Floating Earth Chapter one: Meeting

Steadily Mishka Terie climbed the long, winding stairwell, his large feet seeming too big, his arms seeming too long, and his legs that went on forever. All of which should have spelled grace, but it just made him look awkward. His long skinny body wasn't muscled in all the right places; it could barely be said to be muscled at all . . .

Even living on Hoi, one of the island continents of Floating Earth in the year 2234, Mishka wasn't much of a swimmer, nor did he have the build of one, like his mother and father.

Back before the islands, sometime around 2050-something, global warming took effect for real, melting the polar ice caps and Antarctica and mountainous snow. So much water was too much for the Earth's land masses to withstand, and the continents all sunk beneath the ocean. To combat it, the Earth leaders had all planned for a few years and come up with the designs for floating islands, capable of supporting plants and animals, and remaining afloat despite most things.

In Mishka's fifteen years, he had never heard of Hoi having any major sinkage problems, but a few of the other continents did.

So Mishka trudged up the stairs to the office building, swinging his arms and stumbling over his feet, grasping for the handrails every so often, and thanking his lucky star that there was no one around to see him.

A half a year ago, when he had first come to work in the big government building, he'd complained constantly, because then he hadn't been a very tall person, standing about five two and picked on in all his classes. It probably didn't help that he was the smartest kid in his graduating class, which, at fourteen in a classroom full of eighteen year olds, wasn't such a good thing. His parents were teachers, and had taught him when he was very little, teaching him to read and write by the time he was two. So at fourteen and a half he had graduated high school, and by fifteen he had an internship in government. Not that he wanted to be in government; What he really wanted to do was fly, but there was little need for more pilots.

For a week after graduating his ambition was to find a pilot to take him in and teach him to fly, but there were none nearby, and none of the closer ones needed an apprentice.

Mishka stared at the carved cherry wood door, a sudden apprehension and fear apparent in his gangly body and stance. He'd never been inside this room, and had only seen the man who resided within it from a distance, the imposing figure, the leader of this continent, far above talking to someone like Mishka.

He sighed deep within his chest, a heave that made him deflate from his five-foot eleven stance to a tiny nobody, like he had been when he had first come here.

Self consciously he knocked lightly on the door, and drew himself up a little bit, trying to make himself look less like a frightened child and more like the man he hoped to grow into one day.

From the inside of the chamber, a deep masculine voice, commanding power and telling a tale of dignity and political grace called him. Sighing once, Mishka pushed open the great door and stepped into the room.

His first reaction was to let his jaw fall to the floor, but then again, this room was probably designed to have that impression on people.

The pattern of the room was one of majesty and wealth, without being forward about either. Columns towered on either side of a simple cherry wood desk, maroon draperies cloaked gracefully from the topmost part of the columns slung to curtain rods that then hung them next to giant windows. A painting of what earth was supposed to have looked like before the Great Flood, in all her majesty, greens and blues, browns and reds, whites and silvers, original continents in place, hung behind the massive desk.

Behind the desk, in front of the painting, sat a man, whom, after you had taken in the beauty of the room, commanded your eyes look to him without saying a word or moving an inch. His face was commanding and caring, powerful and loving, compassionate and cruel all at the same time.

Mishka finally remembered who he was in the presence of and bowed his head low, his hands behind his back, the proper greeting to this man.

“Your Majesty,” Mishka began, taking a step forward, making it appear to him as if the room had just enlarged and drawn away from him.

Who was he to think he could stand in this room, in front of the most powerful person on all of Hoi, and how was he important enough to deliver the message he carried to this man?

“I have come to inform you that Lord Karian has requested you join the council this afternoon for the official passing of laws three-oh-four and seven-thirty-two.” He rattled off the message and the numbers of the laws without thought.

Feeling trapped and inferior, he took a step backwards, back toward the door, the exit and his freedom from this suffocatingly imposing room.

He bowed again, so close to freedom that he could almost taste it, when the deep voice called out to him.

“Pardon my boldness, but I would like to know all of the people on my staff personally.” Mishka could feel the giant cherry wood door closing in his mind, locking him in this room, “And I don't believe I've ever met you before. Had Lord Karian been keeping you locked away?” The hint of amusement in his voice made Mishka's brain spin. This man was just a regular person like himself, with a sense of humor and all?

“No your Majesty, I've been running his errands here for the past half a year now.” The room returned to normal size and the heat that had suddenly descended on him at the sound of his Majesty's voice lifted ever so slightly.

An unrecognizable sound issued from the man behind the desk, who now stood and stepped toward Mishka himself. He was chuckling, a sound Mishka hadn't heard in a very long time with all the stuffy, suited men in this building. The sound made him break a smile.

“I see I have managed to make you smile,” commented the King, as he extended his hand, an old Earthen customary greeting, still used between common folk, “I assume it's been a while since you've heard anyone laugh if you've been here for a half a year.”

Mishka took the proffered hand and shook it, noticing the King's hands seemed the right size for his body and making him feel even more awkwardly proportioned juxtaposed.

“I am Kai Lorn, King of Hoi,” came the introduction, “But please, just call me Kai.”

The King had just told him to call him by his first name, and somehow, Mishka felt himself stifling. He was physically about two inches taller than the King, but he felt six inches shorter until he realized that he was to be on a first name basis with the King. Then he grew about two feet.

“Mishka Terie, but please call me Mika.” He grinned at the man who ruled his country, but was not a super man, not a man dressed in robes or a crown like some of the other rulers indulged in, just a regular man in a suit who ran a country. Though he didn't assume that ‘just' was a word that was used in conjunction with King Kai Lorn very often.

After the official greetings, Lord Kai had closed the door, and gestured for Mishka to sit in the chair across from him in the sitting room, a room adjacent to the first, and just as beautiful and powerfully decorated.

“Please Mishka, tell me, do you like working here? Does Lord Karian work you too hard?” He sat forward, earnestly appearing as if he was eager to hear what Mishka had to say.

“Well,” Mishka began, pausing for a moment to let his mind wander to old memories of his first day here.

He had just arrived and was feeling rather insecure and lost in the large building. Lord Karian, the youngest Council Member at thirty-four, had helped him through his day, leading him to all the places he had to go, introducing him to all the people he had to meet, and a few that would just generally ‘make good contacts' as Lord Karian had claimed.

In the past six months, Lord Karian had been his first and only friend, and had treated him well.

“I would have to say that Lord Karian only gives me tasks that he feels that I can accomplish, so working me too hard would be my own accord, and I enjoy the challenge of working with older people, to prove myself as a business man and a capable one at that.”

His response, while completely truthful and honest, was stiff and sounded uncomfortable, and it seemed that the King took notice.

“Please Mika, don't worry about offending me. I want to hear about your life here, I want to know about you as a person. I don't want the business person you are to become. If that's all you know how to act, you'll lose yourself and burn out as quickly as possible and then be of no use.” The King's voice was reassuring, asking of Mishka a confidence and comfort. Mishka didn't know if he could afford it in his present occupation. But for his King, he could at least try.

“I'm sorry Your Ma- Lord- um . . . Kai.” After he had said it, it seemed right, comfortable, fitting. “I'm still a little new . . . Kind of nervous, truly told. Being an intern isn't exactly easy work, a challenge to be honest about it, but I like challenges, so that's not a problem. I'm just... kind of clumsy, so people tend to avoid me.” Then came an awkward nervous grin, revealing his insecurities.

The man nodded knowingly, his structured, handsome face sympathetic. “We all go through that stage Mika, feelings of awkwardness and clumsiness are part of the territory.” Though Mishka had a hard time imagining this elegant man ever being awkward or clumsy.

“I think you'll make a great Councillor, but only . . . ” He paused and let Mishka sweat over it for a second, “If a Councillor is what you really wish to be.” His voice betrayed to Mishka that he already knew the answer to an unasked question that now hung between them

Did he or did he not wish to work in government?

Mishka stared at Kai for a moment, misreading the concern on the man's face. “Of course I'll do the best I can while I remain here.” He said, an indignant tone creeping icily into his voice. That the King of Hoi, his ruler, could think that he didn't want to be there... well, Mishka could barely stand the insult.

“That's not what I meant Mishka.” His voice remained calm, level, like a sea raft on the turbid waters. “I was merely asking if you wanted to do something else with your life. You are but so young, and to miss out on opportunities because you are here, slaving away in this building...” He left it open ended, leaving Mishka to draw his own conclusions.

For a few short moments that seemed to take an age to pass, Mishka saw himself aged ten years, a business suit cloaked over his body as he stood in this same room.

He was still recognizable as the Mishka he saw in the mirror every morning, yet he seemed ancient, burdens of government weighing his shoulders and social life. He wore no ring, not married to any but his business, spending hours after work doing more and more work. He had lost any youth he may have once held, his hazel eyes tired, black smudges beneath them, wrinkles near his mouth and eyes, none of them laugh lines. His short cropped light brown hair was streaked with grey, not the dignified, laughingly achieved silver, but real grey, gained from working too late and worrying too much.

The image was enough to make Mishka mentally and physically shudder, as if picturing himself at twenty-five looking like he was seventy made him ill. But the image was replaced by another, a more pleasant vision.

He stood proudly, his gold streaked brown hair as long as it was now, maybe a bit longer, shining and flowing in the wind. Wrapped around his neck was a red scarf, goggles lightly dangling over top of it as it fluttered in the breeze. His clothes and face were dirty, dust not touching a goggle line around his eyes, making him look like a raccoon, but he was proud of whom he was and what he looked like.

His stance made it clear that he was carefree, doing things he loved to do, wether it was making him a lot of money or not.

A gentle clearing of Kai's throat snapped Mishka back to the present, to the room with the decorative maroon walls and the noble man.

For a few moments they stared at each other, eyes locked, as if all their innermost secrets could be shared through that one look, and without realizing it, Mishka was shaking his head softly.

Knowingly Kai smiled, and he stood once more. Extending his hand to the boy who sat before him, Mishka stared up at him, startled and pleased at the same time. Kai understood him. The ruler of Hoi, his home land, his King, understood that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life locked up in a building forever.

And Mishka understood Kai a bit more that he had before. He took the proffered hand and was pulled to his feet, his hand being shaken respectfully.

“Mika, I want you to go and meet a good friend of mine, his name is Lian Kire. He is a pilot, and a damn good one at that. I will send him a note telling him you are coming and a car will pick you and your luggage up from your room tomorrow. I am sending you to study under Lian, and I expect to hear nothing but good reports from the both of you.”

Mishka could hardly believe it; Kai was sending him to one of his close personal friends, who happened to be a pilot, and he still wanted to hear from him. He blinked his hazel eyes in amazement and stared at the grand man who stood in front of him.

It was only then that he noticed the tiny forming of lines around the man's eyes and mouth, a sign of the burden of his position. Mishka caught his eye, and it was then that he realized that his new and most powerful friend was sending a boy to live his dream, to stop that boy from making the same mistake as he had.

He was suddenly pulled into the older man's embrace, a warm and welcoming hug, comfortable and respectable, from one man to another, after giving the gift of a dream come true.

He bowed low to the King; A man like any man, who had dreams and made sacrifices, whose life made him inclined to care.

Still stunned, Mishka left the majestical room without much of a reaction. He knew he had to go and tell Lord Karian he was leaving, he had to go and phone his parents, he had to go pack, but all of those would require real thought which he didn't feel up to working on right now.

He walked straight to his bedroom and flopped down on the bed, face first into the comforter.

For a few moments he lay there, still as if he were asleep, but he shortly flipped over and faced the roof, his hands clasped behind his head.

I'm really going to be a pilot. I really met and befriended the King. I'm really leaving here. I'm... His thoughts stopped there. How could he leave this place, which had been his home for approximately six months, a place he had come to know inside and out? How could he leave the people he had come to know and respect?

But the vision of himself, aged too soon, flashed back into his mind, and he stood upright suddenly and headed for the door. It wasn't like him to be so disoriented and not do things he had to do.

First he stopped in Lord Karian's office, a small, cramped space full of papers and books lining the walls and desk. Lord Karian sat behind his desk, his grey eyes cast up at the door as Mishka entered.

“Ah, Mishka, what brings you here?” His voice was reedy and thin, like wind through a tree branch, and filled with wisdom, too much for his young years. “Come to get some extra work?”

Embarrassed, Mishka blushed a deep crimson and stared at his shoes. “Lord Karian,” he began before e could say no more. This man had been nothing less than hospitable to him, and here he was, about to tell him he was going to resign.

“I've been given a chance to become a pilot.” He blurted, flushing even more red.

A whoop and a clap from the normally less than enthusiastic man startled Mishka thoroughly. He looked up at Lord Karian, and was surprised to see a grin of perfectly straight white teeth directed happily at him.

“That's amazing boy, why would you be so embarrassed about that?” He stood and pulled Mishka into a one-armed embrace. “Let me guess,” He grinned, “His Majesty, Lord Kai set you up with his friend from the island? Yes I remember that man as a boy, always running around with his arms outstretched, as if he could fly away.” Mishka stared at his Lord, eyes wide with disbelief.

Lord Karian immediately recognized that look and laughed again. “Oh yes, I knew him back when he was a boy. He and I went to the same school, though I was four years older than he, Lord Kai was in my class. All the other boys used to pick on him because he was such a dreamer. ‘Kai,' they said, ‘You'll never amount to anything.' I bet they cry themselves to sleep after they come home from their dead end jobs at night.” He laughed mockingly, yet it was friendly, the laugh of the man who had come out on top, despite the odds being against him.

He laughingly brushed his hand across Mishka's shoulder, “So, you ‘re gonna go and become Kai's Pilot eh?” Confused, Mishka stared at him blankly.

“So he didn't tell ya?” He chucked again, “You'll probably end up being his personal pilot, giving you freedom to do as you wish.”

Mishka was shocked, and his pose and expression gave it away. He had just had a possible future laid out in front of him, and he could hardly believe it. First he had found out that the King was only thirty, only fifteen years older than he was, and that he was going to be his personal pilot.

For the second time that day, Mishka left a room too stunned to speak. He had to take ten deep breaths before he had composure enough to talk to his mother.

“Hello?” Came the reply at the end of the phone line.

“Mama?” Mishka replied, his voice now choked withe emotion. It had been so long since he had talked to his mother that the sound of her voice made him shaky.

“Mishka, my baby, is that you!?” Was the startled reply from the woman who had raised him.

“Mishka how are you?”

“I'm fine Mama-“

“How's working for Lord Karian, are you enjoying it?”

“Mom, can I just exp-“

“I hope you aren't getting too thin, you never did eat enough. Your father and I worry about you, you know. So Mishka-baby, have you met His Highness?” His mother interrupted again.

“Yeah, Mom, I have.” He left it short, letting her catch herself. She was always like this when he called her, and he just had to wait out the original questions.

After a bit, she asked, “So? What's he like? Is he commanding? Imposing? Handsome?” He heard his father make some comment in the background.

For a few seconds, Mishka found himself picturing the man in his mind. Commanding? In a way he figured. His whole personality was commanding without being overbearing. Imposing? If so many ways, his height matched Mishka's, but he commanded a respect Mishka could never duplicate. Handsome? Caught off guard by the question in his mind, the mental picture of the man slipped to reveal something he hadn't seen in the man's physical presence. He shook his head to clear the picture and returned to the conversation with his mother, who was now calling for his attention.

“He's too young for you Mama.” The smile leaked through his voice to his mother's ears.

“Well, then that's just the perfect age for your sister.” Mishka's face darkened, his brows knitted together. He hated to be reminded of his sister, the beautiful, successful, graceful blonde woman in a business suit, and the picture of her and Lord Kai together fit so well it made him scowl.

“Mama, he offered me the chance to become a pilot.” Stunned silence on the other end of the phone.

It was then that Mishka first regretted taking the King's offer. He would have to leave his newfound friend, someone he wanted to get to know now, but it was instantly forgotten when he remembered he was to write to the man every two weeks.

“Well?” His mother's familiar voice came over the phone line.

“I accepted.” He wanted so badly for her and his father to be proud of him, but he knew they wouldn't be if he wasn't as successful as his sister, who was in business. He sighed loudly, wanting the conversation to end, and fast.

“That's great Mishka, and your father says he's proud of you. We should keep the conversation short, so you can go pack.” That was his dismissal, and he was thankful for it.

“Kay, bye Mom, love you.” He made a kissing noise at the phone and hung up without waiting for her reply. He stormed back to his room to pack.