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Everything on Atlantis looked new because it was new. As the aircraft turned to taxi to the termninal Rolad saw the big sign advising that they were at Charles Adams Forrester International Airport. At under ten years it was one of the newest features of Atlantis. Named for Sir Charles Forrester - his status as a descendant of the American president the reason for the middle name - it was the most modern airport in the world if not the largest of busiest. In surface area it might be as the main runway was a hair over four miles long. They had landed on one of the shorter ones and the ride to the gate wasn't that long. The terminal certainly wasn't that large - twelve gates around a hub about two to three acres in size. A couple of large airliners were present and several jets in the range of the Gulfstream were present while two large cargo planes resembling C-130s were parked in a corner of the ramp. Similar except in size and having six engines instead of four. "Those are C-240s," Willow said when he commented. "Sir Charles is head of the aviation sector - civil and military - and served in the U.S. Air Force as a young man so Atlantean aviation is considerably influenced by that. We have the luxury that American and for that matter Russians don't have." "A clean slate and being able to improve instead of trying to invent?" Roland asked. "That too," Willow replied, "but unlimited funds is even more important." "Unlimited?" "The clean slate applies to the financial situation as well," Willow replied. "Atlantis began with no debt and considerable native wealth. You may get a chance to see some of it." The aircraft came to a stop. "Looks like we're here." Three small apparently electric vehicles awaited and the three of them got into one and the convoy depated with their vecicle in the middle. The others were occupied by young people in navy blue uniforms. Outside the terminal another convoy awaited - this one of relatively new black Cadillac Escalades - mid 2000s from what Roland knew about Cadillacs. Like the president and his people use but from what I hear Cadillac isn't making much these days. They were in pretty good shape for whatever their age and the ride to their final destination - about twenty minutes - was comfortable. Willow pointed out some points of interest along the way. Eventually they entered what seemed to be a decent-sized city, neat and clean like everything else. They entered a walled compound and stopped at a large building that looked somewhat an old Russian architecture with helmet domes rather than onion types. From the street it was hard to judge the size but in any case the motorcade entered a gate and eventually stopped on a courtyard. A squad of blue-uniformed personnel was waiting and they were ushered through the entrance of the large building. Their apparently military escort discreetly vanished as another group approached. A group of a half dozen mostly young men and women - one man looked old enough to be the father of the others. "Welcome to Atlantis," the old guy said. "And welcome back, Willow. Your father will be happy to see you again." "As will I," Willow replied. "As you know this is Roland and Charles. Roland, Charles, this is William Garrison. Bill to friends and consider yourselves friends, will be taking care of us here. Charles, I expect you want to rest a while." Charles nodded and but did not speak, even after the nap on the flight he looked near being dead on his feet. Two young people - a man and woman in their twenties - came forward and led Charles away. "Charles, whenever is ready," Bill said, "will be spending some time getting himself together. Four years in any prison can be rough and from what we know he had it pretty bad. Meanwhile Lord Walter is waiting to meet you. Once you're settled in your quarters let me know - no need to hurry, Lord Walter has plenty to keep him busy. Marianne and Marshall will show you to your quarters. If you need anything just buzz them." Their quarters were two floors up and as luxurious as one might expect with a host with unlimited wealth. Roland immediately went to look out the window. It overlooked a wide plain dotted with ponds and groves of trees. He unpacked some things and took a shower. Afterwards he found that his apartment had a small kitchenette and well-stocked bar. He hadn't bothered to dress beyond putting on a robe and decided to have a drink before anything else. He poured a small glass of E&J vanilla brandy and was about to sit down in the recliner when he heard a knock. A knock on the door apparently connecting his apartment to another. It was Willow, also wearing a robe and and apparently little else. "Your place or mine?" she asked. "Since you're here...."
The Commpad buzzed again, the second or third time. Willow was still asleep or faking it. He pressed the button to wake the unit and looked at the message. Lunch at noon with Lord Walter. MT That would be Marshall Turner. Or his twin sister Marianne. He had noticed them earlier and looked them up. Marshall and Marianne Turner, twins aged twenty-six. Father is George Turner, the security boss at Sierra Seven. 1033, looks good. 'Where at noon?' 'Just be ready. Casual dress.' Presumably someone will around to collect us. Willow woke as he slid off the bed and stood up. "Looks like we have a lunch date," he said. "At least I hope so since we don't have time for breakfast." "You'd want to skip it anyway," Willow replied as she put on her robe. "Everything is top drawer here. See you in a few." He brushed his teeth and shaved, giving his beard a quick smoothing. Since his his wardrobe consisted entirely of the uniform of the day it would have to be considered casual. The only decoration was a Mike Charlie shield above the left pocket. Willow was dressed similarly - khakis with a Cobalt-Five pin and a Mike Charlie shield like his own. He guessed that having been here before she knew the ropes. She put her arms around and him and kissed him for longer than.... Well, anyway... Julie is no doubt in good hands. A knock at the door, Willow moved to open it. It was both Marshall and Marianne in blue uniforms. The twins looked remarkably alike but it didn't detract from Marianne's beauty or Marshall's good looks - the jet black hair and dusky skin with the light uniforms was striking. Of course, Air Force. And George married a Greek woman.
A car was waiting downstairs and they got in the back seat while Marshall and Marianne got into the lead vehicle. After a short ride they arrived at the a large building, a really large one. At only six or seven floors not a giant in the big cities of the world but for a nation just a few years old it was impressive. They disembarked and accompanied Marshall and Marianne. Doors were opened by uniformed personnel as they entered and proceeded to a bank of elevators. They went all the way to the top floor and exited the elevator into a wide corridor carpeted with an expensive-looking runner that seemed to be all one piece despite the corridor being over a hundred feet long. Their destination was only about half that and another set of doors opened and they entered a large dining room. There were about four dozen people present and while Roland had never met Lord Walter but had seen enough photos to spot him right away. Tall and slim and looking to be in his sixties but Roland knew he was considerably older. He was standing with a small group near one end of table - as they entered people were beginning to take seats and he and Willow took the ones indicated by their guides. Servers were setting wine for the guests and finished at about time the guests were seated. "They'll begin serving now," Willow said. "Just sip wine and wait - they're pretty efficient." The guest Roland's right - an attractive thirty-something woman, introduced herself as Isabel Sandersen and the man beside her as her husband Roger. Roger looked older by a couple handfuls of years and the look of a military man about him. There were several uniformed military personnel present but Roger was wearing a golf shirt and slacks. Willow was chatting with the guest next to her, a younger guy in unadorned khakis. Isabel and Roger were among the first inhabitants and had been teenagers when their families arrived. Roger was a semi-retired military officer doing defense consulting work. Isabel was interested in the situation back home as most information coming out of the States was either official and thus propaganda or that passed by the intelligence network. Roland knew there were quite a few Atlantean agents working there - a couple were involved in getting Charlies out on at Atlantean aircraft. "It's a good place to not be," Roland told them, "unless you're on the side of the regime and it seems to be getting pretty dodgy for them - whether or not they realize it. They don't have much control outside of the population centers so the resistance has it pretty good - most of the trouble we have is with the fighting between the various... groups that they cut loose when they lost their grip." "The Muslims?" Isabel asked. "Mostly," he replied. "There were some big enclaves that were dug in pretty good and well supplied for a while. After the first year or so it began falling apart - no protection and no supplies and a lot of them lost interest and it's hard to keep any kind of a fighting force together. The black populations are concentrated in the cities and while we're not certain it seems that they have been walled off and left to fend for themseves. Disease and starvation and internecine predation...." "How is the other big group - the Hispanics or Latinos - doing?" "They weren't as dependent," Roland relied. "Most of them anyway - the criminal types are in the cities and probably will suffer the same fate as the other discarded tools. The ones outside integrate well with the local population - ethinc enclaves remain but there is considerably less conflict given the common enemy." "As one would expect," Isabel said. "We did quite a lot of analysis of the population before 2028." "We?" "Sorry, I didn't mention that I work at the Khostus Foundation," Isabel replied. "It's a think tank - one of many - run by the government." "Sociological research?" "Mostly, there are several sub-disciplines... racial, ethnic, religious and other societal factors." "The U.S.A. must be fertile ground," Roland said. "It is. More in the late twentieth century and later - you imported large numbers of people - population pools - that had no desire or even the ability to assimilate in less than at least three generations and worse were used as political tools. If not for the conversion of the Afram population into such a tool some peaceful solution might have been reached as most would have been absorbed it would have been a peaceful place. But it was not to be. So the country broke up again - this time not in two pieces at war but several." "Where... nevermind, if you can talk about it.... what does Atlantis see as a solution?" "Can't talk about it," Isabel said with a smile. "I have a feeling you'll learn a lot, maybe more than you want to, later."
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