PROPERTY OF THE NEW CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC DEPARTMENT OF STATE
IF FOUND, RETURN TO 23 EDITH AVENUE, SHADY SANDS, SHADY, NCR
IF FOUND, RETURN TO 23 EDITH AVENUE, SHADY SANDS, SHADY, NCR
Rebecca Alvarez
The sea was... underwhelming.
Rebecca knew of the sea, of course, as a child. She had even been to it a few times, when functions for the Army were held in Dayglow or Los Angeles or the politicians her family orbited needed to make a promise about the limitless frontier — of course, ignoring any serious proposals for the foundation of a New California Republic Navy beyond a handful of patrol vessels for customs purposes. There, though, the sea was always a morbid affair, a dark blue mass ruined by mankind's toxins. The waters were still, after all this time, unsafe to swim in for long periods of time, and even fishermen refused to go anywhere near the shore. She hadn't thought of any of that when she made her preparations for this journey, though.
She had thought instead of the stories from her childhood, where intrepid mariners gazed upon a pristine blue body or fought a roiling, gale-force wind to provide for themselves or their families. Where mighty sailors battled using steel beasts well beyond even what her own native Republic could build, in the hundreds and thousands. She had revisited these stories while preparing for the travel to Hawaii, rereading the copies of naval histories still in the Dayglow libraries about the mighty seafarers that once called Honolulu their home port. She hoped, even if part of her knew better, that this journey would transport her into that world before the war, where the sea still held that magic.
However, by this point in the journey, she was long-since disabused of any such notion. The sea was a bland, greyish-blue mass, without any strong redeeming qualities and with many poor ones. Three vomiting episodes would knock the optimism out of anyone, after all. She was grateful for the chance to have had them on the upper decks, though, as from what she heard from those below they were nearly as bad as the refugee trains from the Mojave during her time in the relief effort there. Fighting, killing, stealing, and more seemed to be the order of the day — something she wanted no part of. No, she was happy to be here, even if that meant that the government stipend she received was less. Better to enjoy the pleasantries on the journey and figure something out when she arrived.
Of course, she'd have gotten more money if she hadn't been sent far away from the center of government with the explicit goal of preventing her from taking part in the political game. While the kinder term for a duty station like this was "hardship tour", the more common term was a more vulgar synonym for excrement and "detail". She would have wholeheartedly agreed with the latter definition, even if she couldn't get the special orders she was given off her mind. Did they really mean for her to find a way to get those fugitives all the way out here, or was that just another way of ensuring she wouldn't return — at least, not for a good while? It was a nigh-impossible task, but she also agreed with the motives, given what they had very nearly done to her own people not a century ago. Complicated, indeed, and something she'd need to come to the bottom of. Then again, there was always the locals to contend with...
It was this blend of whirling thoughts that Rebecca was locked into when she suddenly realized she would have to contend with a fourth attack of seasickness... and she was nowhere near a bathroom or the side of the ship. Judging the latter to be closer, she rushed out of her quarters and through several hallways, only reaching the side in time to immediately hurl her latest lunch overboard. Unpleasant, but it was done and over with quickly, which hadn't always been the case. After a few moments, coming back to her senses, she realized that she wasn't just out on deck but was on the main deck, where dozens to hundreds were attempting to gain a view of the islands.
Wincing slightly while hoping nobody saw her, she adjusted her formal outfit — fixing her lapel pin — and made a quick detour to freshen up with stored water and a hasty restoration of her typically-pristine hair at the deck-adjacent head. Coming back out, she gave a sigh of relief when it became apparent that everyone was too focused on the islands to notice her, glancing around a bit before surreptitiously trying to take part in the search for the islands. However, her attempted diversion was a failure, as not long after she began to wonder if she could see them at all from this angle a voice called out to her from the crowd.
“ Hi, Sam from California Channel 89! We’re broadcasting live to California now. If you don’t mind, could you tell our viewers at home about what made you come onto the Aloha Isles?”
Oh, shit. The press. Exactly what she didn't need right now, but if she could turn this to her advantage, it would help her case immensely. After a pause for a fraction of a second, she turned, a switch flipping as she gave her best "representative of the Republic smile" and turned to look at both the reporter and the camera at the same time... somehow.
"Well, Sam — warm beaches, good waves, and the chance to establish long-term positive bilateral relations?"
She laughed, though before he could give a response or turn the camera off her, she immediately moved to her next line for the camera.
"Hey, California! This is Rebecca Alvarez, your diplomatic envoy to Hawaii. I'm eagerly awaiting the chance to finally make long-term contact with the people of this archipelago, and looking forward to giving you all updates on how things are going. I'm sure we'll be able to come to a satisfactory conclusion that will benefit both us and the people of Hawaii, bringing the world just a little bit closer in the process. It is my dearest hope that this voyage is only going to be the first of many, reconnecting what was lost and bringing many new opportunities to our two peoples. To the people of Hawaii, from California, I have a message: Welina mai e nā hoa mai ka hiki ʻana a ke kau ʻana o ka lā. Greetings, friends, from the rising to the setting of the sun."
She gave one last smile before the camera turns off her — and after a few more moments, once she was sure it was gone, she returned to her stateroom quickly. That last bit was something she'd been practicing for weeks after finding an old letter from the Universty of Honolulu saying something along those lines with a translation and audio log, hopefully it'd been close enough to not actually cause offense. Oh, well. Nothing she could do about it now. The best thing she could do now was to simply lie down, prevent any further bouts of seasickness, and get what rest she could — the big event is coming up, and she has to look and feel her best for it.
Maybe underwhelming was the wrong word for the sea. Irritating might be more accurate.