The Terran Part 2

Drake sits in an office, the office of Deputy Director Reginald Smith to be exact, an old world hero from the days of yore. He’s become quite old in his years, bald on the head with a pure white mustache curling on either side of his face, but he still looks fierce and powerful, despite his age. It’s a very well put together office Drake thinks - large, wide, spacious, with a nice and shiny wooden desk planted in the center of the back wall. There are paintings from an era long gone adorning the walls, along with photographs from when Reginald shook hands with President Wallace 42 years ago residing on his desk, harkening back to that infamous time of troubles, as everyone calls it now, when Vietnam became something…better.

There were seventeen others in the room, all sitting in fold out chairs which completely clashed with the class of the room, and of course, Reginald kept blabbering on about this and that, with all of them intently listening. He wanted to listen, but his mind was elsewhere. Josephine had just made it back to the city from Dresmok with his nephew, Jeremy, and he already felt the pangs of guilt as he was summoned to the meeting for the Volunteers of Peace…why did he even want to join this outfit in the first place? Of course, they do nothing when he is doing nothing, but the second he has some semblance of responsibil…

“God damn it, Tom! Are you even listening?” Reginald Smith said. “You are to go up to Fort Wallace and await the potential arrival of Howard Tetch, per the direct instructions of Prime Minister.”

“Huh? Yes, sorry, sir. Howard Tetch? THE Howard Tetch? What, did he swim across the ocean or something?” Drake said, with just the right amount of sarcasm to elicit a stern look from Reginald Smith as a few of the Volunteers let out a quick, but hastily squelched laugh. Drake was pleased with himself and kept it going. “And then what, he just up and walked 300 miles inland without a single person recognizing him throughout the fringes of the Yellow Sector?”

“Did you hear a word of what I just told you?” Smith said with glare. “We have received intelligence from our agents up in the Red Sector of the Hunan Province where they say there have been multiple sightings of Howard Tetch heading south.” Smith sighs exaggeratedly, “We assume he seeks sanctuary in Liberated Vietnam, and I have received a direct order from the Prime Minister to seek him out and bring him here without delay.”

Drake eased up, “Alright, alright. I hear you. So what, you think I’m going to have a better chance of finding him out in Fort Wallace than the garrison based there? I mean, my sister and nephew just made it back to Ho Chi Minh City, and I want to make sur..”

“Listen up, Tom, and hear me good this time.” Smith said, preparing for a long winded speech. “Howard Tetch is currently the single most important person in what remains of this world. By the time you were born, he had done more in the fight against Lucy than all the efforts since. What he has seen, what he knows and what he has done are worth more than your sister, more than your nephew, more than myself and more than the Prime Minister’s life combined. The garrison in Fort Wallace has been in desperate need of reinforcements since the fall of Lai Châu, and from our latest reports, have been experiencing a large amount of desertion to the lowland villages and beyond.” Smith looks at the seventeen others and then back to Tom, “It’s only a matter of time before the Red River foothold, west of Hanoi, is completely lost.”

The room gasped in surprise, and even Drake was uncomfortable with the submissive direction in which the meeting had taken. “Alright, man, fine, I’ll go. How long do you need me to stay up there before heading back?” Drake said.

Smith seemed to ignore the question entirely, as though he were picking up where he had left off after having realized Drake wasn’t paying attention a few minutes ago. The Deputy Director fixed his gaze on the door to his office and yelled out, “Cadeo! Bring in the map now, please!” Drake could hear the muffled sounds of affirmation behind the closed door, and within a minute the knob turned and the doorway revealed itself, with a young native born walking through with an easel and a large map matted on thick cardboard. Smith directed where he wanted it placed and began walking over to his desk in the back of the room. After setting it up, Cadeo began leaving the room to sit back at the desk just outside the door that he had been doing paperwork at when Drake had originally arrived. Smith had procured a small pointer stick from his desk drawer, and before Cadeo closed the door to the office he said, “Thankyou, Cadeo.” Cadeo nodded as he closed the door.

The Deputy Director walked up to the map that was resting on the easel, and grasped the end of his pointer stick so that he could extend it out - much to the internal delight of Drake - he knew that he would have to get one for himself someday.

Smith looked at the eighteen Volunteers of Peace sitting before him, and began to speak like the man in the picture who had so proudly shaken the hand of President Wallace, so many years before. “Alright, gentlemen,” he began, “you now all know where it is that myself and the Prime Minister are demanding you head. Your orders are simple, find Howard Tetch, and bring him back here in as prompt a manner as you possibly can. This map is a little over 42 years old, and a lot of what’s on here just isn’t there anymore, but anyway, I digress.” He lifted his pointer to the top right of the map. “This region, in what is now Old China, is the Hunan Province, from where our agents have sent us reports of rumors of sightings of Howard Tetch heading south toward the northern border of Liberated Vietnam, where the Yellow and Red Sectors meet.” Smith slowly drags the pointer south on the map. “It’s not necessarily the best of information, I am aware, but if we are to believe that he is heading for the Yellow Sector - and we have every inclination to believe such due to the fact that the worldwide communications were still up and running when the Americans dropped three hydrogen bombs on the Yunan-Burmese region – then it is very likely he will cross anywhere within this vicinity.” He says as he circles a region.

“The journey..” Smith pauses to clear his throat and then continues, “the journey from the Hunan Province to the Northern border of Liberated Vietnam is roughly 400-600 miles. The infrastructure of the Red Sector was destroyed when Lucy created the upheaval four decades ago, and whatever remained has long since been reclaimed by local plant and wildlife, making the journey near impossible save for on foot.” The Deputy Director pauses to breathe for a minute, collapses his pointer stick, and continues. “Our agents in the Hunan Province sent out a message three days ago on an AM frequency before we lost contact with them. It was picked up by a station in Dresmok and relayed through Hanoi down here to Ho Chi Minh City. It is likely that they were able to get an old radio station up and running temporarily to send the message, but beyond that, we do not know what has become of them.”

“But that is beside the point,” Smith says, as he refocuses his thoughts. “It is estimated that the time to walk to the Liberated Vietnam border will take Howard Tetch anywhere from three to four weeks on foot, and your job, gentlemen – Volunteers of Peace – is to reach your assigned destinations, establish a network of contacts, and be ready to meet Howard Tetch when he arrives, and deliver him to the Prime Minister here in the capital as quickly as possible. You are to man your posts for three months before coming back, unless you find him sooner.”

Smith looks at the back of the map and gets frustrated. “God damn it. Cadeo! Bring in the picture!” Again, a muffled affirmation is heard and after a couple of minutes Cadeo opens the door to bring in a large blown up photograph of Howard Tetch, as well as a box of small, pocket-sized versions of the same picture. Smith nods to Cadeo, who slightly bows and exits the room, closing the door behind him. “You all know what the man looks like, I know, but in case you need a reminder, you are each to take one these. Cadeo will give you an envelope when you leave this meeting which will have train tickets to your respective destinations, along with a bank note, notarized by the Prime Minister for you to use to trade for two pounds of gold at the Ho Chi Minh or Hanoi Reserve.” Smith pauses and stares at the eighteen men in front of him. “Are there any questions?” he asks.

Drake spoke up, “Yeah, I have one. How in the God damned hell did he make it across the Pacific?”