Arnaud smiled at the girl’s question. “Imperialist? When[i] we[/i] do it, it’s called [i]liberation[/i] actually.” He smiled easily, though it was a tad bit brittle. Then he waved his hand.

“How did the old tune go? Bit by bit the pieces fit, the soviet machine advances….not one move that won’t improve our nation’s chances.” 

The Caribbean-born pilot leaned forwards a bit then. “The same principle holds here, I think. The Caribbean ah…..she has a government, but the government cannot control the weather yes? Who knows how long we can hold back nature [i]hmmm…?[/i] Better to extend our reach now, while we still can, then wait until the ocean washes us all away. If it does.”

He lifted his glass of rum to his lips and took a good long gulp. “The war. Heh. She did not do wonders for my people's optimism.”