29-03-2019, 05:50 PM
Contessa Helena de San Finzione woke with a start as the plane hit a pocket of turbulence. The worry beads that she'd been toying with as she nodded off clattered to the floor of the empty First Class section; empty except for her and one of the stewardesses.
Apart from the crew and herself, the sixteen soldiers of San Finzione's elite Squadra de Ultimados troops that she'd met at the airport before takeoff and were now waiting back in Business Class were the only passengers. She'd offered to let them sit up in First Class with her, but their commander, a man named Capitano Ramirez, insisted that he and his men would give La Contessa her privacy.
At this moment, though, solitude was a bad thing for her. This was the part of her life that she hated: Solitude meant nothing to do but sit and worry about Maria and Stavro and try to will the plane to fly faster.
Stavro had been a bit less of a worry, as she'd been able to get some word while in flight. They'd found him at the scene unconscious and badly injured. One of the soldiers and the pilot had died in the crash, Stavro and the other had tried to fight off their attackers. The soldier had been killed, but Stavro had no weapon and fought with his hands, so they only beat him and left him at the scene. Still, the doctors said from his injuries that he'd fought off several of them before they overpowered him. He was still unconscious, but expected to make it. After Helena had called the Generalissimo, she informed Ramirez and his men of the loss of their comrades before returning to her seat and sitting in silent contemplation until she'd nodded off.
She thought about telling the stewardess to bring the drinks cart and leave it and polishing off every little bottle on it, but that would just lead to worrying about Maria AND being too wasted to do anything. She pulled a cigarette out of the pack that rested on arm of the seat and lit it. At the beginning of the flight, one of the stewards had told her that there was no smoking on the plane. She didn't feel like doing her thing to the man, so she simply pulled out her diplomatic passport with her free hand and flipped him off with the one holding the lighter as she lit the cigarette, and that had been the end of all discussion on the subject.
She swung the little video monitor that each seat had in this part of the plane and brought up the menu. All the movies were ones she'd either seen or she didn't want to sit through the "edited for airplanes" version. There was an option to view the plane's flightpath and information and she brought it up. Three hours left til they landed in Uongo.
Helena looked over at the stewardess, a tall, slender redhead with an Irish lilt whose nametag had read Colleen. ("Of course that's her name," she had thought when she saw the tag.) They hadn't really talked at all since Helena had asked for a hot cocoa after takeoff, and the rest of her co-workers were in back taking care of the Ultimados, so she'd been reading most of the flight. Helena couldn't see the title, but the cover was the "Fabio or a guy who looks like him about to rip the nineteenth-century maiden's bodice open" universal symbol for trashy romance. From the look on the woman's face, she'd gotten to one of the good parts. She looked fun, and fun was what Helena could use about now. When Colleen looked up from her book for a moment, she saw Helena make eye contact. She set her book down and walked over to her.
"Excuse me, Countess," she said in her musical Irish voice. "Is there anything I can get for you?" Colleen looked down at Helena's phone and gasped at one of the pictures of the crash site that'd been sent to her and was still on the screen. She looked at all the burnt and burning bodies and said "Oh, Is that..."
Helena cut her off. "Dolls. The food, water, medicine, and supplies were being delivered by the military convoy. She wanted to bring something for the children. She could have gone with them and had a full escort, but she'd never seen Africa from the air."
The stewardess hadn't been told why the government of San Finzione had commandeered the plane or why they were flying the Countess and what appeared to be a small invasion force to Africa when they'd been bound for Boston.
"I'm sorry, Contessa. Is there anything I can do to help?" Generally empty words, however, Helen WAS bored and needed a distraction.
"Sure, what were you reading over there?"
Colleen smiled and blushed a little. "Oh, just something I bought in the terminal before coming aboard. It's really...um...nice."
"It looked like you were at a nice part," Helena said with a little grin. Colleen's face was almost the same shade of red as her hair now. She looked up into Colleen's eyes and slowly stood from her seat. "Hey, don't be embarrassed. We're both girls here, nobody around to bother us. We can talk about stuff like that. What'd you think of it?"
Apart from the crew and herself, the sixteen soldiers of San Finzione's elite Squadra de Ultimados troops that she'd met at the airport before takeoff and were now waiting back in Business Class were the only passengers. She'd offered to let them sit up in First Class with her, but their commander, a man named Capitano Ramirez, insisted that he and his men would give La Contessa her privacy.
At this moment, though, solitude was a bad thing for her. This was the part of her life that she hated: Solitude meant nothing to do but sit and worry about Maria and Stavro and try to will the plane to fly faster.
Stavro had been a bit less of a worry, as she'd been able to get some word while in flight. They'd found him at the scene unconscious and badly injured. One of the soldiers and the pilot had died in the crash, Stavro and the other had tried to fight off their attackers. The soldier had been killed, but Stavro had no weapon and fought with his hands, so they only beat him and left him at the scene. Still, the doctors said from his injuries that he'd fought off several of them before they overpowered him. He was still unconscious, but expected to make it. After Helena had called the Generalissimo, she informed Ramirez and his men of the loss of their comrades before returning to her seat and sitting in silent contemplation until she'd nodded off.
She thought about telling the stewardess to bring the drinks cart and leave it and polishing off every little bottle on it, but that would just lead to worrying about Maria AND being too wasted to do anything. She pulled a cigarette out of the pack that rested on arm of the seat and lit it. At the beginning of the flight, one of the stewards had told her that there was no smoking on the plane. She didn't feel like doing her thing to the man, so she simply pulled out her diplomatic passport with her free hand and flipped him off with the one holding the lighter as she lit the cigarette, and that had been the end of all discussion on the subject.
She swung the little video monitor that each seat had in this part of the plane and brought up the menu. All the movies were ones she'd either seen or she didn't want to sit through the "edited for airplanes" version. There was an option to view the plane's flightpath and information and she brought it up. Three hours left til they landed in Uongo.
Helena looked over at the stewardess, a tall, slender redhead with an Irish lilt whose nametag had read Colleen. ("Of course that's her name," she had thought when she saw the tag.) They hadn't really talked at all since Helena had asked for a hot cocoa after takeoff, and the rest of her co-workers were in back taking care of the Ultimados, so she'd been reading most of the flight. Helena couldn't see the title, but the cover was the "Fabio or a guy who looks like him about to rip the nineteenth-century maiden's bodice open" universal symbol for trashy romance. From the look on the woman's face, she'd gotten to one of the good parts. She looked fun, and fun was what Helena could use about now. When Colleen looked up from her book for a moment, she saw Helena make eye contact. She set her book down and walked over to her.
"Excuse me, Countess," she said in her musical Irish voice. "Is there anything I can get for you?" Colleen looked down at Helena's phone and gasped at one of the pictures of the crash site that'd been sent to her and was still on the screen. She looked at all the burnt and burning bodies and said "Oh, Is that..."
Helena cut her off. "Dolls. The food, water, medicine, and supplies were being delivered by the military convoy. She wanted to bring something for the children. She could have gone with them and had a full escort, but she'd never seen Africa from the air."
The stewardess hadn't been told why the government of San Finzione had commandeered the plane or why they were flying the Countess and what appeared to be a small invasion force to Africa when they'd been bound for Boston.
"I'm sorry, Contessa. Is there anything I can do to help?" Generally empty words, however, Helen WAS bored and needed a distraction.
"Sure, what were you reading over there?"
Colleen smiled and blushed a little. "Oh, just something I bought in the terminal before coming aboard. It's really...um...nice."
"It looked like you were at a nice part," Helena said with a little grin. Colleen's face was almost the same shade of red as her hair now. She looked up into Colleen's eyes and slowly stood from her seat. "Hey, don't be embarrassed. We're both girls here, nobody around to bother us. We can talk about stuff like that. What'd you think of it?"
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