Veranda Incognita, Home of the Waverlys

[Malaclypse 666]

The Fishin Fool dropped gently in pre-ordained orientation with the artificial lake just below. In a few moments, fliers passing overhead would see only a rather large Kusari-design Sampan in a rather small body of water, with perhaps two meters of water between shore and gunnels. Still enough to drop a line, if one was gullible enough to take the picture at first glance.

Before the auxiliary turbines had even wound down to silence, an automated hovercraft raced onto the small quay, and disgorged a horde of scurrying domestic bots wearing. Chefs hats?

Observing the hubbub from the slim prow of the vessel, Malaclypse chuckled to himself. Reggie, you still have that sense of humor. Eris bless you! We will be needing it!

Before Mal had even secured the (useless but traditional) bow line to the stanchion, the hovercraft had been loaded from the side opening of his refrigerated hold. Salmon from the seas of Kyushu. Sea Bass from Curacao. Even a few huge lunking Tuna from Baden Baden.

Once again, Mal silently thanked those Sleeper Ship geneticists for reading their ancient Bibles.
And they each came, two by two, unto the Ark. albeit this time in a cryonic tryst of millions of viable emybro and spermatozoa, waiting for the tides of destruction to ebb, revealing their new homes.

Mal looked after the speeding hovercraft as it made its way to the rear of the Villa. His gaze then turned to the front veranda, where he could see small figures, apparently with drinks in hand, pointing and gesturing towards him. He waved broadly in their general direction, and returned to the bridge cabin for a brief moment to check for any news over the Comms.

Well, the good news, my friends, is that our mystery guest does not seem to be here.

The bad news, is that he is not here, as well. And further, that I have not the vaguest inkling where he is.

Madam Ambassador, I hope you can shed much light on this matter soon. I do not think we have the luxury of further speculation, or of further withholding of information at this point. We need all the available cards on the table, and quickly.

Catching himself in his own variety of speculation, Mal shrugged his shoulders and moved towards his small cabin, opening the tiny wardrobe to see what might be presentable for the evening. He decided on a jaunty red velvet dinner jacket. We may as well appear bright and lively while we can, eh?

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