Veranda Incognita, Home of the Waverlys

[Malaclypse 666]

Reggie woke up at the Veranda, and found himself uncharateristically... alone.

A brief memo on his comms link from Sophie explained the silence. The Fnordettes had been called to a "conference" on Curacao. The offer of this "Dr. Seed" was to be discussed and decided upon. Malaclypse would join them there, leaving Hiram Abiff and his crews at work in Baffin.

Reggie rose and dressed. Constant days of grueling trading and marketing had left him exhausted. Hiram Abiff's requirements for Baffin were voracious. Perhaps he needed another invigorating stay at the "Spa" himself. While the wondrous energies of that place had added decades to his life, he was still an "old man"; and felt his age at times.

He considered visiting his old Elf companion Commodore Puddles at the Canaria Cafe in the Port; but as he left the Veranda, his steps were inexorably drawn towards the Uli Rouge Plantation, and the Memorial at its center.

He reached the Memorial Plaza, and sat on one of the granite benches constructed from Dr. deLuna's old prison cell in Rheinland. His gaze travelled to the three tall crystal obelisks at the focii of the Memorial.

"Fiona, my darling. I hope you are doing well, wherever your path has led you on the other side," he said to the air about him. "You'll be happy to know that Sylvia is doing quite well back down 'here'. She exhibits the usual teenage angst and boredom, but she has the knowledge of millennia to temper her youthful exuberance a bit now."

Reggie sighed deeply. The months since the deLuna family's strange act of sacrifice had eased his sorrow a bit; but his feelings of loneliness were still sometimes overwhelming. Even the excitement of building a new Headquarters for the TAZ, and the attendant chaotic details only served to take his mind off the past for brief periods.

He rose and walked towards the rose quartz crystal engraved with the name of Ambassador Fiona deLuna. He placed his hands on its massive sides, and then laid his weathered cheek gently against its surface. He imagined that he still felt a warmth there.

"Fiona, I do not know if you would be happy with the course the TAZ is taking. Malaclypse has chosen to eschew the politics and wars of Sirius. We no longer have influence in the north. Other powers scoff at our supposed impotence and seclusion. Malaclypse has divined yet another change in the cycle of history, and believes we must 'weather it out' without direct involvement.

"You were always the idealist and peacemaker, my Love. Such selusion would grate on your need for direct involvement and action, I'm sure. Perhaps it is best that you are no longer here to witness this period."

Reggie turned from the obelisk, and looked out over the twin plantations he had constructed and operated. The hubbub of automated agriculture and commerce could be seen everywhere. New green life rising to continue its cycle of sustenance and supply. The odors of the various specialized crops brought him back to the here and now.

"I must let you go, Fiona. Even if you were willing, a return in the same form as Sylvia would only provide you with the merest shadow of what you were, both to me and to the Sector. It would not be fitting. I do not believe you would wish it at all. And, your legacy lives on in your wonderful, brilliant daughter. It may even become more "alive", if the Fnordettes decide to proceed with this Dr. Seed's procedures.

"But I must be willing to let go of you completely, or my usefulness to our Goddess and to the TAZ will always be hampered by my yearning and my memories."

A brief gust of wind came up, and firmly blew against Reggie's back. It was a sign of acquiesence so synchronistic in nature that Reggie laughed out loud.

"So be it, my Lady. You don't have to get pushy. I am off to do my part in this strange place we inhabit here; just as you must get on with things on whatever plane you choose to inhabit.

"Always know that I loved you, Fiona. May our Goddess smile on you every moment."

With that, Reggie's stomach grumbled; and with one last look over his shoulder, he began walking towards Port Canaria, with thoughts of a huge omelette in mind.

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