gui engine. It was probably both, and holding on as they wound through the hills of southern Guangdong.

Alongside him sat Jin Feng, trying to lean against the window frame. Despite the heavily jostling of the entire body she looked to be taking amusement from this. Her pale skin shone in the rainy light and a pale-yellow cheongsam hugged her figure. Hardly formal, it didn't cling nearly as tight as the rest, and was decorated by a wool scarf she hung wrapped around her neck. Unsurprisingly for the oil-haired young girl her dress did little to hide the movement of her breasts in the shaking home-engineered truck. 

Embarrassingly, the adolescent thoughts of what it'd take to see the women in his life naked drew up into his mind. It made him hotter and sweater than he needed to be, and if she looked to the side he was afraid of what she might see. Holding back a breath he turned to look down the road ahead, fighting to stuff away his fantasies for another night. But the tense feeling that clenched his gut did not so easily retreat, it made him feel almost sea-sick.

Outside the rain fell in buckets over the countryside. To either side of the lumbering truck long sweeping hills marched off into the countryside under a canopy of thick gray clouds. Drops of waters the size of duck eggs smashed themselves against the windshield. Wipers tried desperately to keep pace with the falling rain, but their slow languid pace was hardly enough.

 Yan Cong was a sturdily built youth. Not much older than he was, and the only one in his small circle of friends who could drive. And he liked to prove that consistently. And lately, with the completion of this monster he more energetically sought ways to prove it harder. He claimed to have already ran one race with it out here, and he wasn't about to let go of another chance. Meetings were final.

Pui Tui hung himself over the steering wheel, his narrow eyes squinting out through the rain from a wide, broad forehead. Knuckled heavy and scarred over from being knocked against the metal of engine blocks and automobile frames held the steering wheel in vice-like grips, the bones shown through in a solid-white glow. His back craned out through his white shirt as he pressed his face all too close to the top of the steering wheel, helping him to keep a struggling view on the winding hillside country roads.

He couldn't see them, not from fighting to keep himself on the plastic leather seats of his friend's monster or through Feng's tight dancing breasts. But he knew at the bottom there were thick columns of closely grown trees waiting to snag them in their fingers if they slid off the wet road. Cong might get out OK, but given the powerhouse of Tui's truck he imagined he wouldn't get out so easily. Someone was bound to be looking for the [i]thing[/i] powering this from the back, from behind a guarding of wooden planks and a heavy tarp pulled over top.

If anyone wondered, he was transporting service supplies. He learned that fast, and no one pressed further.

On the radio – another implement Tui had somehow rigged into the central console – the news droned on. They would have sought out music, but given the weather and the current terrain it seemed even the music stations from within Hong Kong could only cover the city itself, never mind the islands. News – even provincial – was the most reliable source of noise.

In today's news, some bored droning reporter discussed the events in Africa, somehow seamlessly transitioning from that to the elections. Then to the continuing implications of the autonomy zone act, and its unfolding implications. Plans to form a Cantonese Congress here in Guangdong and the plans to submit the application to Beijing by August. As well, mention about breaking that down more for Hong Kong autonomy demands.

Another of Cong's friends – Mei Hsiue Mei – was loosely involved in something similar. Or at least he remembered her parents discussing something similar in hushed tones. They lived as bureaucrats to the city of Hong Kong, and he wondered lately if they all were looking for an avenue for more power. But it wasn't his place to wonder, and he wondered if Mei herself was aware of what was going on anymore. She seemed to becoming more distant now, or something. She declined to join them, which was to him concerning. But Feng didn't seem to mind, and Tui would no doubt excitedly fill her in over lunch in any case, to her pretended enthusiasm.

The truck rumbled along through the hills, turning corners as it went. Rain pounded over head, running rivers down the windshield and windows. A distant crack of thunder rolled in the air outside, barely audible over the competing rumble of the engine and the talk radio.

Turning through the bends the terrain leveled out. Through the rain soaked windshield and the brushing of the whippers a small house appeared in the near distance. Surrounded by a number of small bushy trees it stood lit up in the distant field off the side of the road. Around it sat parked a number of cars. Several looked modified as Tui's, if in subtle ways to keep the attention of the police at bay.

“Tui, do you really want to do this. It's raining pretty hard.” Cong said concernedly. His voice trembled in time with the engine at his back.

“Yea!” Tui smiled, “Besides, it could be worse.”

Worse? How could it be worse? “Tui, look at the way you're staring out that windshield? How could it be worse!?”

“Could be snowing.” the youth said with a cocky grin, not knowing anything of value when it comes to snow.

“I don't know, I think it could be pretty exciting!” Feng said from the window. She looked over at her struggling friend as he hung to the strap on his chest. He was so thrown forward his knees were pressed up to the center console, his ass at the edge of the seat. It was a terribly awkward position to be in.

“You're not helping.” Cong groaned. He felt his heart hammer at his chest, and he didn't know why. Which only made it worse. His terrifyingly skinny body wormed back up the seat to give him a view out the front. As Tui was pulling into the house's muddied yard.

The sound of the engine died off as Tui put it in park, letting it idle as he peered out onto the wooden veranda that encased the entire outside of the small wooden home. Wooden boards swept off from the roof like wings to two sides, leaving an overhanging awning over the front porch. From inside dark shapes moved in the glow of lamplights. The front door opened up, letting out a heavyset man.

He seemed to loiter a bit, smoking a cigarette as he looked at the truck of youths. He was maybe roughly ten years older than the lot of them, well into marching into his thirties perhaps. Through the water-choked window he and Tui exchanged long stares, before with a heavy wave he beckoned them out.

“Alright, we're good.” Tui said, popping open the door of the truck, leaving the engine idle.

“Tui, what do you mean?” Cong said, satartled, “Cong, I know what you do isn't exactly [i]legal[/i], but how deep are we going?”

“It's just street racing, it doesn't matter.” the white-shirted grease monkey grinned through the open door. Feng was already working her way out, throwing the scarf over her head to shield herself from the heavy rain.

Groaning, Cong slid himself out of the seat and followed suit. His feet splashing in the thick mud as he exited the rumbling vehicle, and with a dash joined his friends on the porch with the smoking muscle-bound stranger.

By the time he hit the porch, he already felt soaked head-to-toe. His clothes hung off his small frame. His friends were no worse for wear. Feng though save in part by the scarf. Smiling smugly, she pulled it off her head, and carefully wrung out the rainwater.

“Somehow I wasn't expecting you to make it.” their bouncer-that-was said, his voice deep and thunderous. Rain bounded on the wood boards overhead. With an air of paranoia and of caution he looked at the two Tui had brought with him. “Who are these chucklefucks?” he asked.

“Just friends...” Tui said, there was an air of nervousness to his voice.

The man nodded, taking a draw from the cigarette. Looking from Cong to Feng he nodded, “Alright.” he said, “Neither don't look like police material anyways. This bean sprout over here doesn't even look like he could point a gun anyways.” he said dismissively as he gestured to Cong.

“Anyways, Cashier is waiting for you inside.” the man grunted, flicking his cigarette away, “After that last time he's rather excited. Step in.” he invited, stepping aside.

“Thank you.” Tui bowed with a nervous smile. Scratching at the back of his neck he stepped in, friend's following suit.

The inside of the house carried a heavy reek of cigarette smoke, mingled with that of booze. Someone's cooking loomed heavily in the smokey amber-lit air. The three city youth's shoes thudded wetly on the uncoated wood floorboards as they wound down the narrow hallway, before being let out into a large sitting room.

There in the center a small group sat at a wooden table, playing a round of mahjong poker by the light of a naked hanging lightbulb. The players paused their game to look up at their guests, as well as the spectators. The game soon resumed as one of them mumbled something. And quickly the soft tick of dice hitting the wooden table filled the room.

Worn and stained couches lined the walls, mismatched to any sense of décor. There slouched into the backs sat several more impatiently staring guests. Bottles of beer in their hands, and at least several with knives strapped to their legs. They regarded the newcomers with blank, distant looks. Too disinterested to raise anything further.

“For fucks sake, Tui!” someone barked from the far corner of the room. Cong looked over to see a tall figure jumping up from an arm chair alongside a beaten and scratched radio. One that played no sound, “I was hoping you weren't coming back dammit. You fucking made me loose a bet!”

Laughing, someone else added, “Shit, kid wasn't scarred off!” another exclaimed, “I thought he would have shied out, the way he almost slid off the road and his voice shook when he finished!

The other man was a straight black-haired man. “Lui, you owe me. Pay up!” he heckled.

“Like Hell.” the man by the radio said, Lui. The proposal didn't fly well with his black-haired competitor.

“God dammit, we had a deal!” he bellowed, advancing across the room. The mahjong players stopped their game to look up and watch events unfold. Even the thunder of a fight brought the inanimate figures on the couch to life.

“Piss on the deal, I'm keeping my money, Shou.” Lui spat.

“I'll fucking take your hand!” Shou growled, reaching to the belt of his pants. A long blade flashed in the light as he pulled it out from under his shirt. But even as long as his arm from wrist to elbow, Lui was not phased. It in fact even seemed to encourage him as he marched across the floor to Shou.

“Fucking try it, I'll break that face in.” he sneered.

“Comrades!” a voice roared over the ensuing fight, “Brothers!” it again pleaded. It was soft, its local accent tamed. There was almost something foreign to it. It had a European roll.

The two men froze in their advances. The new speaker continued, “Lui will pay Shou as agreed upon.” it demanded, “Or I'll shoot the two of you and take the money for yourself.”

Cong realized then he wasn't in his natural environment. The stern seriousness of the warning, and the barred knife registering in his brain, he knew he wasn't at home anymore. His breath shuddered in fear, his heart raced excitedly. He even felt light headed.

Fighting back anxious nausea he turned to face who had spoken. In a doorway half-way across the room stood a tall figure, of vaguely European descent. Light brown hair combed across his face. A complimenting mustache pasted to his pale face. He glowered at the two from behind vaguely tear-drop shaped eyes, but bore over everyone in the room a full head at the least.

The two stood back, the knife blade lowered. The man at the door nodded, looking out over the room. “I'll see you two in a minute and sort this mis-communication later.” he growled at the two, eyes settling on Tui he added, “Tui, didn't think I'd see you in. Your friends?” he asked.

“Yes, comrade.” Tui replied.

“I see, they can come in.” he invited, stepping back through the door whence he came. Tui followed, Cong stood by nervously.

He hesitated to follow, but a gentle push from Feng spurned him on. He looked over at her, she smiled back, the red lipstick she wore evident now more so than before. “It'll be fun.” she whispered to him, or mouthed. He couldn't tell, his heart was beating too hard.

Following the man into the side-room the door shut behind them. Muffling what whispers that followed their tails. Stepping to the side, their host walked about the edge of the room, coming to a table drawn up in the center. If not for papers littering the table's surface and the lights in the ceiling, the room was bare.

“I imagine you're here to race again.” the man said, “And who are these two?” he asked, “Family? Girlfriend?”

“No, just a friend of his,” Fend replied gently, cutting Tui off before he could reply, “though if I ever get a craving for dick once in my life, I'll be sure to tell you.” she said with a devlish smile.

The man stared at her stricken. Then slowly his eyes lit up, and a smile crawled across his face as realization dawned on him, “I see how it is.” he laughed, “If I might make my introduction,” he continued; bowing, “if for your benefit. Then I am The Cashier. I ask you refer to me by nothing else.”

“The Cashier?” Cong asked.

The Cashier nodded, taking a seat at his table, “I'll let you know, I was born in Macau. My father was a Portuguese business man. My mother a local well-off woman. Both attended the gambling dens in the city often, at least before the Japanese ended all that when they occupied the city.

“In their hobby's memory,” he said loudly, banging his hands on the table, grinding his palm against the lacquer coating, “and in part their own I have taken up the mantle of the once auspicious title of cashier! I deal with the flow of money here, I handle the bets and settle disputes, and other such methods of obtaining a tax free income.” he smiled as he pushed himself back off the table.

“I have my fees, but winning the pool will often put you well enough over than.” he smiled, nodding to Tui, “He was our last winner here in the hills. I guess the call of a few red paper bills is stronger than most think.” he said laughing. Tui nervously nodded along.

“No need to feign humility!” the cashier boasted, “Sit down, lay your money on the table and I'll add it to the pot.”

Tui complied silently. Digging into his pants to pull out a wad of messy bills. “How much is there?” the cashier asked as he threw down the stack of bills.

“Two hundred.” Tui said, “Half of my earning last time.”

The cashier grinned as he scribbled it down into a ledger, “That's a seven-hundred total now.” he said, closing the book he looked up at them, “Given the weather though, we're waiting. I hope you don't mind.”

“Oh...” Tui nervously said, “Oh, ok.”

The cashier smiled, “No need to be so high strung. Take a breather, have a drink maybe. When the rain lets up today we'll start the games. Coarse is the same.”

[b]Nanning, Guangxi[/b]

A clear warm day dominated the southern capital. Clear skies ruled over head, and the Zuo River glowed with afternoon light. Boats criss-crossed across the river's emerald waters. The distant hills and mountains to the city's south rose to meet the sky with their green crowns. And above the honking of traffic the calls of birds sand in the open air.

Nanning was a sprawling city, but it's scale was much less than that of the administratively focused Beijing. The buildings kept low and sparse, the sky open. Green parks dotted the river city alongside the mighty bridges that swept over the Zuo river. Several sky-rises competed with old pagodas for domination of the skyline of the capital of Guangxi. Lower along the shore old men fishing, and children free of school swam in the cool waters of the gently flowing Zuo while the day was still warm.

High up the embankment of the river-side park stood a stage. At its head stood the minister Zhang Auyi. His white suit shown in the afternoon sun as he smiled for the cameras of the NPN. A gathering had formed around the stage as NPN reporters and people in the crowds shouted him questions. The minister, and Grand Secretary hopeful did his best to answer their questions.

“Auyi, as an acting Grand Secretary how do you propose we pursue the situation in Africa?” a woman in a long blue dress asked, “Some suggest conflict is inevitable, while others suggest we can keep out of it.”

“I feel that we as a nation have a commitment to our partners.” Auyi replied, “Inside and out of the Third International, as very few as there are.” he joked, smiling. The crowd laughed politely, and Auyi continued, “Ethiopia, as a trading partner does deserve interest from us as a people. And the aggression of the Spanish on a sovereign and respectable power as them does demand we take interest. But either committing to joining, or pulling out our interests from the continent are choices that need to be heavily considered, and at this stage the war in Africa is still too young to come to a formal conclusion.”

“You speak of the Comintern, would your decision on partaking in this conflict weigh in as to how the International reacts to Spanish aggression? Can you say as secretary of the International Politburo that there is a decision in the works?”

“There is possibly a call to discuss the ongoing conditions in Ethiopia, and some of my comrades have suggested inviting a delegation from Ethiopia to visit the Seven Nations Pond as guests and to given an account to the Politburo body for a decision.”

“You sit on the chair in the International,” a man from the back of the crowd called out, “do you expect to run both in tandem with each other?”

“Do you mean Grand Secretary and secretary of the international?” Auyi replied, smiling, “No, I do intend to retire the chair to a new candidate. Obviously as well as my seat as Minister of Agriculture and People's affairs.

“I think the Third International has been seen through well enough in its first year, and someone can fill in my vacancy. This'll be initiated on its own election when results from our own is finalized.”

“As for the crisis in Russia, what's the plan there?” a male reporter begged.

“As a neighboring state it is in both the good nature of ourselves and the Russian people to resolve conflict in the former Empire, and to restore the state under a single functional government to become whole again. Chinese involvement in Russia I intend to continue on the pretense of restoring a functional revolutionary government for the benefit of the people, and for the cleansing out of the criminal syndicate known as the Mafiya.

“As some of my running mates have suggested, it would be simply too dangerous to cease assistance to the Siberian people. I may not condone an expansion of the mission in Russia, but I do support the idea of continuing the fight in Russia, for Russians, and for our own honor. Every battle hard won is honor for us both, and one more goal achieved to redefining China as a world powerhouse again.”